Defined by Widowhood

Tomorrow I will pick up my oldest from college for Thanksgiving break. He is scheduled to work the entire week starting Sat. a.m. and will only have Thanksgiving Day off. He has done very well away at school so far. And he calls or texts me before every test he takes, then follows up with his grade. He has also sought my advice about classes to take next term, and dropping the business frat he joined. I'm not sure he and I would be as close as we are if his father was still alive. I do believe my sons and I share a very close familial relationship based on the fact that the boys were so young when their dad became sick.

My youngest son has just been accepted into his #1 college choice, the one I attended for my undergraduate years. So he received three acceptances out of five applications submitted but at this point the other two don't matter. I am so happy and pleased for him. Excited too! A bit sad that his dad isn't here to share in the news. I had to tell someone, and texted my sister and brother, since their kids are actively involved in the college search right now. But sharing with them just wasn't the same.

Our lives have been defined by widowhood. Even years after, I feel a pang at what has been lost. My sons and I have different relationships than what might have been if they'd had a dad to confide in. To say we have not been defined or influenced by my husband's death would not be true. We became different people, all of us because of our lives changing when my husband died.

Sometimes I have come across widows strongly exclaiming that they would not be defined by their widowhood. I think they mean that they don't want to be held down by widowhood, that they want to rise above it. But I don't think it is accurate to say that they aren't defined by widowhood. Because we end up being defined by all our experiences, and widowhood has a major impact, no doubt about that.

Tonight a blogger from the UK who first inspired me to start blogging posted an update after a year's absence. She said that she is considering starting a new blog because her one on widowhood doesn't seem to represent her life right now. I, too, have been contemplating the same thing. I'd like to keep blogging because I enjoy it and it allows me to gain perspective and clarity. But I don't feel the need to focus so much on widowhood anymore. I'd much rather be focusing on my new and future life, and where I'm headed. Here I have one son successfully having started college and another on the verge of starting his own college career. And I will be moving soon and hopefully starting a new degree/career in social work. I am a widow in transition. I am still a widow. But I really want to place more emphasis on what I'm becoming besides being a widow. And maybe that is what those other widows meant when they determined that they didn't want to be defined by widowhood.

A New Path

My youngest has completed and sent off his college applications (5) and the computer is finally free for my use. Now is the waiting game to see where he gets accepted. And now it is my turn for that process. I played around last night looking for schools offering social work programs. Nothing with the right fit - and I was a bit worried today thinking about it. There weren't a lot of schools offering the program at the graduate level. A benefit of living in the Chicago suburbs is that there are numerous schools in and around Chicago to attend.

A plus of looking at school possibilities was that today I was less consumed with worry about finances. It felt good to be thinking of something else regarding my future and hope for my new life.

This afternoon after work, I was at it again determined to make some headway in trying to find potential schools. And I found a program that starts this summer and looks as if I would be easily accepted into. I called the university at 5:15 and someone actually answered the phone taking my number for a call back on Monday with more info. But it is exciting to be actively focused and involved in trying to move forward for a better life. The program is an evening program, which has some attraction to me. I also like that it starts in the summer and I wouldn't have to wait until next fall.

Mid-life brings change. Empty-nesters go back to school or pursue new interests. I have heard of another mom going to school for social work now that her kids are all in college. I think it is different though and harder for widows. The mom I know of has a husband, she hasn't had to face financial trials or move from her home. Widows bear the brunt of having to recreate themselves totally on their own without the support of spouses. And that can be a trial.

I want to be and feel vital, vibrant and productive again. I know to achieve that I will need to keep traveling down this new path. And I do wish it were easier. I wish I had a supportive husband behind me. I wish I weren't even having to make these life choices and changes. If my husband hadn't died, I doubt I would be contemplating going back to school or moving. Widowhood forces one to take a path unplanned and unwanted. But there is no other choice.

