Filed under: Molly, The kiddos | Tags: disconnected & random, Josh, My thoughts
Everyday, after Josh gets out of school, we have about 2 hours before Dylan comes home, and another ½ hour or so, before Madison shows up.
People often have told me that Josh wont ever be like “Other kids” and most times, Im ok with it. Do I really want him to be like “Everyone else”, what IS the real definition of normal? Yea, I trip just about every other day, over some stupid comment, or thought that has crossed my path. But for the most part, I really am ok with him. Being who he is. How he is. Im pretty much happy to have him here, to have full custody of him, to not have to have him worry about living with his dad, or being sent around to different homes. To have him healthy, and mostly happy. Most times, that is enough. Even though it seems that as of lately, things have been negative, things have been pretty good.
Really. Shocker, I know.
For the most part, we are striving to put the pieces back. Not how they were, but trying instead to find where they belong now. Not trying to recreate the past, but trying to put the pieces where they need to be, for what they all the “New Normal.” Which is something I often, despise.
I don’t want the new, I want the old. But I know I cant have the old, and the only way. The ONLY way to move on, is to accept that…and move on.
It hasn’t been easy. Its been far from easy. We arent there yet, wherever there is. But its ok. Really. Were here. Where we are, and that is ok. It has to be.
Sometimes it takes more convincing. More convincing myself that it IS ok, that THIS IS ok, that it IS ok. I have to remind myself of that quite often…because a lot of the time, it just doesn’t seem ok. It just doesn’t. Nothing seems right. Most of the time, everything seems quite off.
But it is ok. Really.
Molly used to wait at the window, for the kids to come home. The hour after her nap, and before the kids came home, often seemed the longest. When she would sit at the window and whine, and ask what time it was, if it was time, if she could go, what time it was, if it was time, and well, you get the idea. At 3:15 I would fight her into her shoes and coat, open the door and watch her coat come off as she ran her heart out to the bottom of the hill, where she would wait.
It was the perfect combination. She got her freedom, I was able to watch her.
Most days she would throw rocks, kick the dirt, pick leaves, throw them in the air…but some days, she sat still. Waiting. As anticipation built inside. She sat on a rock at the bottom of the drive way, thinking she was free. That she was so big, waiting for the bus. Alone.
When the bus would come, she would jump, and I could almost hear her scream. The kids would run off and give her the hug she would be waiting for, and together, they would race up the hill and into the house.
It was the 15 minutes that she looked forward to everyday. Every single day, she would wait. She would get excited, ditch her coat and run. Run. Run.
Yesterday I took Josh out to meet the kids. We walked a few yards away from the house and stood at the main road waiting for the bus to show up. I don’t know if he really understood what we were doing, but he got the idea when the bus showed up (after initially freaking out) that the kids were home…and just like with Molly they ran off the bus and gave him a hug. The hug he had been waiting for all afternoon.
This afternoon, as the time got closer for the kids to come home, he brought me his coat.
And a thousand and one thoughts ran through my head as I helped him get his shoes on and walked him down the road, to get the kids off the bus.
Every year, for the past, who knows how many years, the town we live in, holds a community event. Its more commonly referred to as “The blueberry festival” where locals get together, and sell whatever they can, however they can. Its sort of like the 4th of July, only its catered more towards “Arts” and everyone knows this town has so much “Art”. The only problem is, everyone thinks their “Art” is a master piece. I think it just depends on how you look at it, your perspective.
Last year, I took the kids downtown. Like the fool I am I decided to take them school shopping on the busiest day of the year at the busiest place in the world, or atleast, town.
They participated in the “Slug race” where a whole slew of slugs are lined up, yelled at, and eventually, when one makes its way away from the screaming crowds, and into the center, they are pronounced the winner. There was the pie eating contest. The one where Dylan ALMOST won, but was overlooked, and another kid was given the prize. We walked around, ate way too much, rode the over crowed bus, and mingled with people I hope to never see again….and we looked at art. Oh, the art.
I think I emphasized that point last year as well.
My point is, this year. The date for the art festival falls on August 1st. The first Saturday of August, respectively.
Its ironic, really. Much of this is.
