Sorry for the language. I should probably just apologize for this entire post now before I even write it. I told you this was ugly. Now you are going to see why.
We are going through some stuff. Some tough stuff that gets tougher by the minute. Unfortunately, this toughness technically has to do with money. It's not the cancer kind of tough. It's not the losing your job or your home kind of tough. It's actually on the very low end of the tough stuff totem pole. Unless you factor in that a death is involved. I have always struggled with what's hard for me may not be hard for the next person. What seems unbearable for me is a walk in the park for you. But, at the end of the day I believe in feeling what you feel. Even if what you feel seems like it should be minor when really it isn't.
I believed in my dad. I trusted him to a fault. I knew he was smart and made good choices. That was all before he passed away. Now I know a different man. A man who would knowingly leave his children out of his will. A man who would knowingly trust someone who didn't have his children's best interests at heart. That man is so foreign to me. The most unfortunate part is that maybe I didn't really know that man like I thought I did.
It's hard to live a regret free life. If you're doing it I would love to know your secret. I want to share a massive regret that I have. I regret that I believed he would make responsible and educated decisions for the future of his family. Most of all, I regret not making sure he was going to do just that.
It's astonishing to realize the power you might have had after you have had the chance to have it. Today I understand fully the power I have to not only do the right thing, but to leave my family feeling like I did the right thing. It's an overwhelming power that I am learning most people shove under the rug. Most people assume it will work itself out or be taken care of over time. Most people are very wrong.
I posted this status on Facebook today:
"Feeling so stupid and angry today. Please, if you do nothing else today consider speaking to your loved ones about what will happen if they pass. Know every last detail. Ask hard questions. Be informed."
After posting this I got a handful of messages asking that I be more specific. People were wanting to know how to avoid the situation I am in. I can't answer that for you. What I can tell you is what I think you should ask and know before you find yourself in the situation that I'm in.
First and foremost know this. You are someone's child. You see your parents in one way for so long that when you see them in another way it can completely change who you are. They have secrets. They have a past. They are not perfect and they have kept things from you. The sooner you know that the better equipped you will be to do the hard things like ask these questions.
As a disclaimer I should note that my parents are divorced. While I still think these questions are beyond applicable, take that part of it into consideration. That is where my experience is coming from.
My second disclaimer is that I am not a lawyer or anywhere near proficient in matters of law. Therefore, there are laws involved in a great deal of this. Just know your rights. I still have no idea what mine are.
1) Do you have a will? What kind of will exactly? Who is the executor?
2) Who is your lawyer? What is his name and phone number? And, if you change lawyers please contact me immediately and let me know the new information.
3) If you have a will or trust who are the beneficiaries? Are they outright beneficiaries or is there an ordered list where the first is primary and if something happens to them the next is primary and so on? If so, what exactly is that order and who is on the list? (This could easily be asked about anything from the actual will/trust to life insurance, retirement, etc.)
3) What is included in your will? Did you include every last thing or just the big stuff like house, car, etc.?
4) Do you have a plan for funeral arrangements? Do you want a funeral? If so, what do you want to take place? This is tough one. But, funerals are astronomically expensive. Unless you (or your family) have gobs of money laying around you should ask this one. Plus, in the event of an unexpected death you will not know up from down. At least know the basics of what the deceased would have wanted.
5) If I, your child, am not the executor or a beneficiary (I know, CRAZY of course)...how will I be able to access your will or trust when you pass? If something happens to your beneficiary (assuming it's not me) what happens then?
6) Of course, it may seem silly to list out personal possessions and say who gets what. However, when you are grieving the last thing you want to be doing is having a discussion with your sibling over who gets what because it wasn't outlined properly. If there are things that may seem of importance such as antiques, jewelry, photo albums, etc. ask what the plan is for those things. Make them decide so you don't have to. You can decide those things for your own children/family. Everyone gets a turn.
