Garrett's Monument

In the nine years of living in our town before Garrett died, I drove past this cemetery hundreds of times.  I never thought twice about it, and I never could have imagined that my own child would be buried there one day.  I remember driving through the gate for the first time about a week after Garrett died, going to meet with the cemetery people to look at plots and start the process.  It was a horrible and surreal experience, one that I hope to never repeat until it's my husband or parents or parents-in-law...and not until they have all lived to a ripe old age.  I don't think I will survive doing this again for another child, or for my husband if he dies young.

We were advised by the cemetery people to not rush into getting a headstone right away.  They said many people feel the need to get it done fast so they can "move on". When in reality, they move too quickly and regret the choice they made for the monument.  We met with the monument company a little before Thanksgiving for our first sit down meeting, to talk about logistics and get a tentative design drafted.  Cody had been tinkering with designs, sketching things on napkins and scraps of paper; it was cathartic for him.  I could barely look at his sketches when he showed them to me because my heart would bleed.  It was Cody's project and it was good for him. But it was bad for me, so I left him to it.

It took 120 days for the granite to be excavated from the quarry and sent to the factory.  Then it took a few more weeks to actually make the monument.  We purchased four plots at the cemetery (which was the minimum we had to buy in order to do an upright monument, as opposed to a flat in ground monument). It was very important to us to do a big upright if at all possible.  Now we know where the next three immediate family members will be buried, God help us when we are forced to deal with that in the future.  We also decided in a granite foundation to go across all four plots; because it made sense financially, and it would make Garrett's monument settle better.

As I said, this project was Cody's baby and he oversaw the whole thing.  He made frequent trips to the factory to see the progress, but I only went twice because it was too hard for me.  I remember the day I went and saw Garrett's name etched across the front and I about fainted.

We decided to put Lightening McQueen and James the Engine on it, which were hand carved by the monument maker.  The quality of it is astonishingly good.  Both Devin and Garrett shared a love of all things Cars and Thomas the Tank Engine, but Garrett especially loved James ("the number five engine") for some reason.  Garrett was by far the most stubborn of our children when it came to potty training, and most things for that matter.  It was a mix of stubbornness and fear that kept him from fully embracing the potty, and I tried just about everything to bribe him into doing it full time.  One day we were at the store and he saw a bright red talking James toy and he lit up.  He wanted the train so badly, but I decided to use it as leverage for the potty.

For a few weeks before he died, I would gently coax him about doing his business full time in the potty and he would say excitedly "And then I get my James!!"

But he never got his James.  I never gave in to his wish, even though I had a nagging voice in my head that told me to just let him get it.  I planned on getting it for him while we were in Texas.  After he died I was at the store and I deliberately walked to the train aisle and stood in front of the Thomas displays and right there staring back at me was James. The exact same James he wanted so badly.  I took the train from the rack and held it against my chest as the sobs violently erupted from me.

I'm sorry, Baby.  I'm sorry I got so frustrated with you and wouldn't let you get the train.  You never asked for much.  You were usually so happy to play with the toys we already had, and you were just...a happy boy.  And that one thing you wanted, the one thing that made your eyes light up at the mere thought, I denied you because I wanted to show YOU who was in charge.  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  But here is your James, forever etched into a piece of granite for you.  James, the number five engine...is finally yours.

The monument was finally installed on April 27th and we absolutely love it, in spite of the horrible circumstances.

Garrett's nicknames.  Each one has a significant meaning and a story of how it was acquired.  "No Empty Seats" is a family motto we began shortly after y brother's death six years ago.  It means that when we are all reunited at Heaven's table, we don't want anyone missing.  We don't want any empty seats.

Our family embraced the Jewish tradition of leaving a stone at a loved one's grave, to let people know someone visited them.  We do this at my grandparents' and brother's graves, and my sweet cousin gave me a bag of beautiful stones to use at Garrett's grave when we finally had the monument installed.  So if you are ever there visiting, please take a stone from the jar and place it on the headstone.  It helps is to know people go visit him.  I love this tradition.