Ironic that a few weeks ago I was writing the post titled “One year” and now I could be writing one titled “Two years”. Ironic that a few weeks ago, we hit the one year marker for getting the kids back, and now we hit the two year marker for loosing Molly. Ironic that this year the Blueberry festival falls on August first. Ironic that the blueberry festival is known for its artwork. Ironic that Molly loved to draw, that she would have most likely been an artist one day, if she wasn’t already at four years old. Ironic that Im writing this, thinking about her, and wondering if in the two short years that shes been gone, does no one remember her? But its mostly ironic that she was just here, and now…she isnt.
…and as much as I hate to say it, I havent thought of her or remembered her as much as I should. Mainly because I need to keep focused on this. On the now. On the future. I don’t want to risk going back, or slipping back…
I don’t know whats harder to realize. The fact that I don’t think of her as much as I should. The fact that because of that, no one remembers her. Or the simple fact that its been two years, since shes been gone…perhaps, a combination of all three. They do go together, in a way.
Madison says we should sell her art, she thinks that we should write about her, and who she was…put it together with her art, and sell it…to do something special for her. She says her art would be the best down there. But we wont. Not this year atleast. This year, we will remember her, in our own ways as we walk along the hot pavement, blueberry filling on our faces, clutching slugs in our hands…we will remember her, and miss her…today more than ever.
Call it prejudice, call it perspective…we called it art.
“When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are.”
Sometimes letting go is the hardest part, and other times, remembering is.
Ive gone on about it too much, I know. But it is what it is…and its hard.
A few weeks ago, we took Molly’s ashes up to have them buried. We dropped them off, said nothing, and attempted to carry on about the day as if it was a normal every day thing, to take a box of ashes up, pay for them to be buried, and be told to come back in a few weeks to see the final “Things” in place. Im still not comfortable with cemetery words. So you will have to bear with me as I call grave stones, head stones, and graves in general “Things”.
That was a few weeks ago, and I didn’t really expect much else to come of them. It was a raining when we went up there, and Madisons idea about doing something – wasn’t going to go through.
Last week, she casually mentioned going up and seeing if they had finished. I told her we would. Hoping that somehow, she would forget to ask again. But yesterday, it came up again…and knowing this was something she needed, I agreed to take her up there today. “Can we bring…something?” was her next question, and to get the topic off the table I agreed that she could bring whatever she wanted up there – hoping with everything in me that it wasn’t going to be some form of torture. Because while she is ok with cemeteries and things that go on up there – Im not.
Today, however, it was raining. I thought she would just forfeit the idea, and so after we dropped the boys off at different places, and it was just her and I, I was sort of…shocked to hear she ask if it would be ok to bring balloons with us, and was reminded that it didn’t matter – she needed to go up there, check on things, and say good bye in her own way…I nodded, and a short while later, we were driving the distance up the short hill into the cemetery.
After getting as close as we could, I parked, and waited a few seconds. The rain was pouring down hard, and without the wipers going, it was hard to make out anything except the rain that was coming down in heavy sheets. “You ready for this?” I looked over. She bit her lip and nodded slowly. We got out, and started the descent down the the small hill to where we had been told we could find her. HER. As if she would be there, somehow…waiting.
Years ago, I could have told you the names of the stones that surrounded my wife. I could have told you to take three steps to the right, forward one, and across five, and you would be standing directly on her. The tree that was a short distance away was a place I often sat while watching Emmy crawl, and eventually learning to walk. Years ago, I spent time up there…lots of time. But after Emmy died, going up there no longer was something I wanted to be a part of. Something about going up there where stones were littered with names and dates of kids who were much to young to have even been mentioned…wasn’t a thought I really liked to entertain, and I gave up going there. Hadnt been there for a few years.
“I found it” Madisons voice drug me out of my thoughts and I followed down a few more feet to where she was standing.
It was raining. Not just raining. But pouring. Like it does most often. Rain that no matter what kind of coat you have on, will find its way to your skin in minutes.
Within minutes, Madison had let the balloons go, after whispering a few words to each of them.
We turned to go.
The rain seemed fitting. It reminded me of times I had spent with her, just Molly and I, much like I was now…with just Madison. Only back then, it was time I was “Forced” to spend with her. Time I counted down to when I could have a few minutes alone, with out having to wait on the every need of a four year old who thought I was her live play mate. Times I would give almost anything to go back and redo. To just run in the rain with her, one more time.
