Chapter 2….August 30th…3 Years…Celebration of Life

Dear Gregger,

Gregger Pitti-Uomo-June-14-606Three years. 36 months, 1095 days, 26,280 hours, 1,576,800 minutes, 94,608,000 seconds. An eternity. A moment. Whatever. It’s Time. Your time. From earth to shining star. In heaven. Some say anniversary. Of death. Morbid. Others say Death-aversary. Morbid. I say Celebration. Of life. Today is not a day for mourning. Or tears. It’s a day to celebrate. You. And all that you gave. To me. Your kids. Family. Friends. And so many others. We traveled many roads together in our 40 years. This is one journey I’ve had to make on my own. It sucks. But with your love and guidance, I’m still standing.

If I could have just one more day you know what I would do? I’d hold your hand tighter. Hug you harder. Talk incessantly. Until your ears couldn’t handle anymore. I’d tell you how you filled my life with love, laughter, joy, and a little heartache. I’d tell you how lucky I was to have “our perfect.” I’d tell you about my “new life.” Not the same. But good. Different. Kind, generous, compassionate people. Like you. I’d tell you how people miss you. Your light. Your laughter. Your grace. I’d tell you about your kids. Amazing. Each one exhibiting virtues to honor you. You’d be so proud. And the newest addition. Baby Cruz Greyson. Your namesake. I see you. In him. His eyes. His smile. Baby Cruz. A light. A joy. A blessing. You must know. For you are his angel.  

Three years. It doesn’t get easier. Grief never ends. There’s no expiration date. It just gets different.

Year 1. Blur. Shock. Numbness. Tears. Endless chores. Fear. Panic. Tears. Survival.

Year 2. Reality. Loneliness. Sadness. Tears. Hell. Reality. Gone. Forever.

Year 3. Acceptance. Rebuilding. Redefining. This is my life. I will be ok. I may not like it. Certainly not my choice. But I’ll be ok. I’ll always love you. Always miss you. But. I know I can conquer life’s challenges with courage, strength and determination. One day at a time.

So. Today we celebrate you. Cheers. To a life well lived. You left a legacy behind. A legacy based on love, integrity, generosity, and kindness. We will carry on. My heart is yours. Forever. Peace and love.

Here we go. Year 4…

 

Chapter 2…Edit

1091 days. Take me back. Life was nearly perfect. 1091 days. Take me back. Hawaii. Vacation. Celebrating. Life. Healthy. Happy. In love. Life was good. 38 plus years. Together. We had our bumps. The roller coaster. Of love. And life. But we’d made it. We were friends. Best friends. And lovers. We’d survived. Kids. College. Weddings. The worst of times. The best of times. I try to remember. All of it. “The saddest moment is when the person who gave you the best memories, becomes a memory.” 1091 days. Since you left. Gregger. YOU became THE memory. Every memory. But. Memories fade. Edges blur. Colors fade. And then. The focus. Disappears. If only. I could freeze frame. Protect. Restore.

Funny how our mind works for us. It edits. Prepares. Alters. Deletes. Arranges. Splices. Bits. Pieces. Memories. Until the only ones left are good. Happy. Gratifying. Peaceful. This just kind of happens when someone dies. And that’s ok. I want to remember the best. The good. Who cares if we fought about bagels? (Ok. So I still remember. And, yes, it’s true.) Or what kind of car we were going to buy? (What a waste!) EDIT. Remember. The best of the best.

Gregger. 1091 days. Since you left this earth. And left a legacy behind. I continue my crusade. #TheChainofGoodness #HonorGregger EDIT. Don’t wait for memories. Practice. Today. EDIT. Your space. Your life. EDIT. Think. Of the good. The happy. The peaceful. EDIT. Family. Friends. Love. Unconditionally. Forgive. With compassion. EDIT. Let go. Of the past. Of hurt. Of negativity. EDIT. Stop. The hate. The prejudice. The violence. EDIT. Words. Thoughts. Actions. EDIT. Practice. Kindness. Love. Peace. Forever. EDIT. Together we can make a difference. EDIT. If we do these things now, the only memories left will be the good ones. The best ones. EDIT. #TheChainofGoodness #HonorGregger.

