All Saints Day

If you are Catholic, as is my husband, you will know that Saturday, November 1, was All Saints Day. You will also know that November 2 was All Souls Day. Essentially, these two days commemorate those who have departed with the belief that there is a spiritual bond between the dead and those still here on earth.

On Saturday, I attended a friends baby shower, with Catherine in tow. James stayed home with Eric, and when I got home, I fully expected James to be awake, up from his nap. That was not the case. Instead, Eric informed me that James had only fallen asleep a half hour before, after talking to himself and playing in his crib for almost an hour and a half.

He has never done that before. In fact, I can only count on one hand the amount of times he has lain in his crib and talked to himself, but never for an hour and a half.

When he finally woke up, I jokingly asked him if he had been talking to Grandpa Tom. "You know, big guy, blue eyes a lot like mine and yours."

He looked right at me and said, "Yessss..."

I didn't even realize what day it was, did not intentionally ask James, and was not expecting that response. Afterward, James grabbed a ball, stood in our entryway and threw the ball down the hallway. I am sure the ball bounced off of something and rolled back to him, but I was tending to Catherine and didn't hear it hit anything. James did this a couple more times, and although I was too distracted by Catherine to be able to tell, I thought it was odd that he was throwing the ball where he was throwing it, and after retrieving it, would throw it again.

I think it's important for my children to know who my dad was. I talk about him as much as I can, but oftentimes, it's only a brief mention, otherwise I begin to get choked up. I also think it's important that James and Catherine visit my dad's grave with me, so they can understand what it is that is so important about the man who was loved by so many.

However, those plans are always thwarted by James, who usually is not in the mood to visit the cemetary.

My choir is singing a song called I Carry Your Heart, which speaks of exactly that. I often try to give them a personal story to connect them to the text, and usually, it has to do with my dad. So I told them the story of James.

I have a Spanish student who said, "Sarurday was Dia de Los Muertas: The Day of the Dead." I about fainted.

True to some of the best times I have with my students, we got a little off track and my Spanish student asked if James gets freaked out when we go near cemetaries. I told them that when I take James to see my dad's grave, he loses it immediately inside the gate, the stay is usually very short and he cries the whole time. Some of my students were freaked out, but my Spanish student just mentioned that her culture believes that young children can see and talk to the spirits who visit on All Saints Day.

And the more I think about it, the more I believe in it. I believe James was playing with my dad. I believe James was talking to my dad. I believe James can see my dad.

The thought fills me with happiness and extreme sorrow. How much I want my children to know the person he was, and how much I want to just see him again, hug him, have a two-sided conversation. I think of the day I will see him again. I wonder what it will be like. I think of all the things I will say to him.

But for now, it looks like I will have to let James speak for me.

Dear Dad

I hate thinking about the coming days ahead because it always means that I relive everything that happened.

When you think about major events that have happened in life, you remember where you were. I was laying in my bunk bed at Iowa State, as a freshman, when the first plane hit the WTC on 9/11. I was laying in my bunk bed at Iowa State, as a freshman, watching the T.V. when the second  plane hit the second WTC on 9/11. I was sitting on my mom and dad's bed, watching TV, in second grade, when the phone rang to tell us that my Grandpa had died. I was in my dorm room at Iowa State, as a freshman, just getting home from work when the phone rang to tell me my Grandmother had died.

I couldn't sleep the night before I got married. I remember laying on my bed, with the windows open in our bedroom, in labor with James when I screamed at Eric to call the hospital because something was definitely wrong.

It was 7:04 a.m. on March 11, 2006 when I called my parents and told them that Eric and I weren't going to get married in 5 short months. March 12, 2006, at 7:00 p.m., Eric attended his first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. He's been sober every since.

But even as all those life events took place, I can't ever remember how I felt. I can definitely remember how I thought I felt, but not the actual feelings itself.

But I remember how I felt when I got the news you were gone. I remember how it felt when I had to walk out of the hospital, and the funeral home, and the church, and the cemetery without you.  And each year, I relive those feelings, without being able to really help it.

It's like when someone dunks you at the pool and you're truly not ready for it. Only someone is doing it with your heart. It's like the panic sets in, and then the struggle to find something steady to pull you up, and finally, relief when someone or something does.