7) This is the biggest one. Make sure to ask why/how the answers to all of these questions came about. You may not agree with decisions/answers, but I believe you have a right to an understanding of them. You have a right to that closure.
8) Lastly, you must talk about debt. Debt makes things that are already ugly get way uglier. Again, unless you have a money tree in your backyard you do not want to be surprised by these things.
I think that's it for now. I'm sure now that we are headed down this road I will come up with more.
Being that my parents were divorced and my dad was remarried I feel that I must say this. You must ask these questions every couple of years. The lawyer could change. The house could be sold. The will could leave everything to a person you hardly know. Always be informed. Do not assume or you will feel like an ass.
This is my public service for the day. Oh wait. It's hump day isn't it? How ironic. Okay, my shout outs go to my lawyer friends for the support, my family for the hand holding, and my friends for understanding the mess I am destined to be on our annual trip to St. Simons this weekend.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Let's start small shall we?
I should be going to bed. I keep feeling the blogging urge. However, for whatever reason all of my blogging thoughts are in a jumble. There are things I am working on. BIG things. No, I am not making a baby. That is not one of the things. Because that would just be crazy town at this particular moment.
The big things are far reaching, distant dreams. Do you have any of those? Can you see yourself experiencing the success of a dream? I had a daydream about that very thing. I daydreamed about my dream coming true and what that would feel like. I used to daydream about my babies being born. It's a zillion times better in real life. Fingers crossed someday this will be too.
Until then, here we are. You waiting to see what I could possibly blog about after the last post. Me waiting to see if what I blog about is ever going to fill the void a little. Let's give it a go...starting small of course.
Lila still wears pull ups to bed. I fear she may go to Kindergarten doing this. But, it's a habit. Like all habits it will be hard to shake. Last night she woke up because the pull up had leaked. She was very upset about this. After all the sheet changing and pajama changing we were both wide awake. She was upset that I was telling her she had to go back to bed.
Anyway, today we were sitting on the couch while Evie was napping and I asked her if she was tired. She said that she was because she didn't get good sleeps. She told me that her "eyes had drips" and that she couldn't go back to sleep last night. I tried to explain that the drips were called tears, but she wasn't having it. It's so brilliant how the mind of a little kid works. Of course they should be called drips right?
In my daydream my eyes were dripping and Lila made me think of it during this little conversation on the couch. She doesn't understand crying because you are happy yet. Here's to hoping that she gets to see that kind of crying from mommy instead of the other kind in the not too distant future.
The big things are far reaching, distant dreams. Do you have any of those? Can you see yourself experiencing the success of a dream? I had a daydream about that very thing. I daydreamed about my dream coming true and what that would feel like. I used to daydream about my babies being born. It's a zillion times better in real life. Fingers crossed someday this will be too.
Until then, here we are. You waiting to see what I could possibly blog about after the last post. Me waiting to see if what I blog about is ever going to fill the void a little. Let's give it a go...starting small of course.
Lila still wears pull ups to bed. I fear she may go to Kindergarten doing this. But, it's a habit. Like all habits it will be hard to shake. Last night she woke up because the pull up had leaked. She was very upset about this. After all the sheet changing and pajama changing we were both wide awake. She was upset that I was telling her she had to go back to bed.
Anyway, today we were sitting on the couch while Evie was napping and I asked her if she was tired. She said that she was because she didn't get good sleeps. She told me that her "eyes had drips" and that she couldn't go back to sleep last night. I tried to explain that the drips were called tears, but she wasn't having it. It's so brilliant how the mind of a little kid works. Of course they should be called drips right?
In my daydream my eyes were dripping and Lila made me think of it during this little conversation on the couch. She doesn't understand crying because you are happy yet. Here's to hoping that she gets to see that kind of crying from mommy instead of the other kind in the not too distant future.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
For those who have asked if I'm ever going to blog again...
