Father's Day- The Late Edition

I am so grateful for so many things about my father, and I was lucky enough to actually see him on Father's
Day this year, as well.  We spent the weekend at the lake enjoying the Mastercraft, the Sunshine, and each others company.

Recently, my sister and I were talking about how different things are now that we are older and will continue having our own individual responsibilities, lives, and families.  At the same time, I feel so lucky to have such an amazing family that enjoys spending time together.  I think this is more unique than I have realized.  And it is my mom and my dad who have created a family that enjoys each other, it is all owed to them.

Here are some of the unique ways my dad has built a loving, close family:

- Family vacations and time away from "life" with the five of us was always so important to my dad.  If you know him, you know that he works the most insane hours and has the most stressful of jobs.  That being said, I cannot even remember a year where we didn't have some sort of a family vacation to spend time together.  These vacations have always been so precious to
us all, and it is something I still look forward to every year.  I am so grateful that he took the time, away from work, and the money, away from other things, to prioritize our family.

- My dad's job has moved us several times, and obviously to a great and unique experience in Argentina.  Not only am I grateful that he was presented with the opportunity to move there, but I am so grateful that my parents were brave enough to move our entire family (including teenage daughters and my toddler of a brother).  We really didn't even know where Argentina was (I remember us looking at it on the globe when my parent's told us we were moving there).  I cannot imagine how scary that was as parents, and how much pressure my dad had to have felt to move us there.  He wanted it to be a positive experience for us, and worked hard at making it one.  And it honestly was the best decision- we all have such incredible memories of living there and it was truly such a gift.  Hard to believe we moved back to the US 10 years ago this month.

- At work I spend a lot of time helping new moms understand that your children learn by what you do, not by what you say (it's true yall).  I cannot imagine working as hard as my dad does, but I have been able to see how his hard work has contributed to my family being blessed with such amazing experiences.  I have seen how by just working harder, and doing more, you can change the course of your life.  A work ethic is not something you can teach, and there are certainly individuals that are comfortable where they are, and have no desire for more.  But his incessant desire to better himself and work harder for our family has inspired me in more ways than I could ever explain.  His desire for us to have more than he, and experience more than he, has showcased such a sacrificial love and giving attitude that I can only hope to mimic when I have children.  I am so grateful that I have parents who never let me settle, and always encouraged me to dream bigger.

- The thing that I feel is most unique about my father, is how selflessly and beautifully he loved my mother.  It is now so rare to see marriages centered around a love for each other, and I cannot express how much this reality has shaped my life.  My parents were married when they were both so young, and became parents when even younger.  When my dad talked about their wedding day to us last year when looking at their wedding pictures, he confessed that he had absolutely no idea what would become of them that day.  He feared the worst but hoped for the best.  He talked about his love for my mom, and how much she changed his heart, and his life, and how much she truly was his world.  As a kid I remember having friends' whose parents faught incessantly, or who were even divorced, and feeling scared that it would happen to my parents.  At the same time I felt constantly reassured by their relationship because of how they interacted with one another, and the respect that existed between the two of them.

Nothing showed his love for my mom as much as the way he cared for her during her illness, up to her last hours.  When we had moved her to hospice, and she was ill in our home, we created a make-shift bedroom for her in our living room.  We left the love-seat in the room to allow people to sit and visit with her.  My dad "slept" on that loveseat, despite my mom's attempts to get him back into his bed.  One (maybe two?) nights he slept on the couch across the hall simply because she was very annoyed by his snoring, but he refused to be too far from her.  He spent countless nights in the hospital with her, learned everything there is to know about caring for her IV, her medicines, her illness.  He risked his job in many ways by taking time to accompany her to important appointments, and to be present during difficult procedures.  He never gave up hope, and was willing to do anything and everything to save her life.  Not only did he care for my mother physically, but it was beautiful to hear my mom speak about their nights in the hospital together, time where they could talk uninterrupted.  It was such a painful process for all of us, but if I can take anything from that, it was how beautifully my father treated my mother. 


