Beyond the Grave

Tonight, my mind is on death, and on funerals. Recently, I attended the funeral of my mom's boyfriend, Jim. I paid attention to the people that had come to mourn him, and I wondered to myself how much of this ceremony had been the way he would have wanted it? According to my mom, he didn't want to be put in the ground, and he wanted Santana played at his funeral. Neither of those two things were honored. Its possible, i guess, that his family didn't know, but how LITTLE must you know about your loved one, when you don't even know these small details? It got me to thinking about my funeral, which I hope is still a LONG ways away. Will my little boys, or my sweetie, honor my wishes? Will i get the funeral that i wanted, or will they bury me the fast, cheap, and easy way and pocket the rest of the money? It seems that's what many families are doing these days.

Another thing that occurred to me, that i didn't like, is that the service seemed bland. Boring, like they didn't know this person at all? How can his family know so little about him, how can a eulogy be given with such little emotion and information. Listening to this man speak about Jim, I'd have thought that i knew him better than his own brother did, and i hardly knew him at all! Which brings me to another thought about my funeral. When its my time, while i do want to be mourned, i want my life to be celebrated. I want there to be laughter! Talk about the things i accomplished, the things i had left to do. Talk about your fond memories of me, the funny things i did, the funny things i said, nights you remember, and nights you'd like to forget! Speak of the way i loved, and the way i lived. DONT use some generic church crap about how i'm with God, (although we know i am),  talk about ME. Who i was. I want my funeral to be a celebration of the life i lived, NOT a typical sunday church service. 

There are so many things about death that bother me, and its rarely about the lost life. Its about those left behind. When someone dies, it is typically a day full of mourning, and crying, and then a week full of who gets what. People are pissed off about the things they didn't get that they believe they should have, and other people are smug that they got more than someone else. People can be so nasty when it comes to death. I guess that's why its so important to write everything down. Watching this funeral, at an age when I am old enough to really watch and pay attention, has taught me that I want my will to be ridiculously specific. I want my will to leave no room for interpretation, no room for anyone to say "she would have wanted it THIS way, instead of that way." I hope whoever is handling my funeral arrangements picks up my will and says "actually, NO. She DIDNT want it THIS way, she wanted it THAT way, just like i said. It says so RIGHT here, which i know because she possessed the ability to write, and i possess the ability to read." And YES, I really DO hope they are that snarky and sarcastic about it. The concept of a "Family Only" row at a funeral annoys me. Who are these people to decide who i love the most. There are members of my family that know VERY little about me, and they hardly get to sit in the front row at my funeral in lieu of my best friend, who knows EVERYTHING about me. What purpose does it serve to sit all of the family in front anyway? Are the wanting to sit close on the off chance that i do something extraordinary? Regardless whether you're in the front or the back, I'm going to be in the same place, doing the same thing as i was the last time you saw me. I think this hits me so hard because at this particular funeral, my mother, who Jim was INSANELY in love with, didn't get included in the family. I firmly believe that Jim viewed her every bit as much of his family as anyone else sitting in that pew, if not more so...but because the person making the arrangements didn't deem her worthy, she was made to sit on the opposite side. Screw that! Those people dont know who the MOST IMPORTANT people in his life were! The ONLY things those people knew about him came from the highlighted entries in a bible. A SMALL portion of the person he was. 


I guess all i can really hope is that my family knows me just a little better than his family knew his. In case they dont though, i'm going to have a very detailed will written, which will be designed to leave little to the imagination. Here are a few examples: 


1. I don't want to be buried. Period. Dot. Decimal. I want to be entombed, like my grams was, and this is why--heat rises. The lower to the ground you put me, the colder i'll be in the afterlife. This goes hand in hand with knowing me, i dont like to be cold. 
2. 3 songs should be played at my funeral in any order really. 
     1. I love you this big
    2. She'll leave you with a smile 
    3. Baby Mine 
3. Do NOT bury me in a dress. Do i wear a lot of dresses? No sir, i surely don't. Bury me in jeans, a clean pair of DC's, and my Dexter hoodie. I dont care if i'm 93, it will NEVER be ok to bury me in a dress. 
4. Make them leave both sides of the casket open. The only reason for this is that NOT doing that freaks me out! Besides, if you dont do that, how will you know i'm wearing my DC's, and that they were kept clean? 
5. I want my body jewelry in. I don't care how they have to make it happen, if i get to heaven and I'm down a nose ring, I'm going to be a pretty pissed off angel. That's how a haunting happens. No joke.
6. Give the funeral director a hard time for me! When they ask for my clothes, send them something sleeveless, with LOTS of cleavage, and see how they handle it. Hahaha, that's grace right there. Eventually provide them with my REAL outfit, so i don't look like a whore, but definitely have some fun. 
7. In my slideshow, include pictures of me with EVERYONE who was important to me. I don't care who you don't like and don't want to be in there, some of my best memories involve people other people dont get along with.
8. Let the people speak! A short sermon, on topic is fine. Go be with Jesus, i LOVE that. However, i want my funeral to be about my life, so let my friends and family talk about it. 
9. Don't forget to mention those i am joining in Heaven. If i'm dead, then fantastic, i get to go be with Grams, Grandpa Andy, Papa Jim, and Bella....And whomever else has gone to be with Jesus by then. 


