Downhill skiing had always been a favorite pastime in the winter for us. We spent many weekends and Spring breaks on the slopes as a family. Lutsen was probably the most frequently visited, we have so many good memories of the mountain and resort.
After skiing the morning on Moose Mountain, the legs burning on the Moose return trail would just about put us out for the day, but it didn't. Curtis stoking the fire in the room, he loved to play with fire! Making the kids go out for at least a few runs in the morning in the rain, because we paid for the ticket after all, before they could go to the indoor/outdoor pool...just to name a few.
It was Lutsen that Dave and I took a long weekend only a few weeks before Curtis was killed, our last ski outing. We talked about how strange it was to be enjoying something when he was in such a volatile area. How we wanted to keep the tradition of a family vacation alive once he got out. Maybe that is part of the reason we hadn't skied in almost two years, the memories. Until this last weekend.
The first Winter after Curtis was killed skiing barely crossed my mind. If I did think of it, I would dismiss it just as quick. Skiing takes alot of concentration, and I didn't have any to spare. I think that is one of the reasons I like it so much, when you are on the slopes, you don't think of anything but what you are doing at the moment. This Winter, I thought of it more often, but we were busy many weekends so again, it got put aside. Talking to Dave only a week ago, we found we had an open weekend, and made our plans.
My concern was could I keep my mind on the task? Would the memories of a place our family loved so much be happy or sad for me? Would it really be like riding a bike, you never forget? My fears were put to rest as soon as we entered the room. The carving on the fire hearth stated, "Rekindle Your Heart". To me that put a tone to the weekend. Curtis was there with us, enjoying the runs just as much as we were. Yelling, "Watch me!", as he went off a ledge.
My memories were met with a happy heart, not sadness. I thought of all the wonderful family moments that cannot be taken away from me. I am so glad I have them. In many ways I rekindled my love of skiing along with my heart.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Books
I have a stack of books bedside. When I'm in a low place I like to read them for inspiration, but interestingly enough, when I am in a relatively good place, reading them will bring me down.
I just recently discovered this oddity. Finishing my most recent book the other night, and still not sleepy, I decided to pick up one of the 'self help' books. After only a few pages, I started to feel a panic attack coming on. How could a book that brings so much comfort at times of darkness bring on a feeling of dispare when my emotional state is relatively calm?
After much thought on the subject, I've decided the difference. When my thoughts are in turmoil, knowing someone out there feels and acts the same way is comforting. Grief is a very lonely place. Even though I know there are others suffering the same fate, I can slip into my own world of solitude. I may socialize, and talk normally, but the demons in my head cause me to isolate myself.
When my emotions are calm and things are seemingly good, the words make me feel like I am not normal. I think they bring on many more questions than answers. How can I be feeling happy today when I have this horrible thing in my recent past? Obviously, losing my son is not something I will ever get over, but learning to live with the pain does happen. Maybe reading these books keeps me from learning to deal with it in my own way, but when I slip they put me on track again.
This is a new life full of discovery of myself. There are things I would have never thought before, things I would have never done, writing to mention one. It brings a quote to mind from the most recent book I read, "Sometimes the worst thing that happens to you, the thing you think you can't survive...it's the thing that makes you better than you used to be." Funny how I can do some easy reading and extract a line that makes the most sense.
I just recently discovered this oddity. Finishing my most recent book the other night, and still not sleepy, I decided to pick up one of the 'self help' books. After only a few pages, I started to feel a panic attack coming on. How could a book that brings so much comfort at times of darkness bring on a feeling of dispare when my emotional state is relatively calm?
After much thought on the subject, I've decided the difference. When my thoughts are in turmoil, knowing someone out there feels and acts the same way is comforting. Grief is a very lonely place. Even though I know there are others suffering the same fate, I can slip into my own world of solitude. I may socialize, and talk normally, but the demons in my head cause me to isolate myself.
When my emotions are calm and things are seemingly good, the words make me feel like I am not normal. I think they bring on many more questions than answers. How can I be feeling happy today when I have this horrible thing in my recent past? Obviously, losing my son is not something I will ever get over, but learning to live with the pain does happen. Maybe reading these books keeps me from learning to deal with it in my own way, but when I slip they put me on track again.
This is a new life full of discovery of myself. There are things I would have never thought before, things I would have never done, writing to mention one. It brings a quote to mind from the most recent book I read, "Sometimes the worst thing that happens to you, the thing you think you can't survive...it's the thing that makes you better than you used to be." Funny how I can do some easy reading and extract a line that makes the most sense.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
21
We had a birthday in our family last week, Emily turned 21. As much as I have looked forward to this, I had been dreading it, but not for the reasons you may think. Curtis was killed 5 weeks shy of his 21st birthday. As the date approached, I couldn't help but think about the milestone he never reached.