The rain seemed fitting, the color choice of balloons even seemed to fit perfect. The only thing that didn’t seem to fit – was the fact that I was visiting her grave…it didn’t seem to fit that a few feet away, there was another grave, with my last name on it. That has never seemed right. Its never fit. Never seemed right, and today, was no exception. No matter how far I come with things, no matter how much I let go of, and come to accept…I don’t think that will be something I will ever come to grips with. There isn’t anything right about burring a child. There isn’t anything right about burring your own child, and visiting her grave – doesn’t seem to be appropriate.
We walked away, and Madison slipped her hand in mine. We walked back to the truck in silence, wind and rain in our faces. But something seemed to say that that would be how Molly would have enjoyed that…the walk in the rain, the balloons…the time spent alone with just her.
Somehow, it seemed right, and wrong at the same time.
But nothing will ever, ever, say “Its final” like seeing her name on that stone, and knowing. Just knowing.
I said earlier this month that April was a month of change. Or, a month of decisions. I said that there were a lot of decisions/choices that had to be made this month, and while that is true, what I should have said is this month has simply been a busy month with everything coming to a close at once – it would have been more accurate.
The main thing was my job. I had a list of options, and had to make a choice by the end of this month. Would I start another job, would I add back on my summer job? Would I accept the job offer down south? Would I continue on the same way? I had originally decided NOT to add another job, and just keep going as we were going, and was looking forward to spending more time with the kids this summer. But then Joshs court date arrived, and I will have some extra expenses this next month with lawyer fees and all that – and so I changed my plan and took on another job for the summer.
Another thing was Josh. His court date, and all that with him. I had originally thought that this last court date was going to finalize everything, but apparently that wasn’t true.
There was Madisons birthday, and while that wasn’t exactly a decision, there were small decisions and issue that arrived with that. Making it, an issue in my mind that needed to be dealt with by the end of this month – other wise the kid wasn’t going to have a birthday.
The last thing, and perhaps the one thing that I have been dreading the most is coming up next. The 29th will be four years since that night my brother left after we had a heated argument, and hours later, he would be gone. When it comes to him, my thoughts usually drift else where, like to his daughter, Molly. We were close growing up, and when we both went through the similar thing at the same time, it brought us even closer – perhaps, to close.
This year, the kids, Madison mainly, has been more interested in Molly. Weve had some discussions about what happened, how she died, and so forth, but this year, shes wanted more. Shes wanted to know the whys, and hows. Shes wanted the details, and the information that I didn’t think she would ever want to know about. She wanted times, dates, thoughts, anything she could get her hands (or mind) on, she wanted. Many of our talks have often centered around her, and often times, she questions what we are going to do with “Her”…to be honest, it’s a question that Ive put a lot of thought into myself, but never have been able to come up with anything except for putting it in the back of my mind, and putting “Her” in the closet space behind all the other junk. Because even though its been over a year and 1/2, I still havent come up with anything worth doing.
Its not right, no, but its what Ive done, and its how Ive dealt. The story is scattered out here somewhere. But the short of it is my mom had her cremated, I eventually gave her ashes to Mollys mom, and later they were returned to me…which is when I hid them in the hole in the kids bedroom – and the rest sort of plays out from there. But lately, Madison has been bringing up the question “What do you do when you have someone’s ashes” it’s a discussion that for the longest time has made me nervous, something I didn’t want to talk about, and something I was happy to leave in the closet. But Madison wasn’t…and because she wasn’t, I opened up and filled her in on the details…giving her the closure I assumed she needed.
More recently, however, shes brought up different ideas as far as what to do with them. Obviously you can just keep them in the house…put them in some fancy vase on the fire place, but that’s never appealed to me. Ive heard stories of people taking the ashes with them wherever they go, even going as far as taking them on road trips to places that person wanted to go. But that’s not for me either. There are stories about people releasing the ashes or scattering them…but that also, creeps me out. What works for most people, doesnt work for me, not that I have anything against the above ideas, they just didnt seem right for this situation. The only thing that really appealed to me was to burry them…but even then, that seemed sort of odd. Madison mentioned burring them out back where shes buried misc animals, and while I know she meant well…that thought didn’t sound to appealing.