I'm sure as time goes on, I'll have more. Who is to say what will belong to me by then, (a successful Bakery store front perhaps?) That i'll have to designate to someone. Along with all of my other worldly goods. I wouldn't want someone to decide for me who gets to raid my room, ya know? There's no telling what time will bring, and when its your time to go, like our good friend Jim, it might sneak up on you. And when its my time, i want people to know who i really was...not who some people thought i was. Hopefully they respect me enough to get it right.

See You Later Friend! (A photo tribute)

 Jim's favorite song. Nothing better in the world to "jam" to.

                      
                      Life is, unfortunately full of hurt, and sadness. Death is something that can not be avoided, like a violent storm, we run and run and run, but it catches us, and consumes our life. If we are lucky, we can prepare for it. We can say all the things we need to say, and do all the things we need to do. Exchange kisses and hugs, I love you's and I'll miss you's. Life, being the beast that it is, is not always so kind. Sometimes, it takes our loved ones from us in a hurry, before we can even blink, or even realize that what we once had is now lost. 
                  Yesterday, the world lost quite an amazing man. Jim was not someone who was easily understood. He was set in his ways, and a little bit off the wall, but his heart was full and giving.  He loved the best he could, and smiled often, and just being close to him gave you the complete and total impression that you could do anything.

I wish i could say that i knew him well, because he's the kind of person you just WANT to know. The few memories i DO have, include LOTS of laughing, "never ever", pool parties, good food, "black hate sex", tequila, Joe's Crab Shack, an angry nipple piercing, Stephen Lynch, and Gorilla Glue. My memories of him are few, and i have that regret. Believe me when I say though, that the memories i carry, i more than enough to bring a smile to myself. While i didn't have  the opportunity to know him well before he was taken too soon from this earth, he was very close to my mother. He was her light in the darkness, her shoulder on the dark and rainy days. She needed him to make her smile, and he needed her, just to be there. He was absolutely crazy about her, and when they were together, they just glowed.

 

                        They were silly together, and serious together. He made her smile, and she made him laugh. It didn't require much knowledge of the guy to realize what an amazing person he was. After all, if he made her so happy, he had to be. He was a friend to my Troll, "Papa Jim" was to be a pal. Someone to wake up with early mornings, and to talk to about the unimportant things children talk about. 

And also for warm, night time shirts. <3

                  Now, I, like most any person after a loss of this magnitude, and full of the things i never said. I'm left with only memories, of someone so incredibly special, gone from this world too soon. He’s still here, though we can't see him or talk to him. I can still feel his presence, hear his laugh, and feel his love. He is still a part of our everyday reality. The pictures of him that we cling to, demonstrate just the type of person he was. 

                  He might not be right here, but he’s not gone either. I believe that, because I have to. Somewhere, high above the clouds, where only the angels dwell, he's looking down on us. Sending down memories, and smiles, and hoping for love and remembrance. He can be sure, that from us, there will always be those things. Rest in peace, Jim. Fly with the angels, where there is no pain, no suffering, and no wrinkles. We'll take care of things down here...until we meet again. 

"You're gonna have all of me, 

You're gonna have all of me,

Cause you're worth every falling tear,

You're worth facing, any fear. 

You're gonna know all my love, 

Even its not enough, 

Enough to mend our broken hearts,

But giving you all of me,

Is where I'll start."

My baby...is afraid of the night.

Over the last few days, my baby boy has been suffering from another bout of night terrors. For those of you who don't know what night terrors are, allow me to explain. A night terror is similar to a nightmare, although it happens most frequently in stages 3 and 4 in the dream cycle, (after the child has been asleep for some time) where nightmares happen in REM. A night terror will present with symptoms similar to a nightmare, but often times, it will appear that the child is much more awake than he actually is. He will say things like "leave me alone", "don't take me", and he will wiggle and flail. A child who has a had a night terror will wake up having no recollection of the occurrence, whether it was 10 minutes ago, or even the next morning. He will be sweating, and showing great fear or panic, and is uncharacteristically difficult to wake up. 
              