Peter Pan Ballet

Hailey and Lauren performed in their ballet studio's amazing production of "Peter Pan" a couple of weeks ago.  The girls were in the same ballet class this year, which was not by accident.  I remember one day in August sitting in the lobby of their studio, trying to muster the courage to fill out the forms to register them for the upcoming year of ballet.  It was something I had done every August for the last four years.  But only one month after Garrett died, I sat on a chair and starred at the blank forms and couldn't see through my tears.  I'd chosen a time of day to go in and register them when I thought the studio would be fairly empty, because I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself in front of other parents.  I was grateful that no one else was there except the studio owner, Jana, and one of the office staff members.

It's taken me several months to be able to fill out any type of form and sign my name to it.  I can finally do it again, but in August I looked at those forms and was taken straight back to the hospital when I literally signed Garrett's life away.  It was the last time I had signed my name to anything, and it was haunting, to say the least.  So I sat there and cried my eyes out, shaking like a leaf, when Jana came over and sat beside me and hugged me and let me cry all I needed to.  Creative Arts Academy is a very unique dance studio, to put it mildly.  Unique because the owners, the teachers, and the staff genuinely care a great deal about the students and their families.  When Garrett died, it took no time at all for word to reach CAA and Jana immediately reached out to me and let me know they wanted to help us in any way they could.  She had no idea how it helped to have her help me sit and register my girls.  It probably seems like a simple thing to most people, but I needed someone to hold my hand and help me walk until I could finally do it on my own again.

Hailey and Lauren danced in the same class when they were three and four years old, but they branched off into different age groups after that.  This year, the studio let my girls dance together again to make it easier on all of us.  For a long time, our kids wouldn't do anything without each other.  Physically being together made things a little better, and CAA was more than willing to accommodate.  It also helped tremendously to not be pulled in a million directions this past year.  With so many therapy appointments and other activities, streamlining at least one activity helped my sanity.  It helped all of us in more ways than one.  It takes a village to raise a child, and it takes a village to help grieve and mourn the loss of a child too.

There was a woman sitting directly behind me and she had to have been at LEAST eleven months pregnant.  I couldn't keep myself from turning around to quickly glance at her a few times during the night, and I was taken back to exactly four year before when I sat through the girls' show of "Romeo and Juliet" when I was eleven months pregnant with Garrett.  It was such a sweet and miserable time for me.  Garrett was born only a few days after that show in 2011.

This year the girls played the part of the Night Sky, when the Darling children are being transported to Neverland.  Little trampolines were hidden behind the clouds and the dancers got to leap off of them.  Their dance was beautiful and fun whimsical.  The entire production was my favorite one to date.  In fact, I took the girls back on the final night of the show so they could actually sit and watch it, when they were not performing.  They were mesmerized through the entire thing, and I was too.

Their wonderful teacher, Miss Alyssa.

Hailey and her good friend from school, Anna.

Grandma and Grandpa Andrew came into town to see the show and it was great to have them there.

Jumping Back In

I have a huge problem.  I am registered to compete in my first Olympic level triathlon on July 25th of this year.  It happens to fall on the one year anniversary of Garrett's funeral.  No, it's not a coincidence, that I thought that would be a good day to prove to myself that I can still triumph.  Now, I'm thinking I may have wasted $120 on a race that I may never even start.

I have mentioned plenty of times that up until July 12, 2014, swimming was my life.  I was raised around water, I lifeguarded for several years, I was on swim team, I taught swim lessons, I even taught lifeguards how to be lifeguards.  Isn't it ironic and cruel that of all people, it was MY son who drowned?  So on that horrible day last summer, I suddenly became a person who can't so much as look at a wishing fountain in a shopping mall without going into shut-down mode.  There are so many triggers that take me right back to that moment when I found Garrett and into the days surrounding his death.  I can't escape the triggers because they are a facet of every part of my life.

Water.  It's a huge problem for me now.  I can't even give Devin a bath; Cody has completely taken over that job. How on earth am I supposed to swim one mile in July, when I can't bear to look at water, let alone get IN water?

