Coconut Cowabunga Shampoo

It is strange the things that make you think about your lost loved one. Some time has passed now since Jack died, I don't do the math and truly don't know how long it has been. I really have to think if I were to figure it out. Why count? It's never going to bring him back and it will only be a reminder of how long I have lived without him. I try not to let dates control my feelings and as a wise and super cute Nate Berkus on Oprah said "I don't let the dates have power." (He lost his partner in the tsunami years ago) I have settled into my "new life" without Jack. Sometimes it is comfortable, sometimes not so much. I must say that the comfortable times are much more prevalent than the uncomfortable ones and for that I am grateful. The funny thing about death is it is one thing in life you can't change. I can't control it and I know that I will never have him back. As those thoughts may cause one to lose it, for some reason, it usually brings me comfort.

However, I had an uncomfortable moment at the most unusual time yesterday. (It always comes when you least expect it...ah Grief! You got me again. Darn you!) I was in the shampoo aisle and saw the shampoo I had been using for Jack, Suave Kids Coconut Cowabunga Shampoo. I smelled it and was instantly transported in my mind to bath-time and how he loved playing in the water. I could hear his laugh, I could almost feel the water hitting me as it spilled out of the tub, and for the first time since his death, I could physically feel on my fingertips his hair and what it felt like when I washed it. I could feel the courseness of his fine blond hair and wanted nothing more at that moment to be able to hug him, see him and hear that wonderful laugh of his and how he would say "MommyMommyMommy" without taking a breath in between words. Who knew a $1 bottle of shampoo could evoke such emotion? I had to settle for my memories and take comfort that someday soon, I will be able to wash Kate's hair with the same bottle and laugh with her as she splashes, pours water on me and enjoys a bath just as much as her brother!

Mother's Day

I know that so many people were thinking of my family on Mother's Day and I appreciate all the kind thoughts and words that were sent our way. We ended up spending the day and prior evening in the hospital with Kate who had an unexplained high fever which caused much concern because of Jack's mysterious and fast demise. Medical professionals become very concerned about Miss Kate when something looks slightly off. We appreciate it and know for them, we have to be a scary family to work with! I had visions of relaxing all day, celebrating both Jack, Kate and Baby T3 and how I am so lucky to be a mother to my children...past, present, and future! But as I have learned, life doesn't always go as planned. After getting home from the hospital in the middle of the afternoon after one hour of sleep, I told Dan, "I get a rain check on Mother's Day."
When I crawled into bed at night, I found a few surprises on under my pillow..the most touching, a card from "Jack." Dan had found a Mother's Day card that had a "Hummingbird" on it with a description of the Hummingbird in it. It read:

"Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy and celebration. The hummingbird's delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning and that laughter is life's sweetest creation."

I thought this was so beautiful, poignant and made Jack seem like a hummingbird to me. In Jacks' card to me, "Jack" wrote among many things that "Life is a continuum and I will see you again. In moments of silence and beauty, I will help guide you and will always love you. Please have a Hey Cupcake! Red Velvet for me. Love you! Jack"

Do I have an awesome family or what?!

What was HE like?

I was at a party with a friend of mine that I have made since Jack died. I met her because she was one of the complete strangers who signed up to bring us food the weeks after everything happened. (For two months food was brought to us almost everynight. It was amazing) I am still amazed that people would do that...bring food to a family who is grieving, that they have never met before. Who wants to voluntarily walk into so many unknowns...? I learned through my amazing neighbors and people in the community that many people do! They taught me to never hesitate if I am doing something out of kindness or compassion for another person.
Who would think that I would make a good friend out of it? But, I did! And, it's fantastic...she is having a baby girl a few weeks before me, she loves Kate, I love her boys and her husband and her make great company! Who could ask for more from a family just a minute walk away?
Anyway...what leads me to this post is while at the party, we were talking about her boys and Kate. She turned and asked me "What was Jack like?" It made me so happy! Not only is Jack alive in my mind but others as well. He is not living and yet people still want to know about him and hear what made him crazy and fun. (And, she wasn't afraid to ask!) She had no idea what those four words meant to me and how it made my heart swell and my lips form a huge smile to know that someone besides me, Dan, my close family was still interested in him. There is a culture/saying/proverb (can't remember which) that says we die two deaths...one, when we die and two, when people forget that we existed. I never want Jack to die the second death!
You know who you are...thanks a million for making my day!
P.S. I could go on for hours about what Jack was like but I mentioned just a few good things to her; including his energy, his love for life, how he always seemed to be happy and loved to wrestle with this Dad. We miss you J-Boogie!

Ack! Ack!

