We were sitting in the hotel room, the three of us, staring at one another not really knowing what to do next. The phone rang and Robs sounded exhausted on the other end, she needed help with the eulogy.
Sitting there surrounded by newspaper clippings, certificates, old pictures, pizza, Root Beer, and random notes that had been gathered, we were lost in thoughts and ideas. How do you sum up someones life in a mere two pages, single-spaced 12 font? I had forgotten how hard and draining things like this are, how I had forgotten is a mystery and a miracle given our family record. Slowly, things came together and after close to four hours at that table ~ minus one much needed six minute phone call ~ I typed the final words and pushed it off for approval to the powers that be.
I got back to the hotel to find two exhausted kiddos, yay for friends that ware them out on days like this! Cass and E were quick to cuddle up in bed and asked for our same bedtime routine from home. Cass likes her nose rubbed and E his head massaged. I as I lay between them, each of them shared with me their thoughts during our ritual "Day's Highs and Lows". At first it was a review of the day, the fun they had, the things they had seen, the entertainment the guys had provided. But after a few minutes, as eyes began to get droopy Cass started talking about death, her Dad, her pets and finally the funeral tomorrow. After a few thoughts she paused, reached up and grabbed my hand from her nose and held it tight, "Kas, I wish I loved her enough to have her live." Eli grabbing my other hand from his head followed with "I just want to hug her, I want to hug her alive." I held each of their little hands long after they fell asleep, my mind and heart lost in their words.
I was Cass' age when we lost Jenn. Every 17 months or so we've gone through this but I think those emotions, so simple and raw, still find root within me with each loss. You want to love it away ~ the heart attack, the Cancer, the aneurysm, the cold that turns into a fatal virus. If you cry it out, which we all end up doing at our time ~ some later than others ~ you feel a sense of release but no resolve. You can curse the Heavens but that does nothing to change that someone you care for, depend on, is gone. Its not until you have a heart to heart with the Lord, usually in your darkest hour, that all of this somehow becomes okay for a minute. You find the peace you need to fall asleep for the first time in a week and the hope to get out of bed the next morning. And you repeat this step over and over again because we are human and our retention is like that of an eighty year-old with dementia. But our Father in Heaven is patient and will repeat the process as many times as necessary. The ache is real, the pain is acute but the cure is equally powerful and encompassing if I will seek after it, after Him.
Goodnight, I'm going to sleep.
31.8.09
25.8.09
Here We Go ...
One of my little known indulgences in life is Joshua Jackson on Dawson's Creek ~ it's true, I admit it, don't judge me. In the close of the series finale Dawson, an overrated character in my person opinion ~ again, don't judge me ~ delivers a profound line that I'm sure was stolen from some timeless piece of literature that I have yet to tackle and discover as the original source. It is something to this effect: The life and death of it all, as if to say that death is the opposite of life. That's not true. The opposite of death is birth. There is no opposite to life, life is ... life.
When I get word, through whatever channel it may come as today as it came from my Grandfather ~ I realize that my list of "Death Delivers" has increased by one, so Robs, Buba, and now my Grandfather Mount are allowed to give me said news ~ I go into Kasi cope mode. It's different when I'm at home, with Dad upstairs and Mom in the kitchen on the phone constantly. But for the past, almost eight years, I've been away from home. The Kasi Cope Method is easy to spot: few words, lots of hiding as I grieve/worry/anticipate/breath on my own, late night calls to CA to make me laugh and remind me of the here and now, early morning calls to Dad to talk through my thoughts that came in the middle of the night, lots of writing about nothing, lots of laughter about nothing, lots of tears about nothing, and the daylight and public time consisting of the phrases "I'm fine, thank you" "Peachy" and "Sure, it's life".
I remember being in CA when I got word that Buba was in a motorcycle accident ~ something my family already has a bit of anxiety of but a strong love that beats out said anxiety. I had Cass and E and we had a day to get to. So when Bunk called after he got the matter-of-fact-check-in-email that morning upon arrival at the office with word of the accident he heard the Coping Kasi. That afternoon I was grateful for his relief for dinner, as that obviously isn't a strength even out of Kasi Coping Mode, and his entertainment for the children as I digested what was happening in UT. I was quiet as he pulled out the guitar that night and played for the kids. I was more grateful for the quiet and man of few words ~ who did not push the topic that clearly loomed overhead that night ~ than I ever had been.
