One Year

One year ago, I drove out of my driveway in Marysville one last time. 

I cannot believe it's been a year!  It seems like four or five months, maybe.

And I still love being here.

I did not love being in Marysville.  As I drove away from that house, I thought about how different that moment was from the moments when I left my other houses.

My house in Spokane- I spent several moments gazing around the living room, thinking about how much my life had changed in that house. 

I went from being recently-brokenhearted but realizing I would be just fine and should move on with my life, to being vivacious, quasi-orphan, fiancée, wife, mother, mostly-single parent....

When I bought that house, Terry had just instituted one of his month-long breaks from each other that he was so fond of.  After a week, I realized I did not need him in my life. When the month was over, I took almost perverse pleasure when I saw the shock in his eyes as he realized what my buying my own house meant. 

I remember the first time I saw the house in a real-estate magazine; I thought there were too many angles to the roofline.  But I loved that house; I imagine if we'd been able to stay in Spokane we might've still been there, although it would mean some room-sharing.

David was in a hurry to leave, so I didn't get as many moments as I wanted, alone for the last time in my house, but I spun slowly in a circle,  thinking about how life can change so much and so quickly, thinking about the first moments Bryn and I walked into that room, just remembering.

 Our last moments at our house in Rockford, we were in a hurry again, but this time David made me turn around and look at the house one more time.  I was sobbing - -SOB.BING. If I'd gone with my heart instead of with what I thought my husband wanted, I would've called the moving truck and told them to just come back.  Even though I hadn't loved Rockford in the beginning, I was not the one who decided to leave in the end.

The first time I saw that house online, I loved it, although the location wasn't ideal.  We actually made an offer on another house near Amy, and I agonized and cried over that one too.  Thankfully, we didn't get that house, because this was definitely the right one for us.

And leaving it was no fun at all.  In fact, I'm not sure my heart ever did leave.  Part of it still resides in that house.

And then the Marysville house.  Given what we had to choose from, it was one of the better choices.  But I never loved it, and once they built the houses behind it, my feelings about it went downhill fast. 

And when it was time to leave, I didn't even look back.  Didn't take one last look around the house, didn't glance in the rearview mirror, nothing.

Really, I'm not at all sorry about that.  No love lost there.


I wonder what the circumstances will be when I leave this house for the last time.  I like it.  I don't love it like I loved our Rockford house (except the 500 square feet of white tile floor.  That was the bane of my existence, and the reason I hired a maid), although it fits our needs well and we could easily live here until all the kids are gone.  I don't foresee moving anywhere else in the near- or semi-distant future.  I love our town, I like Rockford, I see no reason to leave.  Unless some dream job became available in Spokane, but that isn't going to happen.  And even then.....would I want to move back?  I really don't know. 

But.....time flies.  I still cannot fathom that we've been here for a year.

Ways to Help Others When Their Life Stinks

I've been thinking today about poor Kristen and her family.  Although I'm nowhere near close enough, nor have I spoken to her since Julia was a baby, my mind has been going through things that people could do for her to help.  Whenever something bad happens, the first reaction seems to be to bring food.  Helpful-only maybe; gut reaction- definitely.  So I decided to start a list of things that I would've appreciated after mom died, and maybe someday I'll have a chance to do unto others what I would've liked done unto me.

1. Meals- use disposable dishes.  Nobody wants to feel guilty for not bringing back your dishes soon enough or forgetting what belongs to whom. Also, bring something frozen, with directions and the recipe taped to it.  We had more food than any family could reasonably have eaten.  But something to put in the freezer and pull out in a few weeks when the shock wore off and even transferring a dish from the fridge to the oven felt like an accomplishment would've been Heaven-sent. 

2. Housecleaning- I suppose if someone close to Lucy dies, this one won't apply, but  most people don't love housework.  I know there are many people who thrive on doing routine, mundane chores just so they feel like there is some semblance of normality, but if someone told me they were going to come over on this day to dust and vacuum for me, I wouldn't have said no.  Bring them a latte and tell the person to go somewhere that you won't bother them, unless they want your company, and clean a bathroom, make the beds, or mop the kitchen floor.  Take a nice basket and put anything out of place in it, so they can go through later and put things where they go. 
This would probably be even better if a pair of people went, so the bereaved didn't feel obligated to keep anyone company.

