Around this time last year, when life began to present me with difficult choices, I began to ask you for some sign Michael that I was doing the right thing, or that I was proceeding in the right direction. In response to this I began to see the Blue Jay bird once a choice or decision was made. At times it would be subtle when I would walk the dogs in the morning and I would see the Jay contemplating on one of the trees and at other times it was overt, like the instances when the Jay would fly close to my windshield as I drove. The last year has been an exciting one in some ways, hasn’t it Michael? I learned a lot about myself. What I really wanted, what I really could endure, but the most important thing the last year has forced me to do is to contemplate stepping out of my comfort zone. The occurrences of the last week have really been the culmination of a series of peculiar events. It began with the shedding. The shedding of my former more guarded and walled self, the shedding of certain toxic affiliations, and the shedding of situations that no longer served our children nor I.
When one has stayed in the same place for so long, one becomes stagnant and even comfortable. Through this grief of the last year I have realized what kind of life I want to lead, who I want to be, what I want to do, what kind of mom I want to be, and where I want to live. I have had opportunities presented to me in the last month that all came down to a choice…my choice.
There have been so many times in my past when rationale, common sense, and I hate to admit it, but what was easier, have been how I made my decisions. This last year I have consciously decided to listen to my inner voice and most importantly what is in my heart. In the last year I have also realized the power of manifestation. What thoughts and desires we manifest into the universe, if we really want them or really believe them, good or bad, inevitably come true. Thankfully, the last year has been of good thoughts and good desires and thanks to you Michael, God, and the universe, numerous opportunities have come my way. This week there was a choice to be made and I made a choice. The choice requires me to step out of my comfort zone in a big way and to in a large part say goodbye to familiarity and to the past. This choice will make me say in a large part goodbye to my life with you. The choice was not made in earnest nor impetuously but with the utmost of care and with a careful weighing of how positively it would impact our sons’ lives. Today when I was driving, guess which bird had a close encounter with my front windshield? There was the Blue Jay again, and there you were Mike, telling me the choice I made was the right one.
This morning when I woke up and while our sons still slept, I made my way downstairs to walk and feed the dogs and care for the cats. I really do enjoy my morning routine because the house is silent and I am alone with my thoughts and of course my coffee. I put on the fireplace because it had gotten chilly again and was enjoying the silence before the totality of the day would hit me. Jacob and Connor got up, Jacob first surprisingly enough while the morning bird Connor still slept. Jacob was so excited because today was his First Communion and he had been practicing so hard for the event all week. I fed them both and dressed them and we made our way out of the house so that I could get some more coffee and have my makeup and hair done. On the way to the salon, Connor throws up after telling me to roll down the windows because he was feeling nauseous. I guess I didn’t do that quite quick enough. Inevitably I laughed and thought of what your reaction would be Mike. I’m still laughing imagining how pursued your lips would be and how you would’ve been perturbed, to say the least, that the schedule had gotten a bit off track. I took them both home, wiped my car down with the Clorox wipes and changed Connor’s clothes. I made it to my appointment only half an hour late and was chuckling while recounting all the day’s adventures. Inside though I was really thinking about how much better it would’ve been if you had been there to share the chaos. I remembered again, how you were taken so young from us and that you missed out on so much. I just really hope that you are watching from the Heavens. I have felt your presence all day today. I hope that Jacob has felt it too. We got home with only 15 minutes to spare before making it to Church. I’m proud to say that I managed to get us all ready and at the destination on time.
I hope you were watching Jacob as he walked down the Church aisle solemnly with his hands held in prayer in front of him. He looks so much like you. I wonder if you cried like I did from your place in Heaven when he took the Holy Eucharist in the palm of his hand. Did you laugh when he finally got to take a sip of Holy Wine? He sure looked pleased with himself as he walked away. I noted with a sense of pride that he did not grimace from his sip like the other children did. That was either his Portuguese blood or he was just acting tough. He sang a little song and I wonder if you heard it. Did it make you cry too? I cried, because the little voices sounded so much like the song of cherubs I couldn’t help but imagine that God was happy to see such innocence. Every milestone in our children’s lives will always hit me so deep. I didn’t mean to cry when I made Jacob’s toast today either, but there I was a blubbering fool thanking our family for being there today. I thought how much you wanted me to raise them Catholic and how important it was for you that I was insistent with religion in their lives. I wonder now if you knew or had some premonition that they would need God’s comfort in some way. You were always good at foreshadowing things. I am home now again, with my glass of Pinot Grigio and the fireplace on. The boys are once again sleeping and tomorrow is Monday. It will be an important week for me and for them. I hope you stay with me and just guide me to things that are meant for me.
There are two dates that I will remember forever. The first is the day they told me you flat-lined (December 10, 2016) and the day that you died (February 8, 2017). The two months in the middle I refer to as the in-between. They were the moments of the deepest pain of my life and also of the deepest reflection. In my life’s quest I have gone through periodic moments of suffering; first-love’s heartbreak, un-relatable parents, the angst of first-time motherhood, and genuine moments of sadness when I felt misunderstood or alone. However, all of these moments seemed so trivial as the two months when I did not know if you were going to live, or if you were going to die. Nothing in the my life could have prepared me for telling our sons’ that they would have to come to the hospital to say goodbye. Nothing in my life prepared me for telling the hospital to end life support. Nothing in my life prepared me for telling our sons’ you died. This page is my dedication to you. In your death I surmised I might have found my purpose, and if not my purpose then a more genuine and more heartfelt way to live. There is nothing in the world that will tell you or show you how you are not living your truest self like enduring grief. The funny thing about grief though is that it is never-ending. It does not always feel the same, for instance, I am not inclined to cry sporadically throughout the day anymore, those waves have passed. I am inclined to at random times smile because Biggie just went on the radio, or a song we loved is playing. At times too the tears come, but they are more for you and what you are missing, and what our boys’ are missing then they are for me now.
The purpose of this page is to hold your memory always. That is what this page is. My hope that you live on in some kind of sense and not just genetically in our children. I have spent the greater portion of a year wondering how I was going to do this. Write this book, write this blog. For some reason a blog entry seems easier to me then a chapter written. If this is the way so be it. I am not sure even now why the mood has struck, but I know where you are in your place in Heaven that you are aware I always finish what I start.
Let this be the start…