When I got word about Sam I found a book, a series actually, grateful to the Lender who didn't ask questions. I made my way north, during the drive I let my mind get lost in his laughter. Upon arrival at the House on the Corner I opened the book and breathed for what seemed to be the first time that day. The tears came, sleep came for a bit, but then I awoke to a quiet house full of no one asking questions ~ it was lovely. I got lost in the world of Harry and made it through that.
Today I was coming out of an empty apartment, casually talking to Gramps when he gave me the news. We finished the conversation and as I got into the car I could feel the residue of a mellow and calm, relaxing weekend sweep away as the my mind and body shifted automatically into Cope. I sat for a moment staring at a toddler coming out of the pool, the moment turned into a few minutes and by the time I put the car into reverse I was laughing at his attempt to run away from what must have been a new young mom, who ~ bless her sweet little heart ~ felt it necessary to chase after him and yell at the top of her lungs in this smaller than a breadbox pool area, to that mother I say RELAX. I made the few calls necessary, ran the errands that were on the TODO list for the afternoon, made it back to the Nook where I let the reality of it all hit for a minute, swore, cried, found the seventh novel in the Harry series and began to read. I turned the phone off. When I turned it back on and made my first CA call I left a message, in a happy-non-Mount-funeral-voice (which you all get by the way and it just causes me great anxiety for future reference). I turned the phone back off and read some more. I turned to back on to hear Robs on the answering machine, in a non-Mount-funeral-voice, she knows what I can handle. I called back and as I spoke with her we laughed, made plans, confirmed thoughts, laughed, swore, laughed, made plans, laughed, and laughed. She's in her Robin Cope mode, she's fine, peachy in fact. We are a little bit the same.
The fact of the matter is that everyone dies and everyone deals with death a little bit differently. Life is what happens right now, tonight. Life is the following call to CA and the laughter as I conveyed my lack of communication and the consequences thereof as if he hadn't already lived though nine years of it. And life is the louder laughter that came at his confession of the 21 year old. Life is a roadtrip to Mount Shashta and an unexpected weekend with family. Life is the laughter that said weekend will include. Life is the tears that said weekend will include. Life is the conversations that will come, the lessons that will be learned, the growth that will ensue in the next few days, weeks, for me ~ as I am the stubborn one ~ years. So here's to the life of it all ...
When I get word, through whatever channel it may come as today as it came from my Grandfather ~ I realize that my list of "Death Delivers" has increased by one, so Robs, Buba, and now my Grandfather Mount are allowed to give me said news ~ I go into Kasi cope mode. It's different when I'm at home, with Dad upstairs and Mom in the kitchen on the phone constantly. But for the past, almost eight years, I've been away from home. The Kasi Cope Method is easy to spot: few words, lots of hiding as I grieve/worry/anticipate/breath on my own, late night calls to CA to make me laugh and remind me of the here and now, early morning calls to Dad to talk through my thoughts that came in the middle of the night, lots of writing about nothing, lots of laughter about nothing, lots of tears about nothing, and the daylight and public time consisting of the phrases "I'm fine, thank you" "Peachy" and "Sure, it's life".
I remember being in CA when I got word that Buba was in a motorcycle accident ~ something my family already has a bit of anxiety of but a strong love that beats out said anxiety. I had Cass and E and we had a day to get to. So when Bunk called after he got the matter-of-fact-check-in-email that morning upon arrival at the office with word of the accident he heard the Coping Kasi. That afternoon I was grateful for his relief for dinner, as that obviously isn't a strength even out of Kasi Coping Mode, and his entertainment for the children as I digested what was happening in UT. I was quiet as he pulled out the guitar that night and played for the kids. I was more grateful for the quiet and man of few words ~ who did not push the topic that clearly loomed overhead that night ~ than I ever had been.
When I got word about Sam I found a book, a series actually, grateful to the Lender who didn't ask questions. I made my way north, during the drive I let my mind get lost in his laughter. Upon arrival at the House on the Corner I opened the book and breathed for what seemed to be the first time that day. The tears came, sleep came for a bit, but then I awoke to a quiet house full of no one asking questions ~ it was lovely. I got lost in the world of Harry and made it through that.