In school I've been studying all about Exposure Behavioral Therapy.  In a nutshell, a person is gradually exposed to a fear or a trigger, little by little.  So if you have an irrational fear of spiders, you start at the bottom of the fear scale and move up.  At first you may just be exposed to the WORD spider.  Then a picture will be introduced, then maybe a tickle on your arm, etc.  This happens over several sessions with the ultimate goal being the ability to look at a real live spider and not go into hysterics.

But here's the tricky part.  When you begin exposure to one scenario, and it DOES send you into hysterics, you can't leave the scenario until you have calmed down and your heart rate goes back to normal.  If you flee in the middle of a panic attack (per say) before your ride it out, it will make you backslide in the progression scale.

So when I'm standing in the grocery store and a song comes on the sound system and it's a song Garrett loved to listen to in the car, if I run out of the store mid-attack, it will only hinder my progress.  I have to stand there and listen to the song, letting it all happen, and then find recovery within the situation in which I was exposed.  I am very, very bad at doing this.

Swimming.  Chlorine.  Sun shine.  Swim suits.  Sunblock.  Pool floaties.  Beach towels.  Oh, the list is endless.  You know I can't even use house cleaners with bleach in them because it smells like chlorine and it can make me run and hide in my closet?

Tonight in therapy, we talked all about EBT and how I'm going to be swimming a mile on July 25th.  It's all about the baby steps.  I'm grateful that this swim takes place in a river, and not a sparkly blue chlorinated swimming pool.  But...all of my training must take place in a sparkly blue chlorinated swimming pool.  Not only that, it must take place at the Rec Center where I spent so much of my one-on-one time with Garrett.

Step one. Allow myself to drive by the Rec Center.  When it's on my route, I purposely take roads that go around it.  I can't even LOOK at the building.

Step two.  Drive into the parking lot and sit in my car.

Step three.  Drive into the parking lot and face the building.

Step four. Get out of my car and stand in the parking lot.

Step five. Go inside the lobby of the Rec Center.

And on, and on, and on.  This is something that will take place over the course of many weeks.  I don't know when I will get to the point where I can actually step inside the natatorium and smell the chlorine and see the swimming pool.  It seems like it's light years away.  And if I do one of these steps and fall to pieces and people are watching me?  I have to stay there, in that spot, until the tears stop and I gain control of myself again.  So people can watch, I don't care.  I'm a mother who lost her child in a horrific way and as a result, I'm have a nice case of PTSD.  Bring on the weird looks and the whispers as I sit in the corner and cry because I'm scared of the water that lay five feet away from me.

Bring it.  I'm tougher than that.

The Food Pantry

Two years ago my Girl Scout troop did a service project for the local food bank, and I fell in love with it.  I fell in love with the people who worked there, with their hearts, and with the way they run the place.  As a result, I tried to make a more conscious effort to donate to them, but it usually only happened around the holidays when the grocery stores are jam packed with food donation bins.  On a normal day in a normal life, buying extra groceries for people in need is the kind of thing that slipped my mind.  I think that's what happens with most of us, anyway.

A couple of months ago we were at a really low place (let's face it, every day is a really low place but some days are worse than others).  Cody suggested we do something for charity, some sort of service project, to help distract us from our own pain.  It's the kind of thing that is a very short-lived fix, but that's okay.  A little bit of service is better than no service.  We decided that from there on out, we would put aside $100 a month to buy food for the Food Pantry, and make a whole night of it.  This is the second month we have done it, and it has proven again to be oh so gratifying.

It's amazing what happens to your heart when you step out of your own world of misery, and think of someone else's world of misery.  The good feeling doesn't last terribly long, but these days we take any sort of relief we can get.  Last month, the first month we did it, we ended up having a pretty good time at the store.  The kids got very involved with picking out the food and using their math skills to estimate, round numbers, and add.  We taught them about getting the most bang for your buck, buying house brand verses name brand, etc.

I think we've decided to make a family night out of this activity on the third Tuesday of the month.  Tonight was a good night, and the kids were even more involved and as a side effect, more excited.  They did everything from pick out the food, put it in the carts, load it onto the belt at the check out, load it into the van...you get the idea.  At the check out we waited with bated breath to see what the total would be.  Last month we came in right at $87 and change.  Tonight we came in at $99.64!  We all cheered and Cody said that we should go on "The Price Is Right".

