What A Week

It was Sunday. I got a phone call from my lawyer about our upcoming court appearance dealing with Dan's estate. I've been dealing with issues related to his estate (and the person in charge of it) since moment one of my life without Dan. I fell apart after this phone call. A hard heavy sob came from unknown depths. Was it because there might be a resolution? Was it because the light of truth would finally be shone? Was it because evil and deceitful would be unmasked? Or, was it because no matter what, Dan still wouldn't be here?

This week was going to be hard, time to put on my game face. Late Sunday night: One of my best friends whom has been having a problematic third pregnancy and was confined to a hospital bed, sends a text that reads, "Baby coming now." My heart drops and I immediately begin to pray. I pray so hard and long, I don't even know when the prayer stopped and I fell asleep. Around 1:45 Monday morning, another text came that announced my Godson, Zachary's early arrival. He is little, early, on a breathing tube, but healthy. His mom, lost 80% of her own blood. She had numerous transfusions, and countless other procedures to save her life. TO SAVE HER LIFE. Just writing that, I get chills. We could have lost our Sputty. Thank you to God and all the angels, she is still here, beautiful, and smiling.

Monday afternoon. Anticipation of Marlo's surgery and court are rising. I speak with my step dad and he tells me about a procedure my mom is having the next day, Tuesday. I stifle a cry. I need to get off the phone. I need to call my sister. Jaime answers, I am trying not to sound frantic, but I want to know what is going on with our mom. Jaime tells me, and I lose it. My walls feel like they are closing in on me. I have been self consumed with my own issues, I was not aware of my own mother's. Guilt, confusion, anxiety, and fear come out in the form of hot tears.

It is not my place to announce my mother's business especially via blog, however, I will say the power of prayer is strong. Add her to your prayer chain, my prayer warriors.

Tuesday morning, Nick and I drop precious Marlo off at VOSM (the Ritz of orthopedic surgical facilities). Nick's funny jokes and quick wit keep me from crying. The staff immediately falls in love with Marlo (of course) and he happily trots away with the nurse. Afterwards, I go with Hilly to visit Sputty. We laugh and tell stories. I love doped up Amanda, I love not-doped up Amanda, but she was funny and entertaining. Tuesday night. I get the news from my mom's procedure. It wasn't what I wanted to hear. I break inside, here come those walls, faster than ever. Tomorrow is a big day. I'm nervous, sad, and I can't sleep. Gunner paces around the bedroom wanting to know where his brother is. I miss him too, boy. He'll be home tomorrow.

Very early Wednesday morning, I get up and make coffee. I should have made decaf considering how jumpy I already was. I got ready, called to check on Marlo, nursed a nervous stomach, talked to my sister, got a text from Nick that made me snort laugh (which I needed), and waited for my dad to come pick me up. At the courthouse, my dad, step dad, two lawyers, and I spent the duration of the morning in the hearing. The outcome was justice. It was exactly what should have happened. Actually, it never should have gotten this far if promises had been kept and duties been upheld, and what Dan would have wanted considered, but I digress.

I wanted so badly for when this outcome surfaced, to expose the people who have been the root of this unnecessary pain. I wanted to tell the world, what Dan and I already knew about them before all of this. I don't want to anymore. I feel just as good knowing that THEY know, how wrong they were. BY LAW, BY MORALS, BY ALL DEFINITIONS OF HUMANITY, they know they were wrong.

"All evil needs to succeed is for good men to do nothing." ~ Edmund Burke. I stood up against evil in the name of my late husband, in the reality of what HE would have wanted for me, what he DOES want for me, and evil did not succeed.

As I sit here now, with Marlo drugged and coned beside me, Gunner resting beside him, I think of the past few days. I also focus on what is ahead. There is no end to this winding road, and no promise that it will flatten or be paved. I do, however, have the promise of not walking any of it alone.

My Racing Subconscious Mind

I had to chuckle, because the first sentence I wrote for this blog was, "My mind is insane." That's how I feel sometimes, though. I guess I should phrase it as, "My thoughts are insane." I hate how my mind plays tricks on me, too, especially in my sleep. My biggest fears, saddest moments, total heartbreak, and darkest sides of me, come out and back to me as I dream.

For years now I have suffered from night sweats. Not a light "glow" or "dampness". I'm talking an all out, I need a shower and to change the sheets, kind of sweat. I've been to almost every doctor there is, tried different medications and homeopathic remedies, and a very expensive and bad purchase of sheets that were supposed to work wonders. Dan used to walk into the bedroom as I was changing the sheets and say, "oh great, it's asylum night." I would laugh and roll my eyes even though I did feel bad. These things were bright white and as comfortable as cardboard.

