I know that my recent posts have both been about Eva and Ane and particularly about things they've said about their Dad. But I keep a running list on my phone of things the girlies say or do so that I won't forget them when I'm later trying to write about them. I discovered yesterday that I'd missed writing about something else both of them had said. I'll write about Ane's first.

Several months ago, I think it may have been November, we were at our nephew's Primary Program presentation at their church, and were sitting a few rows in front of some of our other Maile family. Ane was just really starting to talk quite a bit, every day saying new sentences that were astounding and delighting us all. Up to this point she had never verbalized any feelings whatsoever about her Dad and his absence. All she'd been able to communicate was that she knew him by pictures and name. That was it. So my experience that day was a landmark and extremely memorable one for me.

Before we'd gotten out of the car she had been obsessed with this owie that was scabbing over on her hand. She was fixating on it and wouldn't leave it alone. As we sat in church, trying to be oh-so-still and reverent, she wouldn't stop saying, quite loudly, that she needed a bandaide for her owie. With Eva's constant bandaide usage for the first couple of months after Naki died I always had several boxes with me at any given moment. But since she'd stopped digging into her skin to make herself bleed, I'd stopped lugging all of those things around. Point is, I didn't have one for her. We made a little trip through the halls and found a first aide kit with, glory be, a spare bandaide. She was so thrilled. Now, instead of nonstop jibber-jabbering about the owie, all I heard was about this amazing bandaide. On one of the many times I tried to distract her about it, she just shouted out to me, "But I want to show Daddy my bandaide!". I started crying. She had never talked about Naki in any context before at all. It was such a shock to me. I had discussed so so many things with the other girls, but because Ane didn't talk I just said really basic really simple things, without any response at all. What a shock to my system to have her say that. I was ecstatic though, too, just like I mentioned in my other post, that she would think to include him in her present thoughts at all. When I tried to explain to her that Daddy wasn't here and that we couldn't show him right now, she loudly reached past my head and behind me with her cute outstretched arm and tried to get her Uncle Junior's attention to show HIM her bandaide instead. I found her immediate choice a obvious sign that my girls feel a close love with that boy because he makes them a priority in his life. Where would they be without their Uncle Junior.

Eva's story happened just about 3 or 4 weeks ago. But this story goes back to the night that our lives changed forever, the night that Naki sat up in bed with a shout and then laid back down, never to say another word. At that age Eva had a habit of waking up in the middle of the night and crawling into bed with us, and that night was no exception. After I'd called 911 I knew I didn't want her to see any of it, and up until that point she'd stayed asleep for it all which I count as one of God's amazing miracles in the midst of such a time when miracles seem so sparce and absent. So I carefully picked up her little sleeping self and carried her into Naki's office, which has a window that looks out onto the street. She was now a bit awake and I told her to stay there on Naki's futon and look out the window for the firetrucks. She wasn't supposed to get off and if I remember correctly, I told her to use her eyes to look for the truck's lights and to call out to me when she saw them. I tried so hard to not let my panic enter into my voice and to make it seem exciting so she'd stay there, even though it was horrifying in every way.

Fast forward to about 3 or 4 weeks ago. We were driving home from Grandma and Grandpa Maile's house, where they stay some of the days that I'm at work. If I remember correctly we were on our way home for naps. As we pulled up to a stoplight, we ended up right beside a firetruck, big and bright red. Even though they are a constant reminder of heartache for me, I still recognize the amazing good they do, and try to help the kids keep that childhood fascination with them that I once had. Why spoil it for them just because it's spoiled for me? So I said with some fake enthusiasm on my part, "Look Eva! Look at what's right beside us! Look how small our car is compared to how big and tall the truck is!" I was so proud of my false cheerfullness. But her usual response never came. I was surprised to find that she, too, had been faking it for a while. After a long moment of silence, she quietly said to me, "Mom? I wish that I could have stayed with Daddy dead in the bed instead of using my eyes to look for the lights on the firetruck." I was stunned into silence. My mind and heart simultaneously raced, trying to find the right response to her sweet and honest statement. I just felt that I should let her know that I agreed with her, and that I know she wishes she could have been where he was instead of moved away from him. I know that she doesn't realize the horror that she escaped by not being there with "Daddy dead", since he went through several hours of us trying to help him not be dead, but all she feels is that she was somehow robbed of being with him. It was a sad moment for me. I know I made the right choice. But still, it is hard to see her sad because of it. And what a surprise, once again, to hear someone so young put voice to something like that. I had no idea she'd remembered those details from over 16 months ago. These young minds continue to amaze me.