The Food Pantry has a giant scale that we load the items onto.  Tonight we decided to make it interesting and all the kids made bets on how much our lot would weigh.  Ethan guessed 150 pounds, and it was 148 pounds exactly.  We celebrated by going to dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant in town.

 

As with every second of my life, I thought of Garrett the whole time tonight.  Although I tried to put my grief aside for a little while, he was never away from my thoughts.  I have this picture taped near the steering wheel of my van and he is always in my line of vision.  As we drove home this evening, I looked at his face and hoped that he was aware of what we were doing.  How we are trying to heal.  How everything we do is to make us stronger, more fortified, more aware of the Bigger Picture.  Garrett, I..... am at a loss for what I want to say to you.  Maybe you can look into my heart and find the words because they are there, but they can't make it past the lump in my throat.  I love you.  I love you so much I can feel the ache in every part of my bones.  I hope you are proud with us.  I hope you will continue to help us be strong.

Running For G

A few minutes after I finished the half marathon on September 13, 2014

I'm a runner.

I'm a cyclist.

I'm a swimmer.

I'm going to be thirty-five years old in a few short weeks and although I do all three of the aforementioned, I'm not necessarily good at any of them.  But I get my butt outside or in the pool or on the treadmill and I work my body very hard, sometimes to the point of nausea and utter exhaustion.  Last spring I registered to do the Big Cottonwood half marathon with some friends of mine and I trained hard for it.  I really enjoy training because when there's a goal in mind, I push myself very hard and I'm my own best competition.  Aside from the half in September, I had plans to do another sprint triathlon that month as well, although I never got around to registering early for it.

I guess it's better that I didn't, because Garrett died and from July 12th forward, I didn't do more than walk to and from the bathroom or make the occasional mailbox visit.  Running five or ten miles at a time was completely out of the question.  My entire body and mind was simply in survival mode, if even that.  

Though I'd already registered for the half marathon and forked over my hundred bucks, it was the farthest thing from my mind.  And it stayed that way until three days before the race.  I'd lost what felt like every bit of muscle mass in my body and my lung capacity had greatly diminished.  It's amazing how quickly the body atrophies when it does nothing but sit for weeks on end, and add the fact that I had stopped eating and drinking, my nutritional reserves had rapidly dwindled.  

I still don't know why it happened like it did, but I remember sitting on the living room couch on a Wednesday while I was all alone in the house.  I had just dropped Devin off at preschool and of course the bigger kids had already left hours earlier.  I was thirsty, although I didn't want to drink anything.  Then for some reason, I got up and moved into the kitchen as if someone else was moving my body for me.  I felt like a marionette.  And I was standing at the kitchen sink when the thought came to me "I think I'll run the half marathon on Saturday after all."  It made absolutely no sense, but nothing in the last two months made a lick of sense either.  

And so three days later, I ran the most difficult thirteen point one miles a person has ever attempted.  Because my blood had been border-line stagnant for eight weeks, my poor kidneys woke up and said "What the hell is all this stuff going through us?  You expect us to filter all this blood when we have barely functioned since July?"  As a result, I had to pee every half mile.  Long distance racing takes a huge amount of mental stamina, and I had none.  It was September 13th- exactly two months to the day that Garrett died.  I crossed over the start line right at 7:30 that morning, but it was 8:30 Central Standard Time.  So that made it exactly two months and ten minutes after Garrett was pronounced dead.  

One of my very best friends, whom I registered with back in May, stayed with me every step of the way, even though she was well trained and ready for the race.  I told her repeatedly to go on and leave me as I hunched over the side of the road and let the grief and anxiety devour me.  But she never did, and I'll be forever grateful to her for that.  That last half mile was the hardest part for me because I was drained emotionally, spiritually, and physically.  At one point I said through my tears and under my labored breath "Garrett, Baby, I need you.  I can't do this.  I'm tired.  I'm broken.  I need you!"  And at that moment, a chill went through the air and Audrey felt it too.  And in my peripheral vision, I saw him.  Or maybe it was just the idea of him, but I felt his presence nonetheless.  I felt as though my lungs would burst, but it was more from the enormity of the experience of feeling my son right there with me.  

