Tag: story

Letters-of-Hope-Continued

Letters of Hope Continued…

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

doing the bestSo it probably seems to many of you reading this blog that I’ve been writing about the same thing forever. This IVF thing is tough. The waiting. The hoping. The praying. And waiting some more. I’m glad I wrote during that time. Not only for how I felt then but for how I feel now. To realize that I can still turn to Gregger. But I can also handle it on my own. I can find the strength. Dig deep. Stand tall. And keep going. Through the toughest days. And, somehow, the sun always shines brightest on the other side. So writing continued to be my savior.

May 28

Dear Gregger,

doing the best 2I spent today with Ashley and Tyler. We went to look at houses. They found a house they love, but standing there I felt so out of my comfort zone. I felt like a fraud. It was like, “What am I doing here with them? I don’t know what I’m doing? Gregger, you should be here, not me. You know the questions. I don’t even know what to ask.” I want to help them, but I don’t know the right way. You would. I kept looking at Ashley. I wanted her to sit down. I wanted her to take it easy. I want to treat her like a china doll right now. I feel like everything is so fragile. I know she’s worried. She mentioned it several times. And then we’d quickly change the subject. She wants to be positive. And as soon as she is, she’s afraid to say so. I know the feeling. It’s so uncertain, and, oh so scary. I know they both want this so badly. And I hurt so badly for them, wanting it so badly too. I just kept wishing you were there. We drove around and looked at other places. I told them they had to have options. I think that place is really out of the question. A little over the top. I think they could find something a little more reasonable without having to put so much into it. It’s hard. You want everything all at once. I remember we did too. I remember looking for our first house. We looked at all of those run down fixer uppers. We thought we could do it, and, in the end, we went with the new. We went in a little over our heads, but it all worked out in the end. Scary at times, but I guess the risks paid off. Or did they? Was it all the risks that pushed you to the edge? Was it the risks that pushed you to work harder and harder until you went over the edge? I don’t know. I think there’s a fine line there. I keep trying to help. But I have to be realistic about this too. I was honest with them. I will seek help from others. Opinions. I won’t make a stupid mistake. I promise.

I kept remembering all day how you used to say to me, “Don’t you dare leave me first. Don’t leave me alone with these kids.” Well you did it to me and now I need your support more than ever. I’m doing the best I can, and, most of the time, I’m holding it together fairly well. But this one’s got me good. So I am begging you, as I do every day, to watch over your baby. Watch over her babies. Keep everyone safe. We all miss you more than you could ever imagine. If we only had one more day to let you know. I hope you do. I hope you hear the messages. I hope you feel it. Because this earth is just a much emptier place without your heart. Your smile. Your incredible being. I know you are watching. I know you are holding her in your arms and heart. Just keep doing so…I love you forever. Until tomorrow…

doing the best 1May 29

Dear Gregger,

I hate these holiday weekends. This day seems to have gone on forever. It’s been filled with some strange happenings. Really strange now that I think about it. First encounter: I was leaving Equinox today, casually talking to some lady about the clouds overhead. She said she missed the sunshine. I said I didn’t mind the clouds. I didn’t want to tell her I look for you in the clouds. When it’s sunny I have no chance of seeing you. She’d think I was looney. I simply told her that I lived in Arizona for nearly 40 years and woke to sunshine most days. This was a nice change. Some guy was walking toward the gym. He jumped into the conversation. “I just moved here from Arizona.” I asked from where. “Scottsdale.” What part. “D.C. Ranch.” We bantered for a minute or so. I decided to ask the big question. So did you ever hear of the Clotherie? His mouth dropped. “It was the only place I ever shopped.” Well, I’m Greg’s wife. And then his jaw dropped. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. He was the best guy ever.” Yeah. I know. He was the BEST. I love hearing that. But I already knew it. It was one of your customers. I couldn’t believe it. Here was a guy who drove you crazy, but someone who REALLY knew you. It was drizzling, but I wanted to stand there in the drizzle and hear him talk about you. I wanted to hear stories. I wanted to hear something. But then he had to go. But it was cool. It made me smile for a minute or two. Something that’s been a little rough lately. I’m so stressed. So worried. And then I got in my car and the tears welled in my eyes.