They say that daddy's teach their daughter about who men are and should be.  I feel lucky to have found a man in my life that has some of the strengths I admire so much in my father.  If anything, I have been able to have strict standards, knowing that there are a few of those good guys out there, somewhere.  I feel lucky to have found one.

On a last note, to show you how much my mom loved my dad, one of her friends who was treated poorly by her husband and later divorced, was told by my mom that she needs a "Vic".  I hope she finds one...

It's The...

Sights
The rainbows you send, the sunsets you help paint, the clothes you wore
Sounds
The voices that mimic yours, the memories that are on replay in my mind, the songs you loved, the truth you spoke
Smells
Onion breath, the lake water, your home, your "flower" perfume, the foods you made
Wisdom
The lessons you taught, the kindness you instilled, the encouragement you gave, the courage you built

They were right- you never will "leave" me- I just have to pay closer attention to see and hear you. Your continued presence offers the extra, much needed, comfort to get through to the next day-week-month-year without your arms embracing me. Those hugs, those words, the comfort of your smell -- no words explain my hearts yearning for these. It is but God that must teach me how to carry you with me each day.

I carry your heart
I carry it in my heart

Thank You Momma

It has been a year since my mom died.  An entire year.  And in that year I graduated with my master's degree, I moved to Columbus, I got a job, I got engaged, my brother started dating a senior,  scored a 29 on his ACT (!), Brittany continued to excel in her career, she travels like a boss, my dad has worked his ass off, and continues to try and provide stability and normalcy for us all. We all have struggled to keep our heads up and move about our days/weeks/months.  We survived the first year of holidays, birthdays, and life celebrations.  We didn't do it willingly but we made it. A year.

As a mental health provider I find myself questioning where I am at in the grief process all of the time.  The truth is that I have no clue where I am at in the process because I feel it ALL. Grief=sad, mad, scared, feeling guilty, and sad, and depressed, hopeless, and repeat.  Nothing makes sense and nothing feels hopeful.  Something that has held onto me stronger than I expected is how guilty I feel daily.  Why didn't I say X? Why was I so rude when I was 15? Why didn't I ask her more questions? Why was I so freaking tired and why did I spend time sleeping instead of soaking up her love? Why didn't I apologize more? Why wasn't I more selfless? Why did I deserve her love?

The guilt is consuming.  I don't think I am unique in feeling this way, either.  It is the by-product of simply not having enough time with her.  It is so super common for adult children to apologize to their parents once they are parents themselves.  I didn't get that chance.  It is so super common for adult children to fully understand their parents love once they are older and wiser.  I didn't get the chance to become wiser.  I feel robbed.  And mostly, what is so difficult, is to know that truly, everyone who knew her was robbed.

I also feel the need to grieve for my mom.  Grieve what she is missing, on her behalf since she would have done anything (AND DID EVERYTHING) to stay with us just a little bit longer.  While on hospice she was dreaming aloud one day and whispered that she had to get better for us.  I have no idea what she was dreaming but I imagine she was arguing with God about his [stupid] decision to take her from us.  She wanted to be here.  She NEVER prioritized her feelings over our need (which was also hard).  She is missing out on so much.  And we don't quite know how to navigate the "so much" without her guidance.

In my line of work, and in life in general, I come across really bad moms a lot.  Moms  who prioritze their looks, feelings, livlihood over their kids.  Who eat the last bite when the kids are starving, who social media rather than talk to their kids, who would rather vacation alone than with their family, who scream hate towards their struggling kiddos rather than love them.  There are moms who encourage their kids to hate themselves, who preach they are ugly, and who preach low self worth.  There are moms who are truly evil and wish horror onto their kids and love the attention they get when their kids are sick (seriously, it happens).  I'm telling you-there are really bad moms. 

