By the Grace of God

There is a wonderful paper designer I love by the name of Emily Ley. One of her tag line phrases is "Grace Not Perfection". It's a print I have framed and that I gaze at for reassurance almost daily. For so many years I wanted to give our kids the "perfect" life. We were after all, a "perfect" 2.5 kid American Dream family.  The stuff you sit back as an old lady and your kids tell their kids about. High school sweet hearts, married, happy, had the girl boy 2 kid family. Dave worked I "raised the kids". It was the stuff little 4 year old girls playing house dream of... I know I did. We weren't "perfect" no one or family is. We got mad, the kids would be crazy, things would get tough for a moment. But we always went to bed together, we refused to go to bed angry at each other... Ever. We were as perfectly imperfect as you could possibly imagine.  Perfection is something that doesn't exist, at least not for us anymore. I still love the life I have, because I have the three most amazing little people to share it with. But it won't ever be that kind of perfect we had, not the way it was before; it's not possible without David.  One my my best and dearest friends warned me emphatically how my mind would go to shit the second Kendall entered this world, and I'll tell you; I didn't believe her.  I was the mom that packed zip lock bags of clothes for sleepovers labeled for each day and night, so the kids would wear the appropriate clothing with coordinated accessories, socks, and underwear. Now as long as it's relatively clean, free of holes, and isnt a bikini (Kamryn!!!); I'm happy we all make it out of the door on time. I was the mom helping our friends drop off, pick up, from school or activities because there was always room for one more kid. Dave was always down to hang out with Colton and his friends, and so great with helping it was a breeze. Now I'm the mom always worried about who's picking up which kid from what activity, and how I'm going to see Kam run and get to Colt's pictures and game when one is in this town and the other in another town, all at the exact same time. I have done something I swore I never ever ever would do, I let Colton have cereal for dinner last week. I understand that sounds like a ridiculous thing to care or worry about, heck it wasn't even totally crap cereal it was Cheerios. But I ALWAYS a had dinner, a real dinner every day Sunday-Thursday. Always with a protein, starch and a veggie. Always homemade. I used to be a terrible cook. But when your married to someone who loves to eat, and works as hard as Dave did, your compelled to at the very least provide them with a decent meal. The kids are good eaters still, and I still cook their favorite meals.  The idea of making a big dinner just doesn't have the appeal it used to, and with all the driving I do to activities...I don't have the time!

  Through all of this I have learned to live by and embrace the mantra of "Grace Not Perfection". Grace in the words I try to use when talking whichever child is annoying the day lights out of me, Grace in my actions: trying to show these little loves how to be strong, compassionate, understanding and gracious, to raise them just as we always have. All while really wanting to hop on a boat sail away to some island and never look back. And finding Grace in God, my religion or lack there of has always been a process. I have beliefs but I have never found a "home" for them. No specific church or religion has ever truly aligned with the way I feel or things I believe. But too much about Dave's accident seems to have been "designed". I have drove by, sat and starred at, walked the route drawn on the police report. Analyzed what I was told by police, responders, and my own research of his model truck in similar accidents. Becoming as much of an expert on side impact crashes, head LAC's, collapsed lungs, neck injuries, procedures, response times, and potential outcomes as I can with the help of Google and some medical journals. God chose us, Dave and I everything from the day we met until March 2, seems like a blue print. Every word, moment, choice carefully and meticulously laid out to lead me here. I'm just trying to decide if what has happened is a blessing that I haven't yet discovered, or a punishment; some Karmic Justice for not always being the most God fearing forgiving person I should be. Dave was perfection in our imperfect world, all I can do is hope I have enough Grace to show our babies the potential perfection they can find in this world. 