My mom gave Kate a picture frame when Jack was still alive that says "My Big Brother Loves Me" on the top. We have it on display with a picture of Jack and Kate together in Kate's room. Every once in awhile I will point to the picture and say "That is Jack, That is Kate." I also have pictures in my wallet of Dan and Jack (Kate too!). Yesterday Kate was playing with my wallet and flipping through the pictures. I pointed to Dan's picture and said "Who is this?" Kate said "Dadda!" I then pointed to the pictures of Jack and said "Who is this?" My heart melted when she said "Ack!"

I couldn't believe that she knew his name and even said it with an emphasis (she is growing up too!), almost like she knew we say JACK! with an exclamation mark at the end. My eyes welled up and I don't know if it made me sad or happy, probably both.

Sad that she will never remember Jack. Sad that she was cheated out of the opportunity to have a big brother protecting her and making sure her boyfriends treat her right in high school. She is cheated out of an older brother who will push her down and skin her knees, who will teach her to build forts and to pick her boogers and wipe them on eachother. She will never have teachers that say "Oh, you're Jack's little sister" or have the pleasure of personally knowing what an awesome, fun and energetic person Jack was.

I was happy that she recognized him, even if just in a picture. Happy that Jack will be a part of her life, just in a very different way then we expected. Happy that Dan and I have the responsibility from early on to teach her about the value of life and that death is not to be feared. What a great responsibility for us and one that will take some figuring out when the time comes. If there is a heaven, there are many wonderful people waiting to greet us again, including JACK! It made me happy that I am confident in Dan and my raising of Kate that she will not grow up thinking she needs to "compare" to Jack or "be like" Jack or worry that she was never "good enough." Without effort, we have grown to love Kate even more for all the things that make Kate Kate, which are quite different than the things that made Jack Jack.

I wonder if she will ask us questions about him when she is older, will she want to see pictures or watch video of them together? Will she grieve in her own way and when we talk about family, will she include him as a part of hers? I guess we will see as we go but for now, I will continue to delight myself in what we had, not what we lost and celebrate our "girls" that make our family what it presently is today.

Vroooom Vroooom!

You never realize how often you see emergency vehicles on the road until there is something personal to associate them with. It took six months but I now can look at Austin/Travis County EMS vehicles and instead of shuddering, I smile and think, “There goes those amazing people who worked so hard to save our son. God speed to whoever you are helping next.”

Faith's Lodge

Our family was sponsored by a group of selfless individuals in Minnesota to spend the weekend at “Faith’s Lodge” in Northern Wisconsin. They had learned of our story through a friend and chose us as the first family they would like to help. What a selfless act from people we have never even met! A million thanks does not convey our gratitude enough.
Faith’s Lodge is a place for families who have lost a child or whose child is terminally ill. We were able to spend the weekend with other families in our same situation and had an immediate connection with them. What an amazing time it was!
The history of Faith’s Lodge as well as pictures can be found on the website, I could try to do it justice by describing it but I would fail. It was simply divine and no detail was left out. Please check out this amazing organization and keep them in mind if you learn of families that may benefit from attending (www.faithslodge.org) or ever want to donate to a fantastic cause.
It was so wonderful for us to have the time to spend away from barking dogs, laundry, work, traffic et cetera. We spent lots of time in the kids play room (Kate’s favorite), doing arts and crafts, hiking, making s’mores by the campfire, and sharing our story and the story of JACK! with the other families.
We made a “Heart Stone” which involved choosing a stone and painting it in honor of your loved one to be placed along the “Path of Inspiration” at the lodge. When we arrived, we went hiking and picked out a large rock that we brought back to wash and paint. We were later told that we needed to return it because those were used for the retaining wall. If they had ever met Jack, they would know why we wanted a large rock instead of one that would fit in the palm of your hand. We painted Jack’s rock (a smaller one that we found) a bright sea blue and placed it next to a small pine tree that looked bright and effervescent amid the brown colors awaiting the coming of spring. Of course, while choosing the spot, placing it and taking a moment to take a few deep breaths, Kate kept busy picking up other rocks and moving them. The Heart Stone which came from Lake Superior is supposed to represent the journey of grief…sometimes there are rough waters, sometimes smooth but despite the tough journey from the bottom of the lake to the shore, it made it! Just like us! We’re making it…
In the center of the lodge was a table to place photos of your loved one. Of course I could not choose just one picture of the J-Boogie so I had an accordion style photo book with 16 pictures. Everyone commented on his smile when looking at his pictures and I loved having his picture on display in a place where people didn’t think it was “weird” or think “that poor family” or “that’s the boy that died.” We felt so bonded to the other families and I knew that to them, a piece of Jack was still alive, as the spirit of their children was to us. It was a place to feel connected to Jack while we enjoyed our new “norm” of our family being three (for 5 more months anyway!).
I realized while we were there that a weight lifted off my shoulders. When going to Faith’s Lodge and knowing we were going because of Jack, for whatever reason, I felt like I would relive everything. I realized as we were there that we never have to relive that awful evening or those tumultuous days that came after ever again. Each day that goes by puts me farther away from that awful time. The story does not change, it gets easier to tell and our “new norm” is more normal everyday. Everyday that goes by I am working through it and healing more. Some people may see it as “But you haven’t had him for so long.” I see it as “The more days I continue to survive after that time/trauma/devastating event that could have crushed me, my family, my marriage and my spirit and I didn’t allow it, the better! I choose to celebrate Jack and all our great memories!” (I like to think this makes Jack proud of his family.) I know that tragedy can strike our family at anytime but I will never lose Jack again. In realizing that, it has opened my heart and my head even more to embrace who Jack was, the memories we had with him and to be filled with love instead of sadness and grief. “That Night” (which is how I refer to that awful time) has lost so much power as I realized this. Yes! Of course the tears still come but not as frequent and not with the intensity as before. The power of the mind is an amazing thing and not something that I will ever take for granted.