Recently, I have noticed that my worst sweats come with my most intense dreams. Two weeks ago I had a terrible dream about Dan. It was so bad, I don't even want to write about it. I just spent ten minutes explaining it, and then deleted every line. It hurt to even reread. I woke from this dream in a pool. It took minutes to put together the last year and a half of my life and realize that what just happened was a dream. I was sad, then so very angry.

After my anger subsided, a difficult week followed. As, Paul Young explains so eloquently in, "The Shack", The Great Sadness took over. Laughing was a chore, and I felt bad for everyone around me, because I just wasn't myself. I lost sleep and I think it was in some way because I didn't want to dream anymore. A complete feeling of "poor pitiful me" consumed me. I hate feeling sorry for myself, and I couldn't help it, so it made it even worse! I pride myself on being the "glass half full" girl and always biting the bullet, cowboying up, and smiling through it. I get even harder on myself when I have difficulty doing that.

Little things that reminded me of Dan kept popping up throughout the week. Maybe they were signs, but they made me mad. I wanted to talk to him, really, I needed him to talk back.

Everyone always called Dan for advice. Not only was he incredibly smart, he was also an amazing friend. I hope he knows that I never took that for granted. I hope I told him enough.

I go back and forth with finding it hard and easy to have conversations with God. Right now, it's hard for me. I'm not sure why I feel like if I say the wrong thing, I might be punished. Someone else I dearly love might leave my life. I know that's not how it works, so why I try and go about my day incognito toward the Lord, is a mystery to me. I know He is the reason that "The Great Sadness" doesn't last nearly as long anymore. I hope He also understands my confusion. I lay in bed, begin to pray, then my mind goes in a million directions. I forget I was praying and eventually go to sleep.

Today, I want to hug everyone I love. Even though that isn't possible, and my arms can't reach that far; I'm telling you now. Today, I am back to half full, and smiles. Today is another day on the winding road and even though it's 110 degrees, the birds are signing and my cheering section in the clouds can be heard loud and clear.

Everyone who is reading this, I love you, and love the way you have individually touched my life. Thank you. Thanks for staying on this ride with me, even though it's only been bumpy!

The Shack

I love to read. I like to read mystery, fantasy, suspense, love, comedy, and even a romance novel now and then. After Dan died, I stopped doing many of the things I loved. I stopped watching football for a while, I stopped listening to music, I stopped watching any shows that we loved together. I did not, however, stop reading. During that "first year" without him, I actively sought knowledge about grief. Really what I was doing was assuring myself that other people had endured this pain, and survived. I read many books like, "I Wasn't Ready to Say Goodbye", "A Grief Observed", "Widows Wear Stillettos", "The Tender Scar", "Waking up Alone", and "Getting to the Other Side of Grief"; to name a few. Most of the books I read, made me feel stronger, but at times, I read words that would have been discouraging to even non-widows. I swore to never read another Nicholas Sparks novel, or Jodi Picoult, because I didn't need their reasons and words to make me cry, I had my own.

I'm slowly easing back into the reading scene of non-grief books, (currently infatuated with C.J. Box's novels that include the character Joe Pickett.) Before I began the Joe Pickett series, I read a book lent to me by my mom. She didn't really give me any background on the book except that it was a Must Read. I would like to say that my mom had no idea how right she was, but something tells me, yes, in fact she knew exactly what she was handing me as she carelessly put it in my purse one day after a visit.

I took "The Shack" by WM. Paul Young out of my purse when I got home. I read the book jacket, and thought, "Wow, Mom....Do you want me to kill myself?" It sounded depressing, and not at all like the uplifting words I needed to read.

I layed the book on my nightstand amidst the stacks of other to-read books. I don't remember how or why it popped out at me recently, but it did, and I am better because of it. I would love to tell you all about this book, and give my opinions, my views, thoughts, feelings, but I really want you to read it for yourself. I am going to write this:

For about a year and a half (since Dan's passing) there has been hate brewing inside of me. Hate for certain people who care more about themselves than the memory and beautiful life lived by my husband. Hate of being wronged, hate for lies told, and promises broken. Hate for harsh words, and stabs to the back and heart. My favorite phrase to those I spoke about this with was, "At least I'm not the one that has to judge them." I smiled believing and playing like a movie what their judgement would look like. Hoping it would be the hand of God smacking them all down into eternal hell, which is what I feel they have done to me. Would you believe me if I told you this book has turned my hate? Don't get me wrong, you are not going to see me embracing any of these people in a heartfelt hug, or let alone making eye contact, however I do not hate.