And there is relief when reliving these feelings. There's a relief that it's over and it isn't taking over my life like it used to. There's a relief that, by God, life has gone on, even though I never thought it would. I have found happiness in James, and my marriage, and my job again. I love my friends, I am social, I am happy.

It's pretty incredible when you think of the shock that you go through when you lose someone so quickly.

I miss you every day of my life, but in missing you, I'm also happy. Thank you for giving me the strength to move on with life. It has put things in perspective.

-15 Degrees

January 15, 2009 was the last time I ever talked to my dad.

That day also happened to be one of the coldest days on record for the state of Iowa. Thanks to the frigid wind chills of more than -40 degrees, all metro schools canceled for the day. I was busy preparing a master work (think choir and orchestra performing together) to teach students in a short two months and was swamped lesson planning, sending emails to our hired orchestra players, and emailing back and forth with the band director as to what rehearsals would entail.

If anyone know anything about me, it's that I hate interruptions. I don't let students use the bathroom in my classes, I hate it when my office phone rings in the middle of a meeting, and when I am deep in my work, like I was that day, interruptions are possibly one of my biggest annoyances.

So when my dad called me three times that day, I ignored every one. And finally annoyed by the fact that he would not stop, answered on the fourth call.

I didn't try to mask my annoyance and my answers to his every day questions were clipped. So I didn't hide my exasperated sigh when he told me to throw a cup of hot water outside and watch it freeze in mid-air.

At the time, that was one of the dumbest, most juvenile things I had ever heard. I didn't have time to do that. I only had time to work on building a music program, and putting my name in the record books with a master work, written by Paul McCartney and never before performed in the United States no less, in my second year of teaching.

So I never threw the water to watch it freeze in mid-air. And now this "polar vortex" that will give us a high of -4 and low of -15 on Monday with wind chills in the -40s, the act of throwing a cup of hot water to watch it freeze in mid-air is staring directly into my soul.

If I do it, if I complete this "juvenile task," it will be like closing a huge chapter on my guilt that I have carried these past 5 years. But on the other hand, the second I do it, it will be like ripping open a huge wound. I cry every time I think about doing it, even when there isn't a "polar vortex" in the weather forecast. I'm crying now.

It's crazy what this weather pattern is doing to my heart, and even crazier that after 5 years, I have managed to experience just about everything without my dad. First days back to school after his death, Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, the birth of my son. But it's this, this simple two-second task that is reducing me to a puddle of conflicting emotion. At any given moment, I don't know exactly how I feel about it.

But I do know how I feel about that last conversation with my dad. When I think of my dad's death, I don't quite remember what I said to him when he was lying on the emergency room table. I don't quite remember who was at his wake. I don't quite remember whose faces I looked into while reading his eulogy. So many times I wish I could go back in time and have that conversation over again. But I can't. There is nothing I can do to change that.

Except maybe throw some hot water outside to watch it freeze in mid-air.

Unbreakable

The word unbreakable means a lot of things to me. Unbreakable means I survived my dad's death. Unbreakable means I survived my four years of teaching hell and I'm back in the classroom, doing what I absolutely love, and back to myself as a human being. Unbreakable means that my relationship with Eric is that strong, after everything that we've been through (that story is for another day). Unbreakable means that I can birth a 9 pound baby, who has truly completed me as a person. Unbreakable means that with the weight of the world on my shoulders, I made it. I made it. If I could describe myself in one word, it would be unbreakable.

Just getting a tattoo after all this time is a reminder of the conversation my dad and I had about getting a tattoo after I turned 18, when he thought a doodle on my foot really was a tattoo. The placement of this tattoo represents that fact that with the weight of the world on my shoulders, I have survived. The placement of this tattoo on the left side is the same side as my heart, which my little boy stole, and my dad's memories are tucked deep inside. The word itself is a representation of everything I have been through. And most importantly, the font, which is my dad's handwriting, is representative that my dad is always with me.

I know, that with this tattoo, I truly am unbreakable.

Lifeline...

I remember on long bus rides in junior high reciting every number you could think of, and see who could recite the most.

749-5341 = my mom's office number
749-2541 = Lexi Stangl's number
749-5531 = high school number
1-800-call-jenny = weight loss number

And I could go on and on and on. How many times a day did we dial any given number, especially during the summer? Calling a friends house, calling a friends house from a friends house.  Giving our friends' numbers out.