Evie is not 15 months like it says in the header. She's 17 months. And, Lila quickly moves closer to being a four year old every time I look at her. The header is reminding me that I've been stuck in time for six weeks. I have tried to write this post probably thirty times. It's just never right.
This blog used to be my therapy. My "you are not alone" soap box of motherhood. Now I'm afraid of over sharing and afraid of subjecting you to the really real life that is currently mine. I've never had that fear before. I have always embraced being candid and hoped that you would indulge in it with me. Motherhood is hard. Parenting is really so very hard...and amazing. If I feel that sharing my parenting world is worth writing a whole blog about (for a select few readers), then I owe you the opportunity to know what happens to a parent when they lose a parent. Grieving while parenting doesn't really have a word like "hard" to tie a pretty bow around. The closest I can think of is ugly.
I'm 32 years old and my dad passed away unexpectedly six weeks ago. Because writing helps me to understand everything so much better I began to email myself instead of writing blog posts. I wasn't ready then to share. I actually labeled the emails "in place of blogging" with the hopes that I could figure out how to appropriately write a post about this. I have since given up trying to be appropriate. Death is hard AND ugly. Nothing appropriate about it.
SO, I am simply going to cut and paste my emails to myself here diary style. I know that I'm over sharing. I know that it's hard to read. Believe me...I do know all of this. But, similarly to being the first of many of my friends to have children, I am one of the first to lose a parent. Maybe in some weird way I just want you to know I've been there and it was awful...and I'm coming through it every day.
Here goes (he passed on 8/25/12) ...
9/2/12
That feeling in the pit of my stomach that is creating the nausea began slipping away. We went camping and I was so distracted by my children and making sure Evie didn't eat straight dirt that it was gone. We come home and one of his good friends calls me and it's back. Just that fast. Molly brings dinner. Nicki sends a Facebook message checking on me. People that I adore but that I would never expect to check on me are checking on me. People want to send food. I get five cards minimum a day in the mail, and something pops up every single day reminding me. Sometimes it's a little something. Other times it's a big gigantic something that makes it hard to catch my breath. Of course, every day starts off and ends with it. I read this blog religiously. I've mentioned it before. Momastery. She's a recovering addict. She's out to change the world one battle for love at a time. I feel like I want to be her (as a writer that is) and be her best friend all at the same time. She calls them lobsters. The addicts who get so lost and even lose their lives to it. They are someone's lobster. I haven't read far back enough to know why she calls them that. He wasn't technically an addict was he? I mean, of course he was. Just because he didn't have that last line of coke doesn't mean that last piece of steak didn't kill him. It doesn't mean we aren't just as angry with him for leaving too early when he could have stayed...if he had just tried harder to stay. Just because he had a heart attack doesn't mean he hadn't given up.
I type those words and the nausea becomes a lump in my throat. It's like someone is jumping up and down on my heart. Don't think those things I say to myself. Don't be angry. Focus on the sad because the angry does no good. The sad leads to healing and reminiscing. The angry leads to more anger. That's how anger works. It can be such a small seed that leads to a mountain of weeds you can't get rid of. It's been a little over a week and the weeds keep growing. But, some part of me knows the anger will fade away. I look at my girls and I can feel how he felt about them. That's the only "feeling" like that I have been able to have yet. It's so strange to look at your children through the eyes of someone else. So strange I can't even begin to explain it. What I can say is while it's overwhelming it's intoxicating. I look at them all day every day. When I see what I feel like he saw I just want to hug him.
9/11/12
A little piece of us dies with the departed. That's all I actually remember hearing at the memorial service in Florida. I was having a hard time putting this into words for myself. This intense, debilitating pain that feels like a cloud I can't escape. How do you survive the death of a part of who you are? A part that is so deeply lodged there yet completely broken. I have come to learn that really all you can do is survive it. Everyone says celebrate him...think of the good memories...know he is in a better place. I'm not there yet. Not even close actually.