Today I was coming out of an empty apartment, casually talking to Gramps when he gave me the news. We finished the conversation and as I got into the car I could feel the residue of a mellow and calm, relaxing weekend sweep away as the my mind and body shifted automatically into Cope. I sat for a moment staring at a toddler coming out of the pool, the moment turned into a few minutes and by the time I put the car into reverse I was laughing at his attempt to run away from what must have been a new young mom, who ~ bless her sweet little heart ~ felt it necessary to chase after him and yell at the top of her lungs in this smaller than a breadbox pool area, to that mother I say RELAX. I made the few calls necessary, ran the errands that were on the TODO list for the afternoon, made it back to the Nook where I let the reality of it all hit for a minute, swore, cried, found the seventh novel in the Harry series and began to read. I turned the phone off. When I turned it back on and made my first CA call I left a message, in a happy-non-Mount-funeral-voice (which you all get by the way and it just causes me great anxiety for future reference). I turned the phone back off and read some more. I turned to back on to hear Robs on the answering machine, in a non-Mount-funeral-voice, she knows what I can handle. I called back and as I spoke with her we laughed, made plans, confirmed thoughts, laughed, swore, laughed, made plans, laughed, and laughed. She's in her Robin Cope mode, she's fine, peachy in fact. We are a little bit the same.
The fact of the matter is that everyone dies and everyone deals with death a little bit differently. Life is what happens right now, tonight. Life is the following call to CA and the laughter as I conveyed my lack of communication and the consequences thereof as if he hadn't already lived though nine years of it. And life is the louder laughter that came at his confession of the 21 year old. Life is a roadtrip to Mount Shashta and an unexpected weekend with family. Life is the laughter that said weekend will include. Life is the tears that said weekend will include. Life is the conversations that will come, the lessons that will be learned, the growth that will ensue in the next few days, weeks, for me ~ as I am the stubborn one ~ years. So here's to the life of it all ...
17.8.09
Liberty Park and I and the Past Little While
Normally I am a Morning Park Person, due to the fact that I spent all of my evenings up until this past Thursday at Hale Centre Theatre. However, now that my days end between three and five at the grownup job, I have ample time to be an Evening Park Person.
Morning Park People are much different than Early Evening Park People. Morning Park People are hard core Park people. They have dogs, I ran sans dog which was a bit depressing. My running partner, he and I usually make it to the Park in about the same five minute time span, has a black lab ~ the dog's name is Roger. Running partner and I met a few months ago and spend the mornings I make it to the Park quietly running parallel to one another, no talking. Obviously, occasionally there are a few words but only those necessary to maintain our uncommunicative relationship ~ typical Kas, I know. But this is typical Morning Park People, focused on the task at hand ~ exercising and burning whatever frustration a night's sleep did not extinguish.
Early Evening Park People are fascinatingly diverse. There was a roller-derby team at the Park today, wow. There were many families celebrating the final Family Home Evening, as the sun went down, before school starts. There was a concert going on in the middle of the Park, bringing in quite the eclectic crowd. Several young couples holding hands making their way around the circle. There was one pregnant mom yoga class ~ this was fantastic to watch for a moment, those poses with those bellies ... a feat! I only went around twice, things are just more laid back including my drive in the evening. I spent the remaining allotted park time sitting and watching these groups of people ~ I lost track of time and loved every minute of it.
I might number myself among the Early Evening Park People but I'm going to go a few more days to be certain. I'll have to say goodbye to Roger and walker, do you get someone like that a Hallmark card? I'll contemplate.
In other news ... Adam made a promise last week as I hit a wall of female emotion and frustration. It's nice to have an Adam. Said promise got me through to Tuesday when I hit another wall ~ again, 26 is just an emotional roller coaster (we've only got 9 more months of this, stick with me!). But I have sweet friends that are more in tune with things than I am and got me to the temple. Sister Holt, this dear sweet sister whom I may never see again, took me through those sweet promises over and over again and as the Spirit filled our little room all of those fears and anxieties were swept away. The Lord's promises are real, I often forget. But they are real. So between Adam's succinct verbiage and deals and the Lord's enduring patience and commitments ~ life is good, great in fact.