Elmo Mafia

When my Dad was packing to come to Austin moments after learning the devastating news, he knew he would need a tie. He looked in his closet and saw a tie that had pool balls all over it. He told himself “This is it! This is what Jack would want me to wear.” Not the most stylish tie and a bit loud but Dad hit it on the spot. Jack certainly would have picked that tie over any other. This story gave us the idea to encourage others to do the same. When we had Jack’s celebration we had posted on the blog for people to wear something bright or fun, something that screamed “Jack!” We encouraged people to pick something out of your closet that Jack would have if he were helping you to get dressed. It was the perfect idea which came from my Dad. We didn’t need anymore darkness that day and the bright colors and fun outfits that people wore were a refreshing change from your typical attire for something of this nature.

I couldn’t believe the outpouring of support and people that came to the celebration. I was afraid too many chairs were set up when we got there and couldn’t believe that people continued to flood in and that there was standing room only. It certainly taught me that if you are ever considering going to a celebration/wake/funeral but are unsure whether you will be received well, you will. Our friends were sweating and working so hard to set everything up, to make it just how we envisioned.

As the celebration was getting ready to begin, I was feeling so nervous. What was going on? What were Dan and I doing here? This was one occasion that I did not want to be the “host” but here we were. We reviewed everything with Pastor Brian and then knew we needed to start. We walked to the front of the pavilion and looked out at everyone that had congregated with us. I was trying to hold myself together and to breathe deeply. I wanted to fall over and then I looked out past everyone sitting in chairs to the little hill that people had to walk down to get to the pavilion. It was like slow motion…a group of Dan’s friends had gone to Wal-Mart earlier in the day and found Adult Elmo Shirts. They were bright red and had Elmo’s face on them. They bought them all. They were all wearing them under their suits/jackets/blazers. It was like the “Elmo Mafia.” In an instant, I was smiling and felt so much better. I thought “People got it!” People understood that we were here to celebrate Jack and his sweet life. People weren’t afraid to go outside the box and knew that we would love it. They knew Jack well enough to know that Elmo was a favorite and were doing something to honor what we had requested. I was so touched by this and 4 months later, often I think of that moment and get a huge smile on my face. Thanks so much you guys…you have no idea how much it meant to me. “Money well spent” is a gross understatement.

Some questions can't be answered by Google

Of all the places you see your name; there are certain places you just don’t ever want to see it. There are the obvious places, on a list of people who are delinquent on their mortgage or America’s most wanted list. You don’t want to see your name on a late payment, a “flight is cancelled” email or a pink slip. But, I can say with the upmost certainty that the last place a parent wants to see their name is on their child’s death certificate. After waiting for 4 months to hopefully have an answer to “What in the world happened to our sweet Jack?” we received what may be the only answer we will receive. It still boggles my mind that I am receiving my child’s death certificate. I should be getting reports of how long his nap was at daycare and how many times he used the potty, how much he ate and new words that he learned. What an entirely different kind of document to get. I couldn’t help but notice that they listed the deceased person’s age on the certificate. Did the person typing in Jack’s information do a double-take? Did they think a number was missing on either side of the number “2?” Did it make them catch their breath and think “Thank God this isn’t my family?”