Sending Love

Today is my husband's 61st birthday. He was 54 and I was 44 when he died. Now that I am 51, I realize how young he really was at his death leaving behind sons only ages 9 and 10. His son from his first marriage was a sophomore in college and age 20.

What is so strange about today is that all week I thought the 23rd (today) was our wedding anniversary and I was looking forward to reflecting on it and doing some reminiscing. But somehow with the busyness of life I goofed up my anniversary dates! We got married on the 20th, which was Wednesday and that day I was preoccupied with taking my oldest to the doctor (acne troubles). I never thought of our wedding the entire day!

It was only when I was taking my half-hour nature walk this afternoon that I realized it was actually my husband's birthday and not our wedding anniversary and that I had missed our anniversary big time! It would have been our 19th year of marriage on the 20th.

So during my walk I reflected on my husband. Monday, the 25th is the seventh year anniversary of his death.

My husband ended up dying at a crummy time as far as the calendar year goes. It would have been easier for me to have held anniversary celebrations if he had died in a humdrum month, March would be perfect when there is not much going on. But we've always been so busy this time of year what with Halloween and then the holidays come upon us in full force, with Thanksgiving just one month later and Christmas, two. So over the years, I've never really gone all out in observing these three days that follow one another so quickly in succession at the end of October.

The first few years after my husband's death, the boys played soccer, football and fall baseball. Along with school and homework, the fall days just were a big blur of me coping with car pooling on my own and muddling through my own feelings, as well as trying to keep it together as an only parent. I tried the first few years to make a nice dinner with dessert to honor my husband's birthday but they were madcap, rushed affairs and eventually my husband's birthday and his day of death were marked by a verbal mention. There were a few years when the days passed by without any acknowledgment and I was so busy caring for my parents that I wasn't even keeping track of what day was what.

My husband is buried out of state so there is no grave site for us to visit. There is a memorial tree planted in a park on the other side of town overlooking the baseball fields because my husband was such a baseball fan - he was recruited to the minor leagues but turned down the offer to start college and become a teacher - he wanted to have a greater impact influencing young people. Over the years my husband "saw" the boys play on those fields. I always believed his spirit is around us and not at the actual grave site.

I regret that my life unfolded in such a way that it has been difficult to honor my husband as I would have liked during this time of year. But right now my oldest is involved with football playoffs and as usual our life is pretty hectic and fast-paced. Maybe it is a blessing that my husband didn't die in March when we would have ample time to mope and be depressed with the grey clouds keeping us company. His dying this week is at such a time that we're so busy we're not overly sad or down by our loss. Which I should add is a part of us every day anyway. And by having all these anniversary dates occur within one week, I only have to deal with a hard time of year once and it is over!

Still, I am sad that our lives have been so madcap that there hasn't been ample opportunity for me to plan what I'd define as a more formal and solemn observation of my husband's life and death. Although thinking of my husband, who was grading papers up until he was in a coma, maybe what we've been doing is fine by him. He lived every day of his life with cancer as normally and fully as possible. And I guess looking down he can see that we have done the same.

"I love you Daddy. The boys love you Daddy. You were never fond that I called you Daddy but got used to it! We so miss you and you remain forever in our hearts. Today I feel your presence around us, although I know it is always there. I wish you could somehow send down a message about how you hated tattoos because both of the boys are getting ones as tributes to your life and their love for you. I can only hold off discouraging them until they are of age and have enough of their own money to afford them. I have persuaded them to get them anywhere but their arms/necks so they can be covered when they go in for future job interviews. But maybe you won't mind so much because tats are pretty common these days - many of their friends have them. Sometimes I'll think of a question I want to ask you that I never did when you were alive and I so much want to know the answer - I thought we had plenty of time together to get to all of that. But I am grateful for the time we did have. You taught me so much, maybe even more in death than life. I'll talk to you again soon, probably in the stands next week at a playoff football game. Til then, Happy Birthday."