Of course, this was all before cell phones, where we could automatically store someone's number in our contacts, and then selectively call them simply by choosing their name. You always had to remember the phone number.

I'm not sure if it was fate, but I got a new phone a few months before my dad died. My parents phone number started with a (641) area code. I was sick of misdialing it with a (515) area code, which is the area code I live in. So while doing some random task, I attempted to enter it and save it, only I never got to the "and Dad" part, so I just entered "Mom." To this day, I'm thankful I don't have to look and see "Mom and Dad" when dialing home. Moreso, I'm thankful I didn't have to delete the "and Dad" part.

On the other side of this story, my very best friend had a baby almost 5 months ago. Combine that life with the fact that I have a 10 month old running around, and our phone dates have become few and far between. So we had a phone date "scheduled" for one night, and her name in my contacts list is "Courto Sporto."

The name and number saved directly beneath hers in my contact list is "Dad."

It had been awhile since we had talked, and I had to dig through my contact list to get her number, since of course, I don't have a need to memorize it and therefore don't. In my anxiousness to call her, I scrolled too quickly, landed on "Dad" and pushed send.

It was a rip-out-my-guts, sear-my-soul and stop-my-heart moment.

I pushed "end" not once or twice, but a half dozen times to make sure the call didn't go through. And it wasn't the thought of someone actually answering and then my having nothing to say that made me push the "end" button like a maniac. It was the fact that in my little-girl heart, I had the thought that he might answer. And then... what would I say?

I'm sorry. I miss you. I wish we would have had a better last conversation. Why did you have to go so soon? I wish you could meet James, he's getting so big! I hope you didn't feel anything. Do you hear me when I talk to you? I have a cold. It's snowing at the end of March, can you believe it? I love my job. Eric's been so busy, you'd be so proud of him. Our cat is still alive. We let him roam outside when he wants to, he loves it! We have a video monitor where I can watch James take every little breath and scoot around, he's such a restless sleeper! Can you believe the state America is in? It's gotten crazy! I haven't played cribbage since you died, I think I forgot how to? Haha, I could never forget how to whip your butt. Next big project is the deck, then hopefully the bathroom, if we have the time.

And so on and so forth. These are the thoughts that periodically race through my head when I think about my dad, and then some.

Courto and I talk, a lot. At least, we did. Now, we try to, but life doesn't always make sure that's possible. But we try. I've never had to sift through my contacts in order to call her, I've just had to look through my recent calls. But this time, I had to look through my contacts list.

You go through your year of "firsts" - first birthday without him, first holiday, first BIG holiday, first child, first baptism, first house, first first first. Then the year of "seconds" - second birthday without him, second holiday. And it's so. much. easier. But still tough. Still tough. And as you're coasting through that year of seconds, you come to another "first" that throws you off guard. In the third year, the same; another first which throws you off your game again. And although the time it takes for you to compose yourself gets shorter and shorter, it still throws you off. It's still tough.

After more than four years, I have come across yet another first. And it's almost a comical first. What should I name it? First-time-I've-accidentally-tried-to-contact-someone-in-Heaven? I can honestly say it takes the cake for "firsts."

So I can laugh at myself. I can talk about it with friends, Eric. I can laugh some more. But on the inside, I'm at a crossroads. Do I delete his number?

But in my little-girl heart, I still have the thought he might answer. So for now, I'll keep it. It's my lifeline to Heaven, I guess.

The Cardinal

I love having the windows open. Absolutely LOVE having the windows open. You will find that I will suffer through 85 degree heat in our house if that means that I can leave the windows open.

I will open the windows if it's 60 degrees out and Spring is approaching, even if it means that I have to leave the heat on (don't tell your dad).

When we lived in an upstairs duplex while I was in college (and your dad and I were living together before we were married - gasp), I put our bed directly underneath our bedroom windows. When I would wake up to rain, I would lay in bed for as long as possible and listen to it. When it was sunny, I would lay in bed as long as possible and watch the birds in the giant oak tree directly outside our window. When it was cloudy and cold, I would burrow under the covers and listen to the cars drive by and the wind blow through the trees. I loved that bedroom.

In our house, your dad won't let me put the bed under the windows, but that doesn't mean that I don't love having them open. I made sure that I slept on the side of the bed closest to the windows. I am pretty sure we have an overabundance of comforters for the sole fact that I love sleeping with the windows open, even when it's 45 degrees.