The Medical Examiner wrote the cause of death as “Pulmonary Hemorrhaging of Unknown Etiology.” Basically, Jack’s lungs filled with blood, causing him to suffocate while sleeping. Some crazy virus took over and reeked havoc. Do we know why/what/how? No, and we probably won’t ever know. The Medical Examiner was hoping that an “expert panel of Doctors” would look at Jack’s tissue to see if they could see something he couldn’t. The Medical Examiner claims that this group kept putting him off and he finally gave up on them. I know that learning more of Jack’s death is only top priority to two people and unfortunately, Dan and I didn’t have the clout we needed or even the opportunity to try to contact this “expert panel” to plead our case. Clearly, this group of doctors never met Jack and had no idea what a vivacious, fun, sweet, crazy little boy he was. If they had, I have to believe they would have done whatever they could to help us solve this puzzle.

Jack’s death continues to be something that no one understands. As frustrating as that is, I can see a silver lining. It was fast and he most likely didn’t have pain. There is no one to blame and nothing could have stopped it. It is a comfort to know that our pediatrician thinks it happened “very fast” and that Jack most likely didn’t suffer at all. I am continually filled with gratitude to Adam Stevenson and Woody Green, the EMS responders who worked tirelessly on Jack for 45 minutes before pronouncing him dead. At the time, we didn’t know that when I found Jack, he had already passed. The responders had to have known this yet fought for Jack as if they were fighting for their own life. This could have been no small task as Dan pleaded with Jack to live in a tone filled with such desperation and I paced the house having no idea what was happening and what to do. Both EMS responders left our house crying which solidified to me that they understood that although Jack was only two, he was as much a person as an adult.

As Jack’s body lost the fight to whatever this virus was that I continue to curse, I hope Jack was having sweet dreams of swimming, cupcakes and sunshine shining on his face while he completed his journey on this earth. It is still amazing to think that as this was happening, I was about 20 feet away, in another room watching Oprah on TIVO and eating a Lean Cuisine pizza, having no idea that my world was falling apart. Dan was downstairs cleaning a vacuum. We live life not knowing what/how/when things could suddenly change. Perhaps this is a good thing as we cannot live in fear and change is not always bad. We must remember to live each moment to the fullest. I have no regrets about my time with Jack. I know that he knew he was loved, adored, respected and cared for in the best way possible for our family. I know that Dan and I didn’t waste a day with our sweet boy…how sweet it is.

HOT ROCK!

A week or so ago a little girls bike caught my eye outside of a Goodwill. Since we had Jack, Dan and I always look at the bikes at the thrift store, looking for a great find. Not a Huffy or Magna, but a really good quality bike for our kids. The bike that caught my eye was a Specialized brand "Hot Rock!" that was pink in color with dogs on it. I loved that it didn’t have Barbie or Princesses on it and it was in great shape. I wasn’t sure what size it was but knew Kate probably couldn’t use it until she was probably 4 years old. I bought it without hesitation and knew in that moment that I finally had faith that Kate would live… that she would enjoy this bike even if she can’t use it until she is 4. In my reality, my children pass away when they are two. I have been a parent for almost 3 years but don’t know what it is like to have a child older than 2. Since Jack’s passing I have thought that the same will happen with Kate because that is what we know. As each day goes by and I wake Kate from her sweet slumber in the morning, my faith is renewed that perhaps Jack’s passing was a freak thing. We all knew Jack was one in a million, why should his death be any different? I can’t wait to watch Dan teach Kate how to use her bike and to see her ride off into the sunset with a huge smile. I just hope she doesn’t go too far, we’re not ready to let her go just yet.

Tax Break

Today I filled out a form for our tax preparer. It asked for us to list our children and include how long they lived with us in 2009. Stab me in the back and kick me while I am down. An innocent question for most that requires no thought at all was like a dagger in my back. I actually had to think about this question in relation to Jack. This should have been a no-brainer for me, I should have been able to type in “12” and continue on my merry way. As I typed 9 months onto the form, I couldn’t see the screen through my tears. Sometimes the reality sneaks up on you when you least expect it and the gravity of the situation hits you. Thoughts of frustration, sadness, and “Do I really continue to live this reality day in and day out? filled my brain, all because of a tax form. Is there a special tax break for parents who are grieving their child? Do we get an exemption for suffering one of life’s greatest losses? Instead of donating money to a presidential fund on our taxes, can we donate money to prevent this from happening to anyone else? I would like to think we “took one for the team,” that team being all our family and friends but we know we can guarantee no such thing. As we progress though this journey some minutes/days/hours are easier than others but we seem to still be fighting the fight with grief. Darn it…grief won again. Someday I am going to be the winner. I am not giving up yet.