Morning Park People are much different than Early Evening Park People. Morning Park People are hard core Park people. They have dogs, I ran sans dog which was a bit depressing. My running partner, he and I usually make it to the Park in about the same five minute time span, has a black lab ~ the dog's name is Roger. Running partner and I met a few months ago and spend the mornings I make it to the Park quietly running parallel to one another, no talking. Obviously, occasionally there are a few words but only those necessary to maintain our uncommunicative relationship ~ typical Kas, I know. But this is typical Morning Park People, focused on the task at hand ~ exercising and burning whatever frustration a night's sleep did not extinguish.
Early Evening Park People are fascinatingly diverse. There was a roller-derby team at the Park today, wow. There were many families celebrating the final Family Home Evening, as the sun went down, before school starts. There was a concert going on in the middle of the Park, bringing in quite the eclectic crowd. Several young couples holding hands making their way around the circle. There was one pregnant mom yoga class ~ this was fantastic to watch for a moment, those poses with those bellies ... a feat! I only went around twice, things are just more laid back including my drive in the evening. I spent the remaining allotted park time sitting and watching these groups of people ~ I lost track of time and loved every minute of it.
I might number myself among the Early Evening Park People but I'm going to go a few more days to be certain. I'll have to say goodbye to Roger and walker, do you get someone like that a Hallmark card? I'll contemplate.
In other news ... Adam made a promise last week as I hit a wall of female emotion and frustration. It's nice to have an Adam. Said promise got me through to Tuesday when I hit another wall ~ again, 26 is just an emotional roller coaster (we've only got 9 more months of this, stick with me!). But I have sweet friends that are more in tune with things than I am and got me to the temple. Sister Holt, this dear sweet sister whom I may never see again, took me through those sweet promises over and over again and as the Spirit filled our little room all of those fears and anxieties were swept away. The Lord's promises are real, I often forget. But they are real. So between Adam's succinct verbiage and deals and the Lord's enduring patience and commitments ~ life is good, great in fact.
10.8.09
Happy Monday
The men in my office need more to do ... I came in to this PowerPoint ~ bless their hearts. You perhaps will enjoy more than I ~ I did laugh though.
1.Seam Fastball. Will cut down-and away. The typical strikeout pitch. 
1.Palm ball. Comes in slow and doesn't move.
1.Seam Fastball. Will cut down-and away. The typical strikeout pitch. 2.Power-T position before the throw. Generates hip drive for max. velocity.
3.Eyes on the target.
4.Pitching hand cocked back so batter can’t see ball during delivery.
5.Business slacks. He ain’t here to play, hes gonna break the catchers hand.
ASSESMENT
Strike three – batter looking. Fastball looked inside coming towards plate then broke away on the inside corner.
1.Palm ball. Comes in slow and doesn't move. 2.No Power-T. Right hand hanging
down towards dirt.
down towards dirt.
3.Eyes and mouth show fear that
a batter will actually be in
there to knock it 603 feet.
a batter will actually be in
there to knock it 603 feet.
4.Pitching hand open so
batter can see ball during delivery.
batter can see ball during delivery.
5.Blue jeans?
When they asked him to throw out the first pitch he wrote a speech.
When they asked him to throw out the first pitch he wrote a speech.
ASSESMENT
This ball will be hit so far it will need a flight attendant.
2.8.09
Turning
I have an amazingly insightful Father who I love to the moon and back. His wisdom and counsel, whether over dinner, in a letter, or a phone conversation sits at the forefront of my mind. He has given me a GPS, this daughter gets lost faster than a four year-old at Toon Town at Six Flags. He has liked this GPS and my adherance to it to to my life.
After several months of decisions of sorts, only to be jolted to a halt with a much needed trip to Nauvoo ~ another day, another post ~ I lay in bed tonight/morning recalling the metaphor of the GPS.
There is a final destination that I would like to reach in this life. Ultimately I'd love to be sitting on a well-worn oak swing, hanging from the old tree in my backyard that my kids climbed in, holding the hand of the man that has made me laugh, swear, cry, smile, scream, and dance for the previous forty-seven years but more importantly has been my partner ~ pushing sometimes, pulling on occasion, and needing the same from me ~ in creating a family. There is a journey, a path, steps that need to be taken in certain directions to achieve this.