Summer Replay

This morning I clicked on a document for the heck of it wondering what it was. I was intrigued by the title. Turns out they were the words to a new song my oldest is composing. As I read, I was overtaken by weeping. The song is about the seven year anniversary of his Dad's death. Very heartfelt, beautiful words. On their own, even without music they are amazing.

My son, in addition to being a fine singer, guitar, drum and sax player also composes his own music. I have hesitated posting any of his lyrics here even though I have been tempted on numerous occasions. Most of his songs deal with overcoming adversity and becoming a better/stronger man. The love songs he writes are odes to supporting his love and being there for them, not deserting them but standing by. The first song he ever composed was back in middle school and was about his Dad. It is a very touching, surprisingly mature piece that was one of his garage band's main lineup. Now he is a solo performer with a voice along the lines of John Mayer. I have felt his lyrics to be so good, I have worried about someone taking them. I think they're that good and I'm trying not to overly inflate his skills because I'm his mom.

Anyway, my son won a local talent contest this summer. He had wanted to go to Milwaukee to try out for American Idol but the local contest was at the exact same time and I felt in my heart that my son, although very good, is only 17 and would be competing against artists in their 20s. He lacks their experience and maturity. So I pushed for him competing in the local contest, which he won. He performed an original piece and blew the judges away. One of the comments underlined three times was "You are very talented!" along with similar phrases. The fact that the song he composed and performed was so good was what got him the most praise. He has a great voice, excellent stage presence, is nice looking but boy can he write.

So now he is on to the next stage of the contest which is state-wide, held in Springfield in the winter. We'll see what comes of it. It means more exposure for him. At this point, he has enough original material for an entire CD of his own. Maybe for the heck of it we'll go ahead and get him on YouTube like all these other young singers. In my opinion, what sets him apart is that not only can he sing cover songs, but he writes his own material. Songs that have real meaning and can inspire people to do good things, live better lives, be more appreciative of what they now have. I just called my son who got out early from school to ask about this song. I asked him if he writes the music or words first. He told me the music first. I then asked him how long it took him to come up with the lyrics - only three days (and not much time on them that I can tell because he only works on them in his little spare time after school, football, seeing his girlfriend and homework. Wow!).

So the talent contest win was a nice aspect of the summer. Along with that there was football camp which is the entire summer for us, not just a week or two in August. Both boys played well on a summer baseball league, but my oldest was often absent for football and it was the youngest who made every game (the only one of the team of 16 players to do so) and he shone with his athletic skills. My youngest decided to quit football midway through the summer declaring that his heart just isn't in contact sports and he refuses to participate in a sport that isn't fun or meaningful for him any longer. I was proud of his decision which he spent a great deal of contemplation over.

My oldest participated in a volleyball camp and did work as an ump for the local little league until his sports schedule was too hectic. My youngest took a crazy condensed three-week driver's ed class and was one of the few who passed at the end, driving well enough to earn his license through the class so now after the nine-month waiting period he can just get his license instead of having to go to the DMV and take the driving test. I was so proud of him because I didn't have a lot of time or the gas money to let him practice much besides his drive time in the class.

As for me, I worked the entire summer consolidating and moving three storage sheds at three different locations into one location. It was grueling and a hellish job and mostly accomplished by myself because the boys were at school much of the time. I still need to go through stuff and get rid of things but at least I now have better access since this is an indoor facility, whereas before, I wasn't able to get to the sheds in the winter months.

So, all in all, a pretty full and rewarding summer. I try to focus on this when I debate whether we should have moved in with Sam or stayed here for the remaining years of high school. Now, with school newly started I am proud of my oldest playing football and he just made the Show Choir. He wanted to add a vocal group to his experience for his college applications and was sought out to join by the teacher adviser. She told him he was the best male singer in the group and would be given a solo. My youngest is performing in the Powder Puff Football male dance team like my oldest did last year and it was just hilarious! I'm glad he is doing it because he is less outgoing and a bit on the shy side compared to his older brother. He has also joined the Key Club, which I'm not exactly sure about what they do, but he says it is good for his experience. Both boys want more than just sports as their high school activities. My youngest also got a job on the weekends as part of a set-up crew for local fairs in the area.