I have finally figured out that I just love the sound of the outdoors. I love being outside. I played outside all the time when I was younger. Went to the pool every day. Actually enjoyed mowing the lawn - although when I got older, it was more of an excuse to be outside for 2 hours getting a tan.

Rural Iowa Summers were the best times of my life. Running around our huge lawn, catching fireflies, having bonfires, hanging with friends, no coats. I love the outdoors in Spring, Summer and Fall. So I want to bring as much of the outdoors inside as possible.

I want to instill this in you as well. I didn't think much of it, but once you were born, I wanted to keep the windows open as much as possible. First and foremost because I just love walking into a room where the windows are OPEN. It just feels like you're outside. Secondly, I didn't want you to be allergic to all things dust related because you're never exposed to it.

So I left the windows open. The day you turned a month old, I walked into your room to feed you and there was a cardinal sitting on the branch directly outside your window. I just remember it being so bright red and LOUD. And it was right there! Again, just reaffirming why I love having the windows open.

I fed you and walked back into my bedroom and there was the cardinal again. I had been having some doubts about my parenting, and wasn't quite sure if I was doing things right. I just felt as though this cardinal was more than just a cardinal, but it might just be my dad telling me it was all right. I never wrote about that cardinal again, but it stayed all summer and chirped and danced and hopped through our back yard. Kinnick tried with all his might to get it, but every time, the Cardinal would allude our poor cat.

Each time he showed up, it was when I was doubting my parenting. Was I doing things right for James? Should I take this new job to have summers off with my son? Should I be a full time mommy? So many things that I would question and every time, that cardinal would show up.

I would always think it was my dad, showing up in some way, not to necessarily guide me to the right answer, but to just get my MIND off of things! He was always good at doing that, and there it was. I would start doubting myself, the cardinal would show up, distract me and before I knew it, I was past whatever was bothering me.

Fast-forward to Christmas. Eric and I decorated our door with two wreaths - one that wraps around the door frame and another, traditional circle wreath that we hung on the light. True to only your good-ole parents, we forgot about the circular wreath and it's still there as I write this. But there's a reason.

One night, we heard one of the stray cats that roams our neighborhood outside meowing. At first, we thought it was there for Kinnick, as they love to romp and play and pick on each other. Probably more the latter than the former... but then the cat jumped up and off our door straight at our light! It was kind of weird, but we didn't think much of it.

Until Eric came home late from work that next week. He said he was getting sick of birds being in that wreath, dive-bombing him every time he came home from work. I laughed and didn't think much of it until James was being fussy one day.

I had no idea what was wrong with him. No new teeth, no runny nose, no fever, fed, bathed and changed. He just seemed really unhappy, and I was getting really frustrated. What on earth did I need to do for this child? Why can't we communicate???

I picked him up and walked him around, stopping by the door so James could look out the window. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I looked at the wreath and saw not one or two, but three juvenile cardinals, stashed in that wreath.

We watched them fly to the ground, grab sticks, and then fly back. We watched them dance, hop, and chirp at each other. I could not believe it. I bet we stood there for 10 minutes.

Although our window is different types of glass, I know James saw them as he started laughing and watching them. It was fascinating to see something I didn't think I would see again, multiplied by three. We just stood there, staring. It was an amazing sight.

Needless to say, I cannot wait to watch these Cardinals with James all Spring and Summer. I cannot wait to take him outside to do it. I can't wait to keep the windows open, with hopes that these cardinals will land right on the branch outside his window. I can't wait until their chirping wakes him up in the morning. I can't wait until he becomes fascinated with them as much as I am.

Dear Dad

Happy 60th Birthday.

Last night, I had the craziest vision of you while driving home. You were feeding our kid corn on the cob, at the dinner table at your house. Baby Engels wasn't ready for it, but he was loving every second of it! And you were smiling and laughing at his reactions, making facing to get more reactions, giving him more butter...

I really, truly wish, from the bottom of my heart, that would be a true memory I would have some day.

But unfortunately, it can only be a vision. However good it may be that I can still remember you that clearly, it will still, only be a vision.

P.S. Please watch out for CB as she grieves through her mom's disease. Give her the strength you gave me, and I know she'll make it out. And CB, if you're reading this, no worries. Pa Dudding will help you out when you need it. Just ask. :)

The first chapter to the rest of my life...

