In Curtis' senior year we took our last family vacation. Skiing had been a fun family sport for us for many years, so we decided to go to Steamboat for a week with another family.
We were so excited to go our first day out that we couldn't wait for our friends to drop their youngest off at daycare, so along with their oldest daughter, Madison, we started our trek up the mountain. After taking a couple of pictures of the kids at the top we made our first run of the morning. It was a sunny and pleasant day. The second run down, we stopped at the fork of two runs to chat, the one we had just gone down, and a different one. Dave pointed to the new trail and said "Let's go!" I hesitated for a second, my mind told me to take the first trail another time to get our legs, but I followed anyway. Part way down we hit a cloud bank, and the visibility went to near zero. Curtis was slightly in front of me about 15 feet to my right. Suddenly I saw him go down hard. I knew instantly that he would need help, so I stopped as quick as I could, which made me fall over as well. No sooner than that, Madison zipped past me. After the cloud of snow settled around Curtis, I realized that he wasn't there. I couldn't figure out what had happened. Had he slid down the hill?
What Curtis had seen at the last minute was a cat walk that spanned the run. There was a 2-3 foot drop with only a small sign to mark it, but it was missed by us in the low visibility. Curtis avoided in by making a spectacular fall, and saved me from it as well. Madison had hit it at full speed and was launched about 20 feet down the mountain. I didn't see Curtis initially, but when I looked over the lip, I saw him running toward Madison as fast as he could. I had always knew Curtis was a caring and sensitive kid, but that act was the first time I saw it in action. He had smashed his face into the ground in the fall, and it was full of blood, it looked as if he had broken his nose. It wasn't broken, but Madison's arm was. Thankfully the Steamboat emergency room is proficient at such things, within 4 hours, surgery included to pin her arm, Madison was back at the condo watching movies. We had a great week of skiing, laughs, friends and family, one I will never forget.
Each year Dave and I look forward to skiing, even after the kids have moved on. This year we have not gone once. Yes, we have been busy, or the weather hasn't cooperated, but the passion isn't there. We are even taking a warm weather vacation instead of a ski trip. We know that we will go again, maybe just not this year.
I should have followed my gut that day, in a way I felt responsible, just as Dave did because he made the choice to go down that run. But in the end, things happen beyond our control. We could beat ourselves up by telling ourselves we should have done things different, should have made a different decision, we didn't. We need to come to peace about what has happened and make better choices in the future, maybe follow that gut feeling. But we can't be afraid of living because it has risks.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Is It Chemistry?
I've been told that an event like this can change your body chemistry, sometimes for a short time, sometimes permanently. I see many changes in myself since last April. Some are slowly reverting back to my old self and some are not.
The first is my sleep patterns. Initially after Curtis' death I couldn't sleep for any length at all. I was up all hours of the night wondering around the house, checking the facebook sight that Emily had set up. I think this lasted about a month. After that there was a drastic change that I can't explain. I went into some sort of hibernation state. I would sleep 12 hours a night without waking, and any time I would sit down during the day, I would fall asleep. I have had many bouts of insomnia during my life, napping is not something I am too fond of because of it, so this was a huge change for me. On the other hand, Dave, usually a quick and deep sleeper, has had trouble sleeping though the night. This is something he is still struggling with, while I am slowly going back to a normal pattern.
Eating is another change. Of course at first eating was not something that came easily. Even if I found anything remotely appetizing, it got caught in my throat. I think I lived on fruit and water for the first couple of weeks. Although it's gotten better, I have to actually remind myself to eat, I don't really feel hunger. If someone puts food in front of me, I will eat it and think, "Wow, I was hungry", but I won't realize it until I'm eating. Is it that I don't care to eat, or that it's been a chore to actually make the meals to eat? Dave and I used to love to find new recipes and cook, now I'm lucky to have two dinners planned in a row, and they are pretty basic at that. I hope to never eat another frozen pizza again once I get through this!
One of the most profound changes has been my love of chocolate. It is almost non existent now! Chocolate cravings used to be a daily occurrence for me. I would even hide it from my family, just in case. Now, I can take it or leave it. If it is sitting out, I may take a piece, but more often than not I won't. I have some in my closet now that I received for Christmas that goes unopened, and I even threw some away that was still around from Easter. I guess it's not a bad thing that I eat less chocolate, but I find it strange.