What I walked away with from this book is that God loves all his children. Even the ones that make our stomach turn in disguist, he loves them as much as he loves the ones that dedicate their lives to being good. Just like any parent loves their doctor or lawyer daughter as much as they love their addicted/jailed son.

I don't believe that I have to love these people as God loves them, but I do need to forgive them. Not for their benefit, but for mine. I need to release the hate that bonds me to them, and with that, they will forver be let go.

As young girls our mother told my sister and I, "Never say hate." "You can say, dislike, but hate is ugly." And just like the many lessons, she taught me so diligently throughout my life...

She knew exactly what she was doing when she slipped THE SHACK into my purse.

Heartbreak, and the Opposite

We've all felt them. When Dan died it was as if I was having daily heart attacks because of the severity of the pain I felt within my chest. A stubbed toe was momentary relief of the physical pain I felt in my heart. I used to wonder if the pain I felt was anything like what Dan felt the last moments of his life.

Today, those severe heartbreaks/aches are few and far between, however, my heart is far from being above aches and pains for various reasons, and every time they happen, it takes me back to the realization that none of us have any control.

I've struggled with sharing this piece of information, but with careful thought, I do not believe I am dishonoring Dan by divulging it. Dan's cardiac arrest began on the treadmill at Lifetime Fitness, but it didn't end there. He sat down on the treadmill with his head between his knees. He then got up and went to the restroom. Evidently, cardiac arrhythmia can at first disguise itself as nausea or the onset of a very upset stomach. Dan was found slumped over in a stall by a Doctor who had been running on the treadmill next to him and carefully watching his actions. The doctor began CPR immediately, but we all know it was already too late.

Fast forward to last Saturday night, the 18Th. Nick and I went out to a restaurant/bar in Edgewater. There was a point in the night when I happened to look over at Nick as he was walking inside. I watched his tall frame move into the bathroom with a smile on my face, giving a silent thank you to God for my courage and my ability to allow myself to love again. I continued with my conversations and soon was lost in laughs and jokes with friends. I looked over again a little while later, and didn't see Nick.

A rational person wouldn't have given this a second thought. A person who lost her husband begins to feel the rapid beat of her heart. A rational person thinks that he is fine and will meet up with him in a while. A person who remembers watching her husband walk out of the door, never to return again, walks briskly inside the bar. A rational person would glance around and then resume activities with friends, not putting too much thought into the whereabouts of her social boyfriend. A person who lost her husband in a bathroom stands stalkerishly by the men's room door, fighting the urge to rush inside, fully ready to administer CPR. A rational person never would have gotten to this point, so the rest comes from a person who is terrified that the ones she loves will die tragic, untimely deaths. I rush back and ask everyone if they have seen Nick. They haven't. My fears are confirmed, I just know it, he is sick or dead in the stall of Coconut Joe's.

I find Nick listening to the band. It's been a total of fifteen minutes, yet I've worked myself up to the point that I throw myself into his arms as the lump in my throat tightens and my eyes ache as I fight back the tears. I am holding on entirely too tightly to this rational person. This rational man who is looking at me wondering what is so wrong. I wanted to suck the words right back into my smiling mouth as soon as I said them, but it was too late. "You're not dead."

This type of heartbreak is stealth and is brought on by deep fears mixed with panic. It starts as a rapid heartbeat and thoughts that you can't control rushing through your mind. Thoughts that you know are irrational, but you can't help but to think them, and then you can't help but to believe them. Your head is spinning as a rubber band is placed around your heart. Someone is pulling the sides of the rubber band as far as they can extend and letting them go at a milliseconds pace. Your neck tightens and lips quiver even if you are not crying. Sometimes the eye will twitch. When the episode is over, and the things you knew were OK in the first place are really OK, it might end with a few relief tears. Most of the time I can stifle them to only a gloss of the eyes. The heartache is far from over, even if the "episode" is. Your loved ones are OK, so the embarrassment of your panic sets in. The sadness that you have these episodes in the first place, takes you to the dark place where they began. You wonder when the next one will take place, and if you will be able to get through it. You pray.