I talked to Ashley and Tyler today. I think I gave some decent advice about the houses. Maybe some things you might even say. It’s hard. You were the one who knew all those things. I keep telling Ashley to rest. I want her to take it easy. I know she is. I wish I could just relax. I just wish I knew. I just wish I knew it would all be okay. But I don’t. So we wait. That’s why I turn to you. Again and again and again. To watch, to hold, to pray. I thought I prayed hard when my little dog, Lucy, was in the hospital, but that was nothing. I’ve never prayed harder for anything in my life. Oh, I would have prayed this hard and a million times harder for you if it would have changed anything, but it wouldn’t. That sucked. I still prayed. I prayed that you didn’t hurt. I prayed that you were okay. I prayed that your mom got you. I prayed that you were at peace. And I prayed that you knew how much we all loved and still love you every single day.

An old friend reached out to me today. We chatted over FB and he told me that in time I need to let you go. Not just for me, but for you. I need to set you free. Is that true? Am I holding you back? I’m sorry if I am. I don’t want to. If I had to I would let you go, but only if that meant you would watch doubly over Ashley and those babies. But that’s not fair. Just a little longer. I’m asking. Please. And when the time comes, please guide me. Because as much as I thought I knew how; I don’t. I love you. Until tomorrow…

doing the best 3May 30

Dear Gregger,

Happy Memorial Day! Well, it certainly wasn’t a holiday without you here. This was my second Memorial Day without you. Now I’m moving onto my seconds. The firsts were hard enough. The seconds seem to be even harder. Lonelier. I’m watching the NBA playoffs. I didn’t watch a basketball game all year. The Suns sucked. You would have been really disappointed. The Warriors are in the playoffs. It’s the 7th game of the series against Oklahoma. Pretty good. I keep wishing you were here so we could watch together. I think you’d be cheering for the Warriors. So I’m cheering for you. The finals will be against LeBron and the Cavaliers. It will be a replay of last year. Not sure who I’ll root for in that one. It would be kind of cool for LeBron to win for Cleveland. I know you never liked him but he’s done a lot for the game. The French Open is on too, but it’s really boring. Federer dropped out. Nadal dropped out. And a few of the other top players. Boring. So I started making an afghan. Something to do with my hands. Something to distract my mind. It always goes back to the same place. I look at your picture. Especially the one of you and Ashley together. I see you holding her, your arm wrapped protectively around her and I hope you are doing the same now. I hope you are holding her safe. Holding those babies safe. I pray every day. Every night. I know I repeat myself, but I so wish you were here.

So Golden State won. It’s Warriors vs. Cavs. Back to back matchup. You would love it. I think. Long time in coming before the Suns ever make it there.

I’ll keep you in my prayers tonight. I always do. I’ll send you my love. My heart. All I ask is that you keep Ashley, Tyler and those babies safe. You are their guardian angel. I do believe that. I do believe you are watching. Listening. And taking care. I love you. Until tomorrow…

And the countdown begins…prayers continue.

To be continued…

the givers

The Givers

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

DSC_0685Gregger and I had a problem. And we fought about it. A lot. It was the silliest of problems, but we just couldn’t seem to get past it. We were both GIVERS. Neither of us knew how to TAKE. So we fought over giving, giving, giving. It wasn’t about giving things. It was about giving of ourselves. We both wanted to DO for the other. We wanted to do for the kids. We wanted to do for other people. We just didn’t know when to stop. So sometimes it got in the way. We needed to take time, stop, and realize that we were TAKING time and energy away from each other by GIVING so much, too much.

givingKnowing our birth order, it didn’t always make sense. I was the oldest, Gregger the youngest. He should have been a taker. He should have been the selfish one (no offense to those “babies” out there). Being a first-born, I was stereotypically disciplined (better defined as OCD), cautious (to a fault), controlling (I admit to being “a bit”), organized (again OCD), an achiever (self-competitive), and certainly mothering (wanting to take care of everyone). If Gregger had been the laid back, needing mothering type, maybe things would have been different. But I would never have gone for THAT guy! I loved the guy who was disciplined (also OCD), cautious (not nearly as much as me and more daring), controlling (because he wanted EVERYONE to be happy), organized (slacking off big time in the latter years), an achiever (OVER), and mothering (needing to take care of EVERYONE!).

giving 2Some of our spats were over the silliest things. After a long day at work, the mothering side of me wanted to “take care” of Gregger. I loved to cook (in the earlier years) and never minded the clean up. I would BEG him to relax at the table, catch up on his emails, watch TV, sports, whatever, but he could NOT do it. He refused to allow me to take care of him. He had to get up, clear the dishes, clean the counter, the table. It was “his” job. We seriously would argue over this. I was insulted that he would NOT let me take care of him. We would squabble over running errands, doing laundry, so many silly things. These weren’t fights. They were just squabbles. Inane altercations of who could “give” more.

