Blue ...

Blue is for baby boys ... cuddly, sweet and soft. If a person could bottle the smell of a new born baby ... swaddled in a blankie ... oh my there is nothing so sweet or wonderful. Wyatt Douglas was born on November 19 at 6:28 p.m. He weighed in at 8 pounds, 1 ounce, with a head of hair that is dark colored, and he measured 20 inches long. He made his mommy work hard to have him, after 24 hours a C-section brought him into the world.




I was blessed to be in the hospital when he was born ... at Allegiant they play Braham's Lullaby every time a baby is born ... so the minute he was born, we heard the lullaby and knew that he had been brought into this world. My daughter-in-law and son were an amazing team through this long and trying process. Blair's strength, quiet and focused was amazing to witness the little bit I was in her room. Brandon's love spilled from every pore as he worried about Blair ... he remained calm and attentive. Truly an amazing couple, doing everything they could do to bring a healthy baby and safe mommy into this world. Their decisions were based on communication together ... So proud to be their momma and Wyatt's grandma!

The picture above is of Wyatt on his birthday. The picture to the left is of him on Friday ... a week and 3 days old. Go Hawks!


Blue ... it's been a blue couple of weeks ... mostly the delight of baby blue. but also of that other kind of blue. I miss my dad ... today, Dec. 2, is my mom's birthday and I miss her ... and I miss my Douglas. I'm in kind of a funk ... can't seem to shake it. It's a quiet blue ... it's not a sobbing blue. It's a "I'd like to curl up and nap" blue ... not a kick my feet kind of blue. As I helped my baby boy put up his village from Grandpa ... I opened each box and remembered my Dad and I shopping for that piece, or where it sat last at his house. As I put my few pieces up ... I thought about how my mother would love to sit in a chair and "direct". My dad loved Christmas, my mom loved Christmas, and all the decorating I did for years and years at their house wasn't because I loved doing the work, but because I loved doing something that made them so happy.

 Nolan's "grandpa village" is at the left. He got 4 pieces and asked me for two of mine. It was a wonderful memory setting it up in his apartment, watching him move a few things and making it snow. Below is my small "grandpa village" ... it's in my kitchen ... I'll see it each and every day!.

But ... those sweet memories also make me blue. Even as we get old, ummmmmm or should I say older ... we miss our parents. Even though we are able to care for ourselves, a girl still wants her mommie when she's sick, or her daddy when there's something that goes bump in the night.

My mother would have been 81 today. She was a good mom, a wonderful grandmother, and I miss her when the snow flies, when the lights twinkle on the tree, and when you open a fresh can/bag of coffee. Happy birthday Mom, I hope your birthday party in heaven was glorious ... the first one in 18 years with Daddy and the second one with Doug.

Until soon,
Vic

Self Therapy ~ A VERY LONG POST

PORTIONS OF THIS POST WRITTEN SEPTEMBER 9 ~
Good Evening ... yes, I know it's been a long while again. It's been hard to write the past few months without sounding harsh or whining. And I truly don't want to sound harsh or bitter about my friends and family. This post is about me ... moi' ... and not about something others are doing wrong/right/or any other thing. It's not a plea for more support, it's not a point to be made, it's not asking for people to step it up ... it's about me and life and how I feel. Perhaps putting "pencil to paper", or words on a screen, will again help to heal. So ...

The past two or three months have been very hard months for me. I find myself to be more weepy, my sleeping hasn't been as good as it had been, and I feel "flat". One day when I was thinking about "me" ... I likened to how I would describe myself as "insignificant" ... Oh I know, I can hear all of you already, I can see some of your eyes roll, I can even feel some of you wanting to slap me. I don't know if "insignificant" is the right word ... but I don't think I light up a room, I don't think I'm the object of attention when I enter a restaurant, and I don't think the neon sign is above my head blinking "WIDOW" "WIDOW" ... yeah, imagine that, me wearing a lighted crown, much like the New Year's Eve crowns, only mine blinks the word "WIDOW" ...

I'm no longer a "fresh" widow, but I'm an "old" widow. I know the ins and outs of being a widow, of locking doors, of doing jobs I've never done, of asking for help when it makes me crazy to ask, of making decisions that once drove me crazy that Doug would have to PONDER for hours and hours and days and months. Where once some would ask what do we need to do this week, I have to ask for them to come and help. Again ... I'm not mad, angry, upset, or let down ... I'm describing ME ...

This is my new normal. I'm not the top of everyone's mind anymore. I'm just me, and that's exactly what I wanted to be. But now that I've arrived at just me, I don't like that much either. You see I have been spending a lot more time alone than I ever have in the past 16 months.  Oh my goodness ... today is the 9th, and I just remembered ... today it's 16 months. Isn't that hard to believe?

I wonder sometimes, if this "new me" is the me I'll be. I wonder if I'll be alone forever, will I find a someone ... my someone? I wonder if the lonesomeness will intensify, or if this is as bad as it will ever be?

MOVE AHEAD ONE MONTH to today:
I reread what I wrote, I didn't delete it, and I hope that not one of my friends thinks that I feel like I've been let down. What I described was real life for me. What I wrote is life and things getting back to normal, not a new normal, but the normal  that is real, the normal that Doug and I had prior to May 9th. Things are just normal. How would you describe normal?

Perhaps normal is the kids are working, raising a family, they call once in a while. Perhaps normal is 50 hours of work a week, never enough time to get it all done. Perhaps normal is racing from one event to another event. Perhaps your normal is coming home by 4, cooking dinner, sitting in the evening and watching tv. Perhaps normal is pizza and a movie.  It's all normal ... just plain old normal.

Today I was a director, a quilter, an electrician, a landscaper, a plumber, a laundress, and a cleaning service. Translated, I went to work, finished a quilt block, had to change a ceiling light fixture light bulb, "vacuumed" (mowed, without cutting grass) the yard, had two very slow drains and used liquid plummer, folded some laundry, hung up other laundry and vacuumed a couple floors. And as I was finishing up the yard, wondering if the passers-by thought I was nuts mowing in the almost dark, I had these thoughts:

• Tomorrow it will be 17 months ... 17 months of change, sadness, happiness, darkness, tears, laughter, love, faith, and lonesomeness.
• I have done a dang good job of keeping my yard looking nice ... some assistance from friends, but mostly I've done it myself this past summer. Doug would be very proud of the yard, the house, the flowers, the projects I've completed. He'd be very proud indeed.

As I was mowing I also thought about my "feelings", my view of things, of all that I took so for granted, and all the things I've lost ... or perhaps I should say "we've lost". A friend, a help-mate, the love of my life, a date, a dad, a father, a daddy, a "super genius", a project manager, a team mate, a husband, a dinner date, and a soon to be grandpa. And I finally figured it out ... I'm angry, I'm mad ... not the blow up mad, but the cheated mad.