And then there are just "ok" moms. The ones who whine on social media every day about their kids.  Who whine about their toddlers and whine about their 20 year olds.  There are the moms that scream and hit their kids, and the moms that just don't care about their kids feelings.  And even the decent moms, but they just don't do everything in their power to be a GREAT mom.

My mom was none of those things. She did everything for us and wanted the world for us, and fought to get us the world.  She grew up with us and helped us navigate every decision and turn we came upon.  And mostly, she never put herself first, it was always about us.  At times I feel so guilty about this, but I also understand that her greatest joy was to love others.

My mom would have loved being the mother of the bride (and groom!) while there are other women who complain about this, or who don't take the time to help their kids in this stage of life.  My mom would have been thrilled to have grandkids and would have helped out more than I could've ask for, and other grandma's complain about their grandkids and detest spending time with them.  People seriously take it for granted that they GET to have these experiences, they are blessed to be here to see their children grow up.  Not all moms get to do that.

And before you think I am mom-bashing, I am not.  If you are lucky enough to still have your mom, 50 or 99, stop complaining about how bad she is at being a mom and take her for what she is. Learn from her, ask questions, and mostly, THANK HER. If you are a bad mom (no hate) try to think about what your priorities are. What legacy are you leaving behind?

And if you thought I was the only one who sees my mom through such rosy glasses read these words from my dad, clearly she impacted us all in this way.

"She loved you guys so much and dedicated her entire life to help you become the women that you are.  The way to continue to Honor her is to keep her in your memory and to have pride in who you are.  That is what she always wanted and of course to be Happy.
She taught me more than any book could have on how to live and love.  Her ability to have humor and Choose to be Happy combined with her incredibly deep love for all if us;  allowed her to fight to the last minutes."

Zero Dark Thirty

A couple weeks ago, Christopher and I watched the film Zero Dark Thirty. He had recorded it onto the DVR and we watched it one evening before he left for a business trip.  Though I read the description of the film I seriously had NO idea what I was getting in for.

The movie portrays the time between 9-11 and the killing of Osama Bin Laden (yeah, not a light topic for the day).  It shows the work of CIA operatives who were interrogating known accomplices of Bin Laden-- in pre no-torture days at that.  The opening scenes are some of the most repulsive scenes I have ever allowed myself to watch.  I felt nauseous, dizzy, and conflicted.

These operatives were doing their job, and doing it well.  They were in places such as Pakistan where they were hated on, threatened, shot at, and bombed in order to discover information that would lead to the eventual take down of Bin Laden.  That is medal-worthy work, people.  And thank GOD for the men and women (holla at you, kick ass girl in the movie)

But at the same time, their work was degraded, in-humane, and down right disgusting.  They were hitting, kicking, starving, depriving, water boarding and everything in between.  On top of that, they used tactics such as shaming, nudity, using dog collars and more to embarrras and strip away every last ounce of humanness from these individuals. 

Now, keep in mind, the individuals being tortured were likely terrorists. And I say likely because most of the people they are seen interrogating (torturing rather) were not necessarily terrorists but had been seen with a terrorist at one point or another.  A serious case of in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I was left with a deep sense of WHY? Why do we respond to hate (terrorism) with more hate (torture)? Why do we respond to cries for help (from those being tortured) with silence (or more pain infliction).  Why does it seem natural to inflict such pain, shame, and torture on any human being regardless of their crime?

Now I preface my reactions with the fact that I am not an eye for an eye type of person.  I believe in redemption and rehabilitation.  Would terrorists choose terrorism if they had other choices? I like to believe that they would NOT.  And I can appreciate that for the families who lost loved ones in any of the Al Queda terrorist attacks that it feels good knowing the men to blame were tortured, injured, shamed, and caused pain.  But I beg you to consider WHY that makes you feel better. Not because I judge you, not because it is wrong, but is that actually how you feel, and questioning your beliefs is never a bad thing.

Something that also struck me was that the movie critically proclaimed the "no-torture" rulings that Obama put in place.  It was so interesting for me (So so pro no-torture) to see this from the point of view of the people who had been doing the torturing. 