Of course there are other changes I see in myself. It makes me wonder if it is an actual chemistry change or just part of depression that comes from grief? I get up every day, my house is clean, I go to work and socialize. I find my humor is still intact, but the joy and passion for things is dull. If my body had sustained the injuries that my emotions did, I would have ended up in the ICU, I've been upgraded, but I still need time to recover. These chemicals are getting the best of me yet!
The first is my sleep patterns. Initially after Curtis' death I couldn't sleep for any length at all. I was up all hours of the night wondering around the house, checking the facebook sight that Emily had set up. I think this lasted about a month. After that there was a drastic change that I can't explain. I went into some sort of hibernation state. I would sleep 12 hours a night without waking, and any time I would sit down during the day, I would fall asleep. I have had many bouts of insomnia during my life, napping is not something I am too fond of because of it, so this was a huge change for me. On the other hand, Dave, usually a quick and deep sleeper, has had trouble sleeping though the night. This is something he is still struggling with, while I am slowly going back to a normal pattern.
Eating is another change. Of course at first eating was not something that came easily. Even if I found anything remotely appetizing, it got caught in my throat. I think I lived on fruit and water for the first couple of weeks. Although it's gotten better, I have to actually remind myself to eat, I don't really feel hunger. If someone puts food in front of me, I will eat it and think, "Wow, I was hungry", but I won't realize it until I'm eating. Is it that I don't care to eat, or that it's been a chore to actually make the meals to eat? Dave and I used to love to find new recipes and cook, now I'm lucky to have two dinners planned in a row, and they are pretty basic at that. I hope to never eat another frozen pizza again once I get through this!
One of the most profound changes has been my love of chocolate. It is almost non existent now! Chocolate cravings used to be a daily occurrence for me. I would even hide it from my family, just in case. Now, I can take it or leave it. If it is sitting out, I may take a piece, but more often than not I won't. I have some in my closet now that I received for Christmas that goes unopened, and I even threw some away that was still around from Easter. I guess it's not a bad thing that I eat less chocolate, but I find it strange.
Of course there are other changes I see in myself. It makes me wonder if it is an actual chemistry change or just part of depression that comes from grief? I get up every day, my house is clean, I go to work and socialize. I find my humor is still intact, but the joy and passion for things is dull. If my body had sustained the injuries that my emotions did, I would have ended up in the ICU, I've been upgraded, but I still need time to recover. These chemicals are getting the best of me yet!
Friday, January 14, 2011
"I've Been Better"
Awhile back Dave was complaining that when people would ask him how he's been, the standard answer of "Fine" seemed inadequate. I suggested he use "I've been better" instead. It's more honest, besides, how many people really listen to the answer of that common greeting? So when Ron, another Gold Star Father, called one evening, Dave tested it out for the first time. Ron is a psychologist, and Dave said as soon as he said it, he regretted the words. After about an hour of reassuring him that he was mearly trying out a new response, and there was nothing in particular that was bothering him that day, I think Ron got the idea. I got a good laugh out of that.
So when I received a phone call after work the other day from Dave, which is a fairly rare occurrence, and asked him how he was, when he responded "I've been better", the alarms in my head went off. If any of you know Dave well, his relationship with the emergency room over his lifetime is extensive! Just north of Rochester, on his way home from work, he rolled his car. Thankfully he and his passenger were not injured, but the car wasn't so lucky.
The impact of this event didn't really hit me until I got Dave home. I didn't sleep well, thinking of what could have been frightened me. I had not had an anxiety attack in a few months, but had one the next morning during my yoga class, and it was a chore to get through the day at work. I know too well how quickly one event can change your life so drastically. Today I feel better, I bounce back from these setbacks much quicker than I could just a few months ago.
I still think the "I've been better" come back is good, if the person who is asking is listening and cares, it will open a conversation that "Fine" couldn't.
So when I received a phone call after work the other day from Dave, which is a fairly rare occurrence, and asked him how he was, when he responded "I've been better", the alarms in my head went off. If any of you know Dave well, his relationship with the emergency room over his lifetime is extensive! Just north of Rochester, on his way home from work, he rolled his car. Thankfully he and his passenger were not injured, but the car wasn't so lucky.