My kids have been cheated of years of an amazing daddy ...
My youngest doesn't get to drive fast in his Challenger with his dad, or throw another pitch on the mound in the yard to his biggest champion, or tell the story of flying a kite with a camera on it.
My daughter cannot save projects for daddy's next visit, she will not hear his laughter when she relays a Lena story, she will not have her daddy to walk her down the aisle or dance a father daughter dance.
My oldest will not get to answer 1000 questions about the big Caterpillar project he's working on, he did not get to call and ask "how do I" questions as he worked on the nursery, or sit and smoke a cigar after the birth of his son, or see his son in his daddy's arms.
My daughter in love (law) will not get to show off her home farm on Thanksgiving Day to Doug, who would have loved a "hay-rack-ride", she won't get to ask him to fix more projects in her house, she won't get to cook something special and see him take seconds or thirds ...
My soon to be born grandson will never know the strength of the arms of his grandpa, he won't get to see Grandpa's eyes twinkle with love, he won't get to sit in his lap as Grandpa reads "Lucky Bear" to him.
I'm angry that Joan won't hear him tell another silly bad joke; Mark won't get to show off the 12 or 15 foot tree chain saw thing ... Doug would have loved it.
I'm angry that Barb can't call and have him clean the gutters or fix a sewing table
I'm angry that Bill couldn't call and ask for help when he needed it this past year.
I'm angry that this winter Deb won't get to laugh as Doug says to Bill, "Bill, did you know you could put a hooded sweatshirt under that coat?" (inside silly joke)
I'm angry that Pam and Al won't get to sit till the wee hours ... putting more wood on the fire, just one more.
I'm angry that Doug didn't get to help Don with his new apartment.
I'm angry that Mark, Joel, Dave, Scott, Craig, can't tell more fish stories or see the next great invention.
I'm angry that JB and Sue and I don't get to go leafing, chasing licorice as it flaps in the air.
I'm angry that Kari and Steve don't have more years of Doug's sometimes sick sense of humor and bad jokes.
I'm angry that the life Doug and I planned ... was cut so darn short.

Not angry mad, but angry cheated. I never would have believed a year ago, that on October 9th, 2013, I'd feel worse, be angry, and cry more than I did the first 7 months. The tears have been different. They are lonesome tears now, a year ago they were scared tears, missing tears, what the hell do I do tears. Now they are deep, abiding sadness tears.

And best of all ... Doug taught us all to be strong, to never fear, to face what comes next in life with dignity, humor, kindness, and strength. And best of all ... I know I'm going to be ok. And best of all, even though my faith feels as small as a mustard seed, nothing is impossible (Matthew 17:20), because I HAVE faith that God will see me through this. For he has plans for me, plans to prosper and not harm (Jeremiah 29:11). Best of all ... I have friends who love me, I have siblings who support and take care of me, and I have four kids that love me fiercely.

Until soon,
vic

It's Been A While

Today is the anniversary of Doug's and my marriage.

Last Thursday or Friday I got an email reminder of my anniversary and to send my "loved one" a card. Took me by surprise and made me so sad. Doug and I used to joke about our 60th wedding anniversary I'd be 78 and he'd be 83 still youngins! We talked about making it to 75 years, I'd be 93 and he'd be 98 ... not impossible.

Saturday I was cleaning a few more drawers, putting away some "desk" stuff, and I found my Zune ... and if I was not so technology challenged I'd download the picture .... but it was a picture of all of my family at my Dad's house ... from Christmas 2005, another from 2006, and it amazed me how much my life has changed in such a short time.

The picture above is from our family fishing trip from 7 years ago ... and we've all been through so many changes. The loss of Doug and Dad affected everyone, not just me. We all miss Doug's humor, his ability to fix everything, and the twinkle of his beautiful blue eyes. We miss my Dad, the kids grandpa ... and his stories about "when I was a kid ..." But there are many more changes ... some very good changes:

• Blair is missing from this photo ... she was with us on the vacation, and now she is truly my daughter and bares the Zobel name!
• I'm about 50 pounds lighter than in this photo ... grief started the weight loss journey, and determination has continued it.
• Lena and Callie, April and Brandon and Blair's dogs (respectively), are missing from this photo.
• Miss Emily is now sporting Miami summer wear instead of Texas sweatshirts ... she's pursuing her dream to be Dr. Emily Georgia, in a phd program down south in Miami.
• The boat that Dad and Doug are in has been sold to a family that will hopefully love it as much as we did.
• Most important ... most exciting change to me ... The next generation of Zobels is due November 20 ... Brandon and Blair are expecting a beautiful baby boy!

So just as I have tried hard to do the last year and almost 3 months ... there is times when sadness swoops in unannounced, tugs at my heart and brings a flood of tears. I can wallow there or I can embrace it, say hello old friend grief, then release it in the tears and move on. I truly try to focus on what I have and not what I don't have. I don't have Doug ... I miss him. But I do have a new baby on the way, my first Grandbaby. I have three amazing kids who love their momma. I have family that's always on had to help out. And I have awesome friends who always keep me hopping.

It's my anniversary today ... I shed a few tears ... bawled like a baby when I read my daughter's facebook post ... and I remembered my sweet Doug ... all in all it was a great day!

Until soon,
vic

Then:

So the 9th of May ... I've been going to write about it ... not sure what to say. It was as perfect as that day could be ... for me anyway.

What did I do? I woke at 6ish, and the first thing I did was turn the radio on, the first words out of the radio was Colin Ray singing, "between now and then, till I see you again ... I'll be loving you, Love, Me." ... I kid you not ... those were the first words I heard that very morning. Then:

I texted my babies and told them I loved them and thanked them for being amazing people and for showing me the way. You see in their darkest, deepest, saddest days, they've shown grace, love, honor, and true Doug Zobel style ... he would be so proud of his sons and daughter! Then:

I texted my sister, Deb, told her I was having prayers with Pastor Bill at 8:30. She should call Barb and let her know that if they wanted to come over, we were starting at 8:30 and I had a work meeting at 9. So my sisters came, two dear friends came, and Pastor Bill came. We prayed for my kids, for their journey, for the journey of the next 12 months, for the journey of continued healing, we prayed for all those who have stood beside us in this journey, our strong support. Then:

We shared scriptures, the first was one that was upon my heart, I couldn't remember much, except for suffering, endurance hope and faith. Pastor Bill knew immediately. The scripture I thought about is Romans 5:1-6 Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have^[a] peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, ² through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. ³ And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; ⁴ and perseverance, character; and character, hope. ⁵ Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. Then:

We shared John 11 ... look it up, read the story of Lazarus and his death. Martha  and Mary both say to Jesus, "If you had been here, my brother would not have died." Wow! Tell me we haven't all thought those very thoughts. And we shared something from 1st Thessalonians 4:13-18 (I think). Then:

Then we went to the garage, where Doug's journey into God's heavenly arms began. The six of us prayed ... I don't remember much of what was said, for it was peaceful to my heart, but it was my moment of utter sadness on that day. Pastor Bill prayed, then he paused for quiet and for any who wished to offer up a prayer ... and my sister Barb prayed a most beautiful prayer, followed and concluded by my sister Deb with another beautiful and meaningful prayer. And all God's people said, "AMEN." ... we shared hugs and a small bit of laughter ... but we left the garage ... and that is just what it is ... it is my garage and that prayer gave it peace. It is no longer where Doug died, it's just a garage. Then:

I went to my meeting. Then:

I went to Dielectric for a memorial lunch in memory of Doug ... I had lunch with the folks he worked side by side for over 30 years. It was such a blessing, such a fun way to honor him. Then:

It was back home to clean as quick as possible and Kandie came with hugs and bling; then Anna, then Pam, then Pastor Randy, then Julie (who bought us pizza), then Deb and Bill, then Kari, then Daryl, then JB and Sue, then Kathy, and my brother called me, all my kids called me that day. (I might have this in the wrong order, I might have forgotten someone, and I'm sorry if I did). Then:

I ended the evening talking to my oldest son ...