Madison asked earlier this year, if I would maybe be able to decide by the end of April, adding to the list of things that needed to be done this month. Its been at the back of my mind. But I had no clue, Ive never dealt with something like this before. Its not something I really wanted to think about, but every time I saw Madison, I thought of that problem, and knew I had to do something…holding Mollys ashes in the closet wasn’t fair to her or Madison,and she was right, something needed done. But what.
So this past month, I began looking into things. I couldn’t afford something…huge, especially not this time of year, but something needed done, and sotThe 29th, we will be taking her ashes up to have them buried. We will put closure to things, and put an end to the mystery box in the back of the closet. The 29th we take the box on its last car ride, hand it over one last time, and wait a few weeks before we return – to see it finalized.
…and then, I think we can say good bye to April, because it really has been a difficult, random, chaotic month…and see what May has in store for us…
There are, on occasion, those moments in life…when something randomly appears, takes your breath, and brings you back to that one point in life where everything was…so…indescribably difficult. It happens so fast that when your focus is shifted, and you begin to realize that this…this right here, is reality? You are so…so….overwhelmingly thrilled with it, that there really isn’t anything left to do, except step outside and take in the amazing reality that you are here, right now, with this, which happens to be yours.
These past few days, I have been reintroduced to the fact that life, is a fragile thing. That death, still creeps in and snatches precious life, everyday…and its enough to take me back to those moments, years ago, when Emmy was born…and how…small, and little she was. The fact that she was so tiny, was enough to keep me away for one simple fact: I didn’t want to break her. She was tiny, and fragile and that was nothing I could handle. But a year later would find me blowing bubbles on her tummy, while she rippled with laughter. It would see me tossing her in the air, and watching for a brief moment as her hair would fly up and her smile turn with her eyes…and seconds later I would hold her tight and whisper in her ear just how much I loved her. Two years, just doesn’t seem to be enough time to have the one you love, ripped away. It doesn’t seem fair, and it doesn’t seem right…infact, it seems downright, wrong.
A little over a year ago, I held my niece as her tiny body took the last breaths, and she too, stepped into the world of the unknown. It was a moment in my life that really….took me by surprise. Because while I knew chances weren’t good…there was still that shred of hope that I clung to, firmly believing that she would open her eyes and smile…again. That afternoon, it seemed as though life was…a blur. The world around me spun with no clear direction, and as I stumbled through the proper steps, I couldn’t help but wonder what this life…this world…thus cruel, heartless place of existence was coming to.
Last week, I send an email to a friend. Telling her that she was right, there was such thing as happiness, and I was living it. It was true…at that moment, I couldn’t have been happier with things, even though its been a hell to get here, and even harder to STAY here. The only thing that mattered was that I was here…and that…was ok with me.
This past week, I have been told by two different people, that two different friends have lost, two separate children…and my heart did a little flip. The pain, and anxiety that comes from loosing a child is nothing that could ever be summed up in words. It takes your breath, your life, your words, away…it literally, leaves you lifeless, as if your heart has been ripped out…because in a sense…it has. Then, this weekend, I discovered that two different kids had passed away, and as I clicked the links and followed the stories that came…read the words, and felt the gut wrenching, heart twisting words that can only be described as horrible, I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Guilt for living, for laughing, for loving again. For giving life a chance again.
Its been a hell, literally, to get here from where I was two, three, four years ago on that day that my own precious daughter was ripped from my arms. To read it, to hear it, to…KNOW it…there is nothing I can say, or do, or even think…that will help these families deal with these losses…nothing, because I know, all to well, that it’s a journey that will take time…dreaded, time…to deal with…long after the kind words stop, and the people stop asking, weeks after the name is forgotten, and the comments start being made…years later, when you learn to live again…time still, seems to linger on…time does NOT heal everything…time…softens the blow, only because you learn to deal with the loss. You learn to…grasp the fact that you will never wake up to see that smiling face, you learn…nothing else. No one else.
Its heartbreaking to read of these things…its…word taking to hear of them…and what little I can do, doesn’t seem to even make a mark on what these families will face. My thoughts will be with them, not JUST today, because plenty of thoughts will be there today…but tomorrow, and next year…when it seems as though you are alone in a world that doesn’t understand…
A short amount of time. Four kids. Four different families.
Molly 2005
“Do you remember Molly?” She was laying on the ground drawing when she rolled over on her back…her hair flopping over, and her glasses rolled back.
