Uncle Marlow

 Kerr,

Today marks a year without Marlow.  Are you with him?  Is Bubby making cake?  Sadly, it’s like her dining room table is almost fully back together… the scene brings a smile and a giggle, though.  The yelling… the chatter… the good food.  FAMILY

The week Marlow went was really hard.  Visuals I hope to lose but probably won’t.  He had gotten quite thin (an understatement, but I’ll spare you a true description).  He still had his mind … on Sunday he told Mom to come over the next day because he needed a gallon of milk.  The month prior, he wouldn’t let us see him.  It was the point at which he knew the end was near and could feel it, and see it.  He made it clear he wasn’t going to put any of us through that.  Just a week before he passed, we had an hour long call.  Not because it was a ‘Marlow’ call but because it took all of his energy and lung capacity to get through a call.  So it was slow, but I cried through begging him to let me in, to help him.  He cried telling me he appreciated it, but he needed to do it his way and I needed to be okay with that.

Welp… that Sunday night, he knew he couldn’t do the rest alone.  So he called mom for a gallon of milk.  My mom didn’t know what she was walking into, but she went.  He didn’t need the milk.  He wasn’t eating or drinking.  He needed to get his last wishes down on paper with her.  Who would be the pallbearers, etc.  Mom let us know the end would be near.  I made my way over that day.  It was Kenna and Harley’s first day of school.  I had Lorna watching Dakota.  Mac was out of town.  I told Marlow all about their first day and what they were excited about.  He nodded, tried to engage.  I was glad we had the chat.  1 more after the hour long, emotional one.

Ultimately, he agreed to go to the hospital so he could get the right pain management.  The next 36-48 hours were hard.  Hard to see him in that pain… hard to see him take his last breath.  I’m glad I was with him, despite the hard visuals.  He was always, always there for us.  

Knowing us, though, there’s a funny story in all of it … you’d get a kick out of it.  That Monday, I had to leave the hospital to get home to the girls and get them to various activities.  I asked Lorna if she could stay so I could go back and advocate to have him transferred.  It was a long, heavy day.  But I had to stay positive and strong for the girls.  They were in the car, and we were on the way to dance class.  Blue and red lights and a siren came on behind me.  I thought ‘great… this is what I need added to this day’.  Immediately, the conversation went as follows:

Girls: ‘Omgosh you hit someone?!’

Me: ‘no! I didn’t hit anyone!’

Girls: ‘you crashed a car?!’

Me: ‘no!  I didn’t crash a car.’

The police officer comes to the window… my plate was expired.  I swear, I never got the reminder and nope… I hadn’t looked.  So he goes back to his car to run all of my info, etc.

Me: ‘it’s okay girls, I just didn’t buy the sticker for my license plate.’

Girls: ‘you don’t have money?!?!’

Me: ‘oh my gosh yes, I have money.  I just didn’t do it. All is well.’

The girls told everyone I got pulled over.  You’d be cracking up.  I could imagine the boys doing this to you when they were young.  The best is, I got off with a warning.  You’d say - oh sure… if it were me, I’d be arrested. :)

I like having this funny moment tied into the hard days.  It’s the only way we get through, right?  The parallel of pain and joy, of a breaking heart and the reality of life continuing.

I miss Marlow.

I miss you.

I miss everyone we’ve sadly lost.

Thanks for my dime yesterday.  I’d like to think it was Simon :) I need more signs from him.

XO

Love you,

Me

Golden Birthday

 Dear Kerr,

It’s Simon’s golden birthday.  As I type that, I can feel my heart race and sink, I absolutely hate having to think ‘he should be turning 21’.  No one SHOULD be turning that age… you should make it to that age.  Our world has been flipped upside down so many times … but if I let myself play the what-if game, if I let my mind pretend our world is right-side-up again, I think we’d be out of town this weekend.  I think we’d be in Vegas.  Maybe we’d have corny shirts again like at my messy-with-Tessi 21st Vegas bash.  You’d for sure plan 1 big dinner for everyone who came, and I think we’d decorate the heck out of a cabana.  I can see him being both embarrassed and also loving the big celebration… pool ladies with sparkling bottles, DJ shouting out Simon’s birthday, and all of us living our best lives with Simon, who for so long, was the baby nephew.  

How different would life be… if this was a TV show, a big cloud bubble would come over my head and we’d jump into an episode all about what it would be like if you and Allan and Uncle Aaron and Uncle Marlow and Simon were all still alive.  I’d add Bubby and Papa in there, but at this point, they’d be well into their hundreds :) I would’ve loved to have shown papa a smart phone, though, and get his takes on world news while Bubby cooks up a storm…

Writing to you allows my mind to wonder where it wants.  I try hard not to do that in my day-to-day.  It takes a lot of energy, but I have to do my best to be mindful of what I think about everyday.  It’s too hard to wonder what life would be like.  It would be better… sure, I can’t know what it would be, but having you all back would for sure be a scenario I’d love.  It can be exhausting, and hard, and distracting, but I try all day everyday not to think about how the girls were robbed of the best aunt and 1 of the 3 best big boy cousins, and a kick-ass super-fun full-of-advice brother in law.  

The bottom line is, I miss you all.  I feel like so many of these losses were out of my control, and while mental health can be too, I still feel keeping Simon alive was controllable.  One day, maybe, I’ll let that go.  Maybe it’s because I wish with every fiber of my being that he would’ve held on, that I feel and wish I could’ve changed it.  But for now, for today, I’ll let myself drift sometimes to that heavily decorated cabana, busy pool, loud music, good food, and incredible fun.

Thinking of being near you and Simon is both sweet and incredibly heartbreaking… there goes the fast-paced sinking heart feeling again…

I miss you.

I love you.

Happy summer solstice, Simon!

XOXO

Me

What would we be doing?

 Dear Kerr,

I think about writing you a lot.  I sometimes talk it out in my head, but putting the digital pen to paper feels harder than it used to.  And right now, I wonder so many things… can you really see this life?  And if so, do you have any ability to puppeteer it, per se?  I imagine, no.  But if you can see it all, then can you see the good and the bad?  That has to be hard to see the good and not be able to celebrate, but also just as hard to see the bad and not be able to help.

I feel blah.  I hate when I’m blah.  It’s a hard thing to shake.  The grey cloud that hovers … and you know the only clouds I like are the big bright white puffy ones.  Sometimes finding the joy through that cloud seems nearly impossible.  But I keep going.  It’ll shine.  It has to.

Tomorrow is my birthday, but you know that.  We’d have lunch.  Where would we go?  Here’s the thing, I could use some of that bright light to shine through.  If you can send me a sign (and maybe make it a birthday gift :-)  Just let me know you’re there.  That it’ll all be okay.

I love you.

I miss you.

Hug Simy for me.

X