The Times They Are a-Changin'....Bob Dylan

My mind is blank and I truly have no idea what to write at this point, except this will be my last post on this blog.

One of my very favorite pictures, fishing on the
Kvichak while staying at Blueberry Island Lodge.
We had a blast and came home with 16 sockeye.
It was awesome.

The past few months I struggled with differentiating the grieving process from depression. Oftentimes I wondered if I was actually grieving or if perhaps I was "playing the victim".  Either way, I did not like it.  It took a rather crazy two week vacation for me to realize it was grief and that I am not only ready to move on, but I need and want to move on.  Please do not misunderstand me as I will miss Sam for the rest of my life.  In order for me to maintain my sanity, though, I need to make a change.  Writing this blog seems to hold me back from moving on, mostly because of the title.  Therefore, I will begin a new blog for the new chapter in my life, only I do not yet know what the title will be.  Rest assured, when I figure it out, I will post a connection to it on here so you can find me (if you so choose, of course.)  If you have any suggestions, feel free to share your ideas with me.

Writing is very therapeutic for me and I thank each and every one of you for reading my blog.  The support you gave me (and Sam!) has been phenomenal.

q'ua

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another. Anatole France

Yes, it is definitely time for a change.  Just do not know what, how, or when.  So please do not ask me because I do not have an answer.  Yet.  Might be tomorrow, might be next week, month or even year.  But change will occur.

The Broncos look awesome.  I need to pick a new favorite player since my man crush Eric Decker defected.  How could he?

q'ua

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” ― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Each night for the past month, I contemplated writing something in my blog but the words just did not come.  I still do not know if I can explain what I am experiencing and all the feelings and emotions flowing through me, but because I am a mess and have been for a few weeks, I need to write.  Hopefully writing will prove to be therapeutic.

Last year during this time, I knew Sam's death was quickly approaching. Sam's home healthcare aide and hospice nurse visited daily so I continued to work at the office as much as possible and work from home when necessary.  Nights, when I needed to rest, I was unable to get a lot of sleep as Sam went back and forth between being present with me and starting to move on to the next life.  Some nights two - three hours of sleep were a gift.  Between the exhaustion and the grieving, I became numb.  Yes, I cried and when I did, it was intense yet it did not last for long.  (By the way, external tears are considered mourning, grieving is internal.) When Sam passed, although I cried and experienced a deep intense and emotional pain nothing like anything I ever experienced before, his death was a relief because his suffering was so awful.  

The week after Sam returned home from the hospital.  He
was restless and decided to clean the silverware drawer.

Fast forward to now.  July I spent our birthdays with friends and each day was wonderful in its own way.  Work is busy, as usual.  Yet, I am feeling restless, or perhaps frustrated, or something I just do not know what.  I feel ready to be done with this grieving process but yet unable to shake it.  The past two weeks I have felt extremely fatigued and have cried every single night and lots of mornings and many moments inbetween.  On top of all that, I find myself reliving everything Sam and I went through at this time last year.  Perhaps I am just now able to process everything, I do not know, but memories of all kinds are popping up in my mind as the last few weeks of his life were extremely intense.  Or, perhaps I am once again experiencing anticipatory grieving as the one year anniversary of Sam's death draws closer.  Just that thought alone brings fear because everything I read tells me that the second year is the worst.  Oh boy.  I can hardly wait.  This is when the frustration level increases because I really do want to be done with this grieving thing, almost makes me wish there was a magic pill or something to hasten the process.  

Plus, it is summer.  Fishing, hiking, berry-picking...although I continue to do these things, it is not as often as before.  As one friend noted earlier this summer, Alaska is really a "partner-state" because it is not safe to be out in the Alaska wilderness without a buddy and Sam was that buddy and partner and frankly, it is not the same without him.  ARGH.  I embrace change, but not the transition period, especially this one.  

Now fall is quickly approaching and in our house, fall is for football!  The Ducks and the Broncos are once again picked to do really well this year and Sam should be here to watch all the games with me.  My heart breaks when I think about all the things we wanted to do and never had the opportunity.  I often wonder what life would be like if Sam were alive and healthy.  How many Broncos' games would I be able to talk him into going to?  Would we have that off the grid cabin he so desperately wanted and I was not excited about but now would give anything for?  How many animals would we have?  Would he be training for the Iditarod as it only took us one day of sled dog mushing and we were both hooked?  So many what ifs.

