Jes2cu:)

This is my beautiful friend, Jes.  To know her is to love her.  She always brought an infectious energy to the room.  Her laugh was unforgettable and her smile was as radiant as her spirit.  She taught me so much in life over the last 25 years of friendship.  (Jes even gave me the name for this blog many years ago in a conversation we had wherein she was commiserating with me about being the Mom of all boys.)  

Unfortunately, she has taught me a lot about death and loss, as well.  Jes passed away on August 4, 2017 from metastatic breast cancer.  She fought ridiculously hard to hold on for all who loved her - her friends, family, and mostly for her husband and three young boys.  But God wanted her home.

In the weeks that have followed I have found myself thinking of her constantly - even more than usual. I often find myself wishing she were here to ask a question of, give advice, or just hang out with a cup of coffee and a lesson on her latest craft.  What I've learned (the hard way) is that life is too damn short.  I know people say that all the time, but I guess I'm slow and stubborn and it took losing someone (my age!) who was (until recently) ALWAYS there when I needed her, to learn this lesson first hand.  

The problem is/was that I let life get in the way too often.  Looking back over emails, text messages or G-chats Jes and I would send back and forth, there was a resonating repetition in our messages.  "Let's get together when the weather gets better" or "the next couple weeks are crazy so let's try after the holidays" or "I miss you, when can I see you?" (with no response from one or the other of us for WEEKS or MONTHS to set up a date).  There was no conscious realization that we'd NOT have a chance to reschedule or NOT have a chance in the future to set something up LATER.  The unfortunate result of this was that I found myself saying, "I really thought we'd have more time",  A LOT at her bedside in Hospice and ultimately at her funeral.  

Well, time ran out.  And now I'm kicking myself for not making better use of the time we had.

Rewind a few years...

When Jes called me to tell me the devastating news she had just received, I remember getting off the phone and calling my mother - My Aunt had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer so I wanted to know how my Mom was helping her.  Through tears I asked my Mom, "What can I do!?!" and "How can I help?".  With the confident wisdom that only a mother can impart, she said the best thing to do was to let Jes know she wasn't alone and that I was here and thinking of her.  My mom did that for my Aunt by sending her cards to keep in touch.  

So I went out and bought a bunch of cards.  Thinking of you.  Miss you.  Friendship.  Get well soon.  You name it, I picked them up everywhere I went.  I stocked up on them in droves so I'd have just the card needed for just the right time.  At first I was good at sending them.  I'd drop Jes a card or a note or a text to tell her she was in my thoughts.  I'd let her know I was here if she needed anything.  But as time went on and as she seemed to be handling everything with the strength and ease I honestly expected from her anyway, I got lazy (?), complacent (?), COMFORTABLE with the idea that she was strong and would kick cancer's butt and be just FINE.  Meanwhile, LIFE got busy, my check-ins were met with a confident and positive Jes telling me things were good and scans were showing positive news.  Life continued to get in the way and before long it would be weeks or even months between my contact.  Like I said before, I really felt like TIME was on our side.  Boy was I was wrong.

So, as I walked around my house after Jes passed away I found myself staring at this stockpile of cards I had bought to send to her and wondered, "Now what?".  I totally screwed that up.  Now I had this visual reminder of what a crappy friend I had been and how short life really is.  I was remembering on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis how easily opportunities can slip away from you and how we DON'T always have MORE TIME.  

So, I decided to take that lesson and make sure I never took my friends and loved ones for granted again.  If I was thinking of them, I wanted them to know.  If they had done something I was grateful for, I was going to tell them.  As silly as it is, I didn't want anyone else to die without knowing exactly what they meant to me.

I started sending those cards I had stockpiled to friends and family (far and wide).  I sent them to friends I see often and those I haven't seen or talked to in ages.  A few at a time, every week or so I'd have the names of people that had crept into my thoughts throughout the week.  (My list is longer now than my stamp budget, but I'll get to everyone.  I promise.) 

Then I got a few texts or messages from friends saying they had received my card(s) and that it made them smile.  A couple friends mentioned that they had been having a bad day or a hellish week and that my card was just what they needed.  One friend even said that it meant a lot to know that she "mattered if in some small way" and that it was a "much needed pick me up...in this chaotic adult life that can be boring, routine, complicated and so very harsh".  THIS is exactly what I needed and just what I wanted to spread.  I want to make sure the people in my life who have made me who I am never question the impact they have on the world.  

So I decided to make this my mission (?) or project of sorts.  It's a work in progress but it makes me happy to spread smiles, I guess.  So I asked my sister to come up with a logo for my project.  I call it my "Jes2cu:)" (Just to see you smile) project.  

The "Jes" in the logo is Jes's actual signature which makes me happy every time I see it.  

And so I will spread love and smiles whenever I can, in honor of my beloved Jes.  It sucks that I had to learn this lesson by losing her.  But I hope to never make the mistake of letting a moment go by without letting the people I care most about know they are important and loved.  Every time I stick a stamp on a card being sent to someone special, I can almost see her beautiful smile!

Bundles of note cards I put together to give to friends so they, too, can spread the love to people THEY care about.  

Community

 

     com·mu·ni·ty

         kəˈmyo͞onədē/

        noun

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2.    1.

      a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.

   
   

      "the sense of community that organized religion can provide"

 

A dear friend of mine, David, used to say "you build community wherever you go".  He was a world traveler with fascinating experiences to share and valuable life lessons to teach.  He was brilliant and undeniably left an indelible mark on this world before Cancer took him in 2013.