It makes me think of a family from my hometown that I used to babysit for. They were a very faithful family and had five children. John was my brothers age, and during their 5th grade year, he died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. Their next child, Jeff, was mowing the ditch near their home a few years later, also during his 5th grade year, rolled the tractor, killing him as well. I cannot imagine how they got through the death of another child. As their next child approached 5th grade, I am told she started having troubles, panic attacks, wondering if she too would suffer the same fate. Jill made it though that year, but sadly, in her senior year she and 2 other young girls went off the road in broad day light, striking a tree, killing them all. My heart breaks for this family, it always has.
I guess I write this story because I have felt like Jill over the past several weeks, and to some extent the past two years. Could this happen again? I worry about Emily constantly. I know it is a parents job to worry about their children, but I sometimes feel it is excessive, much more than before. I talked recently to another mother who lost her son, and she has felt the same way about her surviving daughter, almost to the point of compromising their relationship.
I try not to let on to Emily how I worry. I want her to be happy, nothing is more important to me. Finding a happy medium between worry and letting go may always be difficult for me. I have to remember to treasure the times we have together, and not let those thoughts take over.
Happy Birthday Emily, I am so proud of the woman you have become.
It makes me think of a family from my hometown that I used to babysit for. They were a very faithful family and had five children. John was my brothers age, and during their 5th grade year, he died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. Their next child, Jeff, was mowing the ditch near their home a few years later, also during his 5th grade year, rolled the tractor, killing him as well. I cannot imagine how they got through the death of another child. As their next child approached 5th grade, I am told she started having troubles, panic attacks, wondering if she too would suffer the same fate. Jill made it though that year, but sadly, in her senior year she and 2 other young girls went off the road in broad day light, striking a tree, killing them all. My heart breaks for this family, it always has.
I guess I write this story because I have felt like Jill over the past several weeks, and to some extent the past two years. Could this happen again? I worry about Emily constantly. I know it is a parents job to worry about their children, but I sometimes feel it is excessive, much more than before. I talked recently to another mother who lost her son, and she has felt the same way about her surviving daughter, almost to the point of compromising their relationship.
I try not to let on to Emily how I worry. I want her to be happy, nothing is more important to me. Finding a happy medium between worry and letting go may always be difficult for me. I have to remember to treasure the times we have together, and not let those thoughts take over.
Happy Birthday Emily, I am so proud of the woman you have become.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
First Flag Line
Saturday January 7th Dave and I stood our first official Patriot Guard flag line. Officer Shawn Schneider of Lake City, Minnesota had responded to a domestic call on December 19th. He was escorting a 17 year old girl from the premises, when he was shot in the head from behind. While he struggled to survive for 11 days in a Rochester hospital, we attended a candle light vigil for him. After hearing of his death, we knew we needed to attend his funeral to pay our respects.
Dave and I both knew that we would know when the right time would come to stand our first flag line, it is strange that we both felt it at the same time. I wonder if it was because it was not a military funeral, that we would feel as if we were somewhat of outsiders in it? Over 2000 law enforcement from around the region attended, there to pay their respects to a fallen brother, much as the military feel about each other.
The day was very mild in terms of Minnesota in January, around 30 and sunny. We met across the highway from the church for the briefing, long before any mourners could arrive, as to be in our line as they arrived. Walking single file, silent and dignified to our places, I began to think of what the PGR that stood the flag line for Curtis felt like. I never knew Shawn, but I respected what he stood for. As my hands and feet got cold, I did what I could to warm them, but stood my ground. I wanted the lines and lines of officers passing me to know I would be there to support all of them. I watched many of the passengers in the cars passing by mouth their thanks, or open jawed in awe, just as I did when I experienced the PGR for the first time. I knew what they were feeling first hand.
Our ride captain, the same ride captain for us, asked if I would like to pay my respects. I took time to think about it, but decided I wanted to. With so many people, it was impossible to talk to the family personaly, but I collected my blue rose and walked the line past the casket. I held the rose along with my flag with pride.
After the funeral began, our flag line walked back the same way we came, in silence, single file. It was time to set the flag line at the grave site. Dave and I had collectively decided that we would not join them there, feeling baby steps into this process was best. We felt the grave site would be too difficult. Before departure, we were talking with another member who had been at Curtis' funeral. During the day he had stood directly across from me. He was amazed to see us there and mentioned how he didn't know how we could do this. I answered him with the one thing that kept coming to my mind all day, "I'm here to repay a debt."
