Roller Coaster?

Don't get me wrong.  I LOVE a good metaphor.  I have a great one about how alchol to a drunk is spot-on like a  handsome yet awful and abusive ex-boyfriend that you just can't forget.  But grief-is-like-a-roller coast?  I think the mental health professional who coined that one went to the Dr. Nick school of psychology.  It's just lazy and completely inadequate.  Ups and downs? Yeah, got it.  You must have worked hours on that one.

So loss, especially sudden loss, is NOT like a roller coaster.  For starters, and most importantly, ummm, ROLLER COASTERS ARE FUN.  One boards a roller coaster willingly, except in those cases where your kid is making you get on some vomit-inducing thing where you'd rather be scrubbing toilets I guess.  But you still go by choice.  In fact, you'll pay mightily for the privilege, just ask those kind folks at Disney.  Next, you KNOW you are getting on the roller coaster.  You're not just going about your business and BAM you're suddenly at the top of a huge hill, plummeting downwards at 60 m.p.h. with no idea how you got there.  Roller coasters have an end, usually in about two minutes.  Most people can endure just about anything for two minutes.  Afterwards, one might say, "that was freakin' awesome!"  "Let's go again" or maybe, "that was horrible, so glad it's over, at least I can say I did it..."  No one who has been through the grief horror wringer is going to make any of those statements.

Maybe there isn't a good metaphor and that's the point.  There's simply no way to describe it properly.  I was thinking about all this during this week after Ryan Dunn (of Jackass fame) crashed his car and died.  His friend Bam was on TV saying he somehow knew, that he had some kind of premonition and started freaking out and trashing his car around the same time of the accident, thousands of miles away.  The day of my mom's accident, we had no such feeling and I thought that somehow we should have "felt" it.  We were in fact having a LOVELY, perfect day on vacation in Utah.  

We'd gone out for donuts at Banbury Cross (do yourself a favor if ever in Salt Lake and have the cinnamon - mom's favorite).  Then we took the kids to an amazing bowling alley that we had to ourselves (who bowls at 9:00 in the morning?)  We had a fantastic lunch and then went to Hatch Family Chocolates for ice cream.  Anyone seen the Little Chocolatiers?  It used to be on TLC, I think.  I had a nice chat with Steve, the husband, about the show.  They make a great vanilla bean ice cream served in dish with espresso and the kids were writing the word "geezer" in the steam from their breath on the window to the elderly (geezer) who cut in line in front of us.  Finally, we drove back to Kelsey's and didn't hit a red light the whole way.  This alone is miraculous - that ride can take 15 minutes and it took 5.  I commented on it to David because it was freakishly great.  I looked up driving directions while David packed our car with the ski gear for the drive to Eden for the long weekend at Snowbasin.  I was thinking they were pretty complicated and mom was going to need the map when she landed the next morning to join us.  I had loaded the snacks.  I was working on the refrigerator - eggs, I believe, when David's cell phone rang and our world fell apart.  The refrigerator stayed open for the next hour.  

It's weird, I can feel my adrenaline rising again just writing that.  That might be the only connection to roller coasters.  Because if this was anything like a roller coaster, I would say, "sorry, I'm not ready for this ride, I'm going to pass."

On this Father's Day...

I have to start by admitting Father's Day was never a big deal in my house until my husband became a father.  He is the #1 star of this day in my heart.  My children have THAT dad - the one who coaches soccer, takes memorable vacations with them, shows up for school events and conferences, comes home from work when he could go out with the boys, gets up in the night when they're sick, works on homework and projects.  I believe he's even tried to paint fingernails for the girls, but I could be imagining that.  David Heupel, you are the ideal father (and husband) and if I don't say it often enough, we hit the jackpot with you.  I love you.

Today I also honor my amazing Granddaddy.  He broke the mold for great guys for his two daughters and today I hate the fact that, at 90 years old, he will experience his first Father's Day without his Tiger, my mom, who brought him so much happiness.  He is such a strong force in our lives that I chose him to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, despite the face that my real dad was still alive.