And I got a beautiful letter from Doug's cousin Michelle ... she's an amazing lady! I got some beautiful cards from so many friends. I got a rose from another friend. And I got hugged ... a lot!

As I've said ... that day, May 9th, 2013, was just another of the past 365 days. It was far easier for me than my kids ... because each and every day, I wake up in our house alone, I go to bed in our bed alone, I cook a meal for myself, I talk to Sig (Doug and Nolan's cat), I listen to the quiet of the house that used to be "filled" with Doug.

But to each of you who prayed, called, stopped by, thought of us, texted, "facebooked", or emailed ... you were prayed for that day, a prayer returning strength and peace to each of you, for as you all grieve the loss of friend or family member, as you grieve the loss of Doug, you've found the strength to lift me and mine up ... and so that day, May 9, 2013, I wanted you to feel a tiny bit of that strength being returned to you from us. The last year would not have been bearable without each of you, our friends and family!

You have honored my Doug ... and it will never be forgotten.

With love, until soon,
vic

One Year ... Let's Reclaim The Day Together

I will apologize right away ... this will probably be more "wandering" than properly written. I am so sorry Kari ... I know the punctuation and sentence structure will be so very lacking. But ... here's some wanderings from me to you all!

"What are you going to do on Thursday?" seemed to be the burning question the past few days. Well, tomorrow I hope to "give back" ...

Doug was a humble man, who left this world way too soon ... way to soon for us, those who loved him most. But Doug left a lasting touch ... and I would guess that was his purpose on this earth. He was one of the most humble men I know. Every invention needed a little "adjustment", the lawn needed a little more trimming, the next project was "almost" good enough to start. One of his dear friends wrote in his planner that Doug was "successful" ... that was one of the words he wrote on the day Doug died. And it is proof positive one year later ... because so many of you continue to lift us up, carry us through and walk our walk. I think Doug would say that's the measure of someone's success.

So I am going to "give back" tomorrow ... nothing big, nothing wild and crazy ... but here's my plan.

At 8:30 a.m. I plan to pray ... have a little scripture, and pray for peace. Peace in our hearts as we close the chapter on this first year. Peace in our hearts as we find our way out of sorrow into joys yet unknown. Prayer is powerful, I've felt yours for the past year ... so tomorrow, my prayers will be about each of you ... each of us. Because we have to continue to move forward, and with healing comes hope, and with hope comes joy and with joy comes understanding and peace.

At 9:00 I have a meeting at school ... a meeting about a Summer Feeding Program for children ... it's exciting and daunting all at the same time.

At 11 a.m. I'm heading home to pick up Doug's work shoes, head to Dielectric ... they have planned a memorial potluck lunch. He worked there almost as long as we were married ... he has a few "work spouses" down there that I think miss him ... so we will have lunch in memory of Doug.

Then I'm heading home to clean a little, as best as I can. And from 3 p.m. and on it's "game on" ... for anyone who'd like to stop over for a chat, hug, smile, tear, laugh ... I'll be here ... Now, with that said ... don't be leaving me waiting and hanging out alone! If you want to stop in for a hug, a smile, share a memory, or even just a drive by and honk your horn ... Because tomorrow we will all reclaim the day. How?

We will celebrate life ... May 9th of 2012 is the day that took our breath away. But May 9, 2013, it's the day we remember, remember to breathe ... remember ice fishing stands, Bena, MN, Brainerd, MN, cut fingers and almost fainting, puppies all tied up nigh nigh, ducks on the pond, salsa anybody? hold this ok, Mark and Doug playing beer pong for the first time, "we'll show them" after 17 hands of 500 and the men finally winning, bonfires the size of a mountain in the back yard, curve balls that go wrong, boys in clothes baskets flying down the steps, proposing in a parking lot, making out on first dates, painting little girl fingernails, making wood projects, and a thousand other memories.

Tomorrow is day 365 without Doug, without husband, without Daddy, without brother, brother-in-law, friend and buddy ... And we've figured most of it out and he'd be so proud of us all. So tomorrow morning, pause with us around 8:30 or 9 a.m. and after you say a little prayer for me and mine, you and yours ... think of the moment Doug made you laugh. Because that is living ...

Doug lost his dad when he was 25 ... not many people really ever thought about that. And he would say each year, "Well, it's been x amount of years." ... and then he'd say, "Do you remember when ... " So Doug has shown us the way ... the way to be humble, the way to live life in the face of sadness, the way to move forward, the way to "reclaim" the day.

Tomorrow night ... well it's "Holy Thursday" for a lot of men ... but tomorrow night at about 5:30ish p.m. I'm going to order some pizza ... who's in????? I don't promise not to cry, but I do promise to share a giggle or two. Because Doug loved laughter!

I love you Doug ... and you still take my breath away ... rest in peace.

until soon,
vic

April's Wanderings - Hurt & Love From a Daughter's Heart

I have been thinking about guest blogging for sometime on mom’s site… because she writes so well and speaks such truth that I can’t quite seem to put as eloquently.  But lately, my mind keeps wandering… my heart hurts and the tears seem to fall a bit easier.

I told a friend a few weeks ago – “I’ not going to memorialize the day of my dad’s death. It doesn’t seem fitting or right. I miss him everyday – just not on May 9^th.” And I must admit- I stood firm to those words. I really did. Until that week rolled around…

A best friend of mine who has walked this journey with me said something that I have to share….when I told her I was having a hard time with the week and couldn’t figure out why – she said:

“It's just a weird feeling that is hard to describe. I know I've processed their deaths, but it is like this yucky cloud that just looms around that time. I hate it. The strange thing with anniversaries is that, at least in my situation, I don't feel their loss measurably more on that specific day than another day...the dull pain can always be found regardless of the date...it just makes you relive the horror you experienced that actual day.”

I cherish this friend.. because those words escaped me. But right now- my pain feels a little validated and understood.

You see – some think…”it’s just a day”… but that day means:  Its ONE year since time stood still. It’s a day that marks ONE YEAR since a family, friends, town and world lost a man that was so much to so many.

A picture of dad with his brand new smart phone! Texting!

