The Knot.

**kleenex warning**

Conversations are swirling in my head, making about as much sense as they did during those 3 long days 9 years ago. A lot of words were said. Hope was tossed around. Hope was taken right back, like that “gimme five,up high, down low, too slow” game.

The thoughts in my head, they’re getting knotted up and confusing.

The knot formed by all the swirling thoughts gets tighter in my stomach as I’m remembering.

Remembering.

That’s a funny thing. I want so desperately to remember. But I want so desperately to forget.

The things I want to remember are the simple, tangible, normal moments.

The moments where we walked the track in Byron at Relay for Life, with me wearing a baby and only letting people touch his little toes. The moments where Jason grabbed the camera and snapped pictures of us while I blushed because I hate having my picture taken.

I want to remember bringing him home from the hospital on Memorial Day after he had to stay because he was jaundiced. I want to remember my friends coming to visit and oohing and aahing over him.

The moments I want to remember are the ones that are slipping away. The sounds of him sleeping, the smell of his fresh-bathed skin, the feel of his fuzzy hair. I long for those details to stay with me. But they are the ones that are slowly drifting away.

I want to forget the words that were said in the hospital, sentences that will forever be engraved in my memory. They’re the memories that tie my stomach into a double knot and force my heart into my throat because I start thinking of the enormity of it all.

I want to forget the memory of sitting with the funeral director choosing a tiny casket on the day he was supposed to be born. That day also happened to be Father’s Day.

I want to forget the sight of my strong and brave husband standing at the pulpit of the church giving a eulogy for his first-born son. I never want to forget what he said, though.

Really, I don’t want to forget those moments so much as I want for it to never have happened.

I want to trade the knot in my stomach that holds all my pain for just a little more time with my Charlie.

But I can’t.

It wasn’t and isn’t in my cards. 

Image via Flickr, Creative Commons

Life Changes in Split Seconds

*snap*
Just like that. Decisions are made that can’t be taken back.
*snap*
Just like that. A life is changed.
*snap* 
Just like that. Families are forever changed.
 

Over the weekend, several Auburn students and Auburn residents were murdered and injured at their apartment complex. As of right this minute, there are three dead, one fighting for his life and two others with non-life-threatening injuries.

(Stories about each victim here.)

I’m not here to write about the actual events of the night because, well, I don’t have all the facts and can’t.

But there are things that I know.

I know that this isn’t about football teams or championships. This is about young people whose lives have been affected in ways we can’t imagine.

I know that *just like that* three families became bearers of bigger holes in their lives than any bullet could inflict. Their Thanksgiving tables will forever have an empty seat. Their hearts will never heal.

I know that *just like that* three other young men with bright futures became victims of a violent crime that will alter the way they go through life. Maybe they will be faced with depression, PTSD and physical impairments from the injuries.

I know that *just like that* people who witnessed any or all of the shooting are now secondary victims of a crime. They are the victims that will be forgotten. They will be the ones who, as “survivors,” will carry unspoken guilt with them about why and how it was the others and not them.

No, I’ve never been in any of their particular brand of shoes. So who am I to write any of this?

I’m a card-carrying member of the Auburn Family and of the club of parents who have buried a child. I’ve faced PTSD head-on and in my work with Band Back Together, I’ve heard from many who have been witnesses to crimes and who carry that heavy burden of survivor’s guilt with them.

My heart hurts and I can’t shake the feelings of hurt and sadness I feel for these families and young people. I know many others who feel the same way.

As far as the Auburn Family is concerned, we may be scarred, sad and heartbroken over this horrible tragedy, but we will NEVER be broken. We carry a spirit that is not afraid.

 

 Side note that IS related to the case: The gunman, Desmonte Demontez Leonard, is still being sought. For information on him and how to report a tip, see this article .

 

Surprised By The Anger

Yesterday started with the alarm on my iPhone going off. I hit snooze, rolled over and snuggled up with Henry. Jason’s out of town so he stays in my bed when we’re home alone. I figure I can save him faster if something happens.

The morning routine went really well, especially considering lately it’s been a yell-fest in the mornings. It was a morning full of “yes ma’ams” and “okays.”

Maybe the promise of field day and birthday cake helped. I don’t know!

Charlie’s birthday cake was pulled out. The candle was lit. We sang “Happy Birthday” in our off-key morning voices and cut two big pieces of cake for breakfast.

We celebrated a 9 year old who will forever be 24 days old. Our son, Henry’s brother. Our Charlie.

And it was everything we hoped it would be!

I shuffled the kiddo off to school and sat down, taking time with my Starbucks chai and taking in all the love pouring in from FB, twitter and the comments on yesterday’s post.

You know how I’ve talked a lot about grief being like a rock in your shoe? Well, that rock in your shoe can come in any of the stages of grief. Today I was saddled with Anger.