I sometimes miss turns, take the scenic gravel road, or even detour to an antique shop in a town a bit off of the main road. Each time I do the Lord 'recalculates' my journey for me. I'm certain that the 'recalculations' of the last three years have caused the Navigator to laugh, sigh in frustration, and perhaps even cry. But when I listen to His 'recalculations' I find myself back on this road, smiling.
Just like Marki, my GPS, my Lord offers a 'heads-up' before turns are made or exits are taken. I have a moment to consider this next step. In this 'moment' you will find that I run the gamete of emotions ~ from fear to anxiety to elation. I pick up the phone and counsel with those loved and trusted to be certain. But in the end, as my Father has always reminded me, the decision is between me and the Lord. When I put away the fear and take exit I do not find the ultimate destination I desire, one cannot skip the fun and necessary growing years, but rather I find another freeway ~ perhaps with less traffic.
Over the past two months, the Lord has given me this 'heads-up' in regards to an exit I have to make. I don't know what is on the other side of that bend exactly, which is not my favorite. I do know that the exit is one similar to one I have taken before and the road that was beyond that exit was hard, full of unexpected growth through trial. I find a bit of trepidation to repeat this type of exit but a greater anxiety at the thought of having things 'recalculated' again, perhaps missing an important lesson found on this road. Because this could be a good thing, it could be a great thing. At the 3 mile warning my knuckles went white clutching the wheel, at the 2 mile warning I began looking for detours, at the 1 mile warning I started to cry (26 is the year of tears), at the 1/2 mile warning I wiped the tears away and tried to logically find an out. Its the 500 foot reminder now ... not warning because whatever is on the other side of this exit is not an awful situation but I situation, no matter the outcome, that will lead me one mile closer to where I want be.
So I'm turning my blinker on ~ with a smile on my face.
After several months of decisions of sorts, only to be jolted to a halt with a much needed trip to Nauvoo ~ another day, another post ~ I lay in bed tonight/morning recalling the metaphor of the GPS.
There is a final destination that I would like to reach in this life. Ultimately I'd love to be sitting on a well-worn oak swing, hanging from the old tree in my backyard that my kids climbed in, holding the hand of the man that has made me laugh, swear, cry, smile, scream, and dance for the previous forty-seven years but more importantly has been my partner ~ pushing sometimes, pulling on occasion, and needing the same from me ~ in creating a family. There is a journey, a path, steps that need to be taken in certain directions to achieve this.
I sometimes miss turns, take the scenic gravel road, or even detour to an antique shop in a town a bit off of the main road. Each time I do the Lord 'recalculates' my journey for me. I'm certain that the 'recalculations' of the last three years have caused the Navigator to laugh, sigh in frustration, and perhaps even cry. But when I listen to His 'recalculations' I find myself back on this road, smiling.
Just like Marki, my GPS, my Lord offers a 'heads-up' before turns are made or exits are taken. I have a moment to consider this next step. In this 'moment' you will find that I run the gamete of emotions ~ from fear to anxiety to elation. I pick up the phone and counsel with those loved and trusted to be certain. But in the end, as my Father has always reminded me, the decision is between me and the Lord. When I put away the fear and take exit I do not find the ultimate destination I desire, one cannot skip the fun and necessary growing years, but rather I find another freeway ~ perhaps with less traffic.
Over the past two months, the Lord has given me this 'heads-up' in regards to an exit I have to make. I don't know what is on the other side of that bend exactly, which is not my favorite. I do know that the exit is one similar to one I have taken before and the road that was beyond that exit was hard, full of unexpected growth through trial. I find a bit of trepidation to repeat this type of exit but a greater anxiety at the thought of having things 'recalculated' again, perhaps missing an important lesson found on this road. Because this could be a good thing, it could be a great thing. At the 3 mile warning my knuckles went white clutching the wheel, at the 2 mile warning I began looking for detours, at the 1 mile warning I started to cry (26 is the year of tears), at the 1/2 mile warning I wiped the tears away and tried to logically find an out. Its the 500 foot reminder now ... not warning because whatever is on the other side of this exit is not an awful situation but I situation, no matter the outcome, that will lead me one mile closer to where I want be.
So I'm turning my blinker on ~ with a smile on my face.
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