the things you miss the most

In writing my last post, I realized that its been a year since my last blog. To those of you out here that looked to this site as comfort, I apologize for my absence. To those of you who have encouraged me to get back on the horse, thank you. Saying this let me double up tonight...

It's been far too long.

It's been one of those nights. A night of too much thinking, too little sleep, and way to much NETFLIX. Good Will Hunting was on the list. I think one of the greatest quotes on love comes from the movie and few recognize its greatness. Let me share...

Sean: My wife used to fart when she was nervous. She had all sorts of wonderful little idiosyncrasies. She used to fart in her sleep. I thought I’d share that with you. One night it was so loud it woke the dog up. She woke up and went ‘ah was that you?’ And I didn’t have the heart to tell her. Oh!
Will: She woke herself up?
Sean: Ah...! But Will, she’s been dead for 2 years, and that's the stuff I remember: wonderful stuff you know? Little things like that. Those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I know about: that's what made her my wife. Oh she had the goods on me too, she knew all my little peccadilloes. People call these things imperfections, but there not. Ah, that's the good stuff.

The Good Stuff. I know few men who could look me in the eyes and tell me they love the farts of their wife. Few people in general miss the farts. But watching it I completely understand where he is coming from. If you have lost someone close to you, I mean someone really close to you, you miss the farts. Maybe not the literal farts but you miss those little things that no one else knew you else even knew existed.

I know with Amber, I still struggle to this moment on tough days, I pick up the phone wanting to call her. We were each others support system. There's a part of me missing. My mind goes pack to the time we were kids. Swimming. Playing. Growing up. School. Taking care of one another. The good stuff. And don't let yourself be fooled, this is the good stuff. Don't let the good stuff pass through fingers. And each day you wake up without that special someone, smile because of the good times you had together!

Sean: You'll have bad times, but it'll always wake you up to the good stuff you weren't paying attention to.

arm wrestling?

Tonight I was watching a movie on arm wrestling, don't ask! It gets to this point in the movie the Russian phenom starts talking about an ancient Chinese fable. I found a retelling of it and want to share it with anyone who might find this one day....

A monk walks alone in a forest. The leaves rustle in the wind. The sun penetrates the foliage and lies dappled on the forest floor. The bushes, trees and wildflowers give off a fecund musk. He is happy as he slowly makes his way home. Suddenly a tiger springs out on the trail behind him and snarls, leaping. He runs. The tiger gains on him. Now sprinting, his mind a torment of fear, he crashes through a bush and reaches a precipice. The tiger is right on him. He leaps. Twisting, he spies a cliffside bush. A thorny blackberry branch meets his hand. He grasps it. A thorn pierces his palm, and he cries out. Looking down, he sees another tiger, circling far below. Despondent, and in pain, he moans, uncertain whether to let go, and face the tiger below, or pull himself up, and risk the tiger above. Suddenly, he spots a blackberry, large and luscious. His fears immediately dissolve, and, captivated, he reaches out, plucks it, and savours it.

After losing someone you love, one of the hardest things that you will ever do is to truly savour that blackberry. Our pasts have overtaken us, our futures seem to be more than we can handle and the future becomes a blur.

There's so many people who never move out of the past. Their loss come to define them. The birthdays, the anniversaries, the holidays are all just one more reason to mourn. There's no more rejoicing. Another reason to wake up the day before. You're haunted by the unanswered questions. The maybes. The what-ifs. The might-have-beens.

The inability to move out of the past really just puts extra emphasis on the future. The focus on the tragedy overwhelms the capacity you have to live or love the present. There is soooo much fear that something bad can and will happen again, you're handcuffed to really live.

That's where you find the bereaved. Hanging on onto a blackberry bush, staring, trying to decide which tiger is the lesser of two evils. The REAL difference is their failure to appreciate the blackberry that hangs in front of them. I think it so far beyond appreciation. I'm not sure most of us even recognize the blackberry. There's so many of who have grown to hate the blackberry.

What is it going to take for you to learn to savour the blackberry that hangs in front of us?

All of this makes me think of another great movie. "There is a saying: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the "present."" ~Master Oogway

is it over yet?