A lot has happened - mainly, I got a new job. HALLELUJAH! It was definitely fate...or my dad...who had a hand in it. My boss seems really awesome, my duties will still be working with kids, and I'll still be feeding that educator in me. I'm excited, but I'm apprehensive. And who could blame me? Look at the situations I've been thrown into in the last four years.

So I'm excited about this new chapter. It will be hard, it will be exciting, it will be stressful and it will be fun. But this is the first chapter to the rest of my life. We'll see how the book ends up.

I've been thinking of my dad a lot lately...then again, when don't I think about my dad? I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder what sign he'll show me that it will be ok. The sky last night while Eric and I were fishing was spectacular. The a beautiful sunset, dark clouds and a rainbow. It was gorgeous and I'm glad I was able to see it as I'm supposed to see it. Simply sun, clouds and a rainbow. Maybe sometimes I look for more in that, but really, it's nice to enjoy things simply.

So for right now, especially since I'm not prepping for next year, I'll just enjoy the simple things. It's nice to know I've got a new direction to go in.

So dad, what do you think about that? I'll be waiting for the answer.

And that is dying...

I went to visit a friend whose wife had passed away and remembering how nice everyone was when my dad passed away, I got him a card and gift card, even though it's been a couple months.

So he sent me a thank you, and inside was a story, typed and printed out on a piece of paper...

"I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.

I stand and watch her until at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and the sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, 'There, she is gone!'

'Gone from where?'

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to beat her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me. not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, 'She is gone,' there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout 'Here she comes!'

And that is dying..."

God and Grandpa Tom Heal the World

My nephew "drew" a picture on the computer that he name "God and Grandpa Tom Heal the World." It's too adorable for words, but it made me really miss my dad. He always did make everything better.

He always told us to eat our meat because it would put hair on our chest. I always told him I didn't want hair on my chest! But it would make me giggle all the same. He always made me laugh at horrible family gatherings when I refused to have fun - and what do you know, they're not so bad anymore (although I always miss him terribly whenever I see any of my extended family). He always tried to make things more fun, happier, more exciting. The night my grandma died, he gave me a beer. I wasn't old enough yet, but he was having one, so he probably thought I needed one too. I didn't have a beer the night he died, I just had a heart broken open so wide I'm surprised it's begun to heal.

But it has begun to heal. Because my dad, even though he's not here, has made his death better for all of us. He's healed us in a way that I didn't know was possible. I am able to remember things that weren't so important back then, but now I will never forget. He has made my life better because of his death. I don't take things for granted, I try to spend more time with family. Conversations and time spent with people are so very fragile that I try to take in the little things, like every second I'm with them.

So in a way, he has healed the world. My world. And my world has healed from the devastation his death wreaked. It's an interesting circle, isn't it?

Waste not new tears on old grief...

What a whirlwind of a few days I have had. And I can't even think that you might have had something to do with it.

One of my students committed suicide early Sunday morning. Since then, I have been overwhelmed with emotion, new and old. So this quote seems so appropriate. But I'm not sure what tears are new and what are old. In fact, I'm having trouble just deciphering what I might even be crying about.

Losing students at Southeast Polk was hard. It was harder than I could imagine because I saw all these students hurting. Time and time again.

This time, I'm at Waukee and the cycle is continuing, at least in my life. Another student dies, more students mourn and everyone learns to eventually move on, changed forever by events out of our control.

And here I am, spearheading a lot of the grieving process. Understanding what the students are going through simply because I have seen it so many times. So maybe there is a reason that you chose Waukee. Maybe you foresaw this coming and knew I would be the one that would help my students get through - especially since it directly affected a lot of MY students. This wasn't someone who knew someone who knew someone in one of my classes. This time, it was a student in my class. It was a person I knew, grew to love and will miss a lot. He was a great kid, but had a lot of things going on. It is hard, it hurts and I grieve for the loss of my student, and the loss my students will endure.

Since the beginning of the suicides at Southeast Polk, through your death and through this one, I have learned so many life lessons and I can't help but think this is another one. A major one, possibly as major as the one I learned when you died.

I am here to help students. This is the way I will get back to myself as a teacher. This is the way I will get back to myself as a person. This is where I am going to find my purpose and although I'm grieving, I am also motivated, determined, and willing to make the school's response to tragedy faster, better, more delicate.

So I can't help but think you have something to do with it.