Sunday afternoon, the 19Th. My sister has a father's day barbecue and I feel no such heartache. The rubber band has snapped in the night, and no longer constricts my heart. The muscles in my face are relaxed until a smile erupts from the love that is presented at this event. I watch as Lilly chases bubbles, knowing that the only worry in her world is whether or not she would catch the bubble or if it would burst before her perfect hands could make the grasp. My heart sang as Carson and Dillon swing as high as birds and slide down the slide. I hold my heart and face as if trying to keep myself on the ground as I watch Taylor stretch and squeal as her Daddy lifts her in the air. I want a million of these days. I want children to protect, and love, and lift. I want to feed off of their innocent fearlessness, their lack of panic, their sense of security.

This is the opposite of heartbreak, I wish I knew the perfect antonym for the word. Then again, maybe I do.... Faith, love, hope.

Craig Coyne

It happened 3 days ago. Just around the same time it happened last year. I went to the mailbox, and there it was. It was addressed, (as always) to Dan and Lilly Shriner. There are only a few people on this Earth that don't know he has passed, and only one that has always thought my first name was Lilly. It was Sam, the jeweler from Craig Coyne, in Ellicott City. The inside read, "Dan and Lilly, Congratulations on your wedding anniversary, our best wishes to you both, ~ Sam." Two days from now, on June 7th, we would have been married 3 years.

I think I was the one who drug Dan into the jewelry store on a beautiful day that we played hooky together. I think I had made up my mind that it had been long enough, and he needed to know what kind of ring I wanted, even if he didn't think so. We met Sam, and fell in love with his style, his people skills, his interest in Dan and I as a couple. What I wasn't aware of is that Dan went back there the next day to start "building" our forever.

This past Friday night was a night spent on the town in Ellicott City. Nick, Cara, Ryan, John, and I ate and hopped to a few bars up and down the quaint streets. I knew I was getting close to it, as we walked down the hill. I felt my heart start to race. Tiffin, this is natural. It's been a long time. It's close to your anniversary, you just received a card from them, it's okay to feel like this. Don't let them see your eyes. Look away, stop slowing down, don't look in the window, don't look at the "Craig Coyne You Ware" on the door. Why did you slow down? Don't linger, they will know something is up. Keep walking and enjoy this night.

It was more than I could bare, and I did break down. Thank God for the girls bathroom. Thank God that I had Cara that night, and she knew just what to say, she knew to just listen. I guess I am also thankful for good crys, even as inopportune as they might be.

Cara and I hugged and joined up with the boys. I saw Nick before anyone else. My throat got choked up again. What if I lost him? What if something dreadful happened to him? What if I had to do this all over again? Could I? I couldn't. I'm scared.

I am still scared last night. I can't sleep. I watch Indecent Proposal, I watch Investigation Discovery, I watch the beginning of Crazy Heart, then the TV timer turned the television to off. I laid there with my eyes open. Nick isn't snoring, is he breathing? I get really close to his face to feel his breath. Am I psycho? What if he opened his eyes right now? Why do I feel like this? Why am I crying, again? The warm tears run out and down, and I can't stop them. I am stifling my sniffles and breaths, but it's hard. Roll over, and go to sleep. Why can't you ever sleep? You worry too much. You can't control ANY of this, Tiffin. Worrying isn't going to change the course of the universe.

Today: Sadness. That hint of depression that says, "all I want to do is sleep." I manage to shake it somewhat, but not the stomachache that accompanies it. Nick has an idea that we should go for a walk, so we do. We wondered down by the river in Savage and walked side by side. We had a conversations about anticipatory anxiety. The wait of something that might scare you is more of a nuisance than the actual event. We spoke of how life can throw something at you, and in an instant your "normal" is something severely feared. It's crazy. What a lame way to describe something so big, but crazy seemed to explain how we felt about the unexplainable during our walk today.

Tuesday, and my would-be anniversary will come and go. I will most likely smile, and have a "normal" day. Besides visiting Dan at the cemetery and spending some time with my girls, on a week night, nothing else will change. I will still hold Dan near to my heart, but I will also continue to love this new, strong, wild, love I have now.

At some point, before this happens next year, I am going to inform Sam of this world's tragic loss. We will most likely cry together, and then laugh and smile as he shares his memories of how picky and choosy Dan was. Sam doesn't know it yet, but eventually I want him to make me a piece of jewelry that incorporates both of my rings, as well as his. I know he can do it, and I'll ask him when I'm ready.