9/13/12
Frustrated with myself at my frustration towards people who have happy things going on. I want to erase this from my mind and move on and make happy things happen. Instead, I have zero motivation, lots of anger, and this cloud I'm trying to push away seems to like it here.
9/18/12
I went a whole week feeling not sad. Or, maybe it was more like five days. And when I say not sad I mean not violently crying every. single. day. Regardless, I couldn't figure out where the cloud went. It hasn't been that long really. I felt a little scared that it was gone. Almost like something must be wrong with me. Then last night it reared it's ugly head. That grief monster will find you and when it does you will not be ready.
I want to say it started because of a commercial I saw on TV. This commercial is so good. I typically hate commercials. Truthfully, DVR is the best thing that ever happened to technology if you ask me. But, for some reason this commercial was on and I couldn't breathe again. I couldn't think. All I could do was stare and wait to feel overwhelmed by it. When it was over I wasn't overwhelmed. I was tired.
Later on I went to bed and the grief monster was there. Of course, that's when the monsters come out anyway right? I think I've said this before, but what do the grievers do when there is no one to hug them through it? How do they survive? I don't understand. I want to go find people who don't have that and just hug them all day.
My aunt passed away just four months before my dad. My cousin sent me the stages of grief. I read them but felt like they must be so different for everyone. Not that I need to know which one I'm in or which one is coming. It's more like when something is happening I want to read the stages and make sure I'm normal. Especially when nothing about this feels normal.
Unfortunately, the hardest part of all of this is how distant I feel from my own life. I see people and feel miles away. I see my own children and have a hard time connecting. As if this wasn't hard enough. I want to look at Lila and somehow express to her concrete thinking three year old brain that her mommy will come back. Instead I power through because that's what moms do right? Instead I hope that somehow I provide enough happy mommy throughout the day to suffice for now.
September 18th was going on a month ago now. After that email I officially entered the stage known as depression and began to fear I would never leave it. Blogging not only seemed absurd, but emailing myself wasn't even on my radar anymore. Survive the day was the name of the game.
Slowly somewhere in the past three weeks I've started making peace. I've cut myself some slack in the parenting/being a wife department. I've taken this more as a day by day thing than a get over it and move on thing.
People constantly say that being a stay at home mom is the hardest job ever. Honestly, I don't think anyone believes that unless they've done it. And the ones who have done it just smile and nod when the ones who haven't say "it must be tough work!". Don't get me wrong. It's glorious and a true gift in it's own right. BUT, you don't get to crawl in bed for days and cry. You don't get to be miserable and truly BE it as much as you need. That more than anything else has been the hardest part for me. Small children need so much and give so much. They know what's up even if they don't really know.
Lila knows me angry, frustrated, happy, and excited. She now also knows me very sad. It has made her more empathetic. It has made her more aware of her own emotions and how to express them. It has helped her even when I felt like I ruined her by letting her watch TV all day when I just couldn't be 100% mom that day.
The depression feels gone. The anger is slipping away very slowly. My house is actually sort of clean. My kids see happy mommy most of the day. Things are turning around. I try to feel this as it comes and hold onto the normalcy as much as I can. I still fear the grief monster, but at least now I feel better equipped to take it on.
For those of you who were there that night...for those of you who have held my hand, called me, sent me messages, brought us food, sent a card, cried with me, watched my children, etc. etc. you must know how important that is. Often people don't know what to do in these situations. My best advice is do whatever you can. Every little bit adds up to quite a lot. Know for a fact that it makes a massive difference even when you feel sure it doesn't.
Also know this. When a person is out of sorts, has a bad attitude, or is downright nasty stop yourself in your reaction and think. What is going on with this person? Grief can make everything ugly and difficult. Remember that. If they are a stranger cut them a break. You have no idea what happened to them yesterday. If they are closer to you and you don't know the cause assume the bigger person role. Maybe they just aren't ready to tell you yet. I'm not saying excuse awful behavior. Just look and think a little deeper. Find a way to rise above just in case they feel so lost they can't see you for the tears they are choking down. I didn't know that before. I know that now.