I will keep digging in that memory bank. Searching for treasures of yesteryear. The fairytale. Where this princess found her prince. And with perfect editing, the demons disappear. Adversities evaporate. And the happily ever after just ended a little too soon. EDIT.

 

 

 

Chapter 2…Celebrate Today with the Chain of Goodness

I’ve been a bit spacey these past few weeks. (Yep. My kids will tell you. Nothing new. Mom’s always spacey.) But it’s different. Distracted. Emotional. Agitated. Forgetful. And then it hit. August. THE month. Time for kids to go back to school. Summer sales. AND. THE MONTH. The fated trip. The moment. The memories. Here again.

3 years. Time to deal. Face the flood of memories. As they rush to the forefront of my mind, I see. Gregger’s twinkling eyes. His joyful smile. I feel. The warmth of his hand. Touching mine. His tender lips. Kissing me. I hear. His soft-spoken voice. Whispering, “I love you.” And instead of tears. I smile. Because I know. He’s here. In my heart.

In this world of unrest, I want to honor Gregger. The man who loved unconditionally. Deeply. His family. Friends. The man who never met a stranger. They were friends. Soon enough. The man who embodied kindness. Compassion. Generosity. All with a sense of grace. And humility. He was simple. Just Gregger.  

Last year I wrote,
“There are hundreds of little ways to make a difference. To do the right thing. The good thing. This is what Gregger did EVERY DAY. This is how he touched people. This is why people are reminded to live just a little better. Be good. Do good. Live good.”

Today I proclaim the 2017 onset of The Gregger Chain of Goodness. His legacy. Reach out and touch. With your heart, your words. You never know what someone is going through. A kind word, a smile, a hug can make a world of difference in a person’s life. I know. I’ve been there. And I’ve been touched. Try it. A few simple thoughts.

1. Call your parent/parents. Just because. End the conversation with “I love you.”

2. Reach out to a “lost” friend. Email, text, or better yet, call.

3. Talk to someone new. Introduce yourself. Ask about their life. How is their day going?

4. Help a friend. Show up. Don’t just ask. Do it.

5. Compliment. With sincerity.

6. Be supportive. Of family. Friends. Co-workers. You can agree to disagree. But still be supportive.

7. Love yourself. Be kind. Be vulnerable. Others will realize they are not alone.

8. Be happy for another’s happiness, love, success.

9. Smile. Smile. Smile. At anyone. Everyone. You just might make their day.

10. Stop. When you want to complain. Don’t. Find something positive to say instead. It might turn your world around.

There is no better time than NOW to enforce The Gregger Chain of Goodness. Once Again. Try It. Spread the Word. Share it. See how much love. Kindness. And compassion we can share with the world. In Gregger’s name. His legacy. Starting today. Starting now.

Chapter 2…On Being Real

One of the hardest things I’ve learned on this grief journey is showing vulnerability. Exposing myself. Raw. Naked. Truth. Option? Walls. Dark. Blocked. Hidden. Why? To be strong. I can do this. I’m okay. Yes, I can. But then. I’m not. There are moments.  And I crack. The days my heart aches so badly the corners of my mouth won’t lift. My eyes are drawn. My face. An open book. Transparent. Everyone knows. So. What do I say? I’m okay? But. I’m not. So, I’ve learned to say just that. I’m not. It’s a bad day. I’m having a rough go. And I’ve learned. People embrace that vulnerability. It makes me real. I’ve learned. It’s okay to not be okay.