When I See You Again

A friend of Dave and mine recently posted a song to his Facebook page that I really enjoy (Whiz Khalifa: See You Again).  This is a song I have heard a couple times the last few weeks, but after seeing the video and realizing it was connected to Paul Walker/Fast 7 (one of Dave's favorite movie series); I've been listening to it more.  The idea of again seeing Dave, is one that has really given me a lot of peace and strength.  I have felt like this time in between losing him and one day being reunited with him, is a sort of waiting period.  It's the time I will spend raising our kids, and enjoying them; and eventually (in a VERY long time) the grandchildren they will give me.  All the while, even with that in mind, I have had the mindset that this is now just some in between period in mine and Dave's relationship.  Maybe that is because of the overwhelming feeling I have that he is here with us.  Not only have I had many reasons/signs to believe that he is, it's just an omnipresent sense I get.  That feeling when you are in a room with someone else, the presence the body of another person being in a room gives off; I feel that from him all of the time.  Sometimes that feeling is too much to bear.  It seems like he is so close I can almost touch him, if I were to turn around he would be right behind me... obviously though; that is not the case.  That feeling is pretty well confined, for me at least; to our home.  I haven't "felt" him anywhere other then in our house.  When I am here it's that constant feeling his body would give off, knowing there is another person in the room; an identifiable cut through the stagnant air.  For the most part, I find it comforting knowing he is with us.  It makes me feel protected and as if he is not that far; like he isn't missing out quite as much as I feared.

Yet after listening to that song a bunch more times a sinking thought landed on me... will I ever see him again? I have been looking at the life I have left as an in-between period, until I am again reconnected with Dave.  But who is to say that such a time will happen? Or that there is a place somewhere out there for this reunion to occur? I suppose not being of a particularly strong religious belief leaves me asking this question, or if nothing else, feeling able to ask this question.  I worry that maybe March 2, 2015 at 6:40 am was the absolute end of my chances to ever see him, or be with him again.  Maybe for many this isn't even a thought they want to take in, because that sense of an finality is more then they can bear?  Perhaps that is the reason so many hold their religious beliefs so tightly.  It allows them peace where those like myself only find more questions?  Although a part of me wishes I wasn't the type of person to ask these questions, it also gives me a greater value in the time I did get with him.  I hold every word, every memory that much tighter; because really who is to say that there will be a chance for more?  Ideally one day in many many many years, I would see him again in someplace, someway.  We would pick up our life together exactly as we left it here; but that seems so unrealistic.  If we were meant to come back together as we left each other here, then why was he taken from me at all to begin with?  I don't want to believe this is the ending of my time with Dave.  As I said I know he isn't totally gone from our lives.  His presence is so strong within the walls of our home; sometimes I swear I feel his eyes staring at me.  Yet I still hold out some odd hope that one day I will feel his kiss again, or get to run my fingers through his scruffy beard.  I am fully aware that hope is simply a tool my mind uses to comfort me and keep me going.  I hang onto it just enough to make each day one I can manage through, but never indulge it so deeply that I forget the reality I actually face each day.  Every day is a balancing act of remembering and creating new memories.  Holding on just enough to feel connected; but not so much you can't handle facing the day.  Will I ever "see" Dave again as I knew him?  I really don't believe there is a place exactly like this in the heavens where he is there, just waiting for me; in the same shape and design he was here on earth with us.  I do believe, or at least hope, that there is a place where our spirits/souls whatever you call them can and will again one day reunite and know each other.  I think when that time comes in whatever form it takes, it will be perfect; exactly what I have needed all along.

My replacement...

I haven't written anything in a few weeks now, I really haven't had much to say.  Or maybe I've had too much to say, and wasn't really sure of where to begin again.  These two weeks have been confusing to process.  We welcomed our much anticipated third baby, Kendall Mae Thomas on March 25 at 7:54 AM. She was healthy and perfect, just as we prayed.  Although I was grateful to have my mom there with me; it broke my heart that she needed to be there.  I have been filled every minute of every day with confusion as to how I am feeling.  One second I look at this sweet girl and I beam with happiness, and the next I cry to her inconsolably for all that was supposed to be.  All of my children are the best gifts Dave has ever given me; but there will always be just that little something extra surrounding her.  I think part of the problem I have had in writing anything recently, or about her; is because there is a part of the story that has never been told.  A part that even Dave wasn't privy to until just a few weeks before he passed away.  That I was sure I was going to die...

