Damn These Internets!

(I've been wishy-washy about whether it was appropriate to post this, but Snickollet has read it and she was the only one I was worried about, so I'm reposting it from when I wrote it yesterday.)

The death of Snick's husband has hit me surprisingly hard. I'm not even sure it is a good idea to write about it, because I don't want it to seem like it is all about me when it is so obviously NOT. Sometimes I just think it is amazing what these blogs can do. What bloggers manage to accomplish in such a strange medium. The way people with such unique stories that no one in their own tri-state area can relate to, and then you can go and find a whole little community of people who are in your same or similar boat. Snick and I have emailed each other several times and have tentative plans to meet sometime in the future, but she and I are just two strangers in the milieu of the internets. The waves of grace, strength, and grief that she has sent across the network are very real, and yet she is just one of a million bloggers on the internet who has just graced us all with bravely telling her story.

My situation and hers are not alike, and because of that and because of the nature of how it is to "know" people through the internet, I know that I cannot conceit to know anything about how she feels or what she is going through. But I think it has gotten to me so deeply because I easily could have been her, and still might be her in the future. A single mom of twins whose father has died. D's health problems and that of Snick's husband are a different animal from each other. Pancreatic cancer is pretty much a ticking time bomb while spinal cord injury is more akin to walking (or wheeling with a clumsy 600 lb broken down wheelchair) through a minefield. Your head is in a different place with each, but all the time you are alive you are dancing closer to the edge of death than most people have to. It has powerful consequences for the relationship. It is like a blackmailing, stalking mistress in the relationship that neither of you can get to leave you alone. You try to stave it off in all kinds of creative ways, but you know she'll get him in the end. You bargain with her--negotiating how much time you will give him to her now so that she may let you have a few more days or months or years in the long run. It fundamentally changes the relationship.

As Snick wrote about very eloquently, it doesn't always change it for the worse. It makes you stronger, more honest, more grateful and more appreciative of the little ways you can love each other. I watch other couples have these seemingly insurmountable problems that I know D and I could solve in about 5 seconds flat. Because we know we don't have the luxury of denying the problem or being dishonest or wasting time with passive aggressive antics. There just isn't any time to waste. And this is also why, when you can't go out and take trips to Cancun or climb mountains together, you learn to enjoy the very small beauty in life that other people let pass by unnoticed. You learn to set your own standards and calculate your own risks no matter what others think. You learn that the nobility in trying for those happy times, both large and small, is what life is about and you'll know how to deal with the challenges when you get there. You to suck the marrow out of life for all its worth.

And talk about taking risks. What Snick and her husband did, to go through IVF after his diagnosis so that he could have a chance at fatherhood, if even for a little while--Well that took...well, real balls. That is sucking the marrow out of life. And look at the rewards! Two beautiful children that helped them through this last painful year. One of GH's last memories was likely the sound of his own babies laughing. And now Snick has part of him with her always, and she will have two very captive children to share all of her memories with. I can imagine how scary it must of been for her to do that and to contemplate the inevitable single motherhood she would have to face, because I've had those same fears. But I also feel that she will always be grateful that they took that risk.

Whenever I hear other people have doubts about me and D and our kids, or whenever I get the "What are you going to do when?" questions, which sometimes end up being, "when he dies?" it is scary to think about. But I also know that having them and having D be able to take on the role as their father is probably the best thing I've ever done in my life. I may not be able to look into their eyes and physically see D in their faces like Snick can with her children. But every day that they spend together creates another way that he has imprinted himself into their souls. They do have his mannerisms, they do imitate his voice and his words. They will internalize his ideas.  They are a part of him. Every day that goes by and year that goes by that we can all hang on as a family, however weirdly structured, is time that we use to share each other's spirit and love. We carry each other on. The coolest thing about having children is that besides producing human beings, you actually are able to produce more love in exponential quantities. I still have my mother's love, even though she died. Having kids just allows you to expand your capacity for it, not replace it.

Sometimes in real life, people look at us with some sort of pity. We can't keep up with everybody else. Drive around to 50 million social activities or whatnot. We do often spend our time in hospitals and incapacitated at home. But we know how to find the joys and the humor there. Snick's family found that as well. And maybe that is why I could identify with her so much.

I have a weird theology. It doesn't really involve God as dude in the sky. I guess it involves being humbled to all that is unknown. We grasp such very little pieces of whatever the universe is. I do find evidence that we are all affected by each other psychically somewhat interesting. There are some really interesting studies about this. How measurable energy is changed when unconnected people are having the same emotions about the same things. D is more well read on this than I am. I know its very new age-y. But sometimes I wonder if, when something so terrible happens that one person can't bear it alone, if the pain gets distributed to all those around who are open to taking it on. Yesterday, between 4:30 and 5:00 my time, I was just walking across my living room to go out and get my mail. Suddenly, I was hit with a terrible emotional brick out of nowhere about the whole thing, and I just started bawling. I went into my dad's room, which I hardly ever do, and I looked to the east and I just was overcome with grief for her. It reminded me of when my mother died. I talked to my family on the phone and she wasn't doing well. I went outside to get a newspaper. I specifically remember reaching in the newspaper machine to get a newspaper and it hit me. She just died. When I came back in the house, not ten minutes later they called and told me she died. Maybe it is all just coincidence and in my head, but I feel these connections sometimes.

