Just call me Murphy

How does that saying go?  If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all?  Or how about Murphy’s Law? Anything that can go wrong will.  I know this sounds like a whiney start but after the start we had to our getaway to Sean’s dad’s new home in southern North Carolina on top of the year we’ve had thus far, it gets a little tough to not have that outlook. 

Mother’s Day ended up being a really rough day for me but I survived it and that is about as good as I could have hoped for.  I spent it with my babies the way that I am able to and tried to enjoy being with my girl as best I could. We sang happy birthday to her and focused the day on her as much as I was able to.  In the end though I was glad it was over and couldn’t wait to leave the next day to head down south. 

The plan was to drive to Long Island to my parent’s house on Monday morning and have my dad drive us to the airport since we were leaving out of LaGuardia.  We had an ok drive there but of course Miss Kennedy was not having it when we suggested a nap.  We made it to the airport quickly, got checked in and through security equally as fast, bought an overpriced ($7!!!) bag of gummy worms for her to snack on while we waited and on the plane only to find out that our flight was CANCELLED! After waiting on line forever in an airport that seemed to be on the budget plan for heating and cooling, all the while being assaulted by my overtired and therefore over cranky toddler I was about to lose it when were told we couldn’t fly out until Wednesday (thank you, Spirit Airlines, you were awesome <insert sarcasm here>).  In fact, truth be told, I threw a bit of a tantrum myself.  Poor Sean.  The guy never stood a chance of peace that night between these two mouthy chicks. 

We hung around for a few days, saw some family, stopped at a hotdog truck (guilty pleasure!) and made our way back to the airport for Take 2.  This went much better with a quick and smooth flight where not a peep was made from the little lady.  We met Sean’s dad and step-mom at the airport and began a great vacation that we’ve desperately needed.  The change in scenery alone was enough to allow Sean and I to catch our breath a bit. 

I’ve always viewed myself as a northeastern girl through and through but being down there in the warm weather and ocean and sand that was as fine baby as powder, I was able to understand the urge to relocate or become a snow bird at the very least.  Between watching her run in and out of the surf, collecting as many seashells as her little hands could hold, and walking around with a bathing suit full of sand, never once whining about it, I was one proud mama.  You see, Sean is not a beach guy, but I live for it. 

While I was enjoying being away, my thoughts never strayed far from Jack.  I knew it would look like a much different trip if he was there but I’d have taken it nevertheless.  I’m not sure if I give off a certain vibe when I am thinking about him but it is as if Kennedy can read my thoughts.  Multiple times she said, “I wish Jack Holden was here,” or “I really miss Jack” and “I bet Jack likes the beach too”.  In any case, I am always amazed at the empathy and sensitivity this this little girl shows. 

That’s one side of Kennedy.  The other side never fails to show she has lived up to the middle name we gave her.  Egan means ‘little fire’.  This kid shows the fire inside of her at every turn whether it is scolding her Papa for biting his ice cream instead of licking it, dancing in the middle of an amusement park like no one was watching, going on a bungee jumper I was too nervous to go on myself, explaining things to her father, who she already presumes is clueless, with her little hands on her hips, or riding a roller coaster most 3 year olds (or 7 year olds for that matter) would be afraid to go on.  There is a fire in her eyes and fire in her heart.  She loves everyone with a fierceness that is sometimes hard to understand that a baby could know how to do.  Simply said she is magic. 

And so as we wrapped up our trip and drove to the airport, only to learn we were delayed again (I mean you can make this stuff up), I was thinking about my luck again.  But as I looked over at this magical little girl that just announced, “I really love you guys,” it was very clear.  With Kennedy, I got luckier than some people ever are in life.  And the real truth of the matter is, in life it isn’t about luck.  It’s just about love. 

A Sunday Juxtaposition

Juxtaposition: n. the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.

Believe it or not that word showed up on the SAT’s all THREE times I took the damn test.  Not once could I remember what it meant (you’d think after seeing it twice I’d have bothered to tattoo it on my arm or something).  Needless to say, I know it now and use it as often as I can, maybe my way of “sticking it to the man”.  I know I’m a real badass.