From about half way through of my pregnancy with Kendall, I would have horrific panic attacks at least one night every weeks or so. They didn't start until after my SPD (a hip issue I was plagued with this go round) started and my dreams of a VBAC went out the window for good.  For no rhyme or reason I would go to lay in bed next to Dave, and rather then think about "normal" end of the day things, or any of the other million things I could have had in my mind; all I could think about was how sure I was that I wasn't going to survive the c-section I would be having.  Those that know me, know I am pretty fearless about medical type things; and very matter of fact.  Statistically chances of anything going wrong were virtually zero, or extremely close to it.  I knew on paper I was irrational, but it didn't matter.  I don't know what it was inside my heart and head, but I KNOW what my fate was going to be.  The month of February was particularly awful for me in that respect, and one night Dave became aware of my anxiety about it.  I woke up in the middle of the night with an uncontrollable panic attack.  He held me close, never asking what I was so upset about.  He was just there to hold me and let me know everything was ok.  The next night, just about a week before the accident, I again was having terrible anxiety before laying down.  Finally, I broke down and told him what I felt I knew.  I told Dave all of my hopes for him and the kids.  I carefully explained what I knew each of them would need emotionally from him.  I asked him to be softer with Colton and more patient (Dave was amazing with our kids, but at times Colton can be incredibly unreasonable and I am virtually the only one that can console him).  I asked him to spend time with Kamryn, not doing big things, but just listening to her, reading with her, or coloring a picture together.  She loves the small quiet moments spent together, they are the most valuable and important to her.  However, because she is so strong and self sufficient, sometimes it's easy to let those moments pass by.  I asked him to tell Kendall about me, and to raise her to be brave and strong.  I told him about the letters...

I was so sure that I was not going to live to make it out of that surgery, that I had painstakingly written each of these precious people letters.  It took me many weeks, late at night when I was crippled by the anxiety, and mostly sadness for what I was so sure I would miss.  I knew exactly what Kamryn and Colton would need to hear throughout their lives from me, all of the things I wanted to reassure them with, ask of them, and share with them.  I wrote to Kendall telling her of the things I wish I knew about her, and her about me.  My dreams for her, and about the exciting life her father would surely give her.  By the time I finished their letters, it was just a few days before Dave's accident.  I had by then come to a strange place of peace with my twisted secret, the fate I was surely expecting.  The night I told Dave about my fears,  we cried together.  He reassured me I was crazy, and hormonal and that all would be fine.  I know a small part of him believed me, not because he wanted it to be so, simply because of how sure I was.  I can't explain what it was about the feelings I kept having, but to me they were never a question... it was a sad fact that I was being clued in on by someone.  I was so sure and so factual with Dave, that he took in just enough of it to prepare himself.  Rather then dismissing me as irrational, he truly really listened.  Dave and I aren't incredibly religious, we don't attend a church or really even align ourselves specifically with any religion.  That night though, and this is the only time in all the years I have known him this happened; we prayed together.  We prayed that the surgery would be fine, and for God to let me watch our children grow up and enjoy their life with me in it.  beyond that night my fears seemed to subside.  I don't know if God took him as my replacement, and if he did I am not sure how that even makes me feel.  I am so grateful to be here watching our babies grow, I thank God and Dave for it everyday.  Would I have ever asked Dave to trade places with me if we knew what I believed to be certain? Never.  Our kids need him in ways totally differently but equally valuable to the way they need me.  But if someone would have asked him to make that choice, I know he would have given me the gift to keep being a mommy to these precious little loves.  I don't know if he prayed on his own about it, asking God to spare me? I don't want to make nonsensical assumptions.  I do know he spent so many years taking care of me and protecting me; that I would't rule it out entirely. 

It seems like such a fantastical story, and it is.  Had his accident not have unfolded as it did, I probably would have left the fears I was having in the past and never let them enter my mind again.  But the way everything surrounding Dave's death occurred, and in such a specific manner; I truly believe he had a reason to go that day.  I don't know that saving me was the entire reason, but I think it was certainly a part of the puzzle.  The details of his accident are almost unbelievable, everything was so precise.  The slightest alteration in direction, speed, or timing and EVERYTHING could have been different.  I will never know why it was him and not me, but I do truly believe he traded places with me and had he not gone that day; that I would not be here to write this. It's an odd part of our story, and as I said; I understand it sounds ridiculous.  That's ok with me.  Whether it was Gods choice, or Dave's own prayer that kept me here with our children, I will never know.  But I am forever grateful to him for always loving and protecting me, and for giving me the greatest gift I could ever receive; being their mom.   

