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."