They are great boys and I have to focus on that and them during these tough times. The decisions I've made have been with their best interests at heart and I can't lose sight of that and must keep in my mind the bigger picture.

Crying

I attended a home volleyball game last night. When the varsity team comes out, they do so to the beat and noise of a current hit song and take a lap around the gym. Seeing my tall, handsome son jog around the gym resulted in my crying openly in the stands where I was as usual, sitting by myself. In the past, I've cried during athletic events because of the sadness I felt that the boys' Dad wasn't there to proudly see them. Last night, the tears were of honor and pride for myself and my son.

The numerous hardship and pain over the past years hasn't totally ruined us. Despite it all my sons have had their moments of success and I hope some happiness in there too. If I hadn't moved back for second semester, my son wouldn't have been playing volleyball at all since it is not a male sport in the state where Sam moved. Nor would he have won "The Mr. (High School)" contest and been crowned king of the school in February.

There has been no dad or even remotely consistent male figure in my sons' lives to guide and encourage them so the credit for what they have accomplished very much rests on their shoulders. I must admit that some of the time over the past years I have been preoccupied and not 100% available to them because of the fires I've been putting out - either caring for my parents, getting remarried or divorced, been in a depressed stupor because of the divorce (thankfully that only lasted a few weeks) or selling the house and moving.

These days I don't often think of my deceased husband. Too much has happened between his death and the present. He is no longer much on my mind, hence the tears for my son and I last night - our sacrifices, our strength, our pride. The credit is all ours. My husband's influence on us all and our current lives is waning and diminished.

Last week, I cried when my son jogged out for his opening game. Then there were tears when his name was announced for the starting lineup. The team members not playing form a huddle and line around the starters, then whop and cheer as they run out onto the court. Because I was aware of the setup, I was a bit surprised that I cried again last night - I was aware what was coming.

Last week, too, I had a couple more incidents of crying. I went to another game and while reading before it began, started tearing up when my book went into a description of a couple reconciling after a breakup. I started thinking about how the people in my life seem incapable of working out "glitches," wanting to end or damage relationships because of their inability to face conflict. Part of me said, "Why can't I be involved with a man willing to hang in there until the rough patch has passed?" "Or have a family willing to talk about issues instead of pretending they don't exist which ends up being very harmful to many degrees?" This has been one of the most profound lessons I've learned from my husband's death - to not give up, to be willing to work on relationships because they are worth it, and to concentrate on what is truly meaningful and worthy and forget about the trivial stuff.

Then, one day driving home from work, I just burst into tears and had a good cry the 30-minute drive home, although I'm not sure if there was any specific reason to prompt my tears. Just the stress of everything both past and present. I let the tears flow.

Tonight is another home game and I want to attend. I'm not sure my son will be playing but it is worth my going just to see his jog around the gym and his warm-up practice. My son is one of the few Juniors with actual playing time. There are some parents who've only seen their boys practice - another pat on the back for my son. And when he has asked me later at home, "Mom, did you see that play I made...?" I am grateful that I can honestly tell him, "Yes." And that I can tell him how proud I am at how well he has played and conducted himself, which I did yesterday when he came over to me after the game.

His Dad would be very proud of the fine, young talented man he has become and is continuing to mature into.

Being Brave in a New World

I had assistance navigating the online job boards yesterday at the career center. It took over an hour for me to post my resume and apply for one job. I was struck as I struggled through this, how much job hunting is similar to the grief process. You feel like a fish out of water or trying to swim upstream. It is hard, stressful, tiring and discouraging - two steps forward, one step back. This is not a circumstance any of us signed up for - and for many, it is an unexpected, surreal shock. There are new rules and new ways of doing things as well as even looking at the world. But for a long while, we don't know what these new rules are and we struggle to fit in.