The Definition of Undefined

With Dave being gone, we will at some point in the next few months need to find alternate insurance benefits. I decided to be semi-proactive and check the healthcare market place to see what our options will be when it is needed.  I started filling out the online application, but stopped after one of the first question: Married or Single.... 

I have never imagined spending a day with anyone besides Dave; we were picture perfect.  He was the first and only boyfriend I ever really had.  Sure having met him at 14 (he was 16) we had bumps along the way, small breakups, fights ect.  However, we haven't had any "issues" of that sort since before I graduated high school, basically 10 years now.  We just worked so well together.  He was rather easy going and agreeable, I am neither of those.  Dave loved not having to think about much of anything, I know it sounds silly to some, but he was quite content with just going along.  As long as I left time for him to fit in a game hockey or round of golf, or for a stop at the brewery; he didn't much mind what I planned.  When I decided it was time for a project he never complained, knowing I would surely compensate his hard work with his favorite; a back rub.  Did we argue and disagree, of course, but we aren't the type of people who would stay angry for any real amount of time.  We talked about how we would be those old people you read about on Facebook, who have been together for 50+ years and pass away lying side by side holding hands; like the old people in the movie Titanic.  My great grand parents were together for what seemed like an eternity, I really don't think they ever spent a day apart.  I grew up spending most summer days at their house, and I am sure watching their marriage had a huge influence on mine.  My great grandma was much like I am.  She wanted things her way, and my great grandfather just went with it; not really minding.  Even on the night before our wedding, Dave and I slept in the same house, just different rooms.  I didn't want to be farther from him then that.  We had no problem doing things separately, we just chose not to.  

Married or Single? I feel like the definition of undefined.  I haven't stopped being his wife, he's still my husband.  The word Widow is something I don't even like to look at... it sounds so; old. But what happens when even that isn't an option on a questionnaire? Am I married?  We weren't divorcing, I didn't choose to have him removed from my life.  If not for his accident we would be just as married and happy today as we were 3 weeks ago.... But that accident did happened; and he's gone.  I don't want to be "single" or even defined as such.  I am as devoted to him and as in love with him today as I have ever been.  I haven't even taken into consideration NOT wearing my rings, and I don't plan on it anytime that I can think of.  Will there be a day I decide differently? I have no idea.  Even at the hospital sitting with him, the only time a I really really lost it; was when the nurse took his ring off of him to give me.  He NEVER took that ring off, I placed it there April 5, 2009 and it hadn't moved since that day.  Dave was so proud of that; so am I.  He wouldn't even take it off for me to clean it, I had to do it on his finger (which really isn't very effective).  We never stopped being married, he just stopped being here.... so what does that make me? I couldn't be more proud of the man/husband/father that he was, and I feel so incredibly blessed to grow up loving him, I will happily and so very proudly tell anyone and everyone I was (am?) his wife. I find it interesting now, that at our wedding ceremony the vows we used never mentioned "till death do us part".  I actually found/wrote the vows we both used, and that phrase is one I didn't want included. It seemed so morbid, and unnecessary at the time; it still does.  I don't need a definition of what I "am" in terms of our relationship for myself.  I will never stop being his wife.  On paper, I'm not sure.  Maybe someone out there with some legal knowledge can decipher that for me; but I honestly don't much care either way.  

The Straight Away

I've written so much these past few weeks that has been brought out by pain and sorrow.  Today isn't one of those days.  Everyday there is pain, and there is sorrow; but somedays there are smiles and hope.  Today was an "average" day.  I LOVE AVERAGE!  Average means we all woke up did our thing and are ending our day as normally as we know how.  There were fun things today.  A surprise package for the kids from a lovely friend in Canada, with a special treat of Kinder Eggs (I know you know what they are, because your 5 year old is watching other kids open them on YouTube too).  A fun order from Justice for Kam of spring clothes she excitedly picked herself; and ordered with gift cards she hoarded.  Some cute new outfits from my Grandma for Miss Kendall Mae... homework, puzzles, playtime.  There was an ice cream delivery (Thanks Marc!), giggles, and being silly.  Granted I sit here on this couch, occasionally glancing at the recliner where Dave should be, busily playing his latest iPhone game addiction.  That part sucks, it's going to keep on sucking for a long long time.  The countdown to Kendall is ON, only 6 days left, she is a welcomed distraction (as in welcome to get her butt out here ASAP). It's been two and a half weeks since we have seen Dave or been able to hear his voice.... odd is still the best way to describe it.  But there is hope today.  I still cried, I cry at some point everyday.  Today it was much less then other days, I am thankful for that.  Days like this let me know that this road might not be as long and sad and winding as it seems at times, there might be some bright sunny straight aways on it too... I know it has plenty of bumps and pot holes; but we don't have to dread every turn.  