Thank you Officer Schneider, you and your family's sacrifice will not be forgotten.
Dave and I both knew that we would know when the right time would come to stand our first flag line, it is strange that we both felt it at the same time. I wonder if it was because it was not a military funeral, that we would feel as if we were somewhat of outsiders in it? Over 2000 law enforcement from around the region attended, there to pay their respects to a fallen brother, much as the military feel about each other.
The day was very mild in terms of Minnesota in January, around 30 and sunny. We met across the highway from the church for the briefing, long before any mourners could arrive, as to be in our line as they arrived. Walking single file, silent and dignified to our places, I began to think of what the PGR that stood the flag line for Curtis felt like. I never knew Shawn, but I respected what he stood for. As my hands and feet got cold, I did what I could to warm them, but stood my ground. I wanted the lines and lines of officers passing me to know I would be there to support all of them. I watched many of the passengers in the cars passing by mouth their thanks, or open jawed in awe, just as I did when I experienced the PGR for the first time. I knew what they were feeling first hand.
Our ride captain, the same ride captain for us, asked if I would like to pay my respects. I took time to think about it, but decided I wanted to. With so many people, it was impossible to talk to the family personaly, but I collected my blue rose and walked the line past the casket. I held the rose along with my flag with pride.
After the funeral began, our flag line walked back the same way we came, in silence, single file. It was time to set the flag line at the grave site. Dave and I had collectively decided that we would not join them there, feeling baby steps into this process was best. We felt the grave site would be too difficult. Before departure, we were talking with another member who had been at Curtis' funeral. During the day he had stood directly across from me. He was amazed to see us there and mentioned how he didn't know how we could do this. I answered him with the one thing that kept coming to my mind all day, "I'm here to repay a debt."
Thank you Officer Schneider, you and your family's sacrifice will not be forgotten.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Nightmares
Did you ever wish you could unread something? I recently read a book about a small boy in a serious accident who, while in a coma, visited Heaven. He spoke of his time with God and what Heaven was like. It isn't his account of Heaven, or God that has troubled me, but the account of the holes that lead to Hell that have bothered me. I've talked before that I do not dream of Curtis, but shortly after reading this book, the nighmares started.
I liken peoples stories of their dreams they share of their loved ones the same way some share a birth experience or root canal. You only hear about the wonderful dreams, just as you only hear about the horrible experiences of child birth or a terrible root canal. When in reality, many dreams are scary, as some child birth and root canals are uneventful. I have struggled whether to share these nightmares, but they have weighed so heavy on my mind, I knew I had to.
The first, I was home alone and a man pulled his car into my driveway. I approached the door, and was instantly frightened, even though he posed no immediate threat. When I asked the 30 something, 250 pound man what he wanted, he replied, "Don't you know me? I'm your son." I ran at him with rage, pounding him with my fists. The thing that struck me was he was dressed all in red. I woke heart pounding and out of breath.
The second is a reoccuring dream. The only thing I can ever recall is a young man standing to my side yelling in my ear, "I never loved you!" over and over. It doesn't really look like Curtis, but in my dream, I believe it to be him. Again, I wake suddenly, heart racing and breathing hard.
Of course I don't believe this to be true, but what do these dreams mean? Sometimes I think it is the work of the devil, trying to break my spirit. I work hard everyday to be at peace with what has happened. I believe he is in a better place, but just like when he was deployed and the "what ifs" crept into my mind, the wondering finds it's way in as well, these nightmares are no help.
The book I read was ment to be inspirational, but it left me feeling upset and with more questions. I wish I could go back and unread it. But, like with many things, I need to pick up the pieces and carry on and figure out a new way around this new challenge.
I liken peoples stories of their dreams they share of their loved ones the same way some share a birth experience or root canal. You only hear about the wonderful dreams, just as you only hear about the horrible experiences of child birth or a terrible root canal. When in reality, many dreams are scary, as some child birth and root canals are uneventful. I have struggled whether to share these nightmares, but they have weighed so heavy on my mind, I knew I had to.
The first, I was home alone and a man pulled his car into my driveway. I approached the door, and was instantly frightened, even though he posed no immediate threat. When I asked the 30 something, 250 pound man what he wanted, he replied, "Don't you know me? I'm your son." I ran at him with rage, pounding him with my fists. The thing that struck me was he was dressed all in red. I woke heart pounding and out of breath.