Her question caught me off guard…where was she heading with it, and what did she exactly mean by it?
Was it actually possible to forget someone whos had such a big impact on your life? Possible to forget someone who was a part of your life for almost five years? I didnt think it was.
Infact, I had asked myself that before. Would I someday just forget? At times, I wished I could…but only came with a conclusion that I would not ever be able to forget. “Yea…I remember her…” I finally said. She seemed satisfied with that, and rolled back over to continue drawing. She adjusted her glasses, and acted as if she had never even asked such a question. I waited a few minutes, and then, as casually as I could, asked her where she had come up with a question like that. She looked up. “Oh…well you dont ever talk about her…I just thought maybe you didnt remember her’s all…” she turned her attention back to what she had been doing.
Of course…I remember Molly….but shes right. I dont talk about her, anyone would assume I had just…forgotten all about her. I can come up with excuses…but the facts are I dont talk about her around the kids, or anyone else, for that matter. Its not that I dont remember her, its just that I dont want to bring something that is in the past…into the future. Its a hard line, figuring out just what past things should follow into the future. I havent talked about her around the kids. I havent mentioned her name. But I havent, forgotten her either.
I remember her love of music…and how she loved to dance. She had her own style, her own type, and her own beat. But she loved that special time of day when she was aloud to turn the tv on and bop it up to her favorite tunes. I remember how she used to sit on the floor, legs out behind her, sideways as only she could do, with 1/2 her sandwich in each hand, taking bites out of both pieces. I remember the time she “Shared” with the dog. She hated dogs. They scared her, but one day she decided that she needed to share her chicken with one of the dogs. I remember her look when I walked into the room just as she tossed her chicken across the room. I remember her smiles, and laughs, and her stubborn attitude that often times found us head to head, fighting for the last say. I remember her style…the way she did things…I remember how she loved to be alone…in her own world…at certain times, but at other times, she wanted to be all about the audience. I remember her love/hate relationship with socks…the way she had to have them on in the morning, but by mid afternoon, they would be long gone. I remember the way her face would wrinkle up when she was in deep concentration, and the way it would light up when she finally figured something out…on her own. Her “Do it myself” attitude seemed to follow her, her entire life…
Our little "Miss Moo"
I remember when she first tried out for soccer. How HAPPY she was just to be out there with kids, and balls, and everything else. I remember laughing when she was being chased by the ball…She assumed that playing soccer, was getting chased with a ball…she really had no idea how to play, but she loved being out there. The time she demanded her training wheels be taken off her bike, I remember thinking I was letting her go. I was taking her wheels off, and letting her go. As soon as she took off, she tipped over…she got up, and yelled at her bike. Of course, it was the bikes fault…
I remember reaching for her hand, and her sliding hers into mine and she slipped of the chair in the hopsital waiting room, after her dad had passed. She was so young, so innocent…so little….I remember walking her up to the hospital, the day of her surgery, listening to her say how hungry she was. I had promised her McDonalds, after she was better and she seemed satisfied with that. A few hours later, she went under surgery. Those two weeks, were some of the longest two weeks I remember with her. The waiting. Wondering. Wishing. Hoping. Wanting the best for her, but not knowing what the best was…if she came out there was the possibility that she would have no recognition of anything. There was the possibility that she would wake up with a blank slate…and we would have to start all over. Would that be the best for her?
…and I remember the day they unhooked her from the machines…the day that would ultimately decide if she would make it or not…
I remember her. I remember her in bits and pieces. I remember different things at different times. I remember her when a song comes on the radio…and I can see her swing herself around…landing on the floor in a heap…laughing at herself. I remember her when I see a certain book, and remember her frustration when she couldnt read the words. I remember her when I walk on the beaches and when I dodge the rain. I remember her everyday, throughout the day, and into the night…and maybe someday, when Madi asks this question again, I will have a better answer…a more thoughtful response…or perhaps some way of summing everything up. Maybe someday Molly’s name will be more than just a distant memory that seems to be taboo. Maybe.