The Oddity in the Peace

These last two weeks have been the most difficult of my life.  Mentally there is more then I can even handle thinking about at any one given time.  I think of Dave, and then I think of all of the years and memories, then I add in the kids and then the kids feelings; and I get to Kendall and what this all means for her.  I find strength in those two little people every minute of everyday.  If they can both get up, get dressed, and go to school; I can do anything.  Life is still flying past us. These have been the shortest two and a half weeks of my life, but it feels like an eternity since Dave's been here.  There is an odd sense of peace in our house.  We get up and go about our day.  Lunches get packed, kids are dropped off, chores are done, kids are picked up, activities are attended, dinner and baths happen; then we are onto the next.  Yet the days go so so slowly. The most insignificant things suddenly take me back to what is missing from our life.  The moments are filled with emptiness.  We lived our life making moments, mostly for the kids; but also for ourselves.  We always worked our hardest at still being best friends before anything else.  The unfinished plans and the moments without him are what make the days long, and the hearts ache.  Hearing a video with the sound of his voice cripples me, and brings me the biggest smile simultaneously.  It is so real, yet so surreal.  I swear one day he is going to walk through that door, but I am far to rational and have too much common sense; I know that will never happen.  I took the kids to dinner last night in Atlantic City, our last date before their sister arrives.  They threw pennies into the water feature in Caesar's, Colton of course shared his wish with me... That his daddy was still alive.  That word, alive, coming from his small voice is loaded; it shakes me to my core.  To hear a little boy who's best friend in this world was his daddy, use the word "Alive" in reference to a wish for him.... I can't even hold it in as I type this; despite best efforts.  There is NOTHING in this world worse then hearing your sweet, innocent, cheerful little boy wish his best friend, role model, and father were simply...ALIVE. Although she didn't say it there, Kamryn did of course when we were home; confirm her wish had been the same as Colton's (and mine).  I LOVE that he (and Kamryn) can talk about him, we remember him through out each day.  I didn't want to put Dave's memory away, I want to make him as much a part of their everyday lives as I can still.  He wasn't the kind of dad to just leave me to "raise the kids", and go about his business.  I never worried about leaving him with them to do something as I often hear other moms joke (in a non joking way) about.  I didn't have a concern in working a few nights when Kendall was born, because he could handle it; he was that kind of man.  I had eternal and unconditional trust in him; especially with our babies.  There is no part of the day that he is not noticeable absent because of how GOOD of a husband/father he was.  The kids and I have a new bedtime routine now, which includes a sweet goodnight, in unison to their dad.  There is SO MUCH PAIN, but there is also peace.  The peacefulness is the oddest feeling I can describe.  I am a person that thrives on facts, details, information.  If I have answers I have everything.  I thankfully, was able to gather a lot of information about Dave's accident.  I have been able to find a "reason" and come to some terms with why it ended as it did.  I will NEVER accept it, I will NEVER be ok with it... but I can get through the day because of what I know about the circumstances.  There is a modicum of peace because of what I know.  I can fall asleep most nights without crying, which feels like a strange accomplishment.  One of the most appropriate adjectives for all of it, aside from tragic, is Odd.  Everything about it is odd: the simplicity in our lives before he went to work that day, the "completion" of so many goals and projects in the months/weeks, even days before he left us.  Knowing that other then in videos, we won't hear his voice again.  The simple menial everyday things that I/we can't do or now do differently... You never realize how much you take for granted running out to wawa to grab a coffee before everyone is up on a Sunday morning; until you can't do that anymore.  Asking him to grab X, Y, Z on his way home from the store.  Granted I have a list of willing helpers into the 100's at this point, which I am so eternally grateful for.  However, it makes you reliant on EVERYONE.  It's painful, tragic, heart wrenching, yet peaceful; in the most odd way possible.  Life feels simpler, simplicity brings that odd sense of peace.  I don't feel like we have to keep living, looking to what's coming up next.  Although I still strive for their lives to be filled with big exciting moments they will cherish and remember, I instead work towards what matters most.  To me, at least for now, what matters most is taking advantage of every minute together.  Whether they are minutes spent laughing, crying, playing, smiling, or hurting.  I soak in every hug, every kind word, every I love you.  There is pain, but there is peace.  Learning to live with that is odd, but we are doing just that; learning to live again....