Just in case my tired little mind thought of forgetting what it meant, tomorrow will actually be a perfect and perfectly sad juxtaposition.

I have been dreading this Sunday since the day Jack died.  Sunday’s in general are not kind to my heart; they mark another week passing without my boy.  But this Sunday being Mother’s Day seems substantially rougher than any other thus far.  Aside from tomorrow being a day celebrating moms, it is the day my journey down the path of motherhood began.  Kennedy Egan was born, May 10^th, three years ago.  So once again I will be straddling two worlds, living through one of the sadder days in my life, which falls on one of the happiest days of my life. 

To say I have been dreading Kennedy’s birthday makes me sound and feel like an awful mother; and yet, there you have it.  It’s not that I didn’t want to celebrate my baby girl’s big day, quite the opposite.  She quite literally is my reason for getting out of bed every morning and so, truly, I celebrate her every moment of every day.  Her first two birthdays were pretty big, in terms of a baby/toddler party.  Earlier this year I was busy pinning party ideas for this year’s bash but when my life took a sharp turn and was upended, planning her birthday party was the furthest thing from my mind.  But the day was coming quickly and so Sean and I decided we’d just keep it small and have cake here at our house with our local family, my sister and her family and Sean’s mom and step-dad. 

Originally we planned to have it on her actual Sunday birthday but I knew I would be having a rough day and so I let myself off the hook a bit and moved it to today.  As it turns out though, Sean’s step-dad is out of town and my brother-in-law had to work so her small party got even smaller.  We set up the pool, bounce house and bubble fish (hand to God, it is the best $12 investment one can make at Wal-Mart) and just like that it was a party.  The kids had a great time, ran themselves ragged, surely earning their night’s sleep, never once even tattling on each other! We had a small BBQ, ate a delicious cake made by Baba and sang happy birthday to a little girl who, no joke, proclaimed to the table, “this is the best birthday party ever.”  And that right there is how I am still here.  She is able to take what little I have to give these days and still love me and know she is loved more than anyone can fathom.  And so even though me and my broken heart are exhausted, to have made her day in the smallest of ways makes it tiny bit easier to push through. 

Today was a good day. 

We celebrated our girl a day early in anticipation that tomorrow may be a little more than I can bear.  The plan is to get up and bring flowers to Jack’s grave and spend a little time with the boy who took a chunk of my heart with him to heaven.  And that’s it.  That is all I can plan for right now.  I am giving myself permission to be a mess and to maybe do nothing more than that.  I did plan to go to church but I don’t know if can or want to.  The truth is, today I feel a little pissed off with God.  I’m angry that, as a mommy, I am dreading tomorrow.  I am angry that I will never feel as happy on Mother’s Day again, as I was the first 2 years as a mom.  I am angry that, no matter what attempt is made by my husband and daughter to make the day special, I will feel that something is missing and hope with all of my heart that it does not hurt them.  I’m mad.  And so I’d like to think I’m being given a pass from mass tomorrow.  The goal is just to survive tomorrow; and to hope that after tomorrow ends the ache in my heart I’ve felt so acutely these last few days will return to the “normal” ever-present, dull pain that is there since January.

 To my mother, mothers-in-law, grandmothers, aunts, sister and friends that have become family: Happy Mother’s Day.   Thank you to all of you for showing me the ropes of this whole mothering thing and for holding my hand as I misstep and find my way. While I may be in somewhat unchartered territory this I know:  Loving your children is a universal phenomenon.  And as a grieving mother on Mother’s Day this is all I know about tomorrow:  I love my children.  I miss my son.  And I pray my daughter will feel as loved as she is. 

Make Him Feel my Love

I decided to take another ride down to Long Island on Thursday with Kennedy.  Even though I had just been there, I needed another visit with some of the people I love.  It meant leaving Sean home to work and to assemble the monstrous swing set we ordered for Kennedy’s birthday, and that meant being away from him for the first time since Jack died; I was scared but still, we went.