But I’m writing this because I lost MY DAD. A year ago I sat at a computer and did the unimaginable. I wrote a form of eulogy for my dad’s funeral. It all seems so surreal… still. It all seems so unfair. STILL. ONE YEAR LATER… I know that forever I will have moments when I miss my dad. Hell- I have them daily. And each season has brought its own triumphs and struggles. I miss my dad most when I’m sitting outside – for no reason other than that’s what we did… we sat on the deck and talked over a beer while he grilled. We played catch  - from age 3 to almost 30 we tossed the ball around…and loved the “zip” I could get on a hard toss. We rode bikes. We swam. We sat around bonfires. We went to Twins games… oh how those Twins games make me miss that man… you see- my dad learned to text – near the later years of his life… and there wasn’t anything I liked more on a random Tuesday night… I would sit at my spot at the Quaff – watch the game and text WITH MY DAD about the game! He always had a funny comment or insight that could make me smile from the inside on out.

Those are just a FEW of the million times I have felt that twinge of pain. This spring seems to have triggered the memories of a year ago…it’s the moment that defines my life right now… I remember exactly how that day “went down”… I remember nearly every minute of the days that led to his funeral. I remember thinking- how in the hell are we gonna do this.

But – ONE YEAR LATER. I am so proud. I am sad. But more so, I am proud. My family – specifically the 5 of us, have conquered a year of firsts with grace and love. I can say that I have never felt closer to my siblings, to my mother and my sister in law and her family. I have never felt closer to my friends that have held me up. I have NEVER loved a town more than I have grown to love Lake Mills…. It is a town that has wrapped my family up in its arms and never let go… ONE YEAR later the town is still caring for all of us.

You see – the moral of this story is that – THIS SUCKS… losing a parent- specifically a dad… more specifically my dad… SUCKS. But I am reminded of how lucky I am and was to have a dad like him. A dad that I miss more than words. A dad that loved me with his whole heart and then some. A dad that would show me in everyway how much he loved me. A dad that was proud – like buttons bursting proud of me and my brothers. You see- I’m lucky. But to this day- there is that pain that I’m not ready to let go of yet… I’m not quite ready to give up the tears and the stomach wrenching, longing feeling. Because I worry that once I give up that pain that I hold on to- his death won’t be as tragic. Sounds silly and I can’t believe I am writing it… but its truth.

So I’m going to relive that moment on Thursday – I’m going to wake up- and say a prayer that my dad will forever watch over me and my family…that I will FOREVER feel his pride and love- just like I do a year after he left this earth.

If you don’t follow me on facebook- I want to note that I posted a song the other day- its called “Happy on the Hey Now” by Kenny Chesney. The song is about a young gal, Kristi,  who passed away too soon- ‘HEY NOW’  is the boat that she was always on… its funny because this song is exactly what I needed to hear last week.. and it so reminds me of my dad… I replace her name with my dad’s and the beach things in the song and picture him on the lake… this verse is my favorite:

++

I hope time can be our healer, maybe time can be a friend,

 Still I'm a strong believer, someday we'll see you again,

 Where the sun is on our faces and the wind is at our back,

 Sailing south to our favorite places, where the water's calm and flat

++

Here is the link to the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oezosMKNTxY

In closing- I ask that you take a moment on Thursday to send up a prayer or happy thoughts for all of us – family and friends (maybe even for you)… because this PAST YEAR has taught me that I have not survived it on my own… the prayers and love from so many friends and family have carried us through.

So thanks for letting me crash the blog…

Warm thoughts –

April…. His PUNKIN

P.S. from vic ... "That's my daughter, and she's just like her brothers ... and I am so stinkin proud to say they are ours ... Doug's and mine!" Love you punkin, thanks for being a blog crasher!

I am a widow

I didn't really think about "the year" ... not as in planning ... until my sister asked me what my plan was. To be honest my plan was to take one day at a time, just like I have for the last 11 months and three weeks. I hadn't really thought about it, and now it's what I think about a lot. Not sure if I should tell her thank you, or smack her one. I have a meeting planned for 9 a.m. that morning, I've thought about rescheduling it, but really ... what am I going to do, sit home, or lay in bed, and think about all that's been taken from me? I'm not sure that I need to do that ... I live it.

I've thought long and hard about May 9, 2013 ... I've thought about some magnificent way to reclaim the day! And really ... haven't come up with anything. My boys are coming home for Mother's Day Weekend ... and to help me haul some junk to the dumpster. I don't think they are coming home because it is "that" weekend. Don't get me wrong, it's never far from our hearts and minds.

I think that there will be sadness and tears for the rest of my life ... I think it will decrease in frequency ... and will become more situational or event induced. So trust me when I say I'm naïve, I know full well what the years to come might be like. But ...

Two weeks ago on Wednesday, as I drove to my first annual meeting as the Executive Director of LMCDC, I fought tears and I do mean fought ... Doug would have been with me, he would have helped me set up, he would have sat in his chair, beer in hand, and smiled. And at the end, he would have walked up to me, kissed me, and said, "Good job hon, that was great!" He would have been beaming from ear to ear, so proud of his wife ... so I know full well, even if I "reclaim" the day ... it doesn't stop the tears.

As I went to eat dinner one night last week, (YES ... I cooked) ... I almost said, "Hon, dinner's ready." Old habits, even a year later and I sometimes forget that he is gone, that my 32 year routine is shattered and different. And the tears fell.

As I think about this spring ... the change in weather (other than our snowmaggedon) ... and the open windows, the thunder and lightening ... I wonder who will calm me down? Who will get up in the middle of the night and close windows, so I don't have to? Who will be my protector and hero? Who will tell me it's going to be ok? Who will keep me safe when I am scared?

And as my wise old youngest son would tell me ... "He's always here mom, he's with us all the time." And I sometimes stomp my foot and I say, "No, he IS NOT!" And he smiles, and he says to me, "Yes, HE IS." So I guess I must learn from my children as they walk this path, I have to remember that he IS always here, he will keep me safe, for he IS with the ONE who can. Probably better practice what I preach.

So as I go into this week ... I think of nothing more than the anniversary of my sweet husband's death. There isn't a day that doesn't go by that I don't think about what the future will be like without him. There isn't a day that I don't think about the journey of our kids lives, without their daddy. And just like the last 361 days ... I will get through Thursday, reclaiming it with strength, for you see ... this I know, "I am a 51 year old woman, I AM a widow ... but I think I need to continue to choose if that defines me, or if I define it ...
     For I am a daughter,
           I am a mother
               I am a sister
                    I am a friend
                         I am a director
                              I am a lay preacher
                                   I am so much more than a widow
I am a widow, I'm not afraid of that word, we use it around my house now and again, but ...  I am the sad and grieving wife of Doug Zobel ... and he would not like me to walk around dwelling on "the widow" ... he would love for me to be strong, in his likeness; he would like me to plan a future, even without him in it; and he would want our children  to remember him with laughter and love ... for they were the light of his life, and he would want only happiness for each of them ... well that and a grandchild at some point would be nice!

I'm not sure what Thursday will bring, perhaps if the weather cooperates, maybe I'll be sitting on the deck and if you wanna stop by and say hello ... I would not be opposed. I'll keep ya'll posted.

until soon,
vic

Reclaim the day

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago ... on the 10th I think :) But decided to post it ...