But Gregger wanted to take care of EVERYONE. He took it upon himself to take care of his family, his employees, people he met on the street. Well, maybe that’s going a bit too far. But he was incredibly over-the-top generous. The word “no” did not exist in his vocabulary. I just wanted him to take care of himself in the same way. He was impossible! He actually gave me the gift of a “physical” for himself one year for Christmas. So even in the “taking” he was still “giving.” You can’t fault someone for being so good. For loving too much. For trying too hard. For being so good. For giving too much. Gregger was just that guy. He broke me at times. I turned into the “taker.” It made him happy. I guess in a lot of ways it made me happy too. I learned it wasn’t worth the argument. I’d rather find peace. Pick my battles. If he really wanted to clear the dishes, wipe the counters, wash his shirts, run his errands, I wasn’t going to battle him any longer. BUT. And it’s a BIG BUT. I did NOT want to hear how much he had to do. I did not want to hear he did not have time in his day. I did NOT want to hear he was overloaded. If he wasn’t going to take, he had to own it. So little by little, he gave it up. Not much. But a little. And I got to GIVE. And we got to SHARE. That was the best part of all. 

40 years together is a long time to learn. Learn to compromise. Learn to listen. Learn to grow together. Learn to give. Learn to take. Learn to share. It wasn’t always easy. But we managed. And we got better and better and better. Gregger would ALWAYS be the better GIVER. It was just part of his soul. That’s why I loved him so very much. “If you continually give, you will continually have.” So we continually had. Despite the battles of giving, we had. Love. Friendship. Trust. Respect. Commitment. Communication. Selflessness. Passion. It worked. I miss it every single day.

giving 3

Holidays are Hard

Holidays are Hard

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

attitudeHolidays are hard. There just isn’t any easy way around it. I wake up. Be happy. Smile. Great attitude. It’s just another day. But something always feels different. Something always feels a little empty. People want to party. I’m not there yet. It’s not that I don’t like people. I do. But I don’t like going it alone. I should have Gregger with me. We should be celebrating together. I’m not ready. And that’s okay.

I started the day with a bang. Super workout. High energy. Happy people. And then I crashed. I was internalizing. Emotions running high. Thinking. Not knowing where to go or what to do with all the emotions. Confused. Wanting to be alone. Not wanting to be alone. At breakfast the music played. Really? Are you here? “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” I choked back the tears. It had to be a message. I haven’t heard it for so long. Letting me know he was okay. Telling me I’m okay. It’s okay to enjoy this day of independence. I didn’t want it to stop playing. I strained my ears to hear the words. The melody. The music. Please keep playing. Don’t go away. But it did. The highlight of my day. He touched me. He was there with me. I was going to be okay.  attitude 2

Another holiday. Another first. Another day we would have spent just being. My day was quiet. But that’s okay. Tomorrow I’ll be ready for the noise.

attitude 1

Why He Loved His Lucy

Why He Loved His Lucy

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

lucyFor years, Gregger called me his “Lucy.”  While I was no blazing redhead, I certainly matched her wacky naiveté. I don’t think I always had my head in the clouds. I want to believe I had a pretty good head on my shoulders. As a first born I was organized to a fault, obsessively disciplined, and crazy cautious. I was focused, determined, had my eye on the ball. I was in control and fairly self-controlled (although my kids might beg to differ on that one!). I think all hell broke loose when my three kids entered three different schools with multiple activities. Maybe juggling all those school, sports, dance, and social events juggled a few of my brain cells. I’m not sure. But somewhere in those years I got a little loopy.