If we are somehow able to help people take the burdens, they help us with the gifts that can sometimes grow out of such tragedy. This is why so many people have that "hug my children a little tighter today" feeling, I guess. I don't mean to make sunshiny cliche's about what happened to GH; Cancer sucks. What happened was awful and cruel and sad. There is no way around that. But when many people who haven't faced these times of deep sorrow go off on their merry life, they don't recognize the joy and happiness that is there all around them in a million ways every day. As hard as it is for D and I to live with our own comparatively little tragedies and uncertainties about life and the future, we have learned also to be able to recognize all the joy in everything life has to offer us, which is quite a lot. We are very, very lucky. If D dies tomorrow, we will still be very lucky. We have had almost 13 years together and 2 years and 5 months with the kids. This is way more than Snick and GH got. If D dies tomorrow, the kids and I will go on knowing this. Knowing how lucky we were. Knowing that we can continue. Snick's story helps me to realize that.

This morning, the kids were still sleeping and I went in and crawled in the crib with Aaron, like I've been known to do from time to time. With my head using Tigger for a pillow, I watched him sleep, with Naim just behind me asleep in the other crib. Love is amazing and overwhelming and in such abundance that even if time is cut short, we are lucky to have a chance at it at all. Tears again. For Naim and Aaron and the sorrows they will surely face and for Riley and Maddie, who lost a father yesterday. I am deeply sad for them. When the kids woke up, I didn't want them to see me upset to I switched gears quickly and we got up and went downstairs and we played and danced around to one of our favorite little kid songs. Only from deep sorrow do you recognize the amazing bliss of moments like these. I know that Snick will find it again with her children likely showing her the way.

So for them, I'll share with you this goofy and annoying song that will drive you nuts if it hasn't already. Get your little kiddos and dance like idiots to it for me. It really pretty much sums it all up.

(video link)

days are the sunniest
jokes are the funniest
rabbits are the bunnyiest
hives are the honeyest
elephants are the tonniest
troubles - they're the none-iest

everywhere I go!

straws are the bendiest
time is the spendiest
cards are the sendiest
books are the lendiest
fun is the pretendiest
friends are the friendliest

everwhere I go!

berries are the fruitiest
shoes are the bootiest
puppies are the cutiest
treasure is the lootiest
teams are the rootiest
horns are the tootiest

everywhere I go!

birds are the tweetiest
candy is the sweetiest
socks are the feetiest
tricks are the treatiest
drums are the beatiest
lunch is the eatiest

everyhwere I go!

flowers are the smelliest
jams are the jelliest
rain's the umbrelliest
tales are the telliest
wishing is the welliest
buttons are the belliest

everwhere I go!

skies are the bluiest
cows are the mooiest
gum is the chewiest
ghost are the booiest
goo is the gooeyiest
you can be your youiest

everywhere I go!

Comments

[M-j]

Wow.
I came to your site about three hours ago and followed the link to Snickollet's site. Wow. I cannot even comprehend it. I don't want to even think about it. It has crossed my mind about 1,000 times (give or take a million).
You know something? I love DH. I love him but I wonder how much I really appreciate that after two weeks of spring break with kids with special needs that he is willing to take them out by himself to dinner and swimming at the Y just to give me a break to sit on my rump and surf the net.
When he gets home I am sooooo going to tell him how much I appreciate all of the little things he does. I have tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. I do not ever want to be without him.

[legalmama]

It is so wonderful that you can look at the world this way. My father died when I was 5. I don't really remember him, which makes me so sad, but I take comfort in knowing that he and my mother loved very hard for the 15 years they had together, and created a family together, despite his poor health. They lived as if they would always have a tomorrow.

The worst thing that anyone can imagine, and the thing people fear most is knowing that they will die. Of course, we all know we will die, but we imagine it coming to us far in the future in some peaceful and tricky way that we never see coming. But the people I've known who have been touched by terminal illness have made so much of the time they have, that I envy the depth of feelings and joy they understand. I'm not an idiot, and I know that terminal illness is awful and tragic and not worth its dividends. But if only we could all appreciate life so deeply without being faced with such tragedy.

There are so many worries hanging over my head that I let rule my mood and my life. But in context, they are just so trivial. Stories like yours and snicks inspire me to try and live more in the moment, and to appreciate what truly matters. I just went in to the other room and kissed my twin girls all over until they were grinning and laughing hysterically. That matters. The looming deadline on an article I have to write not so much. It will get done. I don't need to shed tears over it.

[Kathryn]

Ok - this one left me in tears. Beautiful post here. I think you are so right about how your love increases exponentially when you have a kid. So many things so well said here. Thanks!

I was wondering what happened to it! Glad you were able to repost.

Kathryn

[Melissa]

Another great post!

I often find myself reading your blog and thinking "yeah! That's *exactly* what I think!" ... but of course I can't write it as succinctly. :)

I just recently wrote on my blog that "worry" grows exponentially after we become parents and although I still think that's true, I felt a pang of shame when I read your post on this topic. Because your perspective - that love grows exponentially - is much healthier and optimistic, I think. :)

This really makes me think, I am so going to hug Ash and be extra nice to Hubby.

Kate

[Jamie]

I'm a lurker. I don't even remember how I found your blog, but I keep it in a folder on my bookmarks called inspiring. I just want to say thanks for sharing your beautiful soul.