And my two dads... Never an easy thing to describe.  My real dad battled demons, which I inherited.  His wasn't an easy life and I know that he loved me the best he knew how.  He died in October of 2009 at 64.  What I miss is the annual calls on my birthday and the chance to ever really know him well.  It's a sad thing to say that he taught me what I didn't want in a husband and father, but it is true.  I don't resent him anymore at all; if anything I'm so sorry that he didn't have the chance to really live life fully.  He did the best he could with what he had to work with.  Rest in peace Daddy Mike.


My mom's second husband adopted me when I was six.  For a few years, things were nice.  I had two dads who loved me and wanted to be with me.  Unfortunately, in that time, often when a marriage ended, the fathering ended too.  I think he too did the best he could and he was a nice man, but again, the connection, the trust, the feeling that daddy was always there for us, wasn't there.  He died in 1996 and I always regret that we didn't keep the bonds closer.  I love him for his efforts and hope that he's at peace as well.

They say that girls marry their daddies - so not true in my case.  Perhaps what really took was what my Mom tried to instill.  She raised us, no sugar coating that, essentially alone.  My David has her gifts for compassion, interest in others, a strong work ethic and ability to try to always make things better.  What a strong woman to help me not make the same mistakes she made.

So Mom, Happy Father's Day to you.  Thanks for always being both parents to us.  It makes your absence that much harder to take.  I didn't realize until you were taken from us what it truly means to lose a parent.  I used to call my Mom on Father's Day, not my dad.  She earned and deserved it.

Lastly, though he doesn't deserve it, I hope that the man who killed my mom isn't arrested today - for his son's sake.  I don't want him to remember Father's Day as the day his dad went to jail.  He doesn't deserve that, any more than his dad DOES deserve that break.  I hope that the man thinks today about what it means to be a father, even when it's putting yourself in a tough situation because it's the right thing to do and showing your child that taking responsibility for our actions is part of being a good person.

Happy Father's Day to all of those doing the right thing, and Happy Father's Day to those who've failed to do the right thing.  Today can be a new day and it's never too late to be a better person.
Love the ones who need you the best you can.

Peace.

In Grateful Appreciation

Today I want to extend my sympathy to the family of Officer Kevin Will of the Houston P.D.  He worked in Vehicular Crimes and was a friend of my favorite police officer, who shall remain nameless so I don't embarrass him.

A link to the story follows:
http://abclocal.go.com/ktrk/story?section=news/local&id=8166018

Officer Will died on the same stretch of highway - the North Loop - as my mother, just a few miles away.  Many of the stories about his killing focus a great deal on the fact that the drunk driver who caused his death is an illegal immigrant.  I don't intend to touch that subject.  What I want to convey is my deep respect and gratitude to all those who take on a job that is much more dangerous than most realize.

It surprises me that the Boys in Blue are so often maligned, that people want to find reasons to hate the police as often as possible, without ever acknowledging the very difficult lives they've chosen.  I compare it to the military - low pay, dangerous conditions, uncertainty, disrupted lives, extreme stress and exposure to nightmarish and unforgettable scenes of death and damage... yet police are not often given the same level of respect and gratitude as our soldiers.  They have a never-ending mission that they're often forced to perform with their hands tied.

Look specifically at the case of Vehicular Crimes officers.  Their jobs are often performed in one of the most dangerous locations around - the side of the road.  Until my mother died, I never thought twice about Vehicle Crimes.  The work is slow, painstaking stuff, and most of the time, charges aren't filed.  Even when a driver is found to be at fault, there must be extenuating circumstances like drugs, alcohol, excessive speed, etc. for criminal charges to be filed.  How disheartening to see so many victims with no one being called to account for the carnage.

I can't begin to describe the level of patience, kindness, and hard work that I've seen from this department.  I am forever in its debt.  Today, if you see a police officer in your midst, why not shake his or her hand or buy them a cup of coffee if they are in line with you, just as so many do for our active military?  For these souls, it's not a tour of duty - it's an entire life choice.  For the family of Kevin Will, a choice that took away a husband and father far too soon.  Thank you to ALL who serve, here or around the world.