The other day I overheard someone talking about a family who lost a loved one, they were asked to continue to remember them in prayer (it's been a couple of weeks). He replied its still going to be a while it usually takes a year or a year and a half for the grieving process. The guy meant no harm. I read the same thing in multiple books (it's usually followed by it's different for every person.....).

But we can' sit there watching a clock, thinking that life will ever be the same again. When life rocks you, you change. Foever. You're not the same person ever again. Everything that made you who you are is different. The things that mad you happy, the things that made you sad, the things made you laugh, the things made you cry. You've changed.

Yes life does go on. Hopefully you'll laugh and enjoy it once more. But its a new normal.


At acceptance is everything better? At that point when you interact with society is everything better? At the point when you can laugh and sit through a movie is everything better? Not at all but this is your life. you have to live it one day at time. The grieving process is a LIFELONG process that you will experience forever.

the world keeps going

Two years have flown by. So much has happened. I can't say it's gotten easier living without her, but at least at this point I know I can survive. One of the hardest realities that hits you soon after you lose someone is that world doesn't stop. Life must go on. As you drive around soaking in your anger, hurt, frustration and questions you notice something, no one else seems to be too concerned. They sit in their cars talking on their phones, laughing, smiling, enjoying life. And you're just there, existing for the moment.

I really have no room to talk. In ministry I grew way too comfortable at funerals and to this day still really am. I lost people close to me and went on like nothing was wrong and thats what a lot of people expect out of us. But for those of us out there who have lost part of us when someone we loved has passed on, you ask yourself how can the world just keep going on like nothing happened? As you drive around and wonder if you'll ever to laugh like that, we have to remember the world keeps going. Does the warrant anger and frustrations? Maybe... but what's more important in these moments is a healthy remembrance of those who we have lost and those close to us who have lost someone.

Remember the good times, the times you laughed, the times you cried, the precious seconds you had with them not just the fact they aren't here with us. That's the true injustice, simplifying someone's life to the second when we lost them or the a funeral.

life is no nintendo game

Growing up a middle-class, white kid from the Burbs in the late 90's one thing came natural ~ liking Eminem (don't hate). I think it might embedded in my DNA or fed to me through subliminal messages or maybe it was forced down my throat by MTV. I remember the nights working in restaurants and any time you had a white line cook you WOULD hear at some point the Marshall Mathers LP! I say all this because I never got rid of that white kid... and the other day we were listening to the new Recovery CD (not bad by the way). But as I listened to Love the Way Lie on repeat a line hit me, "life is no nintento game."

Before Eminem, I had an NES system. Game of choice, Contra. I could play it for hours. The best thing about Nintento games is that no matter what you do you always come back to this screen. You can play for hours, you can mess up as many times as you want to, die and you always end up back here....

Life is quite so kind. One mistake is one too many. Mess up, there's no reset button. The decisions we are making MATTER. Your life at this very moment MATTERS. This is it. As a famous musician once so eloquently put it "if you had one shot, or one opportunity, To seize everything you ever wanted - One moment, Would you capture it or just let it slip?" We can't get to a point in our life we look back with disgust at the we lived, at the decisions we made. We can't live our whole life feeling guilty.

There is a saying: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the "present." Life is no Nintento game. Today is a blessing, what are you doing with it?

Waking Up

I'm not a morning person. Never have been. I'll never forget one time being in middle school-ish and my Dad picking me out of bed, setting me in the bath tub and turning the cold shower on (although he would probably deny ever doing such a thing).

Its been a busy summer, and I haven't had much sleep. My wife has been trying to help me keep m job by not letting me sleep til noon this past week, but in doing so she has been given the horrific task of waking me up. This morning, she began round one with an angelic 'good morning.' It really couldn't have been said any nicer, and I think at that point I might have growled. As I laid there awaking, all I could think about was Amber calling and saying 'good morning my little rosebud, its time to blossom.'

I know I've mentioned this before, but the things that matter most in life aren't how nice your house is, or even if you have a house. Its not the fact that you drive a Volo or Geo Metro. Its not how much stock you have or looking through your car for enough to grab some fast food. Life is made of little precious moments, that we take for granted each and every day. The housing market has crashed, my trusty red jeep has given out on me yet (but is close) and all that eating out made me fat, but I would give every penny in world to wake up to a phone call from Amber.

