loss

Dancing In My Heart

Posted on January 24, 2012 Written by Tonya

I am delighted to have Kim of Mama’s Monologues as my guest for Letters For You today.

Kim has three boys, a baby on the way and yet still finds time to write from the heart and occasionally enlist her husband in some of the most hilarious vlogs for VlogTalk!

Kim is here today with an endearing letter to her grandfather, a man she clearly admires and misses every single day.

Dear Pop-Pop,

It’s been over 6 years since we’ve said our goodbyes. Some days it feels like you were just here with me. Other days the pain is so fierce and so strong that it feels as though it’s been a lifetime since I have seen your face.

I miss your smile and your deep hearty laugh. I miss your confidence and your sureness.

I miss our talks and your advice. I miss your eagerness to hear the next tale from my heart.

I miss our rides on the Ferris wheel, being stuck at the top, overlooking the ocean. I miss feeding peanuts to the seagulls on the boardwalk. I miss being taught how to play Frogger on the Atari in your rec room.

I miss hearing about our family history, your war stories, and how you fell in love with Mom-Mom. I miss watching you do the Mummer’s strut.

I miss hearing you rant about the Phillies losing to the Mets, calling them bums, declaring you’ve given up on them, yet tuning in to the very next game routing them on.

I miss watching your eyes sparkle as you watched my first born play. I miss watching the love radiate from you in complete awe of him.

There are so many things that I miss about you, Pop-Pop.

But most of all, I miss that you are not here.

I wish you could have been there to see me walk down the aisle on my wedding day. I wish I could have danced with you that evening.

I wish you could be here to meet my youngest boys, and in a few months, hold the newest addition to our family.

I wish you could be here. To hold, to hug, to talk to, to share with, and to love.

But I know that in a special way, you are. You’re here watching us, guiding us, and smiling down on us.

So for now, I will celebrate. Celebrate the life you led, the love you gave, the joy you brought, and the legacy that will live on.

Pop-Pop, I love you, with all of my heart and soul. Thank you for being who you are and loving me for who I am.

I hope you are dancing with Mom-Mom up there. You will dance in my heart, forever.

Love always,

Your granddaughter

That Girl

Posted on January 11, 2012 Written by Tonya

I honestly don’t pay that much attention to the number of followers I have or the traffic my blog receives on any given day, but I do notice that every time I write about my grief over losing my parents, I lose one or two readers.

Especially if it’s consecutive posts, like last week: Ashes To Ashes / I Thought Of You Today.

Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I worry about it from time to time and bring it up because I don’t want to be “that girl”, the one that “always writes about her parents deaths”.

Letters For Lucas is a place where I feel it is safe and appropriate to be open and honest about my loss and love of my mom and dad, but I can’t help but wonder why I lose followers.

I’m not offended, I’d just really like to know…

Was it the subject matter? Was there not enough description or possibly way too much? Maybe I just rubbed someone the wrong way or perhaps they needed one less blog to read. Those are all fair reasons to stop following and trust me, I understand how uncomfortable death and loss is to read about.

Why do you stop following a blog?

For those of you that have stuck in there with me, thank you! I appreciate all of the support, virtual hugs and kind comments. I pour my heart and soul into my posts and they are very therapeutic. I know in my case, the way my parents died is very unusual and part of the way I grieve is by writing. It has helped me survive something that could have dropped me to my knees for the rest of my life.

Loss is a part of life and while for my parents it was too instant and too soon, there will never be anything I can do to change it, so I write about and remember and heal a little bit each day.

I am never ever looking for sympathy, just a connection.

Having said that, I do promise to try to lighten the mood around here.

I Thought Of You Today

Posted on January 4, 2012 Written by Tonya

I thought of you today as I cut up sheets of Lucas’ school photos and made piles for family members. There should be a pile for you.

I thought of you today when the construction and remodeling company called me this afternoon to give me an update on the work being done to your house, the house Leah and I now own.

I thought of you today when an old colleague of yours commented on something I uploaded on Facebook.

I thought of you today while I drove to the grocery store because the song, What a Fool Believes came on the radio. I could almost hear Daddy singing along completely off key.

