CTRL-ALT-DEL

Have you ever left your computer on for more than a couple days without restarting it?  The longer you leave it up and running the more sluggish it becomes.  What I really hate is when the program I am working on freezes up and won't run.  Important information like my high score for Hearts or Solitaire is lost for eternity.  When this happens I hit CTRL-ALT-DEL and reboot my computer.  Yes I am a PC!  Its known as a soft boot or a warm boot.  It closes any programs that may still be open and restarts my computer.  It gives the computer a fresh start.  It erases some of the temporary files, fixes up the registry, and cleans out the ram.

I have discovered that grief, when accepted and worked through, is like a soft boot on my computer.  It gives me a fresh start, it reorients my thoughts, it allows broken pathways from my mind and heart to be repaired, and it allows me start over again.  Ignoring my grief only causes me to feel tired, overwhelmed, emotional, and unfocused.  So I am learning to allow grief to work its magic.  I don't fight it, in fact sometimes I intentionally hit CTRL-ALT-DEL and allow the tears to flow, the memories to percolate, and the healing to take place.  Our counselor calls it a planned or intentional grieving activity.  I think it's easier to simply call it a reboot.

One of the benefits of keeping my Warren 8.0 operating system rebooted on a regular basis is I am slowly finding that my memory is more often filled with good memories than bad.  With each reboot memories of David's suffering and loss are replaced more and more with memories of his laughter, his passion for life, his love for food, his zeal for God, his child like faith, his respect for life, and his compassion.  Of course the bad memories sometimes poke their ugly head through, like a virus on my computer.  Yes, I am a PC!  These memories are stored on my hard drive and most likely will have a place in my operating system until I get my final upgrade, like David already has.  Until then I am going to unashamedly hit CTRL-ALT- DEL and allow grief to refresh, erase, and reorient.

Dear David...

 Dear David,

Today marks three months since you left this world.  How fast the time has flown.  I can only imagine you are still exploring the beauty and wonders of heaven.  It excites me to ponder what you are enjoying the most.  Is it your vision?  Is it being in the presence of your Savior?  Is it your new mind and body?  Is it sitting around talking with Grandpa, Melody, and others; listening to their stories of adventure, faith, pain, coming to faith, and the daily new discoveries of heaven?  Sometimes crazy questions enter my mind like, "Have you run into King David yet?", or "What color eyes does Jesus have?"  What ever you are doing I rest knowing you are whole and happy.

David, I wanted you to know that we are doing OK.  The first couple months were hard but we were so grateful your suffering was over.  Now we just miss you.  There isn't a day someone doesn't ask how we are doing, tells a story about how your life impacted theirs, or we don't start laughing about one of your many crazy antics.  Thankfully our faith has helped us to keep strong.   I was reading two days ago and came across this verse in 1 Thesalonians 4:13,

And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope.

While we grieve David, we do not grieve as those who have no hope!  So don't worry about us.  We continue to look for ways to use what we learned from loving and caring for you to serve others.  I miss you and love you.

Love,

Dad

PS: Hey Buddy, do me a favor and give my father a hug from me.

I'm a leaker, she's a gusher

Brenda says I'm a leaker.   Yes I know the word doesn't exist in the dictionary, but it is still a good word to define one of the ways I am dealing with my grief.  For little to no reason at all, on a fairly consistent basis, my hazel eyes will begin to water and slowly leak tears.  I don't cry inconsolably, I don't cry for long periods of time, I just simply leak.  Saturday I was carrying down Christmas decorations to store away for another year and I saw David's walker and wheel chair stored in the corner of our basement and I began to leak.  This morning I read a friends Facebook status that said,  "another Battens Disease little one passed away last night" and again I started to leak.  I sat tonight and listened to my son share his struggle dealing with his brothers loss and you guessed it, I started to leak.  Leaking has become a normal part of my life.  A few tears escape, a quick wipe with the back of my hand or a tissue if I am lucky enough to have one on hand and on I go with life.  It keeps things from building up in my life.  It gives me an immediate way to release my sorrow.  So if you see my eyes fill up with tears and slowly begin to leak onto my cheeks, I'm OK.  I'm just releasing some of the pressure that is building up in my life.