This blog used to be my therapy. My "you are not alone" soap box of motherhood. Now I'm afraid of over sharing and afraid of subjecting you to the really real life that is currently mine. I've never had that fear before. I have always embraced being candid and hoped that you would indulge in it with me. Motherhood is hard. Parenting is really so very hard...and amazing. If I feel that sharing my parenting world is worth writing a whole blog about (for a select few readers), then I owe you the opportunity to know what happens to a parent when they lose a parent. Grieving while parenting doesn't really have a word like "hard" to tie a pretty bow around. The closest I can think of is ugly.
I'm 32 years old and my dad passed away unexpectedly six weeks ago. Because writing helps me to understand everything so much better I began to email myself instead of writing blog posts. I wasn't ready then to share. I actually labeled the emails "in place of blogging" with the hopes that I could figure out how to appropriately write a post about this. I have since given up trying to be appropriate. Death is hard AND ugly. Nothing appropriate about it.
SO, I am simply going to cut and paste my emails to myself here diary style. I know that I'm over sharing. I know that it's hard to read. Believe me...I do know all of this. But, similarly to being the first of many of my friends to have children, I am one of the first to lose a parent. Maybe in some weird way I just want you to know I've been there and it was awful...and I'm coming through it every day.
Here goes (he passed on 8/25/12) ...
9/2/12
That feeling in the pit of my stomach that is creating the nausea began slipping away. We went camping and I was so distracted by my children and making sure Evie didn't eat straight dirt that it was gone. We come home and one of his good friends calls me and it's back. Just that fast. Molly brings dinner. Nicki sends a Facebook message checking on me. People that I adore but that I would never expect to check on me are checking on me. People want to send food. I get five cards minimum a day in the mail, and something pops up every single day reminding me. Sometimes it's a little something. Other times it's a big gigantic something that makes it hard to catch my breath. Of course, every day starts off and ends with it. I read this blog religiously. I've mentioned it before. Momastery. She's a recovering addict. She's out to change the world one battle for love at a time. I feel like I want to be her (as a writer that is) and be her best friend all at the same time. She calls them lobsters. The addicts who get so lost and even lose their lives to it. They are someone's lobster. I haven't read far back enough to know why she calls them that. He wasn't technically an addict was he? I mean, of course he was. Just because he didn't have that last line of coke doesn't mean that last piece of steak didn't kill him. It doesn't mean we aren't just as angry with him for leaving too early when he could have stayed...if he had just tried harder to stay. Just because he had a heart attack doesn't mean he hadn't given up.
I type those words and the nausea becomes a lump in my throat. It's like someone is jumping up and down on my heart. Don't think those things I say to myself. Don't be angry. Focus on the sad because the angry does no good. The sad leads to healing and reminiscing. The angry leads to more anger. That's how anger works. It can be such a small seed that leads to a mountain of weeds you can't get rid of. It's been a little over a week and the weeds keep growing. But, some part of me knows the anger will fade away. I look at my girls and I can feel how he felt about them. That's the only "feeling" like that I have been able to have yet. It's so strange to look at your children through the eyes of someone else. So strange I can't even begin to explain it. What I can say is while it's overwhelming it's intoxicating. I look at them all day every day. When I see what I feel like he saw I just want to hug him.
9/11/12
A little piece of us dies with the departed. That's all I actually remember hearing at the memorial service in Florida. I was having a hard time putting this into words for myself. This intense, debilitating pain that feels like a cloud I can't escape. How do you survive the death of a part of who you are? A part that is so deeply lodged there yet completely broken. I have come to learn that really all you can do is survive it. Everyone says celebrate him...think of the good memories...know he is in a better place. I'm not there yet. Not even close actually.
9/13/12
Frustrated with myself at my frustration towards people who have happy things going on. I want to erase this from my mind and move on and make happy things happen. Instead, I have zero motivation, lots of anger, and this cloud I'm trying to push away seems to like it here.