We love you, Molly
Filed under: Molly
Ive been doing a lot of thinking here lately (amazing, really I know)…but stay with me. I just might, have a point. Im not sure yet. Ive been thinking a lot about the kids…but more…more thinking, really, about Molly. Something, or someone more, that I havent done much talking about lately…and it wasnt until earlier this month when Madison mentioned her name and stared as if she had just said some forbidden word, that I realized…yea…her name has been sort of…forbidden…not on purpose, or really, for any reason..its just how its panned out…that in the past few months, things have been busy and crazy enough without the added bonus of her name, and memory.
It got me to thinking, again, how things USED to be…how things…were…and how at times, they were even more hectic than they are now. I hooked up an old computer earlier today, and was looking for something else, when I came across something I had written a while ago, and thought I had deleted it…It fit…just what I was trying to think, and decided “What the heck” and decided to put it up…(or down?)
Josh is down at his dads…the kids are at school…and so it leaves just her and I. Its scary, sometimes, how much she reminds me of myself. Her stubborn attitude, mainly…and while I should know how to deal with her, and the attitudes she throws out…I just dont…infact, I find myself getting frustrated and angry with not only her, but with myself, because I figure I should know how to deal with her…after all…I deal with myself….but…I got mad at her yesterday. She wanted PB&J. Without anything touching, cut into triangles, just the way she always HAS to have it. Just like she wanted it yesterday, and the day before, and…the day before that. Just the way she always wants it, and the way she has to have it, or we have a fit…and thinking I was doing something good, saving us from another fit….I made it…just the way she liked it. She climbed in her chair, took one look at it and started in…”I dont WANT this” she whined, and cried, and carried on. “I wanned somefing else” “I doesnt LIKE this” “I doesnt WANT this”
…and well…Ive dealt with a little to much of her and her whining, and attitude this week, to really care to much about today…so I told her there was no lunch then…and of course. She flipped…and I took her off to her room, and sat her on her bed, and told her she was staying there for a while. I stood upstairs listening to her crying and yell, and wail, and carry on. I listened to her reason to herself “I jus doesnt want THAT” “I jus wanted sumfing else” and it all sounded so reasonable…so…understandable…so…fitting for a three year old. Of course she didnt want that…of course she wanted something else…why couldnt I have figure it out? Why couldnt I stay on top of it all…why didnt I know yesterday that she wanted a green cup…not the yellow one! Why didnt I know the day before that, that she wanted purple socks…NOT the white ones…I mean, after all…I should just know these things…right? Shouldnt I? But I dont…and I dont think I ever will…because Im not a three year old little girl…and I cant read three year old little girls minds….
…and so this afternoon, after she got done crying, and her room grew quiet, I slunk down there, figuring we could salvage the rest of the day…I cracked her door…and saw her passed out on her bed. Her face red and swollen from crying…her brown hair wisping across her face…stuck in places. Her thumb 1/2 in 1/2 out of her mouth…jerking every so often from crying so much…and I wondered…why. Why why why, couldnt I just….understand her…just…think like her, and understand her every demand…understand that the things she wants are things that she thinks she needs…why couldnt I remember to get her nap in every day…after all…they made the days go by SO much easier…and I knew that. I sat down on her bed, and brushed her hair back…the days…have been so difficult…
That…was yesterday.
Today, she woke up…and went through her normal, everyday routine, like nothing was wrong. She was the perfect little angel I knew she could be, and I began to wonder if we had made it. Had we arrived at the place where things were now going to be easy from here on out? Had she given up on her power ride? Had she finally realized that she wasnt going to control things, no matter how hard she tried? Had she out grown the stage she was in? She said please. She said thank you. She asked, instead of crying and whining, she talked, used her words, and said what she wanted…and she didnt get upset when she could have it…
…and then, she went outside, only to come back in a short while later to ask me to “Take the extras off her bike” her training wheels…shes been after me to take them off for a while…and so I followed her out…to where her bike sat…parked right where she had left it. I followed her out…and she crouched down, and pointed. “Take dem off, please?” As I took them off, I told her that it was going to be difficult to ride…that she would probably fall, and get hurt….she stood by…looking like she was taking everything I had said, to heart. She stared, and watched my every move…and she gasped when the second “Extra” wheel, came off…and her bike, no longer stood alone.