          The Troll has been struggling with night terrors almost since he was old enough to explain to me that he was having them. He doesn't have them every night, few children that suffer from this condition do. When he does have them though, they rock him...and they shake him, and they make him fearful of his bedroom. Of being in it, of being in the dark, and of being alone. My troll will wake up crying, and calling out--most often for daddy. When D responds to him, with mommy close behind, he is impossible to wake. He flails and kicks and hits, and tells us "no, no, no", while he cries. We try to hold him and comfort him, and let him know we are there. He'll sit up and continue moving around, giving us the impression that he is waking up, but that is rarely the case. We sit next to him and talk to him, always softly, and without frustration, because any parent of a night terror child will tell you, yelling at him will only make the "dream" that much more frightening. We will struggle with him for a few minutes, before D finally wakes him up. The thing about a night terror is that it takes complete control of my baby. His brain has an inability to distinguish between what is a dream and what is reality. A night terror occurs because his brain believes that what is happening to him is real. In adults, it is equivalent to the kinds of dreams that make you wake up and look around. Wondering if what you were just experiencing is real. The biggest difference is, my little guy will never remember he's had them.

              There's honestly no way for me to describe what it does to me as a mother. In the middle of the night, i hear him cry out. I run to him, as fast as i can, and i touch his face softly. I ask him what's the matter, and he smacks my hand away "no, no no." D comes in behind me, crouches down, and takes his shot at it, "no, im too afraid, i'm too afraid.". D tries to take our baby boy in his arms and comfort him, to no avail. We sit together, my hand on his head, and we talk to him. Calm, soothing voices, "mommy and daddy are here." After a few minutes, and tears on mommy's part, D picks him up and carries him to the living room. Even the transition has not woken him, and we lay him on the couch, wiping sweat off of his forehead, although his body is ice cold. We continue talking to him, trying to bring him out of his "dream" and back into our reality, but nothing seems to work. D finally gets him up, and of course he's confused. "this isn't my bed, this is the couch." and he's full of "what happened"s. He doesn't remember or know what he just went through, all he knows is that he's scared. And that he doesn't want mommy or daddy leaving him alone anymore. 

             Last night, as we were putting him to bed, he cried. He didn't want to be alone, and he felt like he was in the dark. We ended up leaving the hall light on for him all night, and he seemed to be okay with that. Its hard to deal with the reality that this is something he'll be fighting and facing all through his toddler and early childhood years. My baby is terrified, and he's hurting, and I'm powerless. I can't make the fear go away, I can't keep the monsters out of his head, and I can't even comfort him while they're in there, because he doesn't know how to let me. When he was younger, the doctors told me that the best way to handle a night terror is just to let it run its course. Let him have his episode, and hold him when he's done. I'm not sure these doctors know the pain of watching your 2,3,4 year old in such fear, and just having to watch him while he battles it out himself. They tell me that no emotional damage will be done, because he can't remember what he's fighting, but i can't help but wonder if this wont always foster a fear of the dark, of the night, and what...if anything, i can do to counter that. They tell me to give him baths with lavender oil, anything to calm his nerves, and help him find a deeper sleep. Its never as easy as that, there's never any telling when they'll hit him, and for how long. 
    
             Try as i might, i can't make this stop. No amount of light, or noise keeps the monsters away, but mommy and daddy will always be there to help fight them, when we can. We do the nightly monster checks, the story time, and the nightlight. Recently, he's started asking for something he used to ask for a lot when he was younger. And so each night, in addition to the regular routine, mommy sings him a lullaby. A small, little task, that lets that baby of mine know that he's very precious to me, and whenever he calls me, i come running...whether he knows it or not. No, being a night terror parent is NOT easy. Its hard work. It calls for long hours, lots of tears, and LOTS of snuggles, but truth is, at the end of the day, i'd rather be HIS night terror parent, then no parent at all. In the grand scheme of things, what i battle just watching him, is a candle to the flame of that precious little boy facing those monsters. In moments like these when i can't be a hero to him, he surely is a hero to me.

Getting Older, Everyday.