What really hit me was how hard I seem to be resisting change. I haven't seriously had to look for a job in about 10 years. And back then you faxed your resume to a potential employer or used the mail, plus a lot of phone calling. I am not a proficient computer user and am now having trouble figuring out all the online nuances and details. But I just want to do things the old way, the way that was comfortable for me and always got me results. I am floundering in this job market just as I floundered and still flounder with grief. I just want the comfort level of my old world when I knew what fit what and where. Sounds a lot like what I used to say when I would moan, "I just want him back" or "I just want my old life again."

In the end, we're pretty much forced to adapt. We have to resign ourselves to this. After a few weeks on my own and not getting any results with the job search, I sought assistance from a career placement center. Today I am meeting with them again and we'll discuss a job searching plan. Right now I'm in the dark and don't have any real direction on how to proceed.

That's what happened in the end after I was widowed. And again when I was divorced. Just have to dig in my heels and face the world which looks rather intimidating and threatening. The only major difference I see between unemployment and grief is that eventually the unemployment will end because a job somewhere, somehow will come into fruition. But of course, we all know the ending for our grief tales. Our partners are not returning - no tidy and happy endings there.

I am grateful:

1. For low-cost job searching assistance.
2. That the snow that came again is not a blizzard - but we all are sure getting tired of the white stuff.
3. For living in a safe community.
4. For the wide array of skills and experiences I have behind me - it will all come together in the end.
5. That in a week it will be March.

Sixth Anniversary

Today is the sixth Anniversary of my husband's death. I have never written about it because at the time of his death we didn't even have a home computer. He used a computer at his job and I did the same. My kids were young enough to use the computer at their school as well. Boy, has a lot changed in those six years!

My husband and I did not have cable (we still don't) because we weren't at home enough for it to be worth the cost. We coached our sons together for many years - baseball and soccer. He sang semi-professionally in fine arts groups and I volunteered in the community, as well as the boys' school. We had such an active and full life together. I would say that is was very rewarding. We felt that we accomplished good things for the world. He taught - I counseled. We gave back. And we still had time to pursue some of our own interests. It was a pretty balanced life.

Blogging has been a bit of a strange experience for me because I have been widowed for awhile. Yet I never really had an opportunity to do the necessary grief work after his death. Life just went forward too quickly and presented us with way too many curve balls. It is funny because the divorce with Husband #2 plunged me right back into grief mode - and in actuality, maybe I had never left it. Anyway, when I post I find it sometimes a little bizarre because although I am not a new widow, many of my feelings are those of one. In certain ways I am a seasoned widow but at the same time a novice one. Evidence that the grief journey is so unique to us all. Certainly not one-size-fits-all!

Today there is a break in the rain and I am going to work at the storage shed. While there, I hope to have some time to contemplate about this day. I'll see what I come up with and where my heart and feelings lead me. This will be the first time that I have done that.

Milestones

This week the boys start back to school; the dumpster is getting delivered tomorrow so we can start really clearing out the house/garage; and I turn 50! Is it ironic or perhaps not, that just as I turn 50, I am moving and really facing the start of a new life? Just interesting that the two coincide so closely.

I read a post today by another middle-aged widow, the topic being that you cannot rush the grieving process. It is individualized and also dictated by so many other circumstances. I can totally agree with her observation. But at the same time, here are these milestones glaring in my face telling me that the world is moving on and it is time for me too to make those steps.

I continue to be filled with regret that I was unable to move to my second husband's home at the time we had originally planned. Both of my parents were in the hospital during that summer and at one point we thought both were going to die, although my father recovered. I had workmen in the house fixing it up, was trying to parent two active early-adolescent boys on my own and had my new husband on my back for not being able to get it all together fast enough.