The end of last month brought me through another big step I’ve had to take since we’ve lost our boy.  We visited my two girlfriends and their new babies.  It was so good to see them, as I have missed them terribly but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified before walking through their front doors.  I didn’t know how I would react and what that could do to our friendships.  With Sean and Kennedy with me, I felt a bit more at ease and like I could keep it together for the most part.  Of course as soon as I saw the girls and we hugged, the kind of hugs that say all the things you are unable to say out loud, I cried my eyes out.  After I pulled myself together and laid eyes on their beautiful baby girl and boy, I cried some more.  Surprisingly though, they were different tears than I’d anticipated.  Yes, it made me sad and it made me miss Jack in a way I can’t even begin to explain, but they made me feel connected to him also.  These two tiny people were Jack’s friends.  They would have grown up together.  They would have never known that there was anything different about him, and if they did, they probably wouldn’t have cared.  And so immediately, looking at them, I loved them.  Perhaps every time I see them, they will tug on the strings of my broken heart, but only to remind me they are my son’s buddies; his people. 

While it was good to see them all, it took a bit to recover from it.  Leaving and going home to our baby-less house highlighted what we’ve lost, and it was brutal.  And so, to Long Island I went.  Call it fleeing or call it refuge, but in any case, I needed it.  I called my mom’s best friend Anne, and we made plans to go there for a real girl’s tea party.  But really, the truth is, just being in her presence heals me a bit.  She proves to me, you can survive a loss like this.  It will take a very long time, and it will hurt something fierce, but you can do it.  And for that reason I needed a visit.  My mom, Kennedy and I went.  We all had a good laugh as Kennedy prepared her tea with 1 part decaf tea, 4 parts heavy cream, 5 parts sugar and a spoonful of fresh whipped cream for good measure.  Walking through her garden is one of the most calming places I have been.  From its inspiration, I was able to decide the kind of tree I want to plant in front of our home in Jack’s memory, a gift from my sister and brother-in-law.  Anne bought me a gorgeous garden rock to place near it once it’s planted and it, again, pointed out: she understands. 

We also went in to the city with my uncle for an old-fashioned day spoiling Kennedy.  We took a long horse and carriage ride through Central Park, had tea at the Plaza like Eloise, and took a shopping trip at Bergdorf’s the first time I was ever at both of those and my not-even-3 year old has done it!).  It was fun and decadent and a memorable day, all the things my Uncle Stephen is about.  More than anything, I smiled a lot, which, for me, is a damn good day.  My child now has nicer clothes than I will probably ever own too, lucky little twerp!

We also went to my cousin’s son’s First Communion.  It was a beautiful day and a beautiful mass.  The priest sang a song during it.  While he sang I couldn’t keep from crying.  It said everything my heart was feeling.  ‘Make you feel my Love’ was the song (by take your pick: Bob Dylan, Billy Joel, Adele…) and while I’d heard it before, it has never spoken to me the way it did that day.

I prayed harder than I ever have.  I prayed Jack is able to feel my love for him even though I can’t show him in the same ways I can show his sister.  I would give anything to be able to hold him and hug him and smother him with kisses the way I can with Kennedy.  And so this song awoke in me the feral animal that rears it’s ugly head from time to time and when the day way over and I couldn’t keep it in another second, I cried.  Hard.  I cried because all I can do is hope that the way I choose to live my life and remember Jack will be enough to show him how much his family loves him; that he will feel our love. 

Who knows; it may have been being away from Sean that made me miss Jack so much these last few days.  I believe that when we’re together there is a comfort there for the simple fact that he held that baby too.  He carries those memories just as closely as I do and when we’re together it makes them so much more real and strong.  All I know is when we got home yesterday, as soon as I saw him, my heart quieted a bit and I could breathe a little easier.

I try to think of it this way:  the love we are feeling from all of our friends and family lately is in large part a love they too have for Jack.  Because he isn’t here with us, they are channeling through us to him.  And if this is any measure of how loved he is, he would have been one lucky boy.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the swing set was successfully assembled in a cool 17 hours over the course of 3 days with the help of some good guys; and the little lady is thrilled! 

Success!