Someone left me a note on my window today. A tiny piece of paper that reads, "You inspire me." Taped to the outside of my window. It was the first thing I saw when I sat down at my desk this morning, and it was more than a blow to my chest. I inspire someone. I used to inspire hundreds at Southeast Polk. Why can't I do it here?

I can't help but think...

It's times like these I miss you, but so thankful for the things you taught me in the wake of your death.

Dear Dad

I miss you every day of my life. I miss you when I drive to work in the morning. I miss you when I drive home. I miss you when I had a really good day teaching. I miss you when I had a bad day teaching. I miss you when I'm in Lowe's with Eric, I miss you when I pull into the driveway back home, I miss you when I'm planning our remodeling with Eric. I miss you when I am about to go to sleep, I miss you when I wake up. I miss you when I'm working, I miss you when I'm relaxing, I miss you every time I walk by the hutch you made us in the dining room.

My heart hurts every time I see a picture of you - especially pictures of you that were taken right before you died. My heart hurts every time I think of all the things I'm doing in my life without you. My heart hurts every time I laugh about something you might have done, or said. My heart hurts every time I think about having children. My heart hurts when I'm getting together with friends, just like you and mom used to do. My heart hurts to know you're not here to watch me "grow up."

I smile each time I think of the stupid things you made me do, and everything I learned from it. I smile each time Eric makes me laugh when he says something that might as well have come from your mouth. I smile each time I'm reminded what a great guy you were. I smile when I realize I had 26 wonderful years with you as my dad. And I'll have so many more, but you just won't be here.

I miss you every day of my life. But I thank you for each of those days as well, for you made me who I am.

Dear LIFE

Well, LIFE, you certainly have been interesting the past few months. But if I can survive you for the last couple of months, I'm pretty sure I can survive everything you have to throw at me.

I have been beaten down, lifted up, accused, exonerated, stripped of my confidence in YOU and then given it back.

After the "verdict" came in on Friday, I was in shock. Part of me wanted to whoop with joy, but another part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it has time and time and TIME again. But I guess I will enjoy it as long as I can, considering the other "party" hasn't been made aware of the "verdict." I wish I were there to see the looks on their faces - wouldn't it be absolutely glorious? Then I would pull out my most immature move in the book - most likely something like putting my thumbs to my temples, fingers outspread and saying, "Na-na-na-na-na-naaaaa!" But I guess I'll just do that in my head...and most likely every day that I've been stripped of the confidence I'm supposed to have in myself.

Because of all this, I'm still confused about LIFE in general. Is this truly what I'm supposed to be doing? How many teachers come back from this? Will I be able to? Where is my motivation? When I go to school tomorrow, will I be more confident in myself? Will this motivate me to be more willing to learn? Less willing to give in to the temptation to run and hide?

And most importantly, what will I do if I don't do this?

Jupiter

I saw Jupiter last night. In a clear, bright, BIG Wisconsin sky. It was beautiful. Today almost took my breath away as we drove through the southwestern part of Wisconsin. The sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and it was beautiful. The trees were all different colors of fall and there was a new view every time we came up over a hill. Thank you for the peace that it brought me. Especially after the past couple of weeks I've had.

I told my best friend the other night that now that you're gone, you work in mysterious ways. And there you were last night. And today. Gorgeous.

It's crazy how such tragedy can bring about such beautiful things. I wouldn't have known what to do these past three weeks had it not been for your death. I wouldn't have known the right things to say had it not been for you.

The death of someone near and dear does not come with a manual. There are no instructions to follow. So instead, I followed my heart...and it led me to have one of the most memorable nights and one of the most memorable days with people I love. People that accept me for all my flaws and mistakes and bad days.

Not every tragedy needs to have a tragic ending. Your tragedy gave me the strength, courage, and heart to do what I did this weekend. Your tragedy gave me the wisdom to say and do the right things. Your tragedy gave me serenity in mourning the death of someone you love and to celebrate the things they did while they were alive; the things you are doing now that you're gone.

So - grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Love you, Dad, with a heart as big as the Wisconsin sky.

Dear Dad

Yes, I am back to addressing my dad. Life's cup has begun to overflow and I need the time and patience to help me through it.