The impact of this event didn't really hit me until I got Dave home. I didn't sleep well, thinking of what could have been frightened me. I had not had an anxiety attack in a few months, but had one the next morning during my yoga class, and it was a chore to get through the day at work. I know too well how quickly one event can change your life so drastically. Today I feel better, I bounce back from these setbacks much quicker than I could just a few months ago.
I still think the "I've been better" come back is good, if the person who is asking is listening and cares, it will open a conversation that "Fine" couldn't.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Caroll's Flag
A year ago this month my Uncle Caroll joined his wife Marcy in heaven. Caroll and Marcy had a long and loving marriage. They were never blessed with children of their own because Marcy had MS, but they treated their nieces and nephews as if they were their own.
Caroll was 94 years old and had served in WWII on the USS Irwin. He was proud of his time in the Navy and talked of it often. When I visited him in his last days, he was unresponsive so I talked to him. As I talked about Curtis being in Afghanistan, his breathing became rapid and labored. I assured him that Curtis was fine, and he soon returned to a normal rhythm. Did he know something that I didn't at the time? I went away feeling a bit uneasy.
At the grave site, my cousin asked me to sit next to my Uncle Al. I thought this was an unusual request, but said I would. I never expected what was to come. After the flag was folded, the soldier turned and presented the flag to me. At that moment, I only saw Curtis. He had been to Iraq and now been in Afghanistan since November, was this what it was like to receive his flag? It was a terrible thought, but it was the only thing on my mind at the moment. It was an honor to receive Caroll's flag, and the cousins and Uncle that decided that I should receive it gave it because of my service and that of Curtis', but it broke my heart. At the luncheon that followed, my brother joked that I had a rather morbid collection at home, I had also received my fathers flag, and at the time we were holding my father in laws flag after my mother in laws recent move. I responded back that it had better be the last I receive! Those words come back to haunt me often. The weeks that followed were awful, I thought of Curtis and that flag often, and walked around in a daze, unable to concentrate.
After Curtis died, I thought Katie would receive the flag so I didn't need to worry about it. When I discovered there were two flags presented, I lost it! My case officer was confused until Dave told my story. He told me that I didn't need to receive it, I could have it given to someone else if it was too painful. The only person I thought of was Emily. She had lost her only sibling, and she deserved this honor, and the thought of her and Katie receiving this gift at the same time seemed fitting.
Caroll was 94 years old and had served in WWII on the USS Irwin. He was proud of his time in the Navy and talked of it often. When I visited him in his last days, he was unresponsive so I talked to him. As I talked about Curtis being in Afghanistan, his breathing became rapid and labored. I assured him that Curtis was fine, and he soon returned to a normal rhythm. Did he know something that I didn't at the time? I went away feeling a bit uneasy.
At the grave site, my cousin asked me to sit next to my Uncle Al. I thought this was an unusual request, but said I would. I never expected what was to come. After the flag was folded, the soldier turned and presented the flag to me. At that moment, I only saw Curtis. He had been to Iraq and now been in Afghanistan since November, was this what it was like to receive his flag? It was a terrible thought, but it was the only thing on my mind at the moment. It was an honor to receive Caroll's flag, and the cousins and Uncle that decided that I should receive it gave it because of my service and that of Curtis', but it broke my heart. At the luncheon that followed, my brother joked that I had a rather morbid collection at home, I had also received my fathers flag, and at the time we were holding my father in laws flag after my mother in laws recent move. I responded back that it had better be the last I receive! Those words come back to haunt me often. The weeks that followed were awful, I thought of Curtis and that flag often, and walked around in a daze, unable to concentrate.
After Curtis died, I thought Katie would receive the flag so I didn't need to worry about it. When I discovered there were two flags presented, I lost it! My case officer was confused until Dave told my story. He told me that I didn't need to receive it, I could have it given to someone else if it was too painful. The only person I thought of was Emily. She had lost her only sibling, and she deserved this honor, and the thought of her and Katie receiving this gift at the same time seemed fitting.
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