Things Will Be Different

BuhBye 2011!
It wasn't all bad, but the last few months of it overshadowed the rest.

Only a few know of the tragedy that hit our family just before the Husband came home from his deployment, but so the rest of you don't think I'm Debbie Downer all of the time, I thought it was time to share.

My MIL became a widow. She was in the process of becoming a divorcee (with our blessing) when her husband shot and killed himself.

Suicide is a nasty business, and I've always felt that it's truly sad when someone feels so lost that they see no other options but to end their life, but this wasn't just any suicide. It was retaliation.

He timed it in a way to hurt her the most. He had given the titles and keys to 40+ vehicles (he restored cars) away. He had run up quite a bit of debt in the 6 weeks she was away at her sister's; stopped making car payments, the mortgage and paying utilities. Without those cars, she would have no way to gather the money she needed to pay the debts. 

That sick man knew all of this while he sat at her kitchen table-as she cooked his breakfast-with a gun in his pocket.

We can't know why he didn't shoot her first (there was a discarded fax she found afterwards with details he would need to collect insurance after her death). Maybe she's alive because she ran screaming from the house the minute he lifted the gun. Maybe it was because she had brought a friend along when she came back to the house that morning and he didn't want to leave three bodies in the house. Maybe because he decided that leaving her behind would punish her far more than killing her.


My MIL doesn't get to be a grieving widow because instead, she has to be a battling warrior against a nasty family that climbed out of their holes to blame her for his death. They're the ones holding the titles and his belongings, shouldn't THEY have seen his sudden generousity as an obvious sign of suicide?
These nasty people have held fundraisers (for what? My MIL paid all of the death-related expenses) and shown up in large groups with car trailers to remove the cars that now sit in probate. After being turned away by a sheriff, they have spread the word that it would be less complicated if my MIL who is alone, could be "removed" from the scenario.

We are thousands of miles away...

We will now have to take care of my MIL decades sooner than we expected, but I'm wholeheartedly ok with that because I'm so  glad we still have her around to take care of.

So yes, 2011 won't be the year that I look back on with fondness, but it gives me great hope for 2012- no where to go but up, right?

My goals for this year are:

*Do something creative every day. I considered the 365 Photo challenge, but think any creative project is less confining.
*I'm also going to be nice to me and quit putting myself last.
*I am going to travel this beautiful country like a mad woman. Only 18 months left and they'll make me leave the UK. Feel free to offer up suggestions of where you would visit if you were here.

Happy New Year everyone! What are you going to do to make 2012 different from the rest?

Halfway there

"When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life in a manner so that when you die the world cries and you rejoice." - Native American Proverb

My Dad is Missing

If you've come for a giggle, today may be the day to go surfing by.

I'm answering a question on david mcmahon's blog: "What's the most important thing you've ever lost?" Some may think I instantly answered, "my mind" but my thoughts went immediately to my Dad.
It was over 30 years ago, so it surprised me that it was the first "lost" I could think of (I regularly lose keys, children, my temper and most recently-- the oil bill... not a good loss). So I've pondered it a bit and considered what I lost from his early death.

When my dad left on an out-of-town bowling trip, I never expected he wouldn't come back. I lost that invincible feeling all children should have.

When he left behind a grieving widow, I also lost my Mom. She worked two jobs and went through years of anger--at him for leaving her behind.

I lost the man who would let me ride my bike to work to see him. He worked at the Glen Canyon Dam, and amidst all of the turbines, dripping tunnels and bright yellow hard hats, I liked "his" snack machine the best.

There would be no more midnight drives talking on the CB radio when he bowled an amazing score.

As for driving, without him to drive, we no longer did our annual 3-day drive to Kentucky to see family.

I lost my privacy. It's not always good to tell a prepubescent girl that her daddy still watches over her all of the time. I hid myself while on the toilet, in the bathtub, while changing clothes.

I lost my immediate family (Mom, brother and sister). We all kind of just went separate ways--well, everyone else went their own way, I was 13, where was I going to go?

I went to drugs. When my dad died I lost my innocence. Swimming among kids who lived for the next high or shot of tequila, I lost sight of my dreams.