Lastly I will leave you with a link to an article about the movie that is much more eloquent than mine!

Engaged!

Wanna know something crazy? The last blog post I made was the day before we got engaged! And I simply had no idea what was about to come!

We went to Michigan the weekend of the 23rd to spend some time with my brother while my dad was over seas working.  My sister came up as well because she was planning to work from Michigan the following week.

Christopher and I knew we wanted to go to Spicer's Orchard to go shopping for some of our favorite wine- cranberry!!  He had mentioned that he wanted to go apple picking, and I agreed with him though I figured there would be no apples to pick since it is WINTER and was literally 10 degrees that weekend.

Well we made it to the Orchard, and I guess Christopher mumbled t
hat all the trees are dead under his breath as we pulled up to the Orchard (Brittany and Zach we
re with us).  We went into the orchard to get the wine, some cider, and some donuts for the non-gluten intolerant.  We put everything in the c
ar and were ready to go! Except Christopher kept asking if we were going to walk around.  I was very non-cooperative because it was FREEZING.  Brittany convinced me to walk over to the cider viewing window--but it was closed.  So then I was ready.  But Christopher was not! He wondered off into the apple trees, in the snow.  I eventually followed, found a frozen apple and threw it at the ground-- ready to get going! (Brittany was silently hoping i would not be a bitch at this moment!).  Christopher eventually grabbed my arm, told me he loved me and told me that I am his best friend.  He got on one knee in the snow, and asked me to marry him.  It all happened so QUICK! I was just totally not expecting it and NEVER clued into it!  It was so perfect.  I was so happy to be surprised, to have my siblings there, and to have the man of my dreams ask me to be his wife.

It was such a joy to call our family and friends- though our family already knew! He had spoken to my dad the week prior, and had told his family as well.  It felt incredible to feel celebrated by our loved ones.

It was very hard for me to not be able to tell my mom, to show her my ring, and to celebrate this incredible time of my life with her.  It can be so incredibly hard to explain to other people just how difficult it is to not have my momma here anymore.  Our family is unlike a lot that I know--we talk all the time, tell each other the good and the bad, share in victories and losses, and are there for one another no matter what.  I miss that about my mom.  She was the number one cheerleader in our family.  No matter what, she was there- physically or figuratively- whenever I needed her.   And in moments of stress or intense joy, she is who I want.  Not because I don't have other people in my life to turn to, but because for my entire life she was THAT person for me.  I love my mom so much, and I miss her more each and every day.

We Pass the Time with Food and Flavor

We have made it to October 7th.  I didn't know if I would, to be honest.  Dark days and times, moments and hours have filled the past months of life.  And at the same time laughter and warmth, and smiles and fullness.  October 3rd marked six long yet remarkably fast months without my mother.  I was sitting in counseling that morning expressing to my therapist just how SICK I am of missing and longing for her presence, her comfort, her touch, her voice.  I am tired of yearning for her reassurance, her phone calls, her texts, her emails.  I am tired of the flashbacks and nightmares of the horrorible things she went through last year.  I am tired of the fact that my mom is dead.

Similar to as someone might say they are sick of being sick, I am simply sick of grieving.  And this six month mark does nothing more but remind me of the many more "six months'" that I will have to grieve her absence, that I will have to witness her loss on the faces' of my family.  Six months is but a drop in the bucket when looking at the span of a lifetime but then why the hell does it feel as if I had to scrape by to make it here?

I have learned that we rarely give ourselves enough grace or slack or room to fuck up.  What I have learned is this: I am a horrible griever! I am horrible at it because grieving is a horrible thing to HAVE to do! But I HAVE to do it because my life will crumble if I do not face the reality that is my mother is no longer here...and the irony is that my mother would be the one to HELP me in the event that I would crumble (not that others wouldn't).  Mom's are the people we turn to to tell us the brutal truth, to comfort us and help us walk into our first day of work, who help us fix mistakes, laugh at mistakes, and point out our mistakes.  And learning to rely on others and myself for those things will never be easy.  But if I do not learn how to, my life will not continue on in a way that she would have wanted.

