Which is Worse, Waiting or Running?

This exceptional day in my town has led to a very long night.  What started as a quiet morning, peaceful and calm, followed by lunch with the kids enjoying great food and atmosphere, has turned into something beyond belief.

After noon, the winds picked up here.  When we stepped outside the restaurant, the wind blew dust and dirt in our eyes and mouths.  We watched the wind blow dirt across the roads and My Son kept saying "Dust Bowl, Dust Bowl".  I could imagine those that lived through that terrible decade had seen many days just like today.

Then the smell of smoke and the sirens were heard.  Once again, our hearts sank at the thought of a fire after so many months of heat with no rain at all.  Everyone went on alert and this time, with very good reason.  This fire was no ordinary fire.  This fire would be whipped by high winds and fueled by dry and dead vegetation and trees.  Nothing was surviving this summer of drought.  We all knew this would eventually happen.  I guess we just all prayed it wouldn't.

Dark smoke became visible in the sky to the east.  It was the blackest darkest smoke I've ever seen. By the time the fire was spreading rapidly, it appeared  to cover the sky behind my home.  We listened to alarms and emergency transmissions all day long.  One subdivision after another was evacuated.  Friends and coworkers alike affected and displaced.  Then news came of more fires breaking out as the winds continued to whip across the area.  We knew they could never contain a fire of this size with the wind at the helm.

Picture courtesy of S. Braley and FB

News came of this store and that home and this area all lost to the fire and still it continued.  The smoke now looked like clouds in the sky, tall and storm like in appearance.  It looked like a bad storm was coming.  A storm that would bring rain to our parched land. But this was no storm that would help us.  This was a firestorm.  This storm would consume lives and dreams and memories.  Mementos of years and loved ones and milestones.  All gone in minutes.  The beast was hungry and very angry. 


Night has fallen now and we can no longer see the smoke that served as an indicator of where the beast was located.  Fires continue to break out around town and we have been warned that everyone in town must be ready to evacuate.

We gathered up some belongings and made a plan of what would be taken if and when we were forced to leave.  As I went around the house, I began to wonder which was worse, no notice to evacuate, just grabbing whatever you could find, or having time to think about it and try to make decisions.  I looked at the big TV in the front room.  Never in my life did I think I would have such a luxury.  I looked at my bed, my favorite place in the world, never would I find another one like that.  I looked at my mother's old Singer pedal sewing machine and the Jelly Jar Cabinet.  I looked at the boxes of old photo's my mom had kept all her life. Not much could be taken in the evacuation.  We grabbed a few days worth of clothing, the safes, our purses and other things we would need to just carry on another day.  All the belongings that had taken a lifetime to acquire would have to stay behind should we need to leave.

Which is worse, no time to think, or too much time to think?  I don't really think it makes a difference as both will be filled with regret.  Regret that I didn't have time to secure this item or too much time and choosing to leave an item behind.  All these things that make up my world.  All these things that have been in the way but too precious to part with.

So if the beast comes my way tonight or tomorrow when the winds are expected to increase, we will take the few things we have packed, our animals, our children and leave.  I decided that if God cleaned my slate and forced me to change everything in my world, well, He must have a very good reason for it.

I will be praying for those that lost everything today while I pray that God decides that my slate does not need attention and that my world can be left as it is.  I have all night to pray as there is no way I can sleep.

The Rhinestones in Waiting

In the fall of 2006 and into 2007, pet owners around the country were faced with their worst nightmare.  Poisoned pet food.  Cat owners and dog owners alike fed their pets their regular food only to have them become critically ill or, as was our case, they watched their beloved pet die a slow and painful death as the result of kidney failure.  Timber was our cat and Timber suffered for 14 hours before we could get him to the Vet and have his suffering ended.

Learning that the pet food had killed our Timber along with so many other dogs and cats was heartbreaking and infuriating.  We networked with other pet owners and joined the law suit against the pet food company responsible for this horrendous betrayal of consumer confidence.

During this time we were blessed to meet so many wonderful people, many suffering the same painful loss we had endured.  One person was an artist and while she had not lost a pet, she wanted to ease the pain of as many people as she could.  She saw pictures of the lost pets and used her talents to create paintings of many of them to be given for free to the families.  These works of love were so life like that they moved most to tears.

The Artist, inspired by the love of animals, worked for weeks on portrait after portrait.  She would send them to us and we would forward them to the families.  This good work in the midst of so much loss was a healing act and a silver lining in a long period of dark clouds.