The second is a reoccuring dream. The only thing I can ever recall is a young man standing to my side yelling in my ear, "I never loved you!" over and over. It doesn't really look like Curtis, but in my dream, I believe it to be him. Again, I wake suddenly, heart racing and breathing hard.
Of course I don't believe this to be true, but what do these dreams mean? Sometimes I think it is the work of the devil, trying to break my spirit. I work hard everyday to be at peace with what has happened. I believe he is in a better place, but just like when he was deployed and the "what ifs" crept into my mind, the wondering finds it's way in as well, these nightmares are no help.
The book I read was ment to be inspirational, but it left me feeling upset and with more questions. I wish I could go back and unread it. But, like with many things, I need to pick up the pieces and carry on and figure out a new way around this new challenge.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
I Only Want Your Love
I've never been one to ask for much. When asked for a list at Christmas time, I struggle to come up with very few things that I want, and even fewer that I truly need. As my children grew, they would ask what I wanted for Christmas, my standard answer of "I only want your love" would be met with rolled eyes and a "that doesn't help, Mom!" I didn't want them to spend what little money they had on me.
That isn't to say that I don't enjoy a gift, but I sometimes feel I don't deserve or need one. My wish for love was honest, and easy to give. A hug, an "I love you", giving of their time, or even doing the dishes without my asking would go a long way with me, and for the most part they delivered.
Now, with Emily so far away and Curtis gone, I ache for the love of my children. Sometimes it hurts so bad I can literally feel my heart rip in two. I talk with Emily frequently, but it's not the same as a touch or a hug. As Christmas approaches, this feeling increases. I hear the songs of the season and want to scream, "It's NOT the most wonderful time of the year!" I know I'm not alone when I say that.
Now that I got that out of my system, I want to say that I do feel the love in different ways now. I know that it is Curtis who has brought so many wonderful people into my life. Maybe it's that this time of year, when I don't get to spend much time with them, that I feel so depleted.
Dave and I will travel to see Emily, Nic and Katie for the Holiday. They better be ready, because I'm ready to accept my gift in a big way.
That isn't to say that I don't enjoy a gift, but I sometimes feel I don't deserve or need one. My wish for love was honest, and easy to give. A hug, an "I love you", giving of their time, or even doing the dishes without my asking would go a long way with me, and for the most part they delivered.
Now, with Emily so far away and Curtis gone, I ache for the love of my children. Sometimes it hurts so bad I can literally feel my heart rip in two. I talk with Emily frequently, but it's not the same as a touch or a hug. As Christmas approaches, this feeling increases. I hear the songs of the season and want to scream, "It's NOT the most wonderful time of the year!" I know I'm not alone when I say that.
Now that I got that out of my system, I want to say that I do feel the love in different ways now. I know that it is Curtis who has brought so many wonderful people into my life. Maybe it's that this time of year, when I don't get to spend much time with them, that I feel so depleted.
Dave and I will travel to see Emily, Nic and Katie for the Holiday. They better be ready, because I'm ready to accept my gift in a big way.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Quick Wit
One of the things I miss most about Curtis is his quick wit. Sometimes he would say something so fast and funny, one look at his face, and I would know that he didn't even know where it came from.
A few weeks ago while at Cabelas at the costumer service counter, the cashier next to me was telling her costumer that she had just purchased a leather sewing machine. As I was thinking she had bought it for sewing patches on leather vests and jackets, something came out of my mouth as quick and unexpectedly to me as my neighbors.
"Did you get it to make your dominatrix outfits?" My sister in law and the guy next to me burst out laughing, a man in an office behind the counter even poked his head out to see who had made such a comment. I had to admit I cracked myself up. How could that have come out of my mouth? It wasn't even something that I was thinking. It was just the sort of thing Curtis would have said.
Is that how he chooses to make his presence known? Just a friendly reminder to laugh at life when you aren't feeling that jovial? Thank you Curtis for letting my know you are near and to have a little fun with life.
A few weeks ago while at Cabelas at the costumer service counter, the cashier next to me was telling her costumer that she had just purchased a leather sewing machine. As I was thinking she had bought it for sewing patches on leather vests and jackets, something came out of my mouth as quick and unexpectedly to me as my neighbors.
"Did you get it to make your dominatrix outfits?" My sister in law and the guy next to me burst out laughing, a man in an office behind the counter even poked his head out to see who had made such a comment. I had to admit I cracked myself up. How could that have come out of my mouth? It wasn't even something that I was thinking. It was just the sort of thing Curtis would have said.
Is that how he chooses to make his presence known? Just a friendly reminder to laugh at life when you aren't feeling that jovial? Thank you Curtis for letting my know you are near and to have a little fun with life.
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