I despise that this, being a widow and having my children miss their father so desperately, is our new life. Despise it with all my being. However, it has made heavenly things very real in our life. What do I mean by that? I guess I mean that death, no longer having it's mythical type of nature for us, holds real power in our lives. It means that choices in life really DO matter. The paths we take DO have consequences, good and bad. We have a strong motivation for wanting to live the gospel in it's truest sense. That motivation is a big, strong, fun, loving, goofy, thoughtful, wise, cuddly, and spiritual Husband and Dad. But what I've discovered, and I hope the girls discover, is that even more motivation than that lies in the potential relationship we can have with the Savior. I long to make choices to not disappoint someone who has shown and continues to show me such unconditional love. Life is no joke. It is not a period of time to be trifled with. That much we Maile girls know for sure. The girls' Dad's death has sped up their maturity levels and they find themselves in different waters than many of their friends and even many of their family. They see things through different glasses because those are the glasses they've been given. And although I hate this trial, I am grateful for the experiences it gives us to make good choices.

Several weeks ago Lose was at recess with a couple of girls from her class. They were all swinging at the same time and as a result all of the swings were occupied. Malia finished her lunch and came on the playground. She spotted Lose swinging, and walked over to her. When she arrived at the swings, Lose's friends made unkind comments about Malia not being allowed to play with them. Good ol' Lose. Daddy's girl...she jumped off that swing and came out verbally swingin'. She let them know that Malia was her sister, and no one disrespects her sister like that. I love that even though their Daddy isn't here, they still remember all the things he teaches them...and in particular for this situation, that your sisters always come first, no matter what.

Sadly, the next day none of those girls would speak to her. And whenever she would try to walk with them during recess, they'd turn around and yell at her, "Stop following us!". It breaks my heart to imagine her turning away, sad to have been shouted at, and even sadder to have no one to play with. Kids can be so cruel. They then started to spread lies about Lose, and it really broke her heart. On the first day after the swing incident, Malia was unaware of any of the repercussions Lose was experiencing as a result of her actions the day before. As Malia sat in her class, her teacher told all of the students that they could choose to go outside for recess or stay in. The way Malia tells the story, "I had a thought Mom, that I should go outside and find Lose to play with her. I didn't know why, because I always want to stay inside. And all of my friends chose to stay inside for recess. But I decided to follow my thought and go outside and find Lose."

Now, you tell me...isn't that the whole point of absolutely everything that Naki and I are so desperately trying to teach our girlies? To help them be so spiritually sound that they can receive promptings from God and then act on them? As far as Naki and I are concerned that is the number one thing that we want our girls to learn in this life. I was brought to tears as I recognized that because of their Dad's death that had prompted the many many many discussions the girls and I have had about the purpose of our mortality, and the way to return to our earthly Daddy and our heavenly Daddy, that our main goals are being met. No one would have picked this way to have brought them to fruition, but I was so proud of Malia for being open enough in her heart that she #1 heard God, and #2, followed what she'd heard. I would be choosing to be stubbornly bitter if I didn't take the chance to recognize that Malia's spiritual growth was a direct result of her father's death, as is the rest of ours. It makes me proud, and I know it makes Naki proud, to see us figuring out the eternal potential his death has for our family and not wasting our lives with frivolity. Just look at your girls, Babe. Aren't they amazing?

Unexpected

This morning Ane asked me if she could do a particular thing, or have a particular thing. I don't remember exactly what it was since she asked me during my morning whirlwind routine, but I remember that my answer was no. In a voice that was a cross between a mumble and a whine, I thought I heard her say something back to me. But the shock of her statement caught me sooooo off guard that I knew, just knew, that I must have been wrong in my interpretation. So I said,

Mom: What did you say, Ane?

Boo: I said, But Daddy says I can!

Oh. My. Word. Most people may be irritated at being manipulated, but I was just ecstatic that she remembered "Daddy" enough to use him against me. I'm not super specific at this point in how he's involved with Ane's life. The fact that she was acting just as "normal" in her use of Mommy vs. Daddy just like all the other girls have made me feel soooo giddy.

It's official. I've discovered the best form of discipline EVER. It's called CLEANING. I'm not sure when the moment of insipiration struck, but I am so so so glad that it did. Most likely many of you already know what I've only just learned. But for the past two weeks I've enjoyed a clean living room, an extraordinarily clean toy room, a precisely organized library, wonderfully clean floors and bathrooms, and even a clean car and empty trunk. The girls still receive fair warning when they are getting out of line, but when they can't quite pull themselves out of whatever funk they're in, the new punishment around here is an extra chore. And oh do they hate it. At first the threat to them didn't seem all that big of a deal, but after seeing everyone else in the family do something enjoyable while they were busy cleaning, they are starting to see the error of their thinking. Although I am always hoping for respectful children and a peaceful home, it sure is nice to have such a clean one in the meantime.

Eva constantly asks me, "When is Dad coming back alive?". We believe in a resurrection for all mankind, and know that resurrection to