I thought of you today as I sat back and quietly watched Lucas playing, busy moving his trains up and down the tracks on his train table and wished more than ever that you could be there with me watching quietly too.

I thought of you today when I caught the scent of a woman in line in front of me at Starbucks because she smelled just like you. I didn’t even have to ask her what perfume she was wearing.

I thought of you today as I carefully packed away Christmas decorations, proud of myself for making it through another holiday without you.

I thought of you today after I received a text message from Leah about an epiphany she had and I wondered if you were here, would she had shared it with me at all.

I thought of you today when I lifted Lucas up to see a wedding photo on the wall and he pointed out, without hesitation, his Grandpa Adams.

I thought of you today, but that was nothing new.

Ashes To Ashes

Posted on January 2, 2012 Written by Tonya

Each time the topic of what to do with my parents comes up, I freeze. I don’t have any deep thoughts on the subject, I just become mute.

My sister would much very like to scatter their ashes somewhere special, a place where we could go and “visit” them, she says. A place that is quiet and just for them and us, too. A memorial with a plaque or bench that would allow us to pause and reflect and remember.

Sounds peaceful, right?

I understand the importance of establishing a permanent memorial to help us deal with the continued cycle of loss, but I like them being on the top shelf in my closet, side by side greeting me each and every morning.

As strange as it may sound seeing their urns and knowing that they are there is comforting.

But I suppose she’s right, it would be nice to have somewhere to go.

But where?

Arizona might be appropriate. They loved the desert (even in the dead of summer) and all of our fondest memories of them are of our time there together in their home in Tucson. Selfishly though, how often would we get out there to reflect?

Although they weren’t water people, I have always thought being scattered at sea would be pleasant/romantic/circle of life-ish, but apparently there are all sorts of regulations and somehow that doesn’t feel right either.

Most couples have special places that they enjoy being together, but I can’t think of where that might be for my mom and dad.

My aunt once suggested somewhere near the college campus where they met, but that doesn’t make sense to me. Canyon, Texas was definitely a pivotal location in their history, but it was only a starting point for all the amazing things they did.

My parents spent almost 30 years living in far away places; Asia, Africa, South America and not one of them stands out as their proper resting place.

As much as I would like to help my sister through her grieving process, I hope it’s okay that they just hang out in my closet for a little while longer. Plus, I have visions of them attending her wedding someday.

To My Mother-In-Law

Posted on December 13, 2011 Written by Tonya

Jessica of Four Plus an Angel is one of my favorite bloggers.

Her loss is as deep and wide as her strength is fierce and admirable and her words never fail to take my breath away.

I am so honored to have Jessica here today sharing a letter to her mother-in-law.

To my mother-in-law,

I wonder how common it is for women to feel the tug to write to their mother-in-law as I do. Our relationship is certainly not average and, although there are many things I wish were different between us, there are no limits to what I want to thank you for.

Your son rarely talks about his childhood. I never push but once in a while find memories to paint my own picture of the mom you were. Our similarities begin with steamy mugs of tea and getting lost in books and I wish I knew where they end.

As much as I live my life through the written word, I find myself at a loss in trying to explain my gratitude to you. I remember the first memory my husband shared of you, reaching for your wig after a fall, not wanting your children to see you in such a state.

Seeing your son in my sons allows me a glimpse of the childhood you watched unfold and I wonder if there is a time you knew. If there was a day you looked at your son and knew you would never see him graduate or you lifted your daughter and knew you would not choose her next Christmas dress. I wonder how you lived with such pain and yet left your son with only visions of your strength.

In so many ways I feel I know you, although we have never met. The respect for women you instilled in your son, the familiar red hair that streaks through my daughter’s curls and the amazing pieces of your nurturing my husband delivers carefully to our own children.

Navigating the intricacies of motherhood, I am in awe of the legacy you left behind. That the path you started for your son led him to me and to fatherhood and to unending patience and overflowing love. That the love you were able to pour into a fraction of your children’s lives has carried them to the point they are today.

I can only imagine the mother you must have been and the grandmother you are to my daughter, as she sits contently in arms that were empty for far too long.