Eleven months ... In the last eleven months I thought lots about that dreadful day ... and yesterday at 8:30 I fought with the tears ... I let them fall ... and I felt that weak, "how", weary, alone sort of feeling, all the way to my bones. It was brief, and I sort of consciously had to choose in that moment ... fall apart and sob or embrace the feeling and move forward, get on with my day. Right about that moment my sweet and dearest friend sent me a text ... just to say, "Love you." Well ... I chose to embrace that moment, close my eyes, feel the tears, remember the shock of that day, feel the twinge of pain and then move on ... to life.

Not long after that my sister, Deb, called me. She was calling to check on me, lots of folks who know me, know that it's been a tough month. We talked for a bit ... some about her birthday next year ... when she reaches a "landmark" birthday :) Then she asked, "How are you?" Or something :) We talked for a bit, and she asked me what I was going to do next month ... May 9th, 2013, one year, one year of terror, sadness, sorrow, heartache, fright, tears, and weariness. She said some really amazing things about the way that I've handled this journey, and I can't remember ... but it was good therapy kind of stuff.

 And then she asked me a question, or made a statement ... and really, all I remember is, "RECLAIM THE DAY" ... I remember she asked, "What are you going to do in a month?" I said, "Well, I'd guess I'll be working." She thought maybe I should take the day off, plan something to reclaim that day. And to be honest I don't remember allllllllll the things she said ... but in my brain I'm thinking that I need to find a way for that day to be filled with joy, just like every other day. I joked with her that maybe I'd get on a plane and go on a vacation. "Reclaim the day." Hmmmmmm!

And then ... then I started to think about what Doug would want from me. Doug would want me to laugh, because the man always had a joke to tell. Doug would want me to be cautious, because he was a worrier. Doug would want me to move forward, he wasn't one to sit and stew (worry yes, stew ... not so much). Doug would want the kids and I to enjoy every day, like we are trying. Doug would want me to live life, not wallow in sorrow. Doug would want me to continue to overcome, because he was a strong man. Doug would want me to show the kids the way, because he would take us by the hand and lead. And I think my sister is right, I think Doug would want me to Reclaim The Day ... So, I've been pondering how to turn the day when time stood still, into a day of of life, a day to celebrate the life of an amazing man.

A day when I remember his new journey, but not wallow in the sadness of it. A day that I can't imagine that I won't stop at 8:30 a.m. and remember my loss, but more important I'll celebrate the love. A day that I will remember calling my babies to tell them earth shattering news, but I will remember the dignity and honor they've given there Dad in this year of sorrow. A day when I will feel the tears run down my face, but I will feel the sun shine down on me ... a reminder that he is with the Son. Yes ... I must reclaim the day ... so I have a month to figure out how.

Now, I don't say much about people, try not to use names, but I have two sisters, and a brother. They each have uncanny ways of taking care of their baby sister ... my brother mows, plows snow, and helps when I need it. My other sister, Barb, is always there when I need help, a cat sitter, a chat, or some quilting fun. Barb called me yesterday, she'd won some cash, and wanted to take me to dinner. My brother stopped in for a visit about some family business. My friend, Pam, stopped for a quick chat. And Mark and Joan had dinner with Barb and I.



Doug's and My amazing family ... April 28, 2012 ~ Celebrating ... and look at that little snicker on my Doug! A joy filled day!

God sends signs everyday to show me that even when I am so very heartbreakingly lonesome, I am never ever alone. 80 people liked my facebook status ... a picture of my sweet family 10 days before Doug died ... 80 people lifted me and mine up in thoughts and prayer ... that ... that leaves me breathless!

until soon,
vic



Eleven Months

Eleven Months ... tomorrow marks eleven months of change, upheaval, sadness, terror, heart break, and unimaginable grief. As you know, if you've followed my blog at all ... I've shared my fair share of grief, sadness, tears, accomplishments and heartbreak. You also know that I'm a bit of a list maker, and my fumbled up brain is back and lists might be the best route to go with this blog.

Moments that drew me breathless:

• Sitting at the Lion King, tears streaming down my face (and I'm talking the opening notes) with all my kids, knowing that Doug would have LOVED being there with us ... and HELLOOOOOOOOOO ... the Dad dies in the Lion King ... not like any of us were any too dry-eyed
• Walking up to the house tonight after work, hearing the shrill of a cardinal, just as I was thinking about how much I wished Doug were waiting for me at home to talk about my day and knowing he'd be so proud
• Sitting on the back patio of Brandon's first home ... getting ready for the first spring bonfire ... rendering me an emotional puddle ... again, the joy that Doug would have had ...
• Sitting in church on Easter morning ... remembering that I had served Doug communion one year ago ... his last Holy Communion, served by me, the love of his life, beside the loves of his life, his kids.

BUT ... tomorrow as we think about the last 11 months ... I'm going to try and celebrate the joys, accomplishments, and triumphs like:

• Brandon and Blair - married, employed, happy, and in their very first home they own with a sweet little Callie, a pup that you just can't help loving.
• April taking names and kicking ass in a new job she loves, in an apartment she enjoys and loving little Lena, her sweet dog that makes her happy
• Nolan moved to Ankeny with the help of amazing friends! Loving his new job, his new apartment and being able to date his girl :) Also helps that he's just one hour 45 minutes from mom!
• Me ...
• New Job
• Weight Loss
• Not broke (yet)
• Sleeping well
• Moving forward (most days)
• Laughter - in each day
• Having more good days than bad
• So very blessed with some amazing friends who love me, take care of me, and keep me on track.
• Siblings ... who most days I am blessed to have in my life :)

Whew ... when you look back on those lists of accomplishments or blessings ... it's not been so bad at all! So I ask you ... tomorrow, at 8:30 a.m. ... as I pause for a moment ... and remember that 11 months ago my life changed in ways that I never imagined ...will you pause too, and think of Vickie, Brandon, Blair, April, and Nolan .. Because I will pause for a moment ...  and I don't promise there won't be tears ... but through the tears I will celebrate life ... for his life is worthy to remember, his life is worthy of our time, his life changed us all and he would want us to laugh, and smile, and reach out to a stranger in friendship, and always move forward. Doug would wipe our tears and then say something to make us smile.

So please, celebrate a life well lived tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. and know that as you continue to lift me and mine up in prayer ... we feel that strength as we face each new day without Doug in it.

Until soon,
vic

10 Steps Forward ~ 8 Back

Bit by bit, little by little, step by step ... that's how I find my way. Sounds a bit dramatic, but it's the simple truth. My Poppie died almost a month ago, seems like last week, and to tell the truth, I'm doing ok with his passing. I think Doug's dying has smoothed the path in the loss of my Dad.

Seems a bit strange to read that or say that ... but it's the truth. Doug's death was so senseless, so tragic, so hard to believe, that my Dad's passing was "ok" for me. Dad was 90, he'd had an amazing life, he had true love, he watched his children grow "old", he watched all his grandkids graduate college ... He had a full and good life, the way it's supposed to be. Unlike my Doug ... oh he had a great life, lived it to the fullest, had true love, amazing friends, and loved every single minute he spent with his sweet kids. But I digress.

