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

Dear Dad

HELLO 2010!!!!!! I am so thankful 2010 is here, I can hardly contain myself. I feel like I am TRULY getting back to normal. Not just trying to talk myself into normal, but I am truly making it. I'm making it without having to fake it. I love that feeling.

Your death took normal away from me, but your memory gave it back. I love you dad!

Dear Dad

Christmas was hard for a total of 2 hours. Spurts of time where I felt like I couldn't breathe and I wasn't sure if I was going to be ok. Then, suddenly, it was. I don't know if it was the memories of you that carried me through or if it really was time healing my wound. I'll always have a small place in my heart missing, but it feels like I'm getting used to that part.

Mom gave us one of your model trains to remember you by. It went next to your hat and picture in the hutch you gave us. Every time I look at those things in that hutch, a little part of me hurts. But not so much that I can't make it through the day.

Mom told me things are getting better for her. She said she isn't having as many flashbacks. When I asked her what her flashbacks where of, she said how crushed we all were when you died. That sent me into a tailspin because it was so true. I was so crushed. I remember the next morning when I woke up (I actually fell asleep?) and it was like I had never taken a break from grieving. I woke up with tears already in my eyes, with a weight on my saddened heart. I'm glad I don't wake up like that anymore.

Eric said the memories will keep you alive, and they do. I've stopped looking for signs of you, because those signs are in my heart and mind. When I remember the things you did for me, said to me, showed me, that keeps you alive. I'm still able to hear your voice in my head. I'm still able to see you laugh that ridiculous laugh when you thought something was really funny. And it has almost been a year. But I still keep you alive and through those memories, the horrible memories of your death are disappearing. I can't remember the exact details of you lying on the emergency room table, just the fact that you were. I can't remember exactly what you looked like at your wake, but that you were in a casket.

I miss you so much. Goodbye 2009.

Laura

Dear Dad

I haven't written you in over two months. Maybe that's a good thing.

Every time I think of you, I can't help but come back to the things you always showed me. I saw a sundog the other day. I've never seen one, and there were TWO in the sky. It's like I'm noticing things about life I never noticed before.

I've never noticed how beautiful it is when it snows. Really snows. We got a foot of snow last week and it was so pretty. I can't remember any other time it was that beautiful to see. Or another time that it took my breath away.

This kind of weather makes me think of the last time I ever talked to you. You called me about it being so cold I needed to throw a glass of water outside and watch it freeze in the air. You know, I still have never done that??? I will sometime. Some day. Maybe that's something I will show my own kids.

When I was home last, I found a note you had written me right after I had my eyebrow pierced. It was shocking to come across something you had written when you were alive after you're gone. I was immediately overwhelmed and my chest felt tight. It felt like the walls were closing in on me and in one eerie moment, that you were there with me. Probably laughing while I read that.

I never knew that's how much you loved me. It's obligatory for parents to love their children, sure, and God knows there are too many parents in this world that don't. But that letter showed me you REALLY loved me. Really, truly, deeply, wholly. I wonder why you never gave me that letter?

I miss you every day. Sometimes I can hear you clearly in my head, laughing or telling a joke, or telling me what I'm doing wrong. Other times I struggle to hear your voice. I struggle to find just the right timbre of your laugh.

The image of you lying on the emergency room table is fading and other memories are replacing it. I'm grateful for that. Thank you for that. I know you have something to do with it.

Christmas is going to be hard, but it's not something I won't be able to survive. The first few months I after you died I wasn't sure if I was going to survive. After that, Christmas should be a peice of cake! I'm still worried about what it's going to be like. I'm trying to come up with things that we can do that have nothing to do with any sort of tradition we had as a family in the past. It's hard, but I think I'm coming up with some good things. Mom suggested baking sugar cookies and decorating them. I suggested Scrabble. Where the hell did that come from??? I can't bake sugar cookies without you. I'll probably never bake them again. Too many memories of school being cancelled or being home from college on break and baking/decorating cookies, just you and me in the kitchen. And you'd always eat the broken ones. Eric does that exact same thing.

I love you and miss you. I wish I could hug you, hold you, kiss you one more time. I wish I could tell you I love you one more time. I guess this is going to have to be good enough. I hate the fact taht in this situation, almost has to be good enough.

Laura

Dear Dad

8 months and 2 days. Today is Allan's birthday. I also came home to help mom with the estate sale. I cried on the way up. I cried when I got here. I cried when I went into the shop. I cried when Eric left me alone to wait for mom to get back from her class.

I was in your shop and I became obsessed with taking everything in. But yet, I didn't want to be there. I keep looking for you. I keep wanting to get some sort of feeling of you. But it's not there. I just scoured the house looking for the orange shirt you wore all the time. Mom said she didn't throw it away, but all your stuff is gone from her closet. I saw the picture of you in your orange shirt with Jack when he was just a baby. You look so happy with him. And you're wearing that orange shirt. I have to have to have to touch it. I don't know why. I looked everywhere for it. I couldn't find it. I just don't know where else to look.

I miss you so much it hurts. It hurts almost all the time. I try to keep myself busy but sometimes, it doesn't help.

God I miss you.