She took it, and smiled…her eyes light up, and she got on…and as predicted, fell right over. She looked a little puzzled…but got back up, and tried it again. She peddled, the bike moved…she wobbled, she peddled again, she wobbled some more, and she took off…smiling as she went, tipping every so often…and it was about then, that I realized…shes growing up. Shes changing…shes getting bigger every day, and her mind is growing…shes reaching a new level, understanding things, seeing things differently…shes growing up…and while its sad in one sense…it also makes me smile…to see her growing up…exploring new things, and taking on a personality of her own…its sad because shes leaving the “Baby” behind. Shes changing into a little girl, and with it comes a whole new set of attitudes, frustrations, and confusions. She doesnt understand it, and neither do I….but seeing her smile today, made it all worth it. Seeing the smile on her face as she turned around, and peddled back my way, yelling “You see me? I di it, I DI it!” and I smiled back and cheered her on…
But…Im not JUST cheering on her accomplishment in trying to learn how to ride a bike…Im cheering her on in life, (or atleast hope I am)…in her new accomplishments in growing up…in learning how to grow up, and change…and I hope to be here….cheering her on for a while longer…because while its hard to let go sometimes…its well worth it…were making it…slowly…but were making it. Keep it up Molly…you’ll make it…I know Ive said it before…but Ill say it again…dont settle for what you know, and whats familiar…go for what you want, and what you dont know and dont stop, until you’ve reached it…dont let anyone stop you…I love you, Miss Moo…dont let me, stop you, from being you. 
Unfortunately…I think that was one of the last “Accomplishments” I cheered her on in…It was a random thought, and finding that random bit earlier, just made it all…so real again. I hope I can continue, or maybe, remember, to cheer the kids on with their accomplishments…even if they are small…sometimes I wish I could go back, and undo those things I messed up on, do things differently, and change those things I wish I could change. When things seem to scream her name, and yell the mistakes I made…I wonder if I learned anything, or if Im just repeating the same mistakes now, as I did then…wonder if things, are going to end the same…
Filed under: Molly
For whatever reason, I started thinking about you today, Molly. The only problem is when I do, I get to feeling bad about it, I should be putting more effort into thinking about Emmy, or maybe even the kids, but its here and its not leaving….the thought of you.
I can still see you laying there as I said my final goodbye. your damp hair and limp face, you were perhaps the only person I really said goodbye to, everyone else, I denied till the end, and then it was to late, but with you, it was as if it were obvious…you were already, gone.
But I also sill see you, your face wrinkled into a deep thought kind of concentration as you persistently worked off your or your dolls socks. But that was you, persistent. If you wanted it, you were going to have it, and while it led to many of our battles, because lets face it, you couldnt have everything! It also taught me a log, and those last few months of yours ,I could see you were finally mastering that thin line that was between ‘everything you wanted’ and ‘what you couldnt have’.
That was a proud day, when I realized that your tiny mind was growing and you were changing, but it was also a sad day, because I knew you werent going to stay young and innocent forever, and that worried me, because if there was another thing you were it was trusting and impressionable. You werent yet aware of the dangers that lie outside your walls of your world, but that was ok. Because you didnt need to know just yet. At the end of a day, most often they were long and hard, battles fought, when you crawled in my lap, slapped your head on my chest and heaved relief as you stuck your thumb in your mouth, you only knew as much as you had learned and while often that wasnt much more than a new word that you claimed to be yours, you were still, just as innocent as the day before.
Its was something I often wondered about, how you would first discover the world how it really was, you still crumbled if someone looked at you wrong and the injustice of having your food touch was as bad as it went. You were all for friends and people, but you preferred (most times) to play alone with and in your world where everything went how you thought it should. I wondered sometimes, how long that would last, 1st grade? Your next play date? How long would your simple understanding and young innocence have lasted?
I watched you run down the road one day, I watched as you ran, zig zagged, arms out and I could hear your laughter in me head. I shook my head, Knowing it wouldnt be long before you were walking that same road, dragging your self because the world wasnt what you thought, I expected long talks and difficult questions, because that was you, Molly.
While you werent my daughter, and while people say and said that its impossible to love another child like your own, You broke down all the barrios and taught me that I could, Infact, love you just the same. I loved you and your cousins, like my own.
I miss you daily, I love you still, your memory is never far from my mind and every time the rain falls or I hear a certain son, I think of you and I see you…still dancing, running and laughing, I prefer to remember you that way, I always will try, because I think, and its just a guess, but I think that show you would prefer to be remembered…
Hugs and kisses, silent wishes. I love you..