The Artist surprised us in one of the last shipments of artwork with a painting of our own Timber.  We never expected it and when we saw him, we did as most did.  We wept.  She had captured the picture she had seen of Timber with such detail and clarity, as she had with all her paintings.  We understood how much what we had done for others by feeling and experiencing their same joy and appreciation.

One of the paintings she had sent was to a couple in a town not far from us.  Their dog Michou had been a victim of the pet food poisoning and had left them devastated and lost.  When Michou's painting arrived, we contacted them and arranged to meet them so that we could give the painting to them personally.  It as a good day and while the painting tugged at the pain that still filled their hearts, they appreciated the love with which Michou's image had been created.  I so wish The Artist could have been there that day.

That day, Michou's mom and dad presented us with several tokens of appreciation and love.  A beautiful silk scarf and many items that had belonged to Michou.  The beautiful rhinestone and black colored collar and several vests that had belonged to Michou were given to us to remind us of their love and loss, not that we could ever forget them or their beloved Michou.

Years passed, four to be exact and as with all reasons for grief, the pain eased and life continued on.  Michou's clothing was hung in my closet and her collar dangled from the nail on my bedroom wall.
They served as reminders to me of a time of great loss as I felt the loss of each of the more than 5,000 dogs and cats that died as a result of the tainted pet food.  I had seen so many of their pictures and emailed many of their owners with expressions of sympathy.   Anyone that lost a pet during that time felt the same way.  We lost more than our own pets, we felt the collective loss of all lost pets.

Yesterday, when Cayce arrived at our home after years of neglect and abuse at the hands of a calloused owner, we felt the same good feeling we had felt years ago.  Sometimes you just have to take the extra step and go the extra mile when its the right thing to do.

Having spent the last six years in a crate with little or no human interaction, no love, no clean environment, Cayce spent the day walking and receiving love from everyone.  We had purchased a harness and leash for her but she was too big for a small size and too small for a medium sized set.  Then Jamie spotted the collar hanging on the wall.  Michou's collar.  She said "I wonder if this will fit Cayce?". 

Carefully and with great love, she took the collar down from the wall and placed it around Cayce's neck.  It was a perfect fit.  It was as if it had been waiting for 4 years for this moment.  Once again, that beautiful collar would be worn by a dog that was loved and adored.  Once again, it would be seen every day and admired.  The collar had found a new home.  Patiently it had waited and now, finally, it could serve as that constant hug and symbol of adoration.  Michou had worn that collar and now Cayce wears it.  And it seems right and fitting.  It seems perfect. It seems just as it was meant to be.

So to Michou's mom, we thank you for the gift given with such love and sacrifice.  Please know that it is now worn with just as much love and serves as a constant reminder of your beloved baby. 

Kaleigh, Cayce and Ryan

Two Mothers, One Day

Today, I celebrated the birth of my son.  Twelve years ago today, he was given to me and since that day, has done nothing but bless me and my world.  It is an  honor and a privilege to be  his mom.  He and I talked about that day twelve years ago and I did my best to share what memories I still have of that event.  He listened eagerly to the details of his entrance into this world and asked for more.  He's at that age where knowing where he came from means as much as where he is and where he might go.

I headed off to work and My Son went to school.  I thought of him often on this special day.  As busy as I was, I found time to think of him and to feel the excitement of his birthday.  I was happy and I knew he was too.

Then came word that a former student had been killed in an auto accident earlier in the morning.  My heart sank.  I felt sick inside.  I saw tears on the faces of family members as they exited the building, heading home to be with their family on this horrible day.  Their pain was palatable.  It was familiar and it was awful.  Losing someone suddenly is unimaginable and if it hasn't happened to you, well, then you can never fully understand how it feels and what it does to a person, to a family..

As I sat and thought about this day, I realized that there were two mom's today, thinking about their sons.  One was crying uncontrollably, the other smiling and handing over a birthday surprise to small waiting hands.  For very different reasons, both moms found their minds racing to recapture all the years that have gone by.  Both mom's digging deep within their memories, recalling moments of their sons learning to walk, going to Kindergarten, reaching new height marks on the door where they measured growth.  Two moms on the same day.  One mom mourning the loss of her son, the other celebrating  her son's gift of life.

While I marvelled at My Son today, at how much he had grown, how much he had changed, I thought about that other mom as well.  I held my son a little tighter and kissed him more knowing that this one day, this extra day was his gift to me.  That today, I was spared what the other mom was enduring.

May I never know her pain.

Happy 12th Birthday!!!