As I proof read this, I realize my thoughts are still all over the place and I am rambling, but I ramble often and I ramble well and right now, I do feel better.  Sort of.  I ask that you do not feel sorry for me as this is part of life, unfortunately, something you are all going to experience at some level or another.  I beg you to understand and appreciate that grief is something that you feel deep within, you cannot put a finger on, cure with words, describe accurately, or just flat out tell to go away.  It is an experience like none other and I have to allow myself to go through it, no matter how much I do not like it.  

Thank you all for being a part of my recovery from this awful, crazy, insane, rollercoaster ride called grief and moving on with this thing called life.

q'ua

Happy Birthday to me.

Checking out the view along the Ptarmigan Lake trail.

Today while sitting at my desk, staring at Sam's picture, I realized once again that I did not really want to go home.  In years past, I looked forward to the awesome presents Sam gave me (ok, not all the gifts were awesome, some were very questionable but that is another discussion for another day.)  Tomorrow my awesome gift will be celebrating with my book club girlfriends.  Each and every day I thank God for them.

Next week is Sam's birthday (yes, I am a week older than him!)  I have been bracing myself for that day for quite some time.  Fortunately, a dear friend from home who also knew Sam will be here visiting me with her family.

July is a month of celebrations as our anniversary is the 31st.  That evening I will be having dinner with three great friends I met through work.

This is how I know Sam is still taking care of me, by making sure I am not alone on important days to us and am with friends whom I love and care for dearly and who do the same for me.  My heart still aches for him, though, 24/7.

q'ua

We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face... we must do that which we think we cannot. Eleanor Roosevelt

Memorial Day came and went without me writing my thoughts, so here they are now albeit somewhat delayed.

As you know, Sam served in the US Navy for six years, mostly on a nuclear submarine yet not during "war time."  During his service, Sam came into contact with asbestos, probably more times than anyone is even aware.  Thankfully, three years after Sam's lung cancer diagnosis and a little over one year of his application for VA disability, the Navy took full responsibility for the lung cancer.

Sam plotting our hike along Trail Lake,
Memorial Day weekend 2010.

Memorial Day is a day created to honor those who died while serving.  Although Sam had long since left the military, his death was due to his time serving our country.  Therefore, I believe Sam should be among those honored on Memorial Day.  In fact, anyone and everyone who served and then died due to injuries or disease related to their service should be honored, in my mind.  They also gave their lives for our country, not just those who lost their lives while serving.  I realize this is only my opinion but believe me, it is a strong one.

Slowly I am confronting a fear I discovered deep within me a week or so ago.  Or rather, I knew it was there I just did not want to deal with it nor am I saying I am ready to do so now, either.  Grief does funny things to people and one of the things it did to me (and it is quite normal) is make me feel like putting Sam's things away, cleaning out his closet, or even giving some of his belongings away would somehow make his memory also go away.  Common sense tells me this is not true, but there is something inside me insisting it is true and is what will happen.  I find this fear extremely difficult to overcome and I keep telling myself to just do it (whatever it is I am thinking about doing at the time).  Then I wonder if perhaps I am just procrastinating and taking the easy way out by just not doing anything.  Oh my word, I might drive myself nuts going back and forth like this.  At the same time, I know this thought process is completely normal but that certainly does not make it any easier to get through.  Instead, I just sleep, eat, work, and fish and not in any special order.  Eventually, I will work through this.

In the meantime, fish on!

q'ua

"Grief is love turned into an eternal missing” ― Rosamund Lupton, Sister

Halfway point - 50 miles - South Denali Viewpoint
Myself and some other members of the Glass Half Full team

This last Saturday I rode in my first century ride (100 miles) on a bicycle in the Alaska Clean Air Challenge, a fundraiser for the American Lung Association.  The emotions sweeping through me during the ride amazed me, startled me, saddened me, and sometimes just completely caught me by surprise.  The sense of accomplishment overwhelmed me when I found myself wanting to find Sam and celebrate with him.  When I realized I could not do that, I felt a sense of extreme sadness just sweep right over me.  Luckily the exhaustion also kicked in and I only had enough energy to eat, sit through the award's presentations and head to bed.  Sunday morning I saw a good friend of ours who lives in Talkeetna who, along with his wife, was one of the last people to see Sam outside of our home. And what did I do? I promptly burst into tears.  Fortunately, he understood and got me through my moment of intense grief.

