Abi's Army of Love

There is a group of people out there who love us. Really love us. I mean there's lots of folks out there supporting us, some who I don't even know. But there's an Army of people who are keeping the kids and I lifted up and smiling just about every week.

Abi's Army of Love started just after Mike passed. I got a card in the mail, from an unknown person (I recognized the handwriting though... and that it came from MASS *cough* Katy Foley! :)) telling me about the Army of Love. Since then we've received gifts for the kids, keep sake items for Mike, flowers and other things. Cards, donations, you name it. And there are people outside the 'official' Army who I think are still a part of the Army :) I head home to NH and an old high school friend gives us tickets to Story Land and a gift certificate to dinner. My son got to go to soccer camp for free this summer thanks to the head soccer coach at UConn. He got a 4 day trip to the cape too! I come home and my lawn is mowed and my kitchen has been cleaned. I have a suite of people who have given their schedules to a central person so that they can all help with kid duty of I need a babysitter for any reason. It's absolutely amazing. And humbling. And awesome. And they are a part of my Army as well.

I can tell you all right now - even if you are reading this and are not an official part of the Army, or maybe you don't even know me or my family. If something like this happens to someone you know - do an act like this. The smallest thing means the world to me and my kids right now. That knowledge that we are loved and cared for and supported continually is incredibly comforting.




But really, this isn't about the 'stuff'. That's all fun, nice and neat - and it means the world to me, believe me. And especially to my kids - the surprises keep coming which makes them have these huge grins that are hard to beat. But really, this is about the love. The support. Knowing that even though time is going on, our friends and family haven't forgotten Michael, or us, or what happened. I think that's the hardest thing about time going on after a tragedy. Everyone's lives start to go back to normal - as they should - and here I am with my head against the wall stuck in April 2014. The world keeps spinning while mine is standing still. Things happen, we all move on. But those of us close to Michael are still left with this void. This hole that cannot be filled. The puzzle piece that is forever gone, making our world incomplete. That will never go away for as long as we live. We may come to not notice it as much, or to feel it as sharply. But it will always be there.  Because they are anonymous, I can't thank them personally. I thank them here, and on Facebook. And I  know who a few of them are, but I don't know who's been sending what, really. And so I can't write thank you's (which actually takes a huge burden off of me, so THANK YOU!!). My guess is that they don't care about the recognition. Their happiness comes from knowing they have put a smile on some grieving faces. The fact that months later our 'Army' is still at full force behind us and thinking of us - well it is absolutely fantastic and reminds me of what life is all about. Taking care of each other.

I miss daddy

These are words I hear almost daily.
I want daddy.
I miss daddy.
I wish daddy was here.
 
They were daily at first, but have started to fade out and are only every other day or so now. It's exhausting. It's so mentally tiring to have to talk about it, and sympathize, and explain. Over and over again. And most days all I can do is hug them and say 'me too'. I miss him. I wish he were here. I want him back. I am sad/mad/angry/upset/destroyed - you think of the adjective for how I'm feeling and it's probably in there. I thank everything in this world that I have these two kids - they are a living part of Michael still here with us. But it's a double edged sword. Having them means I am reminded of him every second of every day. And instead of just me grieving, I have 2 grieving children that I need to try and figure out how to help. How much I wish they didn't have to have this pain or this loss. How much I wish I could just bear it all myself and not have them experience all of this. I don't in any way wish they weren't here - just that they didn't have to experience all of this and be a part of my grieving now as well. See I'm not just grieving for my loss of Michael. The loss of the person I've loved deeply for over 13 years now. I'm grieving FOR my children who now miss their father and will grow up without him. I'm grieving for them every moment when they ask for him, and every time there's one of those 'I have to tell Mike about this!' moments that he's not here for anymore.


Adella is too young to really understand what death is, and so she asks the most. It's very hard for her to grasp that he's gone and cannot come back. The other day she actually asked me 'where is daddy?' This is the first time she's done anything other than whine that she wants him or cry out for him. Most of the time she wants him she is in the throws of a tantrum and just yells 'DADDY'. When she is tired or upset (especially at me) those are the times she wants him and needs him. Just as it was when he was here. As a matter of fact, the day Michael died Adella was asleep napping when the police came to the house. My brother in law was with me and my sister in law came and got the kids to go to their house and play (I am forever thankful for that). And when David woke Adella up to leave the first thing she said to him was 'Where's Daddy?' Yeah. So she asks me where he is last week. And I try my best to keep it together and tell her that Daddy is gone (I don't use death/dead as she doesn't yet understand what that means. I could tell her he joined the circus and it would be more believable to her). 'Daddy was in an accident and he's gone, sweetheart. He can't come back.' She wasn't quite sure what to do, probably using the word accident wasn't the right thing. She looked a little confused and then said 'but I want him.' I told her that I knew that, but he can't be here with us. And gave her a hug. With her, it's hard to say things like 'he'll always be with us' because that's too abstract for her. She can't see him, so to her he is not here. If I say he's still with us in our hearts she expects to see him physically appear. For me the worst part of her being so young is that she really won't remember him. She'll remember through photos and stories but she won't have actual memories of him being alive or of doing things with him. That is incredibly sad for me (possibly more so than for her). She was (and always will be) daddy's little girl. She would run to him whenever she need something and he'd snatch her up in his big arms and hold her tight making everything better. My arms aren't quite as big and comforting for her.