The Brotherhood

I  have always believed that we walk through the fires of life for several reasons.  The first to teach us things about ourselves and others.  The second, to be able to help others when they walk through the same fires.  We cannot fully appreciate the pain and suffering of another person unless we too have felt it's sting and levels of agony.  Whether it is healthy issues, financial difficulties or the loss of loved ones, we cannot empathize with someone else unless we have felt their despair.  Sympathy is pointless, mere words designed to comfort both the other party and ourselves.  Empathy, on the other hand, is knowledge beyond question.  Empathetic words have value and they come from a place littered with a debris called experience.  Trust me , the person suffering knows the difference.

A year and a few months ( I think that's right, I still dont have a firm grip on timelines) after Logan's suicide (as determined by law officials and medical examiners) I was functional again.  My life had direction, I was moving forward and had more focus.  I worked and cared for my family and personally, I think I did it well, all things considered.  I had endured the second set of holidays without Logan and while he remained the ghost in the room at family gatherings, we did alright.  The Christmas break from work was nice and much needed.  I tend to stay home during that time, emerging for trips to the grocery store. Home is theraputic for me.  It is my shelter from life's storms.

When I returned to work afterwards, I emailed a coworker, Michael,  that worked at another campus. Cheerfully, I inquired about the holidays and asked if Santa had been good to him.  His reply left me stunned.  Michael explained to me that his baby brother, a contract worker in Iraq,  had committed suicide during the holidays.  I felt my stomach sink and things got a bit blurry.

It reminded me of the time shortly after Logan's death, only a year earlier, that I was helping a student in the office.  She was visibly upset.  I was always one of the first adults to see a child at school. I could see if they were having a good day or not.  I could also see if there was a serious problem and when that happened, I would get them back to their counselor instead of letting them try to go to class with a burden they could not carry.  On this day, I asked her if she was ok.  She said "No, my best friend committed suicide last night".  I remember trying to fill out her pass to class.  But I couldn't see the words on the paper.  My coworker was standing next to me, I looked at her and said "can you finish this for me please?". I instructed the girl to wait for me inside the office, that I would be right back.   I got up, walked out of my office and into the back interior of the vault where I could be alone.  I couldn't breathe.  My mind was racing and I remember telling myself  this isnt happening to me.  This is not Logan.. This isnt me that had a friend commit suicide last night.  This isnt me, this is her, this is her, this is her.  For several minutes I stayed in there, in that vault and cried, mentally trying to seperate myself from this girl's situation.  I then composed myself and breathed deeply.  I wiped my tears, met the girl and took her back to her counselor.

When we are traumatized, we remain easily traumatized.  It takes very little to send us back to that dark place, that place of chaos and pain.  The good thing is that, with time,  we dont stay there for weeks and months.  The roller coaster still runs but we are out of the dips much faster and back on top where we can breathe.

Now here was Michael. His brother was gone.  His devastation evident.  His world had come crashing down, it was imploding and chaos had taken over.  For several months we talked.  I shared with him my loss and he told me that no one understood how he felt like I did.  Sadly we both shared the same kind of  horrible loss.  We talked about how we had lost people before to illness and accident and how bad that was to endure.  We also talked about being a suicide survivor and how much longer it took to find our way out of that darkness.

I did what I could to help Michael.  But just like me, one traumatic experience was followed by another and instead of finding his way through it, he crumbled. He had to leave his job and for the most part disappeared.I would contact him and have brief conversations but he had retreated to a safe place to heal.

Today, Michael was on my mind.  So I sent him a message to see how things were going.  We began talking via phone messages and finally I got him to send me an email.  I hope that he will let me do what I can to help him as we share the most horrendous of brotherhoods.  We belong to the same awful club of suicide survivors.  That elite group of people who never wanted to be there, never wanted to know the criteria for entering and never ever wanted a lifetime membership.  But if we are to be good stewards of our fellow man, then we have to help each other out. We have to offer comfort when we can and a hand up to those that have stumbled.

I hope Michael will be receptive to my suggestions to put the focus on himself now.  To eat foods that make him strong instead of weak.  To take walks to exercise both his body and his mental demons.  To make plans for his future and leave what was, in the past.  His "what was" wont go anywhere, it just wont be able to trip him up quite so easily.   I know I can only do so much but I certainly want to give  him what I needed when I needed it most.  Hes been on an island far too long.  I'd like to try to be the ship he sees on the horizon. Even if he waives me to pass, I will have known that I tried.  Thats all any of us can do.






































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