We did it!  The members of the Glass Half Full team
who completed the century ride. What a great day!

Previously I spoke of summer coming on.  I find myself not really dreading it, but not being all that excited about it, either.  Alaskans turn into crazy 24/7ers when summer arrives. Sam and I hit the ground running and never stopped when we arrived 6 years ago this month and became instant Alaskans.  My playmate is gone.  Yes, there are many friends I can do things with and while I appreciate them greatly, it is not the same no matter how hard they try.  Sam was my playmate for 10 awesome summers and no matter what, it is never going to be the same.

Grief is such a strange emotion to experience and it is definitely not enjoyable.  I wish it would end but it never will until I see him again.  Yet, I continue to live each day to the best of my ability.  I laugh, cry, ride my bike, hang out with friends, take care of Sweet Pea, stare at the magnificent Chugach, work, campaign for equal rights, cheer on my teams, make plans with my family and friends, and lots of other things just to keep moving forward.  Often all I want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep the time away.  Every once-in-awhile I do, but that is exhausting as well and definitely not very productive or fun.  I wonder, too, if grief is ever going to leave me alone. Just this week, a dear friend of mine lost her husband after a long battle with cancer, and a relative is in the process of watching the love of his life slowly slip away, also from cancer.  Knowing what they are facing brings it all back to me.  The hardest part is that I know there is absolutely nothing I can do to ease their pain or take their pain away. They just have to go through it like I did and am. I will say it again...it really sucks.

Glass Half Full Team Car

The Glass Half Full team member who designed our team t-shirt decorated her car as well in an awesome show of team spirit!  I am very grateful for my friends who rode with me and for all of you who supported us.  Although we came nowhere near the top fundraising team, we are currently in fourth place (past two years we were first!) and are continuing to take donations through June 2. Here's the link:  http://action.lung.org/goto/djglass.

Thank you, again, everyone for everything.

q'ua

Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Gilda Radner

Camping at Ptarmigan Campground

Camping is just around the corner and I am looking forward to it with both dread and anticipation.  Sweet Pea and I did manage to go once in late September last year by ourselves, but since it was a working weekend I was too busy to focus much on the fact that Sam was not with me.  It will be interesting to see how this summer goes.  No matter what, though, Sam's presence will be missed, especially when I have to do EVERYTHING!

This past week was a stark reminder that Sam is gone when I learned about Windows XP no longer being supported on, of course, the last day.  If Sam were here, he would have had it figured out and our laptop taken care of and I would have been almost clueless anything had happened.  As it stands now, depending on how I decided to handle the situation, I will probably have to take a day off from work to upgrade to Windows 7 because I certainly do not want to use my weekends for that!

Earlier this month, my parents and I returned to John Day to celebrate the life of a wonderful man and dear friend to my family.  Being there for the first time since Sam's service was a bit difficult, in fact, more so than I anticipated.  I wish I could put into words the range of emotions I felt over the three days we were there, but it is just too much.

Each day I am recognizing that more than anything, I am changing, becoming a different person than I have ever been before.  The interesting thing is that this change is being brought about not by something I chose, but by something that chose me.  Therefore, I have no idea where this is going to lead me and all I can do is go along for the ride and make the most of it.  People who are grieving are often encouraged not to make any major decisions for the first year and I can certainly understand why.  I have never had a problem with making decisions, and now decisions, no matter how big or small, are major undertakings.  It is exhausting!

Many of you have been asking if I am prepared for my 100 mile bike ride on May 10.  I am training and if all goes according to plan, I will be ready.  The fundraising, though, is going very slow, mostly because I have not been as focused on it as in the past.  So, now is your chance!  Here is the link and please know I greatly appreciate any amount, small or large, as it all makes a difference.  http://action.lung.org/goto/djglass

q'ua