9/18/12
I went a whole week feeling not sad. Or, maybe it was more like five days. And when I say not sad I mean not violently crying every. single. day. Regardless, I couldn't figure out where the cloud went. It hasn't been that long really. I felt a little scared that it was gone. Almost like something must be wrong with me. Then last night it reared it's ugly head. That grief monster will find you and when it does you will not be ready.
I want to say it started because of a commercial I saw on TV. This commercial is so good. I typically hate commercials. Truthfully, DVR is the best thing that ever happened to technology if you ask me. But, for some reason this commercial was on and I couldn't breathe again. I couldn't think. All I could do was stare and wait to feel overwhelmed by it. When it was over I wasn't overwhelmed. I was tired.
Later on I went to bed and the grief monster was there. Of course, that's when the monsters come out anyway right? I think I've said this before, but what do the grievers do when there is no one to hug them through it? How do they survive? I don't understand. I want to go find people who don't have that and just hug them all day.
My aunt passed away just four months before my dad. My cousin sent me the stages of grief. I read them but felt like they must be so different for everyone. Not that I need to know which one I'm in or which one is coming. It's more like when something is happening I want to read the stages and make sure I'm normal. Especially when nothing about this feels normal.
Unfortunately, the hardest part of all of this is how distant I feel from my own life. I see people and feel miles away. I see my own children and have a hard time connecting. As if this wasn't hard enough. I want to look at Lila and somehow express to her concrete thinking three year old brain that her mommy will come back. Instead I power through because that's what moms do right? Instead I hope that somehow I provide enough happy mommy throughout the day to suffice for now.
September 18th was going on a month ago now. After that email I officially entered the stage known as depression and began to fear I would never leave it. Blogging not only seemed absurd, but emailing myself wasn't even on my radar anymore. Survive the day was the name of the game.
Slowly somewhere in the past three weeks I've started making peace. I've cut myself some slack in the parenting/being a wife department. I've taken this more as a day by day thing than a get over it and move on thing.
People constantly say that being a stay at home mom is the hardest job ever. Honestly, I don't think anyone believes that unless they've done it. And the ones who have done it just smile and nod when the ones who haven't say "it must be tough work!". Don't get me wrong. It's glorious and a true gift in it's own right. BUT, you don't get to crawl in bed for days and cry. You don't get to be miserable and truly BE it as much as you need. That more than anything else has been the hardest part for me. Small children need so much and give so much. They know what's up even if they don't really know.
Lila knows me angry, frustrated, happy, and excited. She now also knows me very sad. It has made her more empathetic. It has made her more aware of her own emotions and how to express them. It has helped her even when I felt like I ruined her by letting her watch TV all day when I just couldn't be 100% mom that day.
The depression feels gone. The anger is slipping away very slowly. My house is actually sort of clean. My kids see happy mommy most of the day. Things are turning around. I try to feel this as it comes and hold onto the normalcy as much as I can. I still fear the grief monster, but at least now I feel better equipped to take it on.
For those of you who were there that night...for those of you who have held my hand, called me, sent me messages, brought us food, sent a card, cried with me, watched my children, etc. etc. you must know how important that is. Often people don't know what to do in these situations. My best advice is do whatever you can. Every little bit adds up to quite a lot. Know for a fact that it makes a massive difference even when you feel sure it doesn't.
Also know this. When a person is out of sorts, has a bad attitude, or is downright nasty stop yourself in your reaction and think. What is going on with this person? Grief can make everything ugly and difficult. Remember that. If they are a stranger cut them a break. You have no idea what happened to them yesterday. If they are closer to you and you don't know the cause assume the bigger person role. Maybe they just aren't ready to tell you yet. I'm not saying excuse awful behavior. Just look and think a little deeper. Find a way to rise above just in case they feel so lost they can't see you for the tears they are choking down. I didn't know that before. I know that now.
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