3. Laundry- I'm one of the oddballs who enjoys laundry.  I accept that most people don't.  Same principle as #2- tell them you'll be over to do a few loads of laundry.  Change the sheets, wash some towels, allow them to not have to worry about having clean underwear when their life is crashing down around them.

4.  Do not say "let me know if I can do anything" or "I'm here if you need me".
No one is going to take you up on that.  Say "tell me how I can help" or "what can I do to help you?"

5.  Talk is cheap.  Anyone who's been through a death can list 17 different platitudes that they'd rather punch someone in the face than hear again.  A simple "I'm so sorry" is sufficient.  Some people really want to talk after a tragedy, others are more private and won't talk.  If it's someone you're close to, just say "when you're ready, I'm here".  If it's an acquaintance, don't bother.  "I'm sorry for what you're going through" is all they need to hear.  Add an I'mprayingforyou if you'd like- definitely pray, but they don't need to hear it and, again, talk is cheap.  They won't care yet.

6. Go to Starbucks, buy 'em a coffee and a scone, and take it to them.  Do not go in the house.  Say "I'm thinking of you" and leave.  Unless you're really good friends and the person wants you to stay.  But usually, that's not the case.

7. Send a card.  You don't have to say anything profound.  "I'm sorry, I'm thinking of you in this difficult time".  I still appreciate many people who sent cards- not because it was any great help, but because it's the thought that counts and they thought of me.

8.  Send another card.  Life goes on for the rest of us, but not for the person who's experienced the loss.  Remember that they're still grieving.  The whole world shows up to help initially, but very few remain after a few weeks.  Let them know you still care, you recognize they're still hurting, and again ask how you can help.

9.  Run errands.  Ask if it would be helpful if you went grocery shopping for them.  Pick up their prescriptions. Tell them you're going to Target and ask if there's anything they need while you're there. Little things can cause a cascade of tears, and being in public where the tears might start is a risky thing at first. 

10. Seems like there should be 10 things, so I'll come up with one more.  Flowers- they're nice, they really are.  But after a death when everyone sends flowers to the funeral home, someone has to deal with those flowers.  Take 'em home, watch 'em die, throw them out.  Lately the trend seems to be buying plants instead.  Usually, those eventually die too, and then you feel bad because you couldn't keep a stupid plant alive and it reminds you that you got the plant because someone died and now the plant died too and why does everything in this life die? Except spiders.  They seem to live forever no matter how much bug spray I use.  Send a nice, non-funeral-y bouquet of flowers, but do it later.  Like with the Just-thinking-of-you card you're going to send a month or two after things quiet down. 

I'm sure there's more.  People much more imaginative and helpful and caring than I am could probably come up with a whole 'nother list that would put mine to shame.  I think there's only two things you can do that aren't helpful: do nothing, and open your big mouth.  Keep your mouth shut (except for a few short, limited phrases that don't involve death being God's will or deceased person being in a better place) and your hands busy.

It Could Always Be Worse

Mom and Dad had a crappy marriage. 

Big shock, I know.

I don't remember, even when I was little, ever thinking that they liked each other. I don't remember any loud fighting until I was older, but I'm sure there was some.  I remember a few things being thrown, by both of them.  I remember sullen attitudes and silent treatments.

But compared to what David and Amy grew up with, mom and dad were peaceful.

Amy, Andre, David, and I went out to dinner a few nights ago, and during the drive home we somehow started talking about their mom's marriage to the stepdad they grew up with.

David and Amy had lots of "remember when"'s, none of them being anything you'd much want to remember.  Remember when you had to ask each morning who the person in mom's bed was, remember when you walked in on ____...., remember when mom threw something at dad and split his head open and left and we had to go get the neighbor to take him to the hospital.

Andre piped up with "I remember one time my mom and dad got in a big fight and they......yelled at each other really loud!"

Life isn't fair for kids.  They have to put up with living in the middle of a very fragile relationship.  We got to witness some of the many wrong ways to handle a marriage.  But it certainly could've been a whole lot worse.