Learning all of these things has been difficult. Not only for me but for my bestest pal and manfriend.  I am not only learning this stuff on my own but trying to learn how we can be a team in this process, too.  So in the midst of the stress I was going to run a half marathon! Because what better way to think and process and de-stress than some exercise?? But then I broke my foot (it's really fine, but yes broken).  So Instead I've been baking and making us fat.  But again, grace.  (honestly, Christopher runs all the time and isn't fat and I exercise on a monthly schedule--lol).

I have been on a pumpkin kick given that it is fall of course....

Pumpkin Snickerdoodles -- Gluten Free of course were a big hit!

I changed this recipe quite a bit though-- I combined the requested flour amounts and used Namaste's baking blend, and didn't use shortening.  They were incredible.  Added a quarter cup butter. 

Pumpkin layered bread was my favorite though...Delicious!

Again I used Namaste's flour blend. I dropped an egg yolk in, so 2 whole eggs, 1 egg white. I just used raw sugar instead of stevia or sugar as it was cheapest.  This recipe is a perfect example of finding a non-gluten free yummy recipe and easily converting it by using a baking blend flour mix!  By doing that I didn't have to add any xantham gum (which is pricey!).

Next on the list is Pumpkin bread with caramel cream cheese frosting!

Who would not love that! I mean come on!!!

We also made some delicious, gooey, caramel chocolate brownies, I'll be honest, they were mostly from a box.  I just added unknown amounts of caramel and butter to the mix!  (and eggs as directed!)  SO SO Good!!  I have yet to find a homemade brownie recipe that I like as good as boxed brownies, and hence I stick with boxed!  I meant to put a pretzel crust on the bottom but totally forgot...oops!  Next time :)

We stopped by an orchard in Lebanon this weekend (ain't got nothin on Spicer's) and picked up some apples and I'm hoping to make caramel apple pie this week! Sounds incredible, right?

Happy New Year--2013!

Never have I been so grateful to leave a year behind me!  I have had a countdown to 2013 since September, and I am so glad to be saying goodbye to 2012 tonight, though I am not saying good-riddens exactly how I had planned.  I have been fighting a silly cold since right after christmas and am not able to visit my mom in the hospital.  My mom and dad will be ringing in the new year together in the hospital, and Zach and I will be ringing it in here at home, that is, if I can stay awake!

2012 has been rough for many reasons; countless health battles for my mother, countless emotional struggles that my family has had to overcome including the death of my my papaw, and simply watching my mom fight so hard every single day.  On top of that I have had long work/school days, my dad has as well making schedules complicated, my sister is likely VERY sick of her car and the drive from MI to IN, and Zach is likely sick of people asking him how he is doing and asking him about his grades.  My boyfriend moved across the country to SC and I miss him all of the time. BUT there have been GREAT things too...

Great 4th of July memories at the boat, great Seabrook memories, an incredible man I have truly fallen in love with, a family that I will forever be grateful for, a brother who is now driving an AWESOME jeep, a mother who has shown me what strength really is, a papaw who left this earth not before showing me what generosity is, a life of endless learning. 

I am really hoping for a 2013 that is full of health, prosperity, generosity in this nation, beauty, happy changes, and man and I living in the same zipcode!!!

My 2012 final thoughts is something that has struck me lately, which is how often people tell my momma to keep fighting, or to stay strong, and while I understand that these words are meant in good faith, they are actually quite inconsiderate.  Well I think they are, I haven't had the courage to ask her what she thinks because I would likely cry.  I think they are inconsiderate simply because it takes her strength to wake up, to move her legs from side to side, to move in her bed, when she has to ASK to get up, to take her 20+ pills twice a day, etc etc etc.  The strength she has is more than any of us have, and she already has that strength...AND that strength has nothing to do with the outcome of her illness.  She is fighting, as are the doctors, as is her family, but the outcome of her illness, her prognosis, if you will, should never be a reflection on her; and words like "keep fighting" or "stay strong" implies that she has the option to not do that for one, and two that the result of not doing that would be failure.  I'm sure people may disagree, but I feel that applauding her strength and incredible tenacity would be much more appropriate, I just don't think we as a culture know these things unless you have experienced it personally.