From Four....and Back Again

There are many significant dates in history that people often refer to and say "I'll never forget where I was when."  For me, for us, that day is March 2, 2015.  It was a Monday, gray overcast skies.  Frigid, highs in the mid 20's with freeze/ice warnings the night before. I woke up earlier then usual, being 9 months pregnant with our third baby (a girl) that was happening a lot, it was around 6:30 a.m.  Dave was in the kitchen heating up his lunch for work that day, Colton 5, our soon to be middle child; sleepily made his way to join me in the living room.  He laid on the couch across from me, where I rested on the recliner.  Kamryn 7, our eldest was still tucked in her bed asleep.  Dave walked down the hall to whisper a goodbye and "I Love You" to her; as he did every morning.  Before he left for the day he laid a blanket on Colton, gave him a kiss, told him he loved him.  Finally he moved on to me, kissing my forehead, telling me he loved me; I told him to be careful.  It was 6:41 a.m., I heard him start his truck and wait a few minutes to let it warm up; and then he drove away... for the very last time.  Sometime around 7:00 I heard a slew of sirens, not the norm around here for that time of the morning.  I had an odd feeling and text Dave making sure he was OK.  I'd done that a few other times in the past, when the rare siren blare could be heard at that time.  After a few minutes I still hadn't herd back, not totally uncommon since his job often had them getting that days orders around those times; and I knew he couldn't answer me until after.  About 10 minutes later I got an odd text, offering prayers and help with the kids. The person who sent it to me didn't know that I had no idea what had occurred. Dave's truck had slid on a huge patch of black ice, it was a rear wheel drive 2002 Ford Ranger, no side airbags.  The driver door slammed into the only tree within hundreds of yards on the opposite side of the road. After a muddle of poor communication with a few people, I learned he was the reason for those sirens. I never imagined at that moment it would end the way it has. After a wait for a babysitter for the older two, and a 30 minute ride to the hospital Dave ultimately ended up at; I knew. It is never a good sign when there is a man at the door waiting for your arrival.  I didn't even have to give him my name.  They take you to the "family room", I couldn't even go in; I already knew. I can't even begin to describe the events that happened next, honestly because I don't remember much.  I sat with him for about 2 hours, it was some of the purest; yet oddest two hours of my life.  I thought a million thoughts in such a short time. I thought of the past, I thought of the future, mostly I thought of the two amazing people at home that I was now charged with sharing this horrific information with.  I stopped before going home to talk to the amazing guidance counselor at my daughter's school.  There is never a right or wrong when something like this occurs, but I wanted this to scar them in the most minimal way possible; if that is even a possibility.  I sat them on my bed, and I said it: "Daddy died, he isn't going to be coming home." Again, a blur.  They cried, yelled, sobbed; so did I.  It's a pain deeper then even what I was already feeling, which doesn't seem imaginable.  This is an unwanted journey, a story that I wish I didn't have the opportunity to tell. One week from today our now family of three, will go back again to four; as Kendall Mae joins our family.  There is so much change and heart ache, love and excitement all in only 23 short days.  I may be the only one to ever read these words, but I want to share them; even if only with myself.  I want to one day be able to show the details, the memories of years prior to and far past March 2, 2015; with our children.  For anyone else taking this unwanted journey with us, I pray it is only as a spectator, following our new path.  That in your life, you have not suffering the same fate. http://www.pressofatlanticcity.com/obituaries/thomas-david-m/article_4b43bf31-c556-538a-8f1b-ad0ba55e0c9b.html