With some perspective and time behind me now, I realize that I just could not add the emotional and physical stress and stain of moving out-of-state to my already over brimming plate. I tried to explain that to my husband and begged him for his patience and understanding as I grappled with clearing out my parent's home after my Mom's death. He couldn't get it and filed for the divorce that January. But here I am now, at a different place with so many of those emotional hurdles gone. If only he had hung in there with me and realized that eventually I'd reach the point I'm at. I could not rush, bypass or fast forward the process from two summers ago to now.

It is all such a balancing act - remaining true to who you are and strong in the face of others who want you to move the heck on according to their time table. For me it wasn't that I didn't want to start a new life then - I would have given anything to have taken the easier way out to a less stressful life. But I just couldn't tie up all the pieces. Some of it no doubt was my reluctance to start a new life in a totally new community away from everything I'd known with my husband. I do know that if my parents hadn't been so ill, my ability to make the move would have been so much easier. There was just too much burying me under from the past - all the childhood stuff and my husband's death on top of the serious health issues of my parents.

So here I am today, emotionally in a far better place to make the move from my home of 18 years, although the circumstances are so drastically worse. Go figure! The twists and turns of life. Although the world goes on, until you're at a place where you can jump in, it is just kind of a period of treading water or moving along with the flow of the current. And that is an okay place to be, although so many out there don't get this, including my ex-husband.

Today I am grateful:

1. For the friends who have stood beside me on this journey.
2. For the gorgeous late summer weather.
3. For the opportunity to have an apricot flavored ice cream cone from a place that has 24 odd flavors of soft serve ice cream.
4. For that brief period of back-to-school excitement before the grueling academic year sets in.
5. For the new slate the new school year seems to inspire.

I Just Want My Old Life

I want my old life back - I don't want to be living this new life anymore. I want things to be the way they used to be. When I was married I had security, safety and financial stability. I was part of a team and felt like I fit into my community. This new life has been depleting, draining and devastating. I can't think of anything good that has resulted from my husband's death. I feel alone and depressed. Handling everything on my own (over the years) has become harder, not easier. I honestly wish there were some way I could resign from this life, like I was at a job. Hang up the work apron and say, "I've had it, I can't take this anymore." I don't want this life - I just want things to be the way they were when my husband was alive. The advice is to move on with your life. But how do you do that when living is just so hard and you're so tired? The other problem is that I had a good life before and I can't just erase those memories and make them disappear. Of course I am going to compare my current life with my old one. Of course I am going to want to have what I had before because it was better. It scares me to no end to imagine my life not improving and for me to have to continue with this struggling. I wish I were a more optimistic person and able to say that I am looking forward to the future and all the riches it will bring. But right now I only want to go back to what I knew and remember because it was a decent life and I was happy.

Today I am grateful:

1. For Peanut M & Ms (I wish I had some right now - that super-sized bag).
2. For Strawberry Twizzlers (I also wish I had that super-sized package right now).
3. For soft pillows to rest our heads on after long, hard days.
4. For friends who worry that you are okay and call because you have been too busy to keep in touch.
5. For my boys.

DETOUR

Last night I was driving home and reached a point where the train tracks were down but no train was in sight. A few bold drivers went around the tracks and a few turned around but the majority continued to sit there. I was impatient because I had to get home to the boys before it got too late. Eventually, I turned around. It was dark and I was tired and in an unfamiliar area not that sure of an alternate route. But I knew the right direction to head home toward and some of the street names were familiar so it wasn't long before I was able to pick up the main road again having gone around the train tracks.

I thought about all this on my remaining ride home. How this is so much like a metaphor for being a widow. You're going through life as planned and suddenly this tragic obstacle presents itself. You didn't do anything wrong, nor do you deserve it - this hardship just happens. So you're left having to detour from that original and expected life plan. There are a number of roads to take but in the end you go with the one that seems best. Or maybe the first road you take is wrong so then you have to turnaround and try another one.