My Pocket

Thursday afternoon I was exhausted. I hadn't slept well and all I wanted to do was lie in the cool of the basement and take a nap. I propped up my feet onto Nick's lap, put my head on a pillow, and just glanced at the TV, thinking I would soon be asleep. I had only turned the TV on, and there was Oprah. I haven't watched Oprah in a long time, but this story caught my attention quickly. A woman dying of breast cancer, made a plethora of video and audio tapes addressing her daughter, Peyton. Life lessons, love stories, smiles, and tears are all shared on these keepsakes. Oprah had Peyton, and Peyton's father (the woman's widower) on the show. They were a beautiful family. As Peyton's father was being interviewed, he cried and spoke of a hole that will never be filled in his life because of the tragic loss of his first wife. Oprah then asked his current wife, how that made her feel. She was poised and confident when she said, "Any woman wants to be their husband's everything, but it would be foolish to believe that his past life didn't exist." She explained that everything her husband went through made him into the kind of man she wanted to spend her life with.

When it comes to the father/husband, I can relate to so much of what he knows and how death of a spouse molds you into a different person, however I disagree that Dan left a "hole"in my life when he relinquished this Earth. Of course in the beginning, it felt like not only a hole was missing, but that half of me was gone. In time, I changed my thinking. I realized that if I ever had a hole missing from my life, it was before I met Dan. When he came into my life, that hole was filled with everything I needed for a strong foundation and future.

Now he is gone, but not from me. He is no longer physically here, but I know he still looks after me. My mom said it perfectly the other day, "True love is when you want the absolute best for the other person." Dan still wants the best from me and he is celebrating me from his seat on the edge of the clouds.

Is Dan missing from my life? Sure. But I imagine the hole I would have, had he never been a part of my life, and I am thankful every day for the time we were blessed to share together.

When Dan was welcomed into Heaven, his new life began. And, as much as it wasn't planned, and for as much as I wished it weren't so, mine did too. Even though mine is without wings, yet not without sorrow, I have chosen to live it with courage. I have reopened my heart and welcomed the world and all it has to offer, instead of shutting it out and growing cold.

This winding road has lead me to new faith, new friends, new hope, and new love. I will never replace the love my husband and I shared, however there is no "hole I am trying to fill".

I think of the piece inside that is missing Dan as a pocket. In this pocket, I place daily smiles. I put memories in the pocket. I fill it some days with hugs from children and smiles from strangers. What I know is that my pocket will never be empty. I keep all of you in my pocket, and that pocket rests on my heart.

Fill your pockets, my friends. Live life positively, but aggressively, it is only ours for a short while.

Angel Runner

Dear Angel Runner,

On April 24, 2010 you ran a half marathon with me in Nashville Tennessee. It was the race we had signed up to do together, when your soul was still here on Earth. It was the first for both of us. I've never felt so close to an angel as I did along that run, on that day. As I've continued to run, I've continued to feel your presence.

A little over a year later on April 30, 2011, we ran our 4th half marathon together in Ocean City, Maryland.

I have to admit that my mind was racing as my feet were whisking the pavement. I wasn't focused on the fact that I run to remember or that I run because your Earthly body cannot. It was more in the back of my mind. I thought about my training, I thought about the beautiful landscape I was running through, I listened to music and worked on my drum beat breathing.

Running up the bridge to get to Assateague Island, I struggled. I remember speaking to you and telling you that I could really use the help of your wings. There was a wind that graced my back, but I felt like I was running in place. When I got to the bottom, I felt deflated, tired, and confused. Confused as to why I choose to do this to my body. My spirit was broken. As I slowed my pace to a walk, I heard a woman's voice. "I've been following you for 12 miles now, you are not going to stop this close to the end, let's go." We ran together the rest of the mile. We talked about the wild horses and I remember laughing when she said, "I can almost smell the beer." When we reached the finish line, she sprinted ahead and finished hard. I saw her after receiving our medals and we hugged. I never got her name.

I was disappointed in myself that it was that easy for me to want to give up after coming so far. I thought about how, that wasn't your spirit running in me. I thought, where were you?

When I woke from a much needed nap, I started to put my things into my bag. I touched my iPod and it came on. Journey was playing. I just started to laugh. You were there the whole time. You didn't give me wings, because you always wanted me to "do it myself." You always wanted me to be proud of my accomplishments. Then, I thought about the woman. She was an angel in human form, and now, I see that was no coincidence.

I started running to finish the race that we began together. I ran to remember, sometimes I ran to forget. I run now for me. For everything I am because of you, and for everything I will become. I run for the future that wasn't meant to be and the future that will transpire.

Continue to be my Angel-Runner. Continue to watch over us as this race called life streams by.

Hebrews 12:1~ Wherefore seeing we are also compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.

Love,
Bib Number 594