It crept in slowly, invading my thoughts more and more each minute.

I’m angry.

Mr. Angry

I’m angry because it’s just completely unfair that ANY parent should have to live the rest of their lives without their children.

I’m angry because WHY was my family the one in a bazillion whose child will die from late onset Group B Strep?

I’m angry that I didn’t have the foresight or someone to tell me that I needed to take pictures of us as a family in those last hours.

I’m angry because as much as I’ve tried to rid myself of any guilt over “possibly” being the cause of his death, it sneaks in and makes me doubt myself. I don’t like feeling guilty for something that can never be known. Yet I do.

I’m angry because I have friends who, because of Charlie, are scared that THEIR child is going to die. While he’s helped so many, he’s also made people realize their children aren’t promised for a lifetime either.

I’m angry because I have to wait (hopefully) a long time to see him again.

I’m angry that Henry will never know him.

I’m angry that he’ll never go to prom, get married, have a job, have children, HAVE FUN.

I’m angry because I want new friends to know him.

I’m angry because I don’t want a guardian angel with a name. I WANT MY BABY BACK.

I’m mostly angry that I’m angry.

Nine years later, I’m still angry. How will I feel in 50 more years? Will it still cut me to the core like it did yesterday?

Most days I feel like I’m okay. I mean, I AM okay.

But yesterday? I was angry and it caught me off guard.

Today?

Today is a new day. One that will bring a much-needed shower, healthier food, my husband back from backpacking and answers to a question that’s been looming for a few months. And the best part is, I woke up not feeling angry.

I’m sure it’ll be a good day.

 

AL in Dadeville Can’t Kill Our Spirit

Yesterday was a sad day in the Auburn Family.

It came to light that after the Iron Bowl, someone who calls themselves “AL in Dadeville” poisoned the 130 year old oaks that create what Auburn fans revere as Toomer’s Corner. Here are a few quotes from yesterday’s press release.

The university learned that a caller to The Paul Finebaum Show, a nationally syndicated radio show based in Birmingham, on Jan. 27, claimed he had applied the herbicide (after the Iron Bowl in November). As a precaution, soil samples were taken the next day and sent to the Alabama State Pesticide Residue Laboratory on campus for analysis.

The lowest amount detected was 0.78 parts per million, described by horticulture experts as a “very lethal dose.” The highest amount detected was 51 parts per million, or 65 times the lowest dose. Experts believe a normal application by itself would have been enough to kill the trees, which are estimated to be more than 130 years old.

“We are assessing the extent of the damage and proceeding as if we have a chance to save the trees,” said Gary Keever, an Auburn University professor of horticulture (one of my professors) and a member of Auburn’s Tree Preservation Committee.

You can hear the call to the Paul Finebaum Show here.


Fast Tube by Casper

Sigh. I’ll give you a minute to regain your composure after hearing that clip.

So. There you have it folks. The deed has been done. There are things they can do to try to help the trees but from what little this horticulture degree holding girl remembers, there’s not a whole lot of promise that these trees will make it. I know the professors and they will do all they can to help them.

Toomer’s Corner has, for decades, been a gathering place. It’s been the host of celebrations, reunions, photo ops, protests, rallies, engagements, LIFE.

It’s a symbol of our University and has been for years.

My parents rolled Toomer’s Corner.

I rolled Toomer’s Corner.

I had hopes that Henry would one day roll Toomer’s Corner. Looks like that won’t happen.

Toomer's after the National Championship celebration. Taken by me. January 2011

In keeping with the Auburn Spirit, students and fans and friends of the University turned out in droves last night to salute the still-standing cornerstones of Auburn. The trees were rolled with toilet paper just like they would be after a victory or a graduation or any other celebration. As cheesy as it may sound to outsiders, tears were probably shed, memorials were probably left, pictures were taken… it’s as if an old friend is dying.

I know, I know. You can’t compare a friend dying to a tree dying. You’re right. But let’s put it this way. It’s the same as if somebody hopped the fence at the Seilers’ house and poisoned Uga or lit a match and burned down The Grove at Ole Miss. Maybe it’s like killing Mike the Tiger at LSU. I wish Alabama had a live mascot or anything worth a crap that I could compare it to, but alas, they don’t. Apparently, to AL in Dadeville, it’s comparable to taping a jersey to a statue.

Speaking of Alabama. As much as I’d love to think it was a student, I know better. Their students and alum ARE classier than that. Yes, I said it.

AL in Dadeville’s loyalty to Alabama probably goes no deeper than his cousin’s cousin’s half sister’s mother knew somebody who went there in the 70′s. He’s probably never set foot in Tuscaloosa and never will. But now? Now he has done something so unspeakable that even true Alabama fans are disgusted with him. No. Our “fans” shouldn’t have taped a Cam Newton jersey to the Bear Bryant statue. That wasn’t classy. But it DIDN’T FREAKING KILL SOMETHING. There’s a big difference.