Happy Birthday Gosh!

gone fishing

its that time of year again. fishing time. i took some kids in the youth group the other day. caught a ton of fish. had a great time. never really sure what drove me to fishing. just always thought it was peaceful. it was my great escape.

anyways... fishing was always an opportunity to spend time with the people who were close to you and still is to this day.

i recently bought a new camera. dont want to let any of life's precious moments to slip through my fingers. i needed a little memory stick and remembered an old one i had back in the day. found it. had some great pics on it. teared up a good bit. but smiled at the same time. wanted to share these with yall. hope you enjoy.

fear

I think one of the worst aftereffects of losing a loved one, is living the rest of your life in fear. It still bothers me when Jenny leaves on a road trip, I try not to let it show. But you can't stop your mind from wandering. All you can think of are the what-ifs. The tragic always outweighs the happily ever afters. When people tell me they're coming to see me, I always tell them to be safe, not out of politeness but because inside me I'm genuinely concerned that there's that chance that something bad can happen. I don't like to not tell people how much I love them because the fact that this is the last time you might ever see that person is REAL.

And now that we're expecting a baby girl, the scenarios that play in my head are haunting. I keep imagining myself in my father's shoes. I try to invent ways to protect my family, but we are truly so powerless as people. Life has to be lived, bad things will happen. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm at an impasse. On one side I see an over protective father not letting his child live their life and on the other I see a man who lives in constant fear that he'll get a late night phone call.

I hope and pray each night that I can be the best father I can be. That my tragedy only helps me love her more. I will always be afraid of losing those who are closest to me.....

Amber Grace Vego

I have a little girl who is due at the beginning of August. I'm going to name her Amber Grace Vego in honor of my sister. It's something I struggled with, I just didn't know if I could emotionally having a little blonde-haired little girl named Amber running around the house without losing it once in a while (assuming she has blonde hair). But the second Jenny and I saw the ultrasound it just felt right.

This is another one of those huge steps in life where grief hurts the most. You think about little Amber never being able to going shopping with crazy Aunt Amber or the gifts I know she would have showered upon her or maybe the stories that would be told to her as she got a little older. It sucks that she'll never get the chance to meet one of the coolest people I ever knew. She'll never get to laugh the way she could make me laugh. To cry the way she could make me cry.

I guess I'm writing this to say Aunt Amber, we love you!

trying to hold on

I've had the same cell phone for years. There are few things in this world that I hate more than changing phones, I guess it's kind of sad but our cell phones are becoming part of who we are. You get used to always having it, the way t works, texting on it... and then you get the new one with all the technology you can't figure out how to use, the buttons are too far apart, the new ringtones suck. But I really hate saying goodbye to this phone because it has the last text messages Amber ever sent to me. I've known this day was coming for awhile and have been debating on what to do with the messages. I could hold on to the phone but it would just sit in the box of memories, so I decided to share some our last text with the world....

A couple of days before Amber's accident see came to Arkansas (where I was living at the time) and started texting me on the way there.

While in Memphis, Amber: "I sure wish I had a thrift store shopping partner today"

one of our favorite things to do was thrift store shop. i stumbled upon in high school and feel in love. it became mine and her therapy. when she or i would have a bad day we would hop in the jeep and head for midtown. we could spend hours and not buy a thing and just enjoy the time we had together. later after she went off to mtsu, she would always bring me stuff home from the thrift stores up there. she had it down to an art.

We talked a little about church and she told they were crossing the bridge into Arkansas. She expressed to me how bored she was and started talking about dinner. I asked here what she was hungry for.

Amber: "Mexican, seafood, a good salad. I dont really care"

If thrift store shopping was our hobby, eating was our occupation. Its what we did, it was who we were. The question wasnt are we going out to eat, but where. How could we ever forget those meals. Salmon at J Alexanders, a salad at McCalisters, some good Mexican food. Even something like a meal together can become a memory that lasts forever. I just wish I could continually remind myself that I ever I time I sit down for dinner.

We talked about Gadge. About dinner. About "his jenny".