Brenda on the other hand is a gusher.  She stores up her tears until she can't hold them back anymore and then she hits the release button.  She wrote the following in her journal;

"As I sit here tears are flowing from somewhere deep inside me.  The dam has been breached and the tears that have been held back for weeks are beginning to leak out.  Memories come and trigger the flow.  Fears of future loss trigger the flow.  Thoughts of other's pain triggers the flow.  They have been gathering and waiting to be released.  Like in our creek, life flows on like the water and brings with it broken branches, leaves, and other refuse, trash thrown out by passerby's, rocks dislodged.  They hit a bend in the creek and trap the various items carried by the "flow of life."  They begin to build up until the water is restricted.  The flow is stopped until the pressure is so great it either finds a new path or dislodges the plug in the dam.  It works the trapped refuse free and pushes it along until once again the water flows freely without resistance.  That is how I deal with my pain and all the broken bits of my life.  They jam up as a dam until somehow the flow of life triggers a release, pierces a hole in the dam.  Lord, thank you for the tears.  For walking with me through the sadness and loss.  For letting me be able to feel."

As I have thought about our two different approaches I am reminded that there is no one correct way of dealing with grief.  Leaking is no better than gushing and gushing is no better than leaking.  They are just different ways of releasing our sorrow.  We are still learning how to accept and allow each other the freedom to process our grief in our own ways.  As Daniel reminded us this evening, "We need to give each other some slack."

No matter whether you are a leaker or a gusher the following verse from the book of Psalms is true;

You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.  Psalm 56:8

Holes

Brenda repainted David's room today with the help of two dear friends.  She settled on Stratton Blue.  I think it is the same color as our laundry room.  After hours of work and two coats of paint the room looks very different.  As you walk into the room even the smell tells you that something has changed.  But it's still David's room.

As I was preparing the walls to be painted memories flooded my mind with every hole I patched.  On one wall there were 10 or 15 divots where David's rocker/recliner nicked the wall as he rocked with zeal listening and creating in his mind's eye the Yankee or Green Bay Packers game he was listening to.  Often as he talked on the phone with friends he would rock back and forth, not meaning to gouge the walls, but lost in conversation with someone about his latest girlfriend or sports team's victory.  Each hole an expression of some emotion he was experiencing.

The biggest hole required a 4 inch patch and three coats of spackle.  It's where we mounted a video camera that allowed us to check on David from our bedroom.  He never knew the video camera was there.  It allowed us to keep an eye on him.  Now he keeps an eye on us. 

Several of the holes were created by small nails that held up Green Bay and Yankee paraphernalia. As I filled in the two holes that held up the Bronx Bombers Blvd. sign over the door to his closet I imagined the joy David would have had if he had lived long enough to see the Yankees win the World Series this year.  But I also pictured the disappointment he would have experienced this past Sunday as the Packers lost to the Cardinals in over time in the wild card game.  While it pains me to admit this, in honor of David I think I am going to root for Brett Favre and the Minnesota Vikings for this years Super Bowl 

One of the the things I discovered is that patching holes is not a one step process.  My friend Norm at True Value said some holes will take up to three coats of spackle so be patient.  I am discovering that the same is true about the holes that have been left in our lives since David passed away.  The nicks left by past memories, the gaping hole left by his absence as we sit around the dining table or at holiday gatherings, the hundreds of small holes left by stories remembered, tears shed, and questions that remain unanswered all cry to be filled in.  Some only required a quick pass of the putty knife and a small amount of putty.  Most I am finding are going to need several coats of spackle, light sanding, and lots of time.  I think I may go back to Norm tomorrow for my next counseling appointment.  

The Ramp is Clear of Snow

This is a picture of the ramp that leads to David’s wing of our home.  We no longer need it or use it but I still keep it clear of snow.  I’m not really sure why I do it but I feel compelled to keep it clear.  I think it reminds me of the privilege it was to care for David and meet his needs.  I miss being needed by him.  For the last several months of David’s life we did everything for him.  I guess the ramp is symbolic of the joy it was to be his Dad. 

I also think the ramp is a something I am holding onto because it is something I don’t have to let change.  In the past two months our whole way of living has changed.  No more aids, no more medications, no more doctors, no more crazy paper work, no more diapers, no more scheduling issues; poof in the blink of an eye our way of living changed.  But  it is still snowing and I can shovel the snow on David’s ramp.

So I put on my boots, my Carhart jacket, the faux bunny rabbit lined ear flapped hat that once belonged to David, and my gloves and shovel the snow.  When you come to visit, please feel free to use the ramp.