When we crossed over the finish line, I fell to my knees and wept huge crocodile tears.  Was he really there with me?  I like to think that he was.

*****

Tomorrow is April.  Garrett was born in April and the days and weeks leading up to his birthday have been excruciating as I've recollected on the days and weeks leading up to his birth.  I don't know of a mother who doesn't get a bit nostalgic when her child ages another year, but when that child is no longer here, the nostalgia turns into a heart wrenching ache.  I'm still running and cycling, though not as much as I should be.  My heart feels to tired and heavy these days, but I still get myself up and out the door as much as I can.  There's a certain closeness I feel to Garrett when I'm outside working my body to it's limit.  It brings completely new meaning to the phrase "push through the pain".  I literally run through the pain in my heart and my mind.  I know I'm not running TO Garrett, but I feel like I'm running FOR him.  I'm running for G.  Maybe it's because he's not here and I am, so I feel like I owe it to him to work my living body as hard as I can.  Some days, it's the only thing that reminds me that I'm still alive.  I'm still breathing, and I have to KEEP breathing.  Some days the only proof I have that I'm still putting one foot in front of the other is the hot, pounding blood I feel coursing through my veins.  It's when I can hear it pulsating in my head that I know I haven't given up.  

I'll be running another thirteen point one miles on April 18th in the Salt Lake Marathon, as a birthday gift to my baby.  I'm going solo this time and unlike September, my kidneys are well accustomed to the large amounts of blood filtering through them.  Hopefully I don't have to squat in the bushes or find a port-o-potty every half mile like last time.  Hopefully my muscle mass and lung capacity has increased once more since then but even if it turns out to be as taxing as before, I'm okay with that.  I'm not running for myself.  I'm running for my family.  I'm running for G.

I'm running to show my children that life hasn't stopped, even though we feel like it has.  In the face of utter adversity, we can do difficult things.  

I have a certain playlist on my MP3 player that is strictly devoted to my runs and rides while thinking of Garrett, which is 100% of the time I'm out there.  I sometimes add to the list as I hear a song and it resonates with me.  I am very selective with each song I put on this list because it's what helps push me through.  Each song holds a very significant meaning, although some of them would sound ludicrous to other people.  You may think "Why on earth is THAT song on the list?"  Well, the reasons are personal.  Some obvious, but some obscure.  In the spirit of my upcoming race, I thought I would share what's on this particular list.

"Running For G"-

Best Day Of My Life- American Authors

Dangerous- Big Data

This Love- Taylor Swift

Three Little Birds- Bob Marley

I'm On Fire- AWOL Nation

Redeemer- Steven Sharp Nelson

This I Promise You- NSYNC

Run- Snow Patrol

The Scientist- Cold Play

I Dreamed A Dream- Les Miserables

Love Me Like You Do- Ellie Goulding

Tender Mercies- Shane Jackman

Concerto In D Minor- Bach

Little Lion Man- Mumford And Sons

Apologize- OneRepublic

Dreaming Of You- Selena

One Last Night- Vaults

Unchained Melody- Righteous Brothers

Redeemer Of Israel- David Tolk

I Will Follow You Into The Dark- Death Cab For Cutie

Held- Natalie Grant

Under Pressure- Queen/Bowie

The Reason- Hoobastank

After The Storm- Mumford And Sons

Madness- Muse

The Walker- Fitz And The Tantrums

From Where You Are- Lifehouse

Carry On- Fun.

How To Save A Life- The Fray

Clouds- Zach Sobiech

Say Something- A Great Big World

The Last Goodbye- Billy Boyd

What A Wonderful World- Louis Armstrong

The Way I Am- Ingrid Michaelson

Somewhere Over The Rainbow- Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

A Thousand Years- Christina Perri

To Where You Are- Josh Groban

I Will See You Again- Carrie Underwood

Be Still My Soul- Mindy Gledhill

Somewhere Only We Know- Keane