Writing makes me vulnerable. You see my layers. My life. Not perfect. Me? Not perfect. Gregger? Not perfect. (I know many of you are surprised!) But, as they say, we were perfect for each other. And now. I’m reassembling the pieces of my life puzzle. One day. At a time. Some days. I get it right. Other days. I struggle to make it fit. I twist and turn. I fight to push it in place. But as hard as I try, it won’t fit. Life. We struggle. We fight. We have obstacles. Hardships. But overcoming them? That’s the source of our greatest strengths.

We can’t control life. Or life’s challenges. If that were the case, I would have controlled what happened on the beach in Maui August 30th, 2014. But on that day, I had a choice. Be a victim. Or become a better version of myself. And with that comes attitude. My choice. Be negative. Or find the positive. The blessing. In every situation. And even this. My worst nightmare. Has given me the strength to find light. Love. And peace.

I am who I am. I am learning to love the new me. The me who looks at life through new glasses. I am vulnerable. Bare. Some days the tears fall. But that’s okay. Because being real. That’s all I ever want to be.

Chapter 2…The Sad Truth

It was hard enough to lose the love of my life. My soul mate. My best friend. But in the past three years, I have watched pieces of my family crumble apart. Was Gregger the glue who held us together? I’ve tried so hard to play both roles. I’ve tried to be all that he was while finding myself. Not easy. Actually nearly impossible. Sometimes I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff. One minute balanced. Safe. Sound. The next. Stumbling. Rocking. Losing my footing. At any second I’ll land flat on my face. No net beneath me. Why? Just another part of the grief journey.

Losing a loved one is devastating. No ifs, ands, buts about it. There’s no “good” way to experience death. It sucks. But losing a loved one unexpectedly/suddenly presents its own set of issues. There’s no time to say goodbye. Words left unsaid. Lives changed forever in the blink of an eye. And no turning back. And for some, the ramifications are life-changing. I’ve spent almost three years of this journey coming to peace with Gregger’s loss. It will never be okay. But I can accept it. I cannot change it. I can understand there was a reason. I will never know the reason. I no longer need to seek the reason. I can just accept there was a plan. And on that day, the plan was for him to “go.” That doesn’t  mean I have to like it. I can hate it. But I can accept it. On the other hand, it doesn’t mean that everyone sees it the same way. We are on different paths. Different journeys. And sometimes that tears us apart. That’s not the way it should be. Grief should bring us together. But, ultimately, death changes everyone’s lives. Forever. And now I must accept that too. Maybe. Someday. We can come together. For Gregger. Our family. And love.

Chapter 2…My Journey…Starting Over

I struggled with the decision to write again. Some days I felt ready to blurt out, “Hello world, here I am. Let me tell you my story. My journey.” But others, I cowered behind the safety of the walls. No hurt. No pain. No tears. I was alive. But was I living? I needed to feel. Breathe. Let go.  Of fear. Fear of exposure. Fear of being alone. Fear of facing the truth. My feelings. The good. The bad. The truth. It’s been almost 3 years since Gregger left this earth. Some things have changed. Others not. What hasn’t changed? Missing Gregger. Loving him. Holding him in my heart. That’s forever. What has changed? Me. I’m living. Breathing. Smiling. Laughing. I have new friends. Earth Angels. These are the things I want to write about. The changes. The lessons. The tides. The waves. And how I ride them each and every day. Maybe it will resonate with another soul. I don’t know. Each and every day is brand new. A chance for a new beginning. Fresh start. So here we go. My life lessons. My Chapter 2. On my way to a new/different “happily ever after.” This is my journey…

Set aside “grief time.” Let it be okay. It’s not a bad thing. It’s a time to “let out the love you want to give but can’t.” It’s filling those empty little holes in your heart one piece at a time. Mine is the morning drive to “work out.” Not every day. But some days. It just happens. I don’t know when. It just “hits.” No warning. Just a beat of my heart. And I know. I lose myself in the music. Tears stream down my cheeks. Or I smile, sing along, and look to clouds. But it’s my time. And then it’s over. I step out of my car. And enter my “happy place.” I see my Earth Angels. My heart smiles. And joy fills my soul. I’ve had my time. I’m okay. And I know that all is right with the world.