I haven't written in a while, I've had those darn struggles back in my life. I was doing so well, and proud of each step I took. Then my Poppie died. And as we gathered around his bed, us three girls, sitting in his room with the Hospice Social Worker (a true angel), she forewarned us of the things to come. Not just what would happen to Dad, though she did educate us in that too. but she told us about the "trauma" to our hearts:

• She told us that we might remember things about our mom, and grieve what we weren't able to grieve when she passed away 18 years ago, because we stepped up to the plate to take care of Dad.
• She told us that we'd maybe struggle with focus, unable to finish things.
• She told us we might walk into a room and forget why we were there
• She told us we might even have the "dropsies" or even stumble a little bit
• She told us we might be at a loss for a word, not able to think of the words we are looking for

And I told her, "SERIOUSLY????? I can't start that all over again ... I can't ... I'm just getting on my feet. The tear filled moments are far less these days, I can't go backwards." She held my hand and said, "Oh Vickie."

And so here I am, almost approaching 11 months in my journey without Doug. I pulled out of the K-Mart parking lot yesterday, and had to pull over as the overhwelming sadness swept over me. I so wanted to call my Doug, my proudest cheerleader, and tell him about my day, my day as a professional, my stories of going to a "meeting". Instead my sweet little girl bore the brunt of my tears and grief. I hate burdening the kids with my sadness, most days I am able to hide that from them. But yesterday I was just so very sad.

Last Friday, working around the house, I walked into Doug's shop, and it took my breath away. Time has stood still in that room. My heart ached as I ran my hand across the handle of his drill press, seeing the shavings from the last time he used it, touching the papers with his handwriting, touching the drill, screwdriver, hammers, and "stuff" that he touched. Begging God to bring him back, I just stood there and sobbed.

Seriously ... I have to start all over? As I work on a task, I move on to the other, before finishing what I've begun. The tears have returned ... I'm sure it's for Dad almost as much as for Doug ... but it feels very centered on my Doug. I worry about my kids, I worry about "what's next" in this journey, I think and worry about house and finance things ... I just miss him in all those little things and ways in life. You see I have figured out that in the big things, like our son's wedding, showers, Christmas, and such, I can prepare myself. But it's those small, quick little moments that take my breath away and set me back about 8 steps.

I truly say my prayers each and every night ... for the friends, for the dear close friends who call, email or send cards, for my siblings who call and always lend a hand, and for my sweet babies. They lost their Daddy and in the midst of their grief, those three have shown strength, love, and a maturity beyond belie, as they help their momma as we journey into a future without our cornerstone. I just miss him ... and I can imagine how much they miss their Dad.

Until Soon,
vic

My Dad

Rehearsal night for Brandon & Blair's wedding.
October 5, 2013

Another amazing and important man in my life has passed away. My last blog I believe was about my dad turning 90 ... just 10 days ago. (I had some computer issues, I actually wrote this on 2/27/13, but posted it today). He died on Monday night. February 25, at just about 7 p.m. I believe that he took his last breath as we were all getting up and heading for a yummy pot roast my brother-in-law had brought in for us ... but I stood next to his bed, and I felt the little butterfly like patter of his pulse ... and he was peacefully quiet already soaring on a new journey. Now I will admit that there is a lot that has gone through my mind in the space of about 48 hours ... but mostly what I've thought about today and most of yesterday was ... my dad was an amazing man.

• Amazing ... no he wasn't college educated, he never graduated from high school ... not even middle school, but he was intelligent and wise beyond compare (and I do know a phd or two)
• Amazing ... no his wealth will not take much to measure in dollars and cents, but he measures up with the most wealthy of men, his wealth measured in deeds and words.
• Amazing ... several people has stated in cards, posts, messages, and words that he was the kindest man they knew. I don't think he set out to harm, hurt, or smirch any person's name or reputation.
• Amazing ... need help, I wonder in his lifetime how many people he reached out a hand to help.
• Amazing ... humble would be best described with a picture of him beside the definition in Webster's Dictionary.
• Amazing ... in his last days he still was kind. Even in his fear, his aches, his exhaustion, he still smiled, he still said thank you, and he didn't complain. He just prayed.
• Amazing ... I just looked up "amazing" in the dictionary ... so now I don't think it's the appropriate word to use to describe my dad. You see the definition is: "causing great surprise or sudden wonder" ... hmmmmmm I'm not sure that fits. Although, having known him my whole life, perhaps upon his death as I look back on a life well lived it does cause me great surprise and sudden wonder.

You see:

•  As a little girl, I imagined all daddies were like my daddy.
• As a young girl, I knew that I had a nice daddy and assumed all daddies were like that.
• As a teenager, preparing to marry, my new honey ... my Doug, was so much like my Daddy that I still had know idea.
• As a mom, watching him with my kids ... he just loved them each deeply
• As an adult daughter, he started to tell me more often that he loved me, and I knew it, even if he hadn't said it.
• As an "old woman" ... the ripe old age of 51 ... I know that not all little girls were blessed with the kind of daddy that I had, I know that not all grandpas are like the grandpa my kids were blessed with; I know that not all elderly people are still kind; and in the past days my surprise is that he truly was amazing to more this his little girl, but to his church friends, to my friends, to the nurses, and CNA's.
• As a broken-hearted daughter, standing in the hall, I watched young ladies (nurses and CNA's) enter his Care Center Room ... and as they left, wiping tears, I knew that my dad touched the lives of so many, simply by being kind and sweet.
• As a sister ... making plans with siblings, my brother and oldest sister made a comment, "He lived out his faith by offering grace, even to those we may not deem deserving." They reminded me that my dad's legacy was showing each of us to live out the faith we cling to.

My father was a great man. My dad was a strong man. My daddy was my hero. And my Poppie was a sweetheart. I hope he rests in peace, in the arms of his Father, with his brother and Savior, beside his parents, siblings, wife and my sweet Doug. Amazing grace was shown by an amazing man who lived an amazing life, and I think I just now figured it all out (well for today anyway).

Until soon,
Vickie

Happy Birthday Daddy

 A litte photo journey ... the Thompson family's favorite time of the year.


Pictured above is "the guys" ... showing off the catch for the day. Pictured to the right, my Dad with April's dog, Lena. He doesn't "love" dogs, but he sure kept a watchful eye on her.

2006 Thompson Reunion Up North ... and there's my dad, at the helm!

Someone might have been a bit tipsy in this picture ... and FYI my dad doesn't drink :) And that is not me hiding my face, it might just be my oldest sister ... but I'm not naming names.

Pictured below, to the left, is a picture of my dad sporting some Team Cocktail apparrel ... damn he's handsome! This picture was from the 2011 reunion trip of the Thompson Family ... grandkids came from Emmons, Miami, FL; Kansas City, MO; and Lincoln, NE. It was a great time.

My Dad is 90 years old today. He is such a counter, he counts everything, he does things on time at the same time all the time! He has 13 great-grandchildren, 8 grandchildren, 4 children, 2 son-in-laws, lived in two states, married one woman, and serves one Lord. The picture to the right above is an old picture of him with 4 of his grandchildren at Christmas. I think this picture is from 2005 ... it might be a bit dated, but it depicts him with the greatest joys of his life ... 4 of his grandkids. Christmas ... the reason for the season so important, the lights (counted) sparkling and twinkling, gifts for everyone, good food, and as many kids and grandkids as he can get gathered in one place. 90 years of Christmases ... centered around family, first his Ma and Pa, then his wife and kids, and eventually his kids and their kids. Yes indeed ... this depicts him with the joys of his life.

