18

I did it again. For the second month in a row. Somehow, the 11th has come and gone. Last month when I did it, I realized it a few days later and gasped to myself, trying to figure out what day it was. I then realized that for the first time since Adam died, I had "forgotten" about the monthly milestone of his death. I did it again yesterday.

For the past two months, I have just rounded the time Adam has been gone (when I'm asked) to "a year and a half." The first time I did it, I didn't like it. Sort of like, the shorter the timeframe, the more acceptable it is for me to be a nutcase? I don't know. Some sort of justification for my grief I guess. I think the longer out I get the more people expect me to be "getting on with things." And now at the "real" 18 month mark, I sense that more. It's probably all in my head? I'd like to blame it on that, but I know it isn't in my head.

An interesting marker has been one of the grief support groups we go to. A really neat organization here in Omaha that we've gotten involved in has been helpful. Ted E. Bear Hollow is a place for kids to grieve. I think their mission says something about healing the hearts of grieving children or something. We had a rough first experience with it, but have finally gotten in a groove and figured out what is helpful for us. A monthly meeting we try to attend has many children who have had parents die, as well as children who've experienced other kinds of deaths of loved ones. When the kids break into age group activities, the adults gather in another room to discuss issues related to helping kids grieve, or really whatever the group gets to talking about. One of the women there lost her husband just days before Adam died, also by a drunk driver. It has been an interesting thing for me to listen to her through the past year. At the beginning of our group, we go around the table and say our names, who died, how long it's been, and what children we brought with us. Generally this woman has introduced herself before I've had the chance. It was an interesting point when I realized I no longer needed to introduce myself with "my husband was killed by a drunk driver ___ months ago" to "my husband passed away ____ months ago." The interesting thing was, this woman came to that point at about the same time. She no longer talks about the drunk part. And I try to leave it out unless it is necessary background for our discussion (sometimes the difference between sudden verses anticipatory grief is discussed). I have realized over the past couple months that it generally doesn't matter how he died--just that HE IS DEAD.

I think the hardest part about time continuing to march on is the fact that I feel a sense that I need to "know." I need to know what my next move is and when it is. And I'm asked about it all the time. It is tough not to know exactly. I know it'll come when the time is right, but it's still tough to feel a bit like I'm wandering without a plan. I know there is one. I just don't know the details really.

I did something hard last week. I got out one of the big green tubs. I got out all 42 of Adam's t-shirts. I broke out the computer and went through all of our family pictures and made little notes that I attached to each of Adam's shirts. I marked down which shirts Adam was wearing with each of the boys--or the ones that hold particular sentiment for me. I determined which t-shirts needed to be part of which quilt that I'm making for each of the boys (and for myself). It's tough. Adam wore the same shirts with each of the boys. But it was interesting how each child sort of has 'one' that they consider "their" shirts. It made me laugh to find that the one that Justin wants is the one that I begged Adam to throw away a million times, one that the logo is worn off and is super ugly. And it is in A LOT of pictures. It's funny how glad I am now that he didn't throw it away.

We went to the fabric store on Saturday and talked with a friendly lady worker who is a big quilter. She gave me some pointers that she suggested on how to make these quilts. I'm glad that I know some really good quilters who will be able to give me some other pointers. It is finally time for this. It is definitely time.

I look at where I was 18 months ago. I couldn't have imagined what this last 18 months would entail, but I've realized there are a million--literally a MILLION--tender mercies and blessings the Lord has poured out upon me and my little family. I'm starting to write those down separately and someday compile a book of blessings. It is true that amidst trials, the way is paved so that we can manage the burdens that are placed upon our shoulders. It isn't the "best" or "ideal" way WE might imagine how to travel through the storm, yet the umbrella and the rubber boots are there. Sometimes we just have to put on a hat and gloves and look for them.