Well, today, i am officially the mommy of a 4 year old. I'm not quite sure how to handle it yet. I've had a lot of ideas: lock him in the closet, start him on coffee to stunt his growth--but no matter what i do, he's going to continue to grow. He's learning big words and is excited about school, looking forward to a life that involves being a "big boy" and i'm trying to hold onto my baby. I think back to being pregnant with him and i can remember a mixture of feelings. Excitement-creating and nurturing a life that would love me unconditionally, and i him. Anxiety: What on earth did i know about being a mother? Could i care for him the way he needed me to? Would i be able to teach him right from wrong? I find that is still a worry of mine as the years go by and he gets ever older. Am i capable of raising him to be the kind of man he needs to be? Can i teach him the value of a dollar and the importance of work ethic? He's such a smart little boy, he can count to ten, and say his alphabet, he can spell his name, and a lot of other things too. I stop and watch him somedays and i have to ask myself how this amazing little person came from me. 
       I take pause and think of his father. How much life he's missing out on. My little boy is growing older everyday and the person who helped create him doesn't even know much about him. He changes his mind and his favorites all the time, it saddens me to think how little this man knows about him. And how little he probably will ever know. Which leads to me to the amazing daddy he DOES have in his life. D is one of a kind, and i know how lucky the Troll is to have him. They bond in the most important ways. The troll doesnt like going into his room at night without the monster check, and daddy kisses are of the utmost importance. Someone he can be a boy with, someone who can wrestle with him, and  play games with. Of this one thing, i can be sure i have done him right. He was born into the world with a father that didn't really want him, and a mother that was just learning how to be a mother. Times were hard but we made it through. Today, i see him throw his arms around the man he calls dad, and i know that in that at least, i have done right.
               Today on his birthday, i hold him close and shower him with kisses and say to myself, its not going to be like this for long. Pretty soon he's going to be grown up and telling me that mommy kisses are "gross" and refuse to be seen holding my hand. But for now, he's young and impressionable, and he loves nothing more than snuggling mommy and watching Phineas and Ferb.  I guess rather than trying to keep him from growing up, i should cherish these moments as they come to me. Take in all of the kisses and snuggles, and never miss a chance to let him know how much i love him. Someday down the road he is going to become a father, and have a baby of his own. I'll have to watch him as he takes on life as a "grown up" and just hope I've given him all he needs to be successful. I hope he takes in the actions, successes and failures of those around him, and remembers to be better. I'm excitedly looking forward to seeing the person he will become, because i have no doubt he will be great. Until then though, I'll snuggle with my toddler, tell him how much i love him, and believe him when he says "i promise, i'm never going to leave you." For now, that's all i have. <3

Goodbye is the hardest thing to say.

Death is one of those things that always happens to other people. You hear on the news, you read on the internet of people all over the world dying, but you don't ever really take pause. Of course, its tragic, death always is, but never is it so tragic as when it's happening in your own backyard. 8 months ago, death struck in my backyard, and claimed the life of my beautiful baby girl, and they told me, that God had other plans for her. That she was born sleeping. I took in all they told me, but refused to really come to terms with what I'd been through. Bells death came at a time in my life when i literally felt like i had lost everything. I was at the end of my rope, staring at the noose on the end, thinking that i wanted nothing more than to be with her, wherever she was. It took me a few months to remember that she was not the only life i had created, and that here, at home, were two little boys who needed their mommy. I certainly wasn't being the best i could be for them. But how can you be the best for someone else, if you can't even be functional for yourself? I spent months and months in denial, fighting insomnia, and dreaming she was with me, only...where had i left her? I have been fighting this battle constantly and throwing every bit of my energy into keeping my head above water, and then i spoke to a friend. She told me that its ok to miss her, but that i have to remember the life i have, because while i have lost a lot, i have not lost everything. Finally, today it hit me. I have to say goodbye. Not forever, only for a little while, and only so that i can move on. Quietly and solely, i took gathered her things, and i sat with her for awhile. I cried-about the way things were, about the way they should have been, and then i took a deep breath, and spoke to her. I assured her that i loved her, and that i would never forget her, but I'm sure she already knew that. I made promises to talk to her when i can, and to continue writing in my journal, and I'll still do those things. I told her that losing her was the hardest thing I'd ever been through, and i know she knew i wasn't lying. I spoke to her in silence, using my heart as my guide, and my prayers as my word, and i asked her for help. Help to be the kind of mother i used to be. Energy and strength to move forward with my life and love all of my babies, without forgetting any of them. I told her i was selfish, and asked for the ability to love them all, equally, for they are each my children. I knew she understood, because there was a pulling in me to take my boys in my arms, and hold them close to me. I gave the Troll a big kiss, and told him i loved him. He told me he loved me too, and then we talked a little about his sister. Today, i feel like a weight has been lifted. I know she knows how much i love her, and how much i NEED for her to be a part of my life, but i also know she knows how much i NEED to start moving forward with that life, before i lose it all. As i put all of her things back on the shelves, i smiled to myself. I know that she knows how much i care about her, and i know that she knows i have to do this. So today is a brand new day, and the start of moving forward. Here's to everything i have to do to be better, and working to get there. Its not going to be easy, but i know i'll be ok. After all, i have angels watching over me. <3