Those last couple of days were so incredible. They were fun, stupid, we went antique shopping for rocking chairs, thrift store shopping, platos closet, ate some good meals, watched some tv, played in the backyard with the puppy dogs, walked around and talked about life, talked about relationships and the future. Its so weird. We had one of those big brother, little sister moments right before she left about what she wanted in life. Never once did it cross my mind that I would be hugging her for the last time.

Its time to get rid of the phone. Sometimes its hard, but necessary, to let go of grieving stuff but that doesn't mean that the memories are gone. Its so hard to clean out that closet or even to walk in the attic. But what are we really holding on to? Amber isnt a text message or an old shirt, but thats what its seems like she became.

Hold on to the right things.

tuning it all out

I tend to stay busy. Real busy. I usually come home exhausted (yes, even though youth ministers don't work). I constantly keep my mind stimulated; work, books, tv, video games, computers. . . I couldn't tell you the last time I did nothing (when I say nothing I mean go out without an ipod, lay down without the tv or book, do something without a hidden agenda).

I think I'm afraid of what my mind has to offer, of the thoughts or memories that could creep in. As long as I keep pressing forward, I'm too busy too turn around at look behind me. This neck-breaking speed can't be good for anyone. And I'm not getting anywhere faster.

I'm tuning it out. I'm constantly on people about not giving up after loss, but am I really doing any better. I have just chosen a different defense mechanism. Something I'm more comfortable with and makes me look better. I have to quit tuning life out, quit tuning grief out, quit tuning out the things in life that make me happy.

my muchacha

So here are 1.5 years later and Amber still manages to be the first and last thing I think about everyday. I find myself grasping at straws.. a song comes on the radio we both liked-- it must be her sending me a sign, I dream about her and I convince myself it was her really wanting to hang out. It can be quite pathetic at times, but its all we have. I watched our Senior video over and over just to see clips of her in motion. It seems more real than a picture.
I feel like i should be "better," but what does this entail. We just have to learn to live with this new normal even though most days I am not a big fan of this new life. My life is now defined as "life before Amber" and "life after" and they are drastically different. When she was alive I never realized how important she was to me and how valuable she had been to my life. I can say I am a better person because of her death, but sometimes I feel like Im the only one who has learned a lesson. It is very frustrating. So many people we know are still out their risking their lives and hurting others despite the knowledge that life can be taken so quickly.
I could ramble on for hours about her and for this I am greatful. I like knowing that she will remain on my mind and in my heart for the rest of my life. This has been such a surreal process and continues to be a life lesson. I met a guy whose son had died 19 years ago in a car accident. His son was the only one killed in the wreck. He talked about his son as if he were alive yesterday and the emotions of the wreck came flooding back in an istant. He was crying within in 5 minutes of talking about him. He glowed when he talked about how wonderful he was and became enraged as he thought more about the wreck. It was refreshing to see someon share the same emotions I feel daily. It is a bittersweet thought to think in 19 years I will still be crying and emotional about our loss. This dad said he still thinks about his son first thing every morning and he too grasps onto dreams of him. So us grievers are not alone, even though it often feels like we are.

expect much?

This world is full of expectations. People are full of expectations. You're full of expectations.

It wasn't too long in the grieving that I realized people were beginning to expect me to be 'better', that it's about time to be normal again. Soon I realized people's expectations were becoming my own. Days had gone by, then it was weeks, months followed soon behind, and I was still in pain.

I went to my first grief counseling group secession (yeah a year and a half after Amber passed away). Tonight the counselor said something, he told me I can't expect too much out of myself. There is so much pressure on us, to be the people that other people want us to be. So many expectations, some realistic, some not. Expectations do influence who we are as people, but should they? I can't expect that today is the day that I find the new norm. I am where I am. I have to accept that. We have to start accepting people for who they are not who we expect them to be. Maybe then could you see the real new norm.

25

25 today. Its hard to think of not being able to call her and sing her happy birthday today, because I know that's what see what have done for me. Its days like today when you think about how short life can be. I still take so much for granted. Still watch pass me by. Who would have ever thought I would spend Amber's birthday crying in the front yard and blogging about how hard life is?

She would hate this. Amber always made a situation better. If was a sad day, she would make you laugh; a tough day, she would carry your burden; a sad day, she was the shoulder to cry on. . . No matter how dark or bleak the day would look, the air changed when she walked into the room.