Your Uncle
Filed under: Molly
…will never be quite the same.
…and while I should be able to come up with something better, I cant. Im at a loss for words. Just to say that its been a year since shes been gone, and while she taught me a lot in her short years here, I think shes taught me more by her death….Thank you for teaching me how to love again.
{I figured out why, Ive been so…fucked up lately. I finally figured it out, and while it should be easier to grasp a hold of life now, it just seems to be all that much harder.}
This afternoon didnt go quite as I had planned, and it wasnt until I had opened the door that I realized I could have? Just not answered. But when functioning on little to no sleep, you tend to do…smart things, right? Right. I stood there, face to face with my manager wondering if I should close the door on his face and count to 10 in hopes hed disappear, or if I should ask him what he was up to. I opt for choice two, considering choice one wouldnt have done any good. He wanted to know if I could put in over time out at the river this afternoon. Paid. Overtime. You know? I glanced over my shoulder real quick like to look at the kids, hesitated a minute, and thats how I found myself rearranging my afternoon. I somehow figured I could manage a few hours out as tour guide, on little or no sleep, because you know, Im good like that?
I spent the next few minutes contemplating what to do and how to do it, and finally decided to leave the kids home. Alone. I told them all about how NOT to turn the stove on and how NOT to answer the door for ANYONE no matter WHO it was, I told them not to go out of the house no matter WHAT, and then quickly revised my plan telling them to only go out if there was a fire, in which case they were to go to the neighbors house, or if there was an emergency, not to be confused with a fight, they were to go to the neighbors house. Yea, I could have loaded them up and hauled them down there myself, but the melt down and fit that would have followed was to much for my mind to even think about. So yes. I left two kids home. Alone. Two sick kids, home, alone, that is.
Yes, I felt a twang of guilt as I headed off to play work overtime in the pouring rain (because if theres one thing were not short on this year, its the rain, seriously, I think it might be fall, or something…) I put in a full days worth of work in less than 3 hours and being the wise savvy one that I am, I sped off to my meeting that I was nearing to be late for, because once again, if theres one thing Im not short on, its bad planning. I peeled what wet layers I could off and ran into the States office appearing as if I had showered in my clothes just before I had come in.
This was a meeting I had been dreading since last week when she said I should have custody of THESE kids before we started Joshs case, because it could, and most likely WOULD get ugly. My file / case and I were sent packing up a level to meet a new “case worker” who apparently specializes in “Cases like these” I was a bit queasy to begin with, being up so high in the building, but I didnt want to push it, so I sat down, to regain my bearings before she ever so slowly explained who she was, and what her name was. I just stared, trying to figure out if I had “Stupid” plastered across my forehead, or if this was the kind of “Case” she was referring to. Either way…
It took about an hour for her to tell me everything I already knew, before I had to go, after remembering the OTHER kids that were still at home, ALONE. I thanked her, and promised Id get my lawyer back up. Because the only new thing she told me? Was that I needed to get my lawyer, because this was going to most likely get ugly. But…I could have told you that, in much SHORTER amount of time.
It wasnt till I was on my way home did I remember something I had long but forgotten. This coming…..Friday. Is August 1. This Friday will be one year, since Molly passed. One year since I wrote these little ditties that are still…hard to read, one year since I signed over those papers and held my breath as I watched her exit this world. One year…and gosh if it doesnt seem like yesterday, because I still wonder, at times, wither or not Im still suppose to be fighting her case as well. It was then that I figured out why, Ive been so…fucked up lately. I finally figured it out, and while it should be easier to grasp a hold of life now, it just seems to be all that much harder
I made my way home, and breathed relief when the house was still…you know, standing, atleast on the outside it was…and after begging and threatening my way IN the house, because apparently I had forgotten to mention, you know? Its ok to let ME back in? I discovered that they not only were ok, they had appeared to have enjoyed themselves, and as far as I can tell, they didnt fight and well…obviously, they didnt kill each other. The only complaint was that one felt like avocado (????) and the other was still really tired. But other than that…I think we might have figured something out. Atleast…for you know, now?
….and now if you’ll excuse me please, I have to attempt to get some sleep tonight, because I have to get up and do it all over again tomorrow….