I lost 11 inches of hair on a party night. My dad would never let me cut my long, thick hair and since he was gone, I let a drunk cut it all off. I've only managed to let it get that long again once in 30 years-- but it wasn't thick and shiny. It was an older person's over-processed hair, so I never saw it pretty like that again.

When I found my way back to some normalcy (as normal as a 17 year-old girl basically raising herself can get-- Mom may have hit a mid-life crisis in here somewhere), my father wasn't at my theater productions, choir performances, High School Graduation, or when I graduated from college.

At my wedding, he wasn't there to give me away. A white Calla Lily sat on the chair that would've been his.

He has never held my children, never heard A2's infectious giggle, or marveled at A1's beautiful dimpled smile; heard J1 rock the house with his drums, seen J2 leap straight up in the air to block a goal or watch us all fall head-over-heals for a little mischievous baby girl.

I lost the ability to trust that we will see each other again tomorrow.
Which is a good thing, I think.

One night, during a terrible time with our oldest son, I spent the whole night worrying that he would take his life and leave this planet thinking we didn't love him. But I did love him. With all of my heart. I just wanted to ring his neck, not lose him forever.

I also gained a beautiful man as a step-father, and saw my Mom emerge again.

I would've never joined my church, met my husband (had these destructive Spring Breakers--I mean blessings!) and moved all over the world.

And because I wouldn't have moved away from my family and friends to a new country where I sat alone while my husband played in the sand in the Middle East, I may have never felt lonely enough to start blogging.

And I would've missed out on you.

The people whose comments make my heart smile and posts sometimes makes it cry.
And that, my friends, isn't a loss at all.

I'm dying... we all are, some day

Here's the post I told Kari at I Struggle and Emerge I would do sometime over two weeks ago. And I have yet to play tag with Tammy at The Color of Home and pass on my shiny new award on here from Kathryn , one of my favorite reads. Only so many minutes in a curtain-climber packed day!

7 years, 7 months, 7 weeks, 7 days, 7 hours, 7 minutes to live!

7 years:

I would start traveling! Pompeii, Caribbean, Turkey, and every National Park in the U.S. I'd take the kids to Disney World for two weeks and let someone else clean up after us while we just laughed and played. I'd learn a foreign language and climb a mountain (a small one, I am in my forties, you know!). I'd start getting the stories behind the photos written down for the kids.
Sit in the audience for an Oprah Show (except when she's on her celebrity kick...), or Doctor Phil, or Deal or No Deal-- not yours, sorry, HATE Howie Mandel, but love Noel Edmunds over here. I'll eat in a Gordon Ramsay Restaurant on an evening when he's actually cooking.

7 months:

The panic sets in. I would make some letters or videos for the kids to have when they're older. Basically a "Things I wish I had known" thing with lots and lots of love and positive comments.
See every show in (on? at?) London's West End and on Broadway. I'd lie about my age and try out for American Idol (no, I can't sing), high-five Simon Cowell and tell Randy to stop saying "Yo dog", because it's aging him (and yes, I am SURE they'll believe I'm only 23).


7 weeks:

well, I'm going anyway, so I might as well lie on the beach with coconut oil containing only SPF 2 and tan away! I look so much better tanned. I would be super affectionate with my touchy-touchy husband. I don't like to be touched a lot (gee, I have had someone at my breast or hanging off of my leg every minute of every day for about 10 years now, I don't know why I don't like to be touched).
One of the days, I will sit by the window while the rain falls and read a good book and drink hot chocolate--without interruptions.
Go to the States and see my doggy. Bury my head in his fur until he gets tired of me hugging him.

I MISS MY DOG.

















7 days:

spend every moment talking to my family and friends, eating rich foods, and laughing. I'd be slaughtering everyone at Risk and NOT feeling bad about it.


7 hours:

sit with my family and take in the last sunrise and watch the last sunset (can be done in four hours here in the winter time) and teach my children to see the beauty we live in.

7 minutes:

Well, since I don't have to rush around and pack, I imagine the last 7 minutes would be hugs, a few tears and lots of kisses. AND I would remind my family, ONE MORE TIME, that I want a big party, not some sad, drippy funeral.

Are you up for the challenge? I'd love to see what you come up with, so please drop me a comment if you take and post this challenge.