In Rememberance

goofy papaw at bailey's bday party in 2008

Well 2012 doesn't seem to be lightening its burden on the Polen/McGarvey clan anytime soon.  After spending a day in Lebanon to celebrate Christopher's grandma's 95th birthday, my family received news the my papaw Darrell had taken a turn for the worse.  He has been courageously fighting leukemia (SLL/CLL) since last Memorial Day, but an infection had gotten into his bloodstream and with such a weak immune system from the treatment, this time things never got better as hoped.  My parents and brother came in to town from Michigan, Brittany from Indy, and our entire family was able to be at the hospital to say goodbye and I love you.  It was an emotionally draining day, and a physically exhausting day, but I am grateful my entire family was able to be there to support one another.

My mom is such a trooper.  She is so strong and such a rock.  Despite being sore from a bone marrow biopsy the day before, she was there all day on Saturday supporting her dad and her family through this horrible process. 

Cancer is no friend of our family, and seems to have had a death grip on us since 2004.  I can only dream of a day where its destructive nature no longer follows us wherever we go. 

Remembering the Moment

September 11, 2001 is a day that everyone old enough to remember, does remember.  I remember the raw emotion, watching the 2nd plane hit, watching the towers fall, and watching the Pentagon and field in Pennsylvania go up in flames and smoke.  I remember the people around me, the tears, the phone calls and the intense fear that we all began to feel as more and more things unfolded on the screen in front of us.

I was living in Buenos Aires, Argentina at the time.  In some ways that made us feel safer...the attacks are in America, we are not in America.  However, the 9/11 attacks spurred other terror cells to make threats against American buildings and people in many foreign countries, including Argentina.  Our school and embassy were threatened.  Our schools became guarded not just by security guards, but by guards with machine guns (loaded).  We had to sign in and out of school grounds.  And personal safety was always on the minds of our parents.

Where were you?  Are you still able to engage with the emotion that the day evokes for so many?  I was able to spend some time today watching the memorial services that took place in DC, New York and Pennsylvania.  I was moved to tears several times.  And though I didn't know, personally, any of the 2,977 victims that died that day, I am emotionally distraught over the pure evil that sparked such an attack, moved by the outpouring of love and support in this country, moved by the tears of family members, and moved by this thing called life that we so often take for granted.

As this 10th anniversary comes to an end I am thankful for my life.  I think of so many things that could have claimed my life thus far, and of how truly blessed I am.  Just last year on September 11th I was in a rollover car accident.  Not only did my friend and I walk away with our lives, but with no broken bones or chronic injuries.  Each life is precious, each life is important, and each life has a purpose.  This weekend has truly reminded me of this. 

Loss

Read this article.  I'm serious.  I cried. 

I think part of why I cried is because of what it symbolizes to me.  Dogs love their owners, so unconditionally.  Think of pets that are tortured, as soon as you offer a kind word they are warmed back up to you and want nothing but your love.  This dog loved his father, and is heartbroken about his loss.

What about people?  Do people truly grasp this emotion; the emotion of loss?  Experiencing a death of a loved one is nothing you can prepare yourself for.  I don't care if it's sudden or gradual, it hurts the same and the uncomfortability of not being able to call that person/smell them/hear them/see them makes the reality incredible unbearable.  There are still moments when I lose my breath thinking about my grandmother, or about what a family I used to know experienced when a mother lost her son.  Loss is powerful.  It draws people closer, makes people irrational, makes people act out of character, and makes many realize things about their life they want to change, enhance or let go by the wayside.

How has loss affected your life?