 

In the midst of Dad's counting ... he and I did some math while visiting one day last week. If he's 90, how many days would that be ... it's 32,000 something. Then he wondered how many steps ... we guessed about 233,000,000. He said, "Uff, no wonder I am tired."

 

Happy Birthday Daddy ... It was a glorious day, with a great man!

So Done ... Seriously

SPOILER ALERT ... lots of  sad, perhaps a little whining, and a bit of self-therapy!

I'm done ... I'm so done ... Seriously, I'm just done!

My sweet April has told me that more than once ... I've said it more than once or twice or three times.  And we both know that we aren't ... but in that very moment, oh yes, we are so done. I sometimes, no frequently, wonder if I'm going to have "normal" again, days when I will spend more time joy filled, laughing, home by 4, quilting, cooking and even cleaning my own darn house.

Today as I left the house at lunch time, I was overcome with sadness, I sat in the driveway, in my car, tears streaming down my face ... looking at the door, all I could think is, "He is never coming home, never again." How does that happen? 9 months and 12 days later, how does it overcome me like water rushing out of the shower, covering me, entirely. And I sat and asked, "Why?" Why today, why out of the blue, nothing special, I was just heading back to work at 1:15. And there it was, the blunt reality ... my Doug is never coming home again, not at noon, not at 3:30 ... never ever. And I was so sad.

Today I went to the nursing home around 5 p.m. to see my sweet daddy. He slips away a little bit more each day. I treasure every single moment with him. Tonight I was helping with his supper and we had a sweet, quiet visit. As I kissed his forehead, like I do every night, I told him I loved him, he said he loved me too, and then very quietly he said thank you. So I picked up my coat, and he started his prayers. I said prayers with him, the very prayers he taught each of us kids as little people. And the tears ran down my face ... those poor nurses and cna's each night, as I walk out, tears running, they are very compassionate and kind people.

Each night when I leave there, I wonder if it's the last night I get to tell him good night. I get cranky sometimes, and tired, getting home late ... but tonight as I drove home, overcome with sadness, crying my eyes out, thinking about stopping at a friends house, just for a hug, for human touch, I finally realized a tiny part of it. Not only am I watching my sweet dad get weaker and weaker, and worrying that each time I say good bye it's the last ... but it's the "good-bye, I love you" that Doug and I never got to share. He was snatched away in the blink of an eye ... and I wasn't prepared.

Now ... let me tell you, no matter how prepared one thinks they are ... we aren't. My dad told me this morning he didn't think he wanted to have 16 more birthdays, I said, "That's OK, you don't have to have 16 more, how about you go when you are ready, it will be OK." He got quiet for a second, then he slowly said, "I think I could probably do a couple more." And I wanted to tell him, "I don't think I can do two more years of this roller coaster, if you are going to go .... GO; but if you are going to stay a while ... please please STAY."

I sat at Bible study last night, "Making Sense of the Cross." It's a small, intimate group, and we talked about the 4 gospel stories of The Passion. Comparing and contrasting. I told the group that for the longest time I identified with the words, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." But this year, this Lenten season, the words I hear are these, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" ... heartfelt words ... words of suffering and fear, words of sadness and anger ... and I'm not talking about Jesus' emotions, but my own.

I miss my Daddy, my Poppy ... and he's not gone yet.

I miss my love, my sweetie, my Doug, and he is really and truly gone. His spirit is here ... I hear it in the shrill call of the Cardinal that lives in my yard. I see it in the kindness of my sweet Nolan, I watch it in the unconditional love of my son for his wife, I hear it in the laughter of my beautiful daughter ... and I think My Doug, my love, would be so proud of each of us as we go through this journey without him. He would find joy in my strength, he would find pride in the accomplishments of his kids, he would find peace in the way we have strengthened as a family, holding each other through this; he would find delight in the friends who have done so much ... If he were here right now, this very moment, he would be sitting in his recliner, with his left leg bent under his right, and he'd shake his head and say, "I don't understand why so many people are helping." And I'd laugh, and I'd be snarky and tell him, "Well, why do you think, it's not like you are kind or nice or anything." And we'd laugh.

I miss his laugh!

Until soon,
Vic

P. S. I did give you the spoiler alert, and I'd like to thank you ... somehow it's so helpful to write this, and know that someone is reading it. It's my form of therapy. Not sure how or why it works, but it does. Thank you :)

Wrestling - Pack The Gym

I've been going to write about this for a few weeks ... and as you know, I'm quite the procrastinator. It's a lovely story, and as I write this I'm watching "My Fair Lady" and she's singing "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" ... doesn't it just paint such a cozy picture. Anyway ... I do digress!

My story ...

I got a postcard in the mail from the Lake Mills High School Wrestling Team ... it was "Pack The Gym" ... and I set it on the desk, and I thought, I better call Mr. Boehmer and tell him that he could take me off the list, Doug was the HUGE wrestling fan. As I was cleaning my desk, I picked up the postcard, almost tossed it, and the return address caught my eye. It was from a certain young man, and I sat down, opened my calendar and penciled it in.

Now you need to know I am not a fan of wrestling, even being married to a 4 year varsity wrestler, I never found the love of the sport, but totally supported my husband's love of it. Sent him with cash in his pocket whenever I could.

Now you might wonder why I went and I'll give you a little back history. You see Doug was the guy who never met a stranger. He always struck up a conversation. And one specific night, last January or February maybe, it was a soup night at The Grand, we stopped and talked to a friend and her young son. They were on a "date" I think. We didn't think much of it, we visited, and as we left, Doug said, "I can't wait to see him wrestle next year."

Move forward to May 11, it was the visitation at the funeral home for Doug. This mom, husband, and son (I think, don't quote me) ... but for sure the mom came through the line, tears streaming down her face, and she told Nolan and I that she just wanted us to know something, she said, "I want you to know that Doug touched a young man's life in a brief moment one night at The Grand." Now I don't remember the exact words, but I remember being touched by those words.

That is the young man who sent me the postcard asking me to help "Pack The Gym" ... and so I went with a couple of friends, because truly didn't want to walk into that gym alone ... as we sat there watching the crowd, watching the matches, I so wished Doug could have been there. He would have adopted this young man and a few more, he'd have been their fiercest fan, offering little tidbits of advice for out on the mat.

And so eight months after our loss, I am, was, reminded of the kind of man my husband was. I'm not sure that the young man knows what a smile and joy he brought to me with that little post card. But what he did was remind me of the true legacy that my Doug has left this community. I wish this young man all the luck in the world, and I will cheer from afar as they work their way toward state. Perhaps there will be just a smidge of extra "muscle" out on the mat this year.

Until soon,
Vic

Cold Hard Facts

I am mad as hell and I miss Doug. There ... I just blurted it out and said it. I miss him ... I gosh darn it miss him. And it just seems to be everything, everywhere ...