So dad - I need your help with a few things. First off, continue to watch over Lane and Rachel. Lane had another surgery and although healing well, still has a cancerous tumor in his brain. Please please please watch over my greatest and dearest friend Courtney and she struggles with the pain of losing her dad. Please give her the great gift of knowing SHE will be ok in the end. It will be such a hard path for her to walk, but I know that you'll make sure she gets over the hurdles when I can't. Please continue to watch over me as I go through all that I'm going through with the BOEE and my new job. I've caught glimpses of you, but I know you're also trying to let me find my way.

I thank you over and over again for giving Eric all these great opportunities. He's been so busy with work and his cup has definitely been overflowing. He's been such a wonderful husband to me, and probably wouldn't have been had you not been his biggest fan when we were going through our toughest times.

I love you so so so much and know you're going to help me through it all. But right now, concentrate on Courtney. She's going to need it the most in the next couple of days.

Miss you beyond words -

Laura

Chapter 2

So Chapter 2 of my life didn't start out quite how I wanted it, but my first day at Waukee was awesome today. It was so incredibly different from what I'm used to. They work together, which is something that I can honestly say did not happen where I came from. They take pride in each other's work, each other's ideas and most importantly, learn from one another. I feel like I'll no longer be stuck in this hole down in the music wing, separate from everything (and everyone) else. I'm very excited.

So Dad - a separate shout out to you. I've hit some rough patches and definitely need some help from you up there. It won't be over until mid-September, and possibly even after that, 6 months or more. I need you to keep my strong, I need you to look out for my decisions and I need you to persuade some people down here! Thanks!

Right now, I'm apprehensive, sad, excited and nervous all rolled into one. One day at a time, I guess.

What are dreams made of?

I have been having the most bizarre dreams lately. The one that sticks out most in my mind is one I had a couple weeks ago.

I was standing at the edge of a stream. I could feel my dad's presence and knew that I just had to work my way up this stream to get to him. But I couldn't just walk the banks as they were covered in dense underbrush and forestry. So I got in the stream, clothes and all, and started working my way up the stream. But the banks grew wider and the current became faster. But I kept working my way up, knowing my dad was just at the end. But as I was battling the current, the clouds closed in and it began to rain. But I kept on. As I worked my way up the stream, things kept floating by to help me on my journey. A large stick floated by, so I grabbed it and used it to keep my balance in the water. The rain was cold, and a raincoat floated by. So I grabbed it to at least keep the rain out of my face and to keep my body from being cold. As I worked my way up the stream, it became wider and deeper. It got to the point where I couldn't touch the bottom anymore, so I let go of the walking stick and began to swim. At this point, the water turned colder and it began to snow. The river was moving too fast and I couldn't make it to the banks without being swept under with the current, so I stayed to the middle of the river and kept swimming upstream. I knew my dad was at the end and I knew that if I gave up, I wouldn't get to see him. So I kept on. People from my life were standing on the banks, not saying anything, but just watching me swim. Some people pointed up the stream, but most just stood there. My best friend, a professor from college, one of my teachers from grade school. Everyone just kept watching me try and swim upstream. I remember it being so cold and it was snowing. The river was being to ice over, but I had to keep going. Someone threw me another stick and I would swim, then break the ice in front of me. Finally, the ice grew so thick, I couldn't break it anymore, so I tried to pull myself up onto the ice so I could walk the rest of the way. But I couldn't get a good grip and I kept falling back in. I had such a determination to see my dad again, but it seemed like all the elements were against me. I knew, deep in my heart, he was at the end of this river, waiting for me.

And then I woke up. I had the same hole in my heart that I woke up with a couple months after my dad died. I had a horrible morning and was in the worst of moods. I could not get that dream out of my head.

But when I think more deeply about it, what a crazy metaphor for my life. I will never lose that feeling of my dad always being there. I will never lose that feeling of wanting to see him, one last time. I will never lose that feeling that if I just try a little harder, I might be able to hear him laugh again, or feel his arms around me. But I will, honestly and truly, never see him again. Maybe it wasn't a nightmare after all. Maybe it was just a metaphor for my life - that my dad is always there, I just can't see him anymore.

And I'm ok with that.

Dear Life:

Life has handed me an entirely new deck of cards. And I cannot tell you how relieved I am about it.

So many things have happened in the past few months that I can't begin to describe my elation. After much stewing, I finally decided (with a little help) to apply for the Waukee position. I did, and from there, it was a whirlwind.