Around the same time frame, I developed a severe “I Love Lucy” obsession. I’m not sure why or where, but I LOVED LUCY! I watched every rerun, over and over. I’d wake up early in the morning or stay up late at night to catch my favorite episodes on Nick at Nite or Hallmark. I collected every piece of memorabilia from cookie jars, dolls, coffee mugs, and lamps to coasters, magnets, and one of the ugliest purses you’ve ever seen! Holidays were great for my kids. Get mom something with LUCY! So my collection grew until I had no room left for LUCY in my life. Now Lucy is neatly tucked away under bathroom cabinets, in hallway closets, and, as unfortunate as it sounds, buried in the garage. I still love LUCY, but my obsession is a bit more grounded. As much as I hate to admit it, I still watch reruns every morning at 5:00 am. She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. She reminds me of the lighter side of life. And she reminds me of the great love between husband, wife, and friends.

I was Gregger’s kooky sidekick. His Lucy. He responded to my quirky behavior with an emphatic “L-U-C-Y! You got some ‘splainin’ to do!” And most of the time I did. It was his way of diverting anger. I could deal with that. And most of the time I had some “splainin” to do. lucy 3

  • Before the days of debit cards, I wrote checks everywhere. We didn’t adopt the “card” for a long time. Gregger was a cash and carry kind of guy. He forgot to give me cash one day, so I carried the checkbook with me, wrote a check for the groceries and came home. Later that night he was preparing to pay bills and asked for the checkbook. I knew I had used it at the grocery store that day. I remembered carrying it home. I thought it was in my purse. Nope. I looked in the car. Nope. I searched every grocery bag. I went so far as to dig through the trash. UGH! I knew I had that damn checkbook! So while I was searching and searching, Gregger was screaming…L-U-C-Y!!!! You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!!! And I certainly did! He was not a happy camper. I decided to start dinner and recommence my search after filling everyone’s stomachs. As I went to the outside freezer to grab something, sitting on the shelf was my CHECKBOOK! I ran into the house, checkbook in hand, screaming, “I told you so.” Why not put the checkbook in the freezer? Isn’t that where everyone keeps it? Well, I didn’t really know how to “splain” that one, but at least it was resolved.
  • The next time I experienced a “Lucy” I was alone. It was a beautiful day in Scottsdale. I was driving with my top down, sunglasses on, hair flying in the wind, headed out for some basic errands. First stop – the bank. It was a quick run-in so I popped out of my car, did what I had to do, and was back in a flash. Checking for lipstick on the teeth or something else amiss, I pulled down my visor mirror. I was horrified to see that I had walked into the bank with my sunglasses on (that’s not a  problem), with ONE LENS IN and ONE LENS completely MISSING!!! I had no idea I was walking around like that! Really? How could I not know! I took a selfie, sent it to Gregger and gave him a good laugh for the day!
  • I must have a problem with sunglasses because my major LUCY occurred at Starbucks one afternoon. I was having coffee with a dear friend and excused myself to use the bathroom. I hooked my sunglasses onto my shirt, went inside, “did” what I needed to do, and came back outside. I was horrified to discover my sunglasses were gone! Did I leave them on the table? Did they drop in the bathroom? These were brand new sunglasses and NOT the kind that I needed to lose! I ran back to the bathroom. I searched around the toilet, in the toilet, under the toilet, in the trash, everywhere. The sunglasses were gone, gone, gone! I went to the counter. I thought for sure someone had turned them in. No. I went back outside. I searched the ground. I was literally shaking. I asked the girl who had used the bathroom right after me if she had seen any glasses. She looked at me like I was nuts! I thought maybe she took them! I was angry. What the heck? Sunglasses don’t just disappear! I called Gregger. I told him I thought someone took my glasses. I was really reaching at that point. What should I do? Breathe. Calm down. They are just glasses. About 10 minutes later, I walked back inside to check with the manager again. I walked back to the restroom to do a once over. The bathroom was closed. Something was wrong. It was backed up. The manager was in there working on it. And guess what he found? MY SUNGLASSES! DOWN the toilet! They had fallen off my shirt, into the toilet. I had FLUSHED them! OMG! Embarrassing to the max! The ultimate of LUCYS!!! I certainly had some “splainin” to do! I think Gregger was rolling on the floor with laughter when I called him. His L–U–C–Y could have been heard across the country and rightly so! It took me a while to show my face at that Starbucks again. I’m sure they had a good laugh themselves! L-U-C-Y topped herself on that one!
  • About a week or so after Gregger died and we were settling back at home (well, as much as we could), I was pulling out of the garage. I hate parking in the smaller third car parking space but for one reason or another I had been moved into that space. Fully equipped with backup camera, beepers, lights, and everything that could prevent me from running into any walls or people, I slowly backed up. Swerving to the left I heard an unbearable CRUNCH, CRACKLE, CRUNCH and I literally screamed at the top of my lungs! This could not be happening. I had somehow jammed the front into the side of the garage so perfectly as to pull it completely to the ground! I dropped to my knees in tears. I was screaming to Gregger. Why? How could I be so stupid? I had pulled out of here for 20 years and never done anything so stupid. And then I heard his voice. “L-U-C-Y…you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!” I actually started laughing. I realized it was just a car. It could be fixed. I would get it back. It was so unimportant in the scheme of things. Let it go. And it was easy to ‘splain.’ I was distracted. I was thinking about Gregger. I had my head in the clouds. I was missing him. He would tell me it’s ok. So I had to let it go and let it be ok.