This phrase has always stuck with me...yet until this week I never fully understood its impact and power.

 

I got word on Tuesday that another lifelong friend, Jes, was moved to Hospice after an all too long and difficult fight with Cancer.  It has finally taken its toll on her amazingly strong body and spirit.  I sat there in a daze trying to figure out what to do, how to help, why any of this was happening.  I felt lost and confused and full of dread for what was to come.
 

As I walked into Hospice that first day after getting the news, my anxiety was at an all time high.  Here I was in a beautiful, yet somber building, in an unfamiliar town, not knowing what to expect and definitely not wanting to be there in the first place.  As I stepped through the doors of her room, I was greeted by a room full of faces, both familiar and new.  Some of these people I had known for a lifetime yet hadn't seen in years, some I knew more superficially, but most I had never even met until that moment.  

 

As the hours and days have worn on, I have spent a LOT of time in that room with these people.  I have learned their names, their stories, who they "belong" to/with. I have slowly figured out their connections.  And they have learned mine.  Each of them has welcomed me in with (literal) open arms.  As the only "past" person there in a room full of blood relatives, family, and friends who live richly in her "present", I haven't once felt like an outsider.  Instead, I have come to count on these people for strength, updates, and support.  I look forward to seeing them again every day.  Hospice has since become a place of love and camaraderie, jokes and playfulness (as odd as that sounds).  I have found solace there in this group of people feeling the same feelings and walking the same path.  We each have our role to play - caregiver, meal planner, information sharer, medical expert, shift scheduler, comic relief...Our contributions are all different but each part makes up a whole.  Each of us is a piece in the puzzle of community that we have built around Jes, her family and each other. 

 

We are no longer strangers from different towns, backgrounds and times in Jes's life.  We are suddenly a COMMUNITY of friends, united by a common love for this amazing woman and a shared sadness for the journey we were traveling with her.  This amazing community she has built around her makes me both proud and sad.  I am so proud (and not surprised in the least) that Jes has this rich group of amazing people that love and adore her as much as I do.  However, I am sad that I didn't know many of them until now.  I am also immensely relieved to know that her husband and three wonderful boys will continue to have the love and support of these fabulous people to carry them through the next few weeks, months and years.

 

Shortly after she was diagnosed with cancer, I was talking online with Jes and wrote, "We'll get through this, my dear. You're not alone. Now is when all your years of being wonderful to everyone else will come back to provide strength and support for you!  Because you have earned all the love that we will now shower on you :)".  These words were genuine and sincere at the time yet somehow I never quite knew just HOW true and genuine they would become. 

Our journey together is not yet over, though the end does appear to draw near.  Please pray for peace for my dear Jes.   

This is Anxiety

Tonight has been pure hell.  I know people don't understand.  And plenty of people think I've created a monster, or that the way I choose to handle things only exacerbates the situation, or worse yet, that I am being manipulated and controlled by some sort of 8-year-old sociopath.  I assure you, however, I am trying my damnedest to navigate this road as gracefully and sensitively as possible.

For those wondering what I'm talking about, my 8-year-old, Alex, has developed a nasty "case" of anxiety.  It started in the last 6 months or so and focuses itself primarily on weather but more generally on safety (feeling safe, being healthy, etc.).  Leaving the house suddenly makes him feel unsafe and uneasy, especially if there is any chance of wind, precipitation, or heck, a change in barometric pressure of any kind (I exaggerated there a smidge.)   I have seen this anxiousness surface in situations where people are sick or hurt (e.g. Daddy had surgery for a hernia a few weeks ago and Alex was uber concerned that Dad "was ok" and would "be ok" indefinitely).  Of course this increased nervousness also increases his need to be attached to me in true Velcro Boy fashion.  But the most frustrating part is that it manifests in the most unexpected places and times (e.g. on board a naval battleship for a Scout overnight that we've done twice before wherein Alex suddenly expressed a serious fear of small places and wasn't at ease unless he had a direct and well-memorized escape plan at all times).

In the car traveling on a rainy day.

Of course, I don't have all of the answers.  Heck, I don't think I have any of them, really.  I will fully admit I'm winging it every day.  But I am trying to help him the best way(s) I know how.  Afterall, I am the one living this nightmare along side him.  I'm the one who sees the pain in my precious 8-year-old's eyes when he insists, er, demands we stay home or GO home (immediately!).  The point is, I know my kid and I can tell the difference between a fake "I want something" cry and and a real truly scared gut-wrenching sob.  And I know people don't agree.  But I'd like to think that as his mother I can see through the crap and tell the real deal.  I am probably wrong.  But if I'm being totally honest, I would rather err on the side of caution and not risk damaging his emotional well being simply because I didn't "believe him".

I walk a very thin line.  Every. Single. Day.  I weigh the signs, the reactions, the underlying messages and the unspoken emotions.  I try to always think about what the true reason for his outbursts of anger and jerkiness (which seem to be his favorite way to express his anxiety) might be.  Never to assume his behavior is what it outwardly appears to be (for example, he's not REALLY mad at his brother for eating the last banana when the sky just darkened up and he may just be worried about the change in weather).  His behaviors are usually out of left field, or don't make sense in the context of the situation.    I know I'm not a professional and I have come to the realization that he needs one.  I'm working on that.

I just wish other people could see my point of view and try to understand my position.  I'm his Mom.  I'm supposed to fix this.  I'm supposed to make him feel safe and ease his fears.  But with this ugly monster called Anxiety I simply can not seem to do that.  At least not alone.