I was offered the position, after thinking I probably wouldn't get it, and was terrified of making a decision. Eric and I had discussed the "what-ifs" over the weekend, with the thought that I may not be offered the job and our problems would be solved. Then I was offered the job. Ruh-roh! So after all our debate, Eric finally said, "I'm going to go take a shower. You make the decision and let me know." Then turned and went upstairs!!! So I was left to make a possibly life-altering decision on my own.

But I didn't make it on my own. My dad made it for me. I talked to my dad about it while sitting in our living room. I looked up at my ceiling while holding a quarter in my hand and told him, "This is it, dad. Tell me what to do. Heads - Waukee. Tails - I stay." I flipped the coin, waited a beat to check it and there you had it, Waukee.

From there, life has been wonderful. I feel renewed and leaving behind everything that happened at Southeast Polk has been easier to do than I thought. I feel as though I have my LIFE back. After losing my dad, I wasn't sure I would ever get it back.

And here I am, the happiest I have been in a long time. I can tell Eric is happy to have his wife back. I know my friends are happy to have me back. I know my colleagues are excited that I have gotten my passion for teaching and music back. I've decided to LIVE again and renew myself as a person.

So, to honor this renewal, I have made a bucket list for this summer. I hope I'll be able to fulfill it!

My Summer Bucket List:

• Have a dinner party with friends
• Have a "Thank You" party for friends of Just Right Contruction
• Go Canoeing
• Get the tattoo I have wanted for a long time. A tiny treble clef, the size of a dime, on the inside of my wrist
• Re-side our house!
• Ride a roller coaster

These may seem stupid, but I feel like they are something that will help me break out of this shell I've been holed up in for two years. I'm done with it. I'm ready to shed some skin and come out on the other a new, better person. For my friends, for my family and especially for my wonderful, wonderful husband of two years.

In other news, Dad:

Please watch over Lane and Rachel - Lane was diagnosed with a brain tumor and it was confirmed today that it is cancer. They are going to need lots of support, and you were always there when people needed you. Please be there now.

I love my life and am so thankful -

Laura

Dear Family

I'm changing the name of my posts simply because I think I'm ready to. I'm ready to not necessarily address my dad, but address the memory of him. Hallelujah, I'm healing!

Chris, Ma'an and Jack flew in today. Allan and Nicole fly in next Friday. I'm incredibly anxious to see them, yes, but I'm more anxious for the reunion to be over with. You spend the entire year after a parents death enduring the "Firsts" without them. First Easter. First Memorial Day. First Christmas. First Anniversary. And just when you think you've gotten to your "checkpoint" this kind of thing creeps up on you. This will be the first time my family has been back together since my dad died. It will be tough I'm sure, but we'll get through it, go on and enjoy each other while we're all together. I'm ready for the hugs, tears, "How are you's" to be over with. But I can't wait to see my brothers.

I love my family and am so thankful for them.

Dear Dad

For some reason, I've been thinking back to Feb. 6 and the events thereafter a lot this week. Somedays I felt like I was trudging through three feet of mud and I just couldn't think. I was happy with my life, but deep down there was something that was keeping me from enjoying it.

I had a student walk into my office today and tell me he lost his dad in December. He looked right at me and said, "I was just wondering, how do you get through it?" I almost had to laugh, but somehow, looking back, I have gotten through it. I'm still getting through it. Now it's just much easier. I told him one day at a time. I realized, that's all I did. One day at a time. I look back on my blogs, which now feel like they're from another lifetime, and really, that's how I did things. Some days were good days, some days were bad. You can see that in my posts. You can read so many more things than what I wrote on those pages.

He said he doesn't cry, he just spaces. Most likely, he's exactly where I was not too long ago - it's still not real. At some points during the summer, I thought he would just walk in the door or call me up. The reality hit me at the beginning of the year I think. He's never coming back. I told this student he just goes through it - there's no other way. It's not like you can press a button and eject yourself from this life. This is it - the good, the bad and for this, the unimaginable. You just take it one day at a time.

I felt like this is your way of telling me I have to stay in teaching. You sly devil, you knew I've been thinking about leaving...always like you dad - make me think twice about things. Make me think very hard on if this is the decision I want to make. You always show up at the funniest times.

And instead of weeping with sadness, I'm actually smiling. You sly devil...

Love you and thanks for the advice...ha! :)

Laura