Last night's blocked train tracks required me to take a detour. Although I was a little worried and unsure of myself, I turned around and figured out where to go. In the end I made it home - a little later than planned, but I got home. And maybe for all of us in this situation, our lives have required us to have to take unexpected detours. Our lives may be more challenging and it might take us longer to get where we're going, but I think in the end, all of us will make it home.

As I opened the door to my home, I felt relieved and also proud of myself for not freaking out and doing what I had to do. It made me realize how infrequently I give myself credit for having to navigate through life's twists and turns brought on by widowhood. This is not the life I wanted or expected but it is my life. The gift of last night also showed me that even if it's not the way it's supposed to be, there is always another route available for us to follow.

Today I am grateful:

1. For people who stand by their commitments and do what they say they'll do.
2. For the opportunity to be a friend to others.
3. For life's lessons turning up in unexpected ways.

A better mood

The boys asked for some spending money today and it was terrible to tell them that I could not give them any. Then I rounded up a bagful of pennies and ran them over to the bank ending up with $18.74 so each boy got $9.00 for a movie out with friends. I was proud of my resourcefulness and that I did not have to disappoint them. Next time I might not be able to come up with a way to obtain a few dollars.

I was lucky to be taken out to dinner two nights in a row (yesterday and today). My dark mood has lifted somewhat - I was able to enjoy both dinners, what a treat! Driving home tonight we went past the two homes of my childhood and the memorial for my late husband. I was very moved to see all these places. They were a reminder of how far I have come and how much I have endured as well as inspiration that life does carry on. People move, grow up, survive tragedy.

Today I am thankful:

1. That even in the middle of hardship there can be pleasures like dinners out.
2. For the special people in my life who have stood by my side through this difficult time.
3. For the magic just one drink with dinner can accomplish.
4. For being able to look forward to tomorrow because it will involve time spent with someone dear.
5. For recognizing that time spent with someone just putting away holiday decorations can be better than any expensive dinner or receiving flowers!

Hospitals

Yesterday, after it had stopped snowing and we were shoveled out, I took my oldest son to the local hospital to visit his girlfriend. She may have to have surgery for a cyst. I was not thrilled at having to go to the hospital. It was 5:30 p.m., cold and dark. I also am not a fond visitor of hospitals in general, having been there so much during my husband's illness. After my husband died, there were many more hospital visits when my youngest was diagnosed with a heart condition and then both of my parents became very ill. Over the past 7 years various hospitals in the area have almost become second homes. Anyway, as we entered this hospital my son asked if Dad had ever been there and I said he had been (although his main hospital for treatment was in Chicago). I was struck by the knowledge that some details have faded from my son's memory - he was just 7 when his dad became ill and only 10 when he died. Over the years life has blown by with amazing speed and certain aspects of my husband's illness and death have retreated to the background.

Despite the effort, I was very happy to have taken my son when all was said and done. I sat in a lobby area and read and crocheted for about 2 hours. A steady stream of teenagers paraded in and out of this lovely girl's room and my son was disappointed he did not have more alone time with her (young love!). When we first arrived, she sat in bed clutching a teddy bear and it was so sad and sweet.

Actually, visiting hospitals today is somewhat different from years back. There are lobby areas with indoor fireplaces and waterfalls. The furniture is comfortable and attractive, as is the artwork and flooring. But the main thing about last night was that we did a good thing visiting a teen who has the misfortune of being hospitalized. And I am truly grateful that I have a son who wanted to be there for her. I think he and his brother share a very different outlook on life than other teens their age - and I know that their compassion and understanding of the world is more mature because of their life experience (not entirely a bad thing). I was proud of my son who also admitted how much he dislikes visiting hospitals. But he also commented that the hospital was pretty cool since they've updated it (even with the dark and snow the rock garden visible from the lobby was very pretty).

Today I am thankful:

1. That the cliche of every cloud having a silver lining can be true (although sometimes it takes years to realize the good that can come out of the bad).
2. That the snow stopped and we survived another snowstorm.
3. That spring is the next season!