I hope that we can always remember Amber on days like today. I hope we can remember the life that she led and look back and smile. Not only that I hope we can look forward to the years, days or seconds to come and lead the lives that would make her happy, that would make us happy. Lives of happiness, joy, and love. She was such a passionate person, let us follow in suit!

Happy Birthday Amber

I will always love you,

your lil brother!

Thanks Morrie

"Morrie honked loudly into the tissue. "This is okay with you, isn't it? Men crying?"

Sure, I said, too quickly.

He grinned. "Ah, Mitch, I'm gonna loosen you up. One day, I'm gonna show you it's okay to cry."

Yeah, yeah, I said.

"Yeah, yeah," he said."

These past couple of posts have been quotes have been quotes from Tuesdays with Morrie. Morrie. I never met Morrie. But I know him. Every time I have read this book I tear up when Morrie's ALS finally got the best of him. His courage, his ability to look at the glass half full, his willingness to accept the cards life dealt. But I have never read through the eyes of someone who has lost someone close to them. When I lost Morrie this time, I wept. I cried in the arms of my wife, I cried like I haven't in a long time.

At the end it Mitch mentions talking to his younger self and what he would tell him to do differently, that's the part that really got me. I couldn't take it. I set the book down, I wasn't able to finish it later in the day. We all live our lives with that guilt, the what ifs, and what might have beens. There isn't a day that doesn't go by that I don't something I might have done differently.

Mitch says something, "I know I cannot do this. None of us can undo what we've done, or relive a life already recorded. but if Professor Morris Schwartz taught me anything at all, it was this: there is no such thing as "too lat" in life. He was changing until the day he said good-bye."

I want to quit beating myself up over the past and look to the brightness of the future. For every time I cry when I miss Amber I hope I can laugh aloud at the crazy good times we had together. This is to they moments she gave us, I know I will never forget them.

"he had finally made me cry."

Thanks Morrie for reminding me its ok to cry. . .

Experience them as well

"How we feel lonely, sometimes to the point of tears, but we don't let those tears come because we are not supposed to cry. Or how we feel a surge of love for a partner but we don't say anything because we're frozen with the fear of what those words might do to the relationship.

Morrie's approach was exactly the opposite. Turn on the faucet. Wash yourself with the emotion. It won't hurt you. It will only help. If you let fear inside, if you will pull it on like a familiar shirt, then you can say to yourself, "All right, it's just fear, I don't have to let it control me. I see it for what it is."

Same for loneliness: you let go, let the tears flow, feel it completely - but eventually be able to say, "All right, the was my moment with loneliness. I'm not afraid of feeling lonely, but now I'm going to put that loneliness aside and know that there are other emotions in the world, and I'm going to experience them as well."

The pain still goes on?

"Before the show ended, Morrie read Koppel one of the letters he'd received. Since the first "Nightline" program, there had been a great deal of mail. One particular letter came from a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania who taught a special class of nine children; every child in the class had suffered the death of a parent.

"Here's what I sent her back," Morrie told Koppel, perching his glasses gingerly on his nose and ears. "Dear Barbara. . . I was very moved by your letter. I feel the work you have done with the children who have lost a parent at an early age . . .'"

Suddenly, the cameras still humming, Morrie adjusted the glasses. He stopped, bit his lip, and began to choke up. Tears fell down his nose. "'I lost my mother when I was a child . . . and it was quite a blow to me . . . I wish I'd had a group like yours where I would have been able to talk about my sorrows. I wouls have joined your group because . . .'"

His voice cracked.

"'. . . because I was lonely. . .'"

"Morrie," Koppel said, "that was seventy years ago when your mother died. The pain still goes on?"

"You bet," Morrie whispered."

Some mornings. . .

"There are some mornings when I cry and cry and mourn for myself. Some mornings, I'm so angry and bitter. But it doesn't last too long. Then I get up and say, 'I want t love...'"

Now What?

"My old professor, meanwhile, was stunned by the normalcy of the day around him. Shouldn't the world stop? Don't they know what has happened to me?

But the world did not stop, it took no notice at all, and as Morrie pulled weakly on the car door, he felt as if he were dropping into a hole.

Now what? he thought."