 

Chapter 2…Happy Birthday…It’s a New Year!

Today seemed like the perfect day to enter the world of blogging once again. And so I am. I’ve been distracted. Afraid. Writing brings out emotions. Grief. Sadness. Tears. But also joy. Love. Happiness. So I decided. Today. I’m ready.

“This is the beginning of a new day. You have been given this day to use as you will. You can waste it or use it for good. What you do today is important because you are exchanging a day of your life for it. When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever; in its place is something that you have left behind. Let it be something good.”

Not only is this the beginning of a new day, it is the beginning of a new year. Of life. For me. My birthday. These were always a big deal with Gregger. We loved celebrations. With the kids. Each other. We believed in celebrating good times. And we have memories to prove it. But P.G. (post-Gregger) it’s different. It’s another day. Another day that’s passed without him here. Another day that I’ve come to peace with my place on earth. Another day I’ve grown. Evolved. Become a bit stronger. And another day to remind me that every moment counts. Live. Love. Embrace. Cherish. Laugh. Three years have gone in the blink of an eye. I don’t want to look back three years from now and say, “Huh? Where did it go? What have I done?” I want to look back and say, “Wow! That was awesome!” My “special piece,” my “other half” will always be missing. But I’m here. I need to continue to celebrate. To live. To fight for happiness. And peace. So Happy Birthday to me. Today is the first day of the BEST year of my life. Crazy? Maybe a little. But actions begin with attitude. And mine is all about bringing on the love!

Happy 63rd Birthday Gregger

Dear Greg,

Happy 63rd Birthday! I can hardly believe this is our 3rd birthday apart. It seems like yesterday that I was getting ready for your big 60th birthday surprise. The last hoorah. I’ll never forget that birthday. Never forget the look on your face. I can still feel you holding my hand. Walking into that room. And I hear the screams. The laughter. And the smile. Your smile. The best. It was our last dance. Every time I hear Beyonce belt out, “Love on Top,” my heart stops. I drift back to that moment. You were holding me. Just the two of us. Rocking. Side to side. Cherishing a moment. Frozen in time. What a celebration. That was then. And here we are. Now. I’m here. You’re somewhere. Out there.

So much has happened in the last year. So many beautiful, wonderful things. Most of all the birth of your grandson, Cruz Greyson. Your namesake. I see you in the twinkle of his eyes. Or when he puckers his little round mouth and “puffs.” Just like you. He’s a true blessing. A gift. He brings love, joy, and hope. Something we all need.

I want to say I’m doing okay. On a daily basis, I am. But nothing’s really changed. You’d think it would after 2 1/2 years. But it doesn’t. My heart still aches. I’m empty. Lonely. Tears escape my eyes at the strangest times. Driving, a spin class, walking Angel, sitting at Peet’s having coffee. Nothing makes sense. It never will. I’ve accepted that it was all part of God’s plan. There’s no other explanation. Lots of good people are taken from this earth every day. Why else? It’s just part of the plan. It sucks. I don’t have to like it. But I can accept it. And pray that you’re okay too. The one thing I know for sure. You are doing lots of good “up there.”

I decided that today was not a day to be sad. Today was a day to celebrate YOU. You were the greatest giver when you were alive. You gave and gave and gave. Yes you gave material things, but I’m not talking about those things. I’m talking about all the other things you gave us and left behind. The really GREAT gifts you GAVE us. Those are the greatest gifts of all. Those are the gifts I choose to celebrate today. You taught me to:
…believe in myself.
…to forgive.
…to love unconditionally.
…to give without expecting to receive.
…to love myself when I thought there was nothing there to love.
…to always be kind.
…to not judge.
…to be faithful and true.
…to be honest to others and myself.
…to be patient.