Gunnar understands somewhat. But he misses him so much that his emotions are getting the most of him many times right now. The first few weeks were spent with him taking on the 'man of the house' job - he was adamant that he would fix things that broke, and that everything belonging to Mike was now his, since Dad was gone. He felt in a way he needed to take Mike's place in our house, I think. And Mike had always told him (eerily, now...) that if anything ever happened to him, Gunnar would have to take care of mommy and Adella. Slowly that attitude has given way to more sadness and anger. You can tell he misses him constantly and he is always on Gunnar's mind. There are nights when I put him to bed and he is just so down. I will ask him what's wrong and he says he misses Dad. I can't take that away. I can't make it better. A 5 year old should not have this burden on his shoulders. So I hug him and I say I do too. And we share a memory. Or look at a photo. Or read a book about loss. And we remember, together. We've started journaling together. So I take the journal I started when he was born, and we write about daddy in it now. He tells me what to say and I write it down with the date. 'Dad loved us all', 'Daddy was silly'. 'Daddy loved to fix things'. Adella has started chiming in too, which is fun. 'Daddy made me laugh! He tickled me!'. So I will write down things she remembers about dad too, in her journal, and they will both have those to look back upon when they are older.

There are things coming up where missing dad will be at a peak - birthdays, Football for Gunnar (Mike coached last year), start of school, more holidays. Each of them bringing more 'I miss daddy' moments. I imagine there will never be a time when that sentiment fades away completely. And each one brings with it another set of tears and grief that only missing someone you deeply love can bring. But we will get through them and move ahead. Because there is no other option for us. When something like this happens your life can go two ways - you can sink down low and wallow in the weight of the grief and let it consume you, or you can rise above it and do your best to keep living life for the person you have lost. I cannot imagine doing the former and having my children (or myself) be alright. So we choose the latter.

Knowing

The toxicology and autopsy reports are finally done, so the report about Michael's death is now complete and finished. A chapter in this horrific book is now complete and closed. I'm not going to do any big reveals here. What is in those reports is for my eyes and those of a few close family members who want to see it.
What I will say is that I now know what happened to my husband. For me, the not knowing was far worse. What happened to him in the accident wasn't pretty. But now I know. I know what happened to his body, and I do find a small bit of comfort from it. What I had made up in my head wasn't pretty, either, so this way it's now accurate. But I know two things after reading everything in the reports
1. He died instantly, there was no suffering. For that I am grateful.
2. His injuries were not survivable.
We've had people ask us things like 'was he wearing a helmet' (believe me, people ask some of the most asinine things when things like this happen. Like they have no filter at all. I know it's curiosity but still - does it really matter now? Come on.) And no, he was not. It was rare that he did, and CT has no helmet law so it was perfectly in his right to not wear one. So back off. But even so, if you want to be critical, here's a newsflash - it would not have made a difference. His injuries would have occurred just about the same. He still would have died in that accident even if he was wearing a helmet. There isn't much that could have prevented his death given the injuries he sustained, I suspect.
I was a bit upset at first because the authorities tried to prevent me from seeing the autopsy report - they thought that I didn't need to see it or read how graphic it was. They weren't going to give it to me and were going to make me go through FOIA to get a copy. As I have said before, I'm not a piece of glass. I am not so fragile that when I see a description of someones injuries I will break in two and not be able to be repaired. I'm a 38 year old grown person who can make her own decisions and who, quite frankly, knows a lot better than anyone else what 'is best' for me given this situation. And what is right for me is certainly not right for anyone else - but let me be the judge of what is right for me. I have known from the beginning that I wanted to see that report. I gave it time - almost 2 months - to dwell over it and make the final decision as to whether or not I really did want to see it. I think that's enough time to really weigh the pros and cons. What I can't do now is erase the (now more accurate) image from my head of what happened. But you know what? I had the same problem before, it just wasn't an accurate image. Which to me is in many ways much worse. Your head will create all sorts of horrors when you don't know what really happened.
I won't ever be able to erase the memory of any of this. The images of what he must of looked like. My own visions of how the accident occurred. Hearing the police officer tell me that my husband was dead. Telling my children that their father was dead. I won't forget any piece of that in all my days.
But now I at least know what really happened to him. And I needed that for some sort of closure and acceptance with all of this.
People often ask me now if things are getting better, or easier. The answer is no, not really. If anything they are getting harder. The day to day life without him is more and more mundane and sad. The reality of all of this is finally starting to settle in as the shock and fog lift. Which is must harder. It was not easy getting through the past weeks. But in many ways the shock of it all protected me. It was somewhat easy for me to ignore what happened and go about my day trying to pretend it didn't. I think that's how I've made it through so far, appearing strong to most, but really just deflecting everything. There are only a very few times I've really let myself sit down and think about the fact that Michael is, in fact, dead. Because going there is too hard most of the time. But I think I'm finally starting to really process it all. And that is, actually, much harder than going through life more or less in denial... which is where I have been the past couple of months.