So I'm not so sure I'm mad ... at least not the kind of mad it sounds like. As I read the text for this week in church ... seriously God ... First Corinthians 13:1-13? Faith, hope and love ... and the greatest of these is love. Are you serious? That was the lesson at our wedding 33 years ago, it's what I based my message at Doug's funeral on ... and now, when I'm sad and lonesome and missing him ... God in his infinite wisdom has it as the scripture for Sunday morning when I preach. Again, I say, SERIOUSLY?

For those of you who don't know ... my daddy is going to be 90 on the 22nd of this month. He is in the Care Center, he isn't doing great, and we know that we are on borrowed time as we fight to keep the fluid off his chest and lungs, we damage his kidney. So ... I head to the Center almost every day ... and we've had some wonderful visits ... visits about all he's seen in his lifetime, about grandkids and how proud he is of them, about life and health. He's ready, almost; I'm ready, almost; but dang it, he's my daddy and I don't want him to ever go.

There are a few other issues in my family that is weighing on my heart and it's not things I can talk about ... just pray for the Zobel family and extended family. We can all use your collective prayers as we forge ahead.

It's odd to me ... how I can be doing so well, feel good, have smiles, and then the next moment be moved to tears ... running down my face with no control what-so-ever. Let me "list" a few things for you:

• Last week I got my paycheck ... and I just wanted to go show it to Doug
• On the way home from Des Moines today, I just wanted to call the house and tell Doug I'm on my way home, and tell him about my first conference
• There's a LOT of ice on my driveway ... I want to ask him what should I do?
• When I leave the nursing home, I wish he was going to be home to hold me when I'm sad about losing my dad a little bit each day. (He's doing great right now, but we all know it's on our hearts)
• When I accomplish something, I just want to pick up the phone and tell him
• When I get compliments, I just want to race home and tell Doug
• I just want him to come home now!
• Suzi wrote a beautiful post on Facebook ... and I just want him to be up north with the Pout Brothers ... fishing, drinking, laughing, and enjoying. He loved every minute he spent with those men ... the memories of a lifetime for him
• When it's dark outside, and the garbage needs to go out, I know he'd run it out there
• When it's time to cook dinner at night ... I want to take out two plates and make him dinner
• Doug has been on my heart a lot this past month or two ... in a heavy, lonesome sort of way. I love you dear!

As my beautiful daughter put it ... I'm so done ... I'M JUST DONE! I want joy, I want laughter, I want peace, I want harmony, I want time, I want love, I want to stop handling it, I want to feel his arms around me, telling me quietly that "it will be alright". And then I'd tell him, NO, IT WON'T, as I cry and have tears. But I WOULD feel better! I want my special someone back. I am sorta mad at God that my almost 90 year old dad is wondering "why" ... cuz now I'm wondering why too!

So ...
There ...
That's the heaviness of my heart these days ... So prayer warriors, friends, and family ... pray for me and mine. That we will be blessed with abundance of joy, with good news, with sweeter days. Because truly and honestly ... I do so need it. And truly and honestly ... I do know that the greatest of these is love ... because without great and amazing love, you can't feel the bluest of days.

Until soon,
vic

A Glimpse of 20 Days

We are 20 days into the new year ... the year for blessings, joys, and new journeys.

In the past 20 days ... there's been many times I've thought I need to blog, but each day at 10:30, I collapse into bed, looking back on the day and it's all a blur. I think I'll use my list technique ... because quite frankly my brain is on overdrive and perhaps it will help to heal, slow down my thoughts, and put me on a right pathway. Are you ready? Here goes:

• Dad has settled into the Care Center with such dignity and grace. He has a group of "girls" that he adores and that take such good care of him. When I ask who is CNA is or his nurse, he says, "I don't know the difference, what does it matter, they all take care of me." He truly receives such good care, and it's so good for a daughter's soul when he says, "I just love my girls." And he isn't talking about me or my sisters, although he tells us frequently :)
• We've had some scares with Dad ... he's been taken by ambulance twice to the hospital. The last time was scary, but it was a false alarm and he's some how better than ever. God is so good and reminds us constantly of his power and might.
• I've been kind of angry this past three weeks ... I'm not sure anger is a good word, perhaps as a book I've been reading says, "I've embraced the pain, the sadness."
• Whatever it is I'm angry that when I go somewhere I go alone.
• I have started noticing more and more that I'm a "widow" and it's been hard to swallow.
• I sometimes look at my friends with their spouses and feel so alone and I wonder "why me"
• I've had a  few pity parties ... they haven't been much fun alone ... but I've had em. Poor, pitiful me ... alone and sad.
• I've laid on my bed, tear filled, wracking sobs ... so ready for him to come home
• I've sat on my bed and had a giggle or two at me and my pity parties. I guess you could say I've made fun of myself.
• I've looked in the mirror and wondered why ...
• I've prepared to preach my Sunday morning sermons and on Saturday told my pastors I'm not sure if I should be in the pulpit. I've spent some time angry at God. I work so hard to hang onto the faith that I have ... knowing as Jeremiah says, "God has plans for me to prosper and not harm." And as I preach my sermons I've had "ah ha" moments, almost like I'm preaching to myself.
• I've heard the pain in my kids voices as they call to check on Grandpa.
• I've listened to my beautiful daughter say, "I'm ready to be DONE! I'm just done now!" Just wanting happy days, less sadness, less to handle and take care of.

But ... I must say that these past 20 some days have made me think about the future. About my future. About my journey. About normal and the "new" normal. And we are all normal ... because God never promised easy or perfect, he only promised to be beside us, carrying us when we can't walk; holding us when we feel pain; running beside us when we take off the training wheels; and elated when we spread our wings and fly. Now there are a lot of heartaches and worries in my life ... but there is also great joy.

• Brandon and Blair are celebrating the uniting of their hearts, their new life in their very own first home together. They are heading for a honeymoon soon. They both have jobs that they enjoy (for the time being). And seeing them happy, in love, and together ... just brings me joy.
• April ... she keeps me hopping. She is starting a new job, a career move for her, and I'm so proud. She and Lena, my sweet grand dog, are rarely home. Between friends, business and outings, I'm not sure she has an apartment or if it's just a monthly hotel, where she lays her head to rest.
• Nolan ... is my steady "eddy" ... he's working hard, trying to take out trees, and enjoying his first home and job. He and Amy spend as much time together as they can.
• My dad, after scares with his health, scares that I actually asked a nurse, is this it? He's come through them, he's doing well, and I owe him a cherry cake with white frosting.
• My siblings and I work hard to take care of Dad, to visit, make decisions, and help him in any and every way that we can.
• I have a new job ... and in a professional setting and hoping I make some differences.
• I have amazing friends ... who keep me busy, keep me grounded and never fail to hug and make a difference in my daily life.

So in my darkest moments, I do think there might be a light at the end of the tunnel, shining and beckoning me to keep moving forward. There will be sadness, there will be things I do not understand, and there will be joys beyond measure. Of this I am sure.

So there's my wandering mind these days ... I will try to be more faithful ... with shorter, maybe more frequent posts. So ...

Until soon,
vic