I hope AL in Dadeville mans up and steps forward and gets what he deserves. I also hope (MAKE NOTE) that Auburn fans don’t do anything equally as stupid in retaliation. Let’s remember the “turn the other cheek” rule and let this play out with the Auburn PD and federal investigators that are on the case.

Auburn has class. Let’s show it.

AL in Dadeville has done what he could to kill our trees and kill our Spirit. The fate of the trees is left to the professionals and Mother Nature at this point.

Our Spirit? Well, that can’t be killed. Once you have it, it can’t be taken from you. Our memories can’t be taken from us, either. If he thought he could take those things from us, well, he was just wrong.

If you want to support The Toomer’s Trees, there’s a Facebook group to join. You can also follow @toomersoaks on Twitter.

War Damn Eagle!

10:00am ET: There has been an arrest made in the case. A press conference will be held at 11:30 ET to give more details. Will update with more info.

12:00am ET: Harvey Almorn Updyke (who has relatives named Crimson and Bear) will likely be charged with 3 felonies. The trees likely will NOT make it, according to a teared-up horticulture professor. The poison has leeched into surrounding soil and likely will stay in the soil for several years.

A Not-So-Appropriate Valentine To Give

No, I’m not talking about herpes, gonorrhea or the Clap… I’m talking about Valentine’s Day gifts to your “work spouse.”

What is a work spouse?”, you ask.

Let me give an example, that’ll be easy. Jason owned his own PR firm for about 10 years. He had a work wife. Her name was Heather (it IS still Heather, she’s just not his work wife anymore). She was his right-hand-girl. She kept him straight. She was his closest confidante about all-things-work. She was (is) his friend.

They traveled together. They pitched to clients together. They fought and made up (not out). They pored over the everyday dramas of the company together.

I love Heather. Heather loves us. Heather thinks Henry hung the moon (and vice versa). She did things for him that I couldn’t help him with because, well, I’m not a PR guru.

Heather was the all-time-best Work Wife.

Yesterday, I was turned on to a story via a Twitter Friend MookTheOriginal. I’ll give you a second to read over it.

Click for the WSJ’s story by Sue Shellenbarger

Cue the Jeopardy music…

waiting….

damn, y’all are slow readers…

ok time’s up.

So. Hmm. I’m not a fan. In fact, this really pisses me off. Valentine’s Day is not a day to show your love to your work spouses. Not. At. All.

Valentine’s Day is for lovers (read: spouses, boyfriend/girlfriend, boyfriend/boyfriend, girlfriend/girlfriend, and small school-aged children) and has now crossed a line in my humble opinion.

This is such a slippery slope. There’s so much room for emotional lines to become fuzzy and for even a small Valentine gesture to turn into something more for one of the parties. The work wife may give a card and some chocolates to the work husband and the work husband think she’s actually flirting with him. Which, in my opinion, she IS. But this could, with one little “token”, take a turn where someone does something stupid. Like fall in love. Or assume there’s more to the relationship than there really is. It just crosses the personal/professional line.

someecards.com - Wishing you a Happy Valentines's Day and complicating our professional relationship. Love, Your Work Husband

Maybe I haven’t looked hard enough, but most Valentine’s Day cards are filled with sentimental, goopy, glittery, love chatter and most boxes of chocolates are shaped like hearts which equal LOVE. I don’t want my husband giving images of love to his work spouse, no matter how much we ALL love her.

As a wife of someone who has had a work wife, I can say from experience that it’s hard not to feel jealous. Especially if there’s a lot of travel or late nights at work. It’s hard to keep your brain from going “there” and thinking that there’s more to it than just work. Now, the logical part of me knows better, but sometimes it does get hard to ward off those feelings. Knowing that my husband had given his work wife a show of affection on Valentine’s Day, a day reserved for love and passion and doting on your spouse, I would have been really hurt. I mean, REALLY HURT. And mad. It would have been hard to get my brain to stop going “there” if you know what I mean.

I asked Jason’s opinion about this last night. As much as he loved having a work wife and appreciated all Heather did for him, he said he thought it would be highly inappropriate to give such a gift to someone you weren’t in a relationship with on Valentine’s Day. We both agreed that Christmas is different. Jason always picked Christmas gifts for his employees based on their likes and personalities. It was special that way. He put a lot of thought into it and they were always surprised and grateful. And they were really more of an end of the year, “woohoo we made it” gift than anything.

So what do you think about this? Am I overreacting? Should I just shut up and let people give Valentines to anybody? Where does it stop? Do we start giving one to the mailman, pharmacist, trash guys, favorite banker? They all do things for us that other people don’t… much like that work spouse.

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