Naw'lins trip

6/28/14-7/1/14

Mike and I were sitting around this winter (probably February) talking about how we never go anywhere on vacation anymore (without the kids, on our own, to a place we've never been before kind of vacation!). I had just done our taxes and knew we'd get some money back. So I say 'you know what? Let's take some of that tax return and just go somewhere this summer. You and I, together, no kids.' At the time I think we must have been watching an episode of NCIS and they were in NOLA for a couple of episodes. Mike says 'actually this makes me really want to go to New Orleans, I've never been.' I hadn't either - so the deal was if we could find 2 cheap tickets and keep the total for the trip below $1,000 we'd do it.
I did a lot of research, kept my eye on tickets, and purchased them later that month (or maybe early March). My in-laws could watch the kids, done deal we were going. A vacation! And so I began searching for what we should do down there. Which meant I had a list. And Mike knew, vacationing with me is anything but relaxing! I have to do at least a few of the 'top 10 things to do' in a place when we go. Or I may find the need to drive hours to some off the beaten path kind of place. There's no sitting by the pool or ocean all day when you vacation with me!
Fast forward to April and everything happened. As things settled I remembered, holy shit - we had a vacation planned. So I started the process of canceling everything. I canceled his ticket and then got to talking to some friends and family about canceling mine. Almost everyone asked me why I wouldn't still go? I didn't have an answer, other than it was a trip designed for Mike and I, and I wasn't sure I wanted to go without him now. But you know what? He would have wanted me to go. And if the tables were turned I would have wanted him to go. And it turns out I had people willing to go with me and do all these things with me. A number of friends had tried to take time to come with me, but it didn't work out. My 2 sister-in-laws jumped right in and booked tickets and there it was - we were going and this would be a celebration to Mike (have I mentioned here what amazing family and friends I have? These 2 are top notch, I'll say it publicly right now! They are more sisters to me than relatives by marriage). We'd do things that he had wanted to (swamp tour, eat alligator) and that I had planned on us doing together (ride a cable car, drink a hurricane, visit cemeteries). And we had a list beyond that thanks to my amazing friends and Mother-in-law!
Fast forward to last week, and there I was packing. We were really going to do this. I was excited but also apprehensive. I'd built a lot up on this trip and I knew it was going to be emotional. And it was. From that morning driving to the airport thinking that he should be there in the car with me (sorry Meg, you were a gorgeous passenger, though! :)) to sitting on the plane without him next to me (yes I cried when the plane took off). To seeing the hotel for the first time, imaging him there. See I hate flying. I have for quite some time. Love to travel, hate to fly. Mike knew this and always held my hand at take off and landing when we flew together. And if we were in different seats not close to each other (which happened sometimes), I would look around and find him - and he'd lift his hand up in the air so I could see it, and he'd pretend to grab my hand with it. Because he knew I would be sitting there with my leg shaking trying to breathe deep. So this time at take off and landing I held his wedding ring on a necklace that had a small amount of his ashes in it. When we got there the fun began, and didn't stop the entire time. We hit up Bourbon Street, threw beads for boobies, walked all over, did the swamp tour, visited a graveyard, and so much more. I brought 2 small vials of his ashes for his sister and my sister-in-law to have so he was with them for the trip, as well. We toasted Mike. We laughed at the things we think he would have loved and hated on the trip (Bourbon Street would have driven him insane! He hates crowds!) On Monday we walked down to the river front and I took one of the vials and put a tiny bit of ashes in the Mississippi so that a little bit of him is there. Well, it was, it's out to sea now I'm sure :) sorry it was so muddy honey! But I had to share you with the place we should have been together.
And then we said goodbye and came home. I'm glad I went. I'm glad I had such great company to go with me. I refuse to sit back and let this whole thing consume me, even though it gets close to it every day. Instead I will choose to live life for both of us. In a celebration of him, and for him. Every time I feel myself heading down the wrong path mentally I feel Mike put his arm around me and lead me back on track reminding me I don't want to go that way. And he's probably making fun of me while he's doing that. I can just hear him saying 'Snap out of it, Abi! What is WRONG with you?!?' ha.
"Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all." - Helen Keller
Here's to the next adventure that awaits.