I loved being Gregger’s Lucy. If I was a little wacky, I’d rather be wacky with him. He got me. And I’m sure he’s up there saying, “Lucy…you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!”

lucy 2

Mother's Day - A True Love Fairytale

Mother’s Day

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

pregnantWhen I was younger people used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. My answer? I wanted to be a mom. So unconventional for my time. It was the time of burning bras, Equal Rights, Gloria Steinam. It was a time when women were moving from the kitchen to the boardroom, Billy Jean King was killing it on the court, and being a “mom” was not the coolest career in town. I didn’t care. I went to college. I taught special education, an incredibly rewarding job, but, I just wanted to be a MOM!

Getting there wasn’t so easy for me. I wasn’t one of those first timers who thought about getting pregnant and, BAM, it happened. Unfortunately I was slightly cursed with endometriosis and some other delightful pelvic disorders that cramped the pregnancy process. This was extremely disheartening for one who only strived to be a MOM. My life became a series of doctor’s visits, surgeries, and overall disappointment when this endometriosis thing decided to crush my plans of becoming a mom.

Gregger was my rock through the whole process. He schlepped to doctor’s visits, he sat by my bedside during interminable hospital stays, he hugged me when another month went by and no good news. It took a strain on both of us. The temperatures, the tricks, the prayers, whatever it took, but nothing worked. We went to an adoption agency. We put our name on the list and spoke with a social worker. At the same time, we talked about fertility drugs. We had to wait until I got my next period. We waited and waited and waited. Come on! I finally had a good plan. This might actually work. We went back to the doctor and asked if there was something he could do to bring on my period. He did some blood work to make sure everything else was okay. Great! What else could be wrong? Well…only the GREATEST THING EVER! I WAS PREGNANT! This was ludicrous! We had been to the adoption agency (we were on a list); we were waiting to do fertility treatments; and now I was REALLY pregnant!

“A mother’s heart is a patchwork of love.”

I think I was the happiest pregnant person walking the face of the earth. My belly popped (very little, but to me it was huge) within two weeks. Back then we wore those hideous polyester, stretchy pants with matching tunics, not the cute stuff of today. I didn’t care. I was loud and proud, belly, butt, and all.

“Mother’s hold their child’s hand for a moment and their heart for a lifetime.”

I was about 4 months pregnant for my first Mother’s Day. It wasn’t quite official yet, but official enough for me. That baby was in my belly and I was going to be a mom. We hadn’t started setting up the nursery (4 months seemed a bit premature) but Gregger surprised me with my dream mama’s gift…a cane rocking chair. Looking back it was really quite ugly, but I rocked all three of my kids in that chair. It moved with us five times and kept on rocking. I think a few of the canes broke here and there but we just cushioned the seat and a-rocking we did go. That chair saved me many a night when someone was crying, sick or hungry. I read countless fairytales, sang untold nursery rhymes, and rocked ’til my bottom was numb. But those were some of my most cherished moments. Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday that I was rocking my #1 baby to sleep and now he has two babies of his own.  rocking chair

Mother’s Day will be different this year. My kids will make it special just because we will be together. Nothing fancy.  No brunches or dinners. Just time together. We’ve all learned the value of a moment. We will miss Gregger. But somehow he will be right there with us as he always was and always will be. Thanks to Gregger I was lucky enough to become a mom three times! And one blessed mom I am!

“Most of all the other beautiful things in life come by twos and threes, by dozens and hundreds. Plenty of roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, comrades and friends but only one mother in the whole world.”

Happy Mother’s Day to All!

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