So on this special day, your 63rd birthday, I celebrate YOU! I miss your smile. Your hugs. Your touch. I miss talking. Our friendship. Our love. Cheers Gregger! I will love you forever! Happy Birthday!

 

 

Clawing Through the “Guck”

“There are moments which mark your life. Moments when you realize, nothing will ever be the same and time is divided into two parts – before this, and after this.”

loss 3I am in the “after this.” Still trying to figure it out. Every day. 2 plus years later. Still clawing my way through the “guck.” The pain. The tears. Why? Because. Love endures death. A person dies. But love doesn’t. So my heart aches. My heart feels empty. My soul aches. My soul feels empty. I cannot close this chapter. My heart’s not ready. Will it ever be? Probably not. I think I’m figuring that out. And trying to figure out how to live with it.

But the hard part? Hiding. Staying strong. After so long some people just think you’re ok. And maybe I am. On the outside. But the inside? It’s still broken. I don’t need to talk about it. All the time. But I can’t pretend it’s not there. I need to acknowledge the emptiness. For me. Is it guilt? Not sure.

Most people understand. Some don’t. Sometimes the people you need to understand most. I keep going. But. I am not always ok. A piece is missing. Broken. I can smile. Laugh. And look fine. But the inside? It aches. It’s like having an illness that no one can see. You look perfect on the outside. No one knows. But inside? You hurt. The pain is there. You learn to live with it. You don’t want to talk about it. Every day. But it’s there. And you’re not really sure when or if it will ever go away.

lossWriting this is hard. It opens wounds. It exposes my weakness. But that’s okay. It’s who I am. Today. I’m strong. And weak. I’m happy. And sad. I’m angry. And peaceful. I’m me. This is life. This is life after death. And life goes on. So I do too.

Year Three. Riding it out.

loss 1

balls in the air

“Balls” in the Air

balls 2This baby thing is so tough. And I’m not even the one who’s pregnant! I’m just the grandma-to-be. Oh Lord! I wrote this in September on a return flight from St. Louis.

We are only 18+ weeks in and I am driving myself crazy. Right now I’m sitting on a plane with my stomach literally ready to “toss it’s cookies.” And there’s nothing inside. My nerves are shattered. Ashley has a doctor’s appointment and I won’t know anything until I land. So I sit here praying. Praying. Praying. Everything will be okay. Good. Great.

People tell me I carry too much of the load when it comes to my kids. I probably do. I don’t know how not to. I remember when they were little. When they hurt, I hurt. When they were happy, I was happy. It’s no different now. I think it’s harder. Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems. So true. Don’t we all just want to see our kids happy? I know I do. When my kids ask me what I want for a gift for one occasion or another, I simply want to see them happy. That brings me the greatest joy.

balls 1My mom used to talk about having the “balls in the air.” They were never all “up there” at one time. I get it. God, I love when my “balls” are sky high. Means life is good. Everyone is happy. In a good place. I used to have Gregger to balance me. Calm me. Center me. I don’t. So I have to figure it out. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

I spoke with my “seatmate.” Rarely do that. Needed the distraction. Asked her how life was. Up and down. You know. Life with teens. I’d been there, done that. I shared. Hold on for the ride. It’s beautiful but bumpy. It never gets easier. Age doesn’t change a thing. You worry. You care. You hurt. You’re joyful. It’s part of the job description. Carry the load. I told her to cherish the highs. And ride the lows. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

As the plane landed my heart pounded out of my chest. I texted. “Landed.” And then I waited.Text me back. Something. Ding phone. Ding. Please. Something. Seconds passed. Nothing. It seemed like forever. And then. Ding. Not a text. A video. I clicked. Opened. And there it was. The beautiful sounds of baby L’s heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. I listened. Again and again. A few tears slipped down my cheeks. Passengers stared. I didn’t care.  The “balls” were back up in the air for the moment. I’d take that. Happy moments. Blessings. 

balls 3