Sending you so much love,

Your daughter-in-law

My favorite picture of my mother-in-law, visiting Santa at age 4.

She Knows

Posted on December 8, 2011 Written by Tonya

Bound, determined and ready to deck the halls for the holidays this year, I dug out our Christmas decorations just after Thanksgiving; two enormous plastic containers buried under a box of clothes Lucas has outgrown, two boxes of books and a duffel bag full of tools.

It has been four years since we’ve decorated our home for the holidays. You can read why here (!).

As I carefully unwrapped each ornament, it was like seeing long lost friends for the first time in far too long. My mind flooded back to the time and place I had been given or purchased the ornament and my heart smiled; a small wooden Pinocchio from our trip to Florence, several miniature Eiffel Towers, a porcelain rocking horse and my alma mater mascot.

I laid all the decorations out on the guest bed and put a stack of flattened tissue paper back inside one of the containers. In doing so, I found a plastic bag containing a beautiful holiday table cloth my mother had given me. I pulled the table cloth out of the bag, shook in out and in the folds discovered something that had been missing for almost 10 years: a stocking handmade by my grandmother when I was six months old.

I swore my mom had it packed away with her holiday treasures and she was adamant I had it in mine.

All this time, she was right.

I wanted so badly to pick up the phone in that moment and call her and tell her I had found it.

My mother died four years ago so that’s a phone call I’ll never be able to make. Somehow though, I think she knows. She has always known.

We put up our tree last weekend and hung the stocking from the fireplace mantle with care.

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop Prompt 1.) Have you decorated your Christmas tree? Share a favorite Christmas ornament.

Natalie (Mommy of a Monster) and I want to see your children’s photos with Santa , so link up to our Santa Photos 2011. There are some awesome prizes to win!

Dear Pops

Posted on December 6, 2011 Written by Tonya

I love Katie and one of the highlights of my year this year was not only meeting her at BlogHer but rooming with her too. I adore her easy going personality and her beautiful words at Sluiter Nation.

I am so very pleased to have Katie here today with a touching letter to a father-in-law she never had.

Dear Steve…

No. no. that is not right. Let me try again.

Dear Slippery…

No. That is not right either.

Dear Pops…

That is better, I guess. Though I never was able to get comfortable calling you anything. That time was stolen from both of us.

It’s not fair that you were taken less than two months after I joined the family.

But you know that too. So I am not going to spend time on it.

I want to tell you things. I often start, but don’t know how to continue. I never got that one on one time to find my voice with you. I don’t know what our conversation would sound like.

I want you to know that Cortney is doing everything he can to make you proud. He takes care of me and his siblings. He reaches out to both his sister and brother to let them know he is there for them. He keeps up with his step-mom the way you wanted.

And last Christmas he was there to be the head of our family when your dad…our Gramps…died.

He knows he is the eldest generation now, and that is a heavy load to bear.

But he is not the last.

I want you to know about your oldest grandson, Eddie. But you already know about him, don’t you?

I know that you do because I see your silliness…your dimples…your spirit in him. I know Cort does too because it makes him smile a sad smile at times.

And I get a feeling Eddie knows you too.

Maybe it’s the way he points you, Papa, out in photos.

Maybe it’s how he tells me Louis, the cat, went to live with Jesus…and Papa…in Heaven.

Maybe it’s just the look in his eye.

Often times, Cort teases Eddie and tickles him until he gasps for breath, and when I tell him to stop, he says, “my dad did this and I lived.”

I know he thinks of you often and wishes he could go through this dad thing with you by his side. I know he would like to show off his boy to his dad.

Especially because we’ve got another son on the way. Charlie will be here in March.

Two Sluiter boys to carry on the name.

Will Charlie be as “Sluiter” as Eddie is?

Will I see you in the sparkle in his eyes too?

Will I see the past, present, and future of both Cort and me all at once like I do in Eddie?

What I do know, is that I wish you were here.

For Cort.

For the boys.

For me.

I miss something I never really had.

A father-in-law.

Love,

Kates

Some Days

Posted on November 11, 2011 Written by Tonya

Some days the sadness wins and you just can’t fight it.

Some days the questions outweigh the answers.

Some days there are more tears than smiles.

Some days it would be so much easier to pull the covers way up over your head and stay in bed all day long.

Some days holding on to the past is more comfortable than being in the present or looking forward.

Some days the thought of looking anyone in the eye is too much to bear.

Some days all you feel like doing is curling up with a box of donuts and throwing yourself a pity party.

Some days your spirit is so broken that you can’t remember the last time you laughed.

Some days feel so completely out of control that all you can do is breathe from one moment into the next.

Some days there are not enough distractions and too many memories.

Some days, thankfully, there is this:

Some days are better than others.

If you find yourself in hell, keep going. – Winston Churchill

I Have

Posted on October 26, 2011 Written by Tonya

I am 39 years old and I have:

1. Jumped out of an airplane (tandem).

2. Been on a safari in Kenya.

3. Climbed a pyramid in Egypt.

4. Gone to the airport to meet friends and family when they’ve had layovers.

5. Lent money to someone and never expected it back.

6. Drank milk out of the carton.

7. Taken Lucas to Disneyland by myself. TWICE!

8. Lived in a perpetual state of missing someone.

9. Walked across the Golden Gate Bridge.

3-Day Walk, San Francisco - October, 2010

10. Fell in love with the Eiffel Tower the very first time I saw it. I was 10 and have been blessed to have seen five more times.

11. Been voted “Best Groomed” in high school. What am I a dog?

12. Earned an Outstanding Customer Service award.

13. Delivered a child with no drugs. By choice.

14. Cried myself to sleep.

15. Seen the Dave Matthews Band in concert two dozen times.

I heart DMB!

16. Been to a movie by myself.

18. Thrown a surprise party.

19. Been in three car accidents. All my fault.

Accident #3, 2008

20. Gotten ooey gooey weak in the knees when my husband smiles at me.

21. Stayed up WAY past my bedtime. Nightly.

22. Three tattoos.

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 1.) Last week we wrote about what we have never done… (Check out my I Never list here.) this week write a list of 22 things you HAVE done. (inspired by Sellabit Mom)

Death

Posted on October 24, 2011 Written by Tonya

People don’t like to discuss death.

In many circles, the topic of death and dying is one of those taboo subjects, right up there with religion and politics, however, when it comes to death, there is no debate. Death is final and it is going to happen to all of us.

Death is the great unknown and thinking about our mortality makes us uncomfortable.

Death presumably can never affect us in a good way.

Death represents loss; loss of a loved one, loss of everything that we know.

Death is equated with fear; fear of losing someone and fear of how it will happen to us when it’s our time.

Death is a mystery and makes us question the unimaginable:

Will I go quickly?

Will I be in pain?

Will I see a white light?

Will I have done and said everything I need to when my time is up?

What kind of legacy am I leaving behind?

Will I go to heaven?

Will I ever see my loved ones again?

Will anyone attend my funeral?

How will I be remembered?

Trust me, death is far more than Elisabeth Kübler- Ross’ Five Stages of Grief.

I am convinced that if we talked about death more, if it wasn’t such an off limits subject, it wouldn’t be so scary or hard to face.

Having lost my parents at such a young age, theirs (60 and 58 respectively) and mine (35) and serving as the executor of their estate, I implore you to think about your wishes after you die and discuss them with your loved ones.

Openly.

Candidly.

Luckily, my parents did have a Will, but it had been created 28 years before they died and there were a lot of blanks and unanswered questions. With the help of many people I trusted, their estate is now closed, but it took the better part of three years.

Imagine my shock when I discovered on my father’s last “To Do” list a line item that read: Update Will. He thought he’d have time to revise it.

I also encourage you to talk to your aging parents and/or grandparents about their Last Will and Testaments in addition to their material possessions.

When my sister and I cleaned out my parents home, we separated the things we wanted from the things to be donated and the things to be sold through an estate sale, and still filled a 4′ x 30′ dumpster to the very top with junk. 16 years of paper mostly. My parents it seems were pack rats.

Death is no fun, but it is inevitable and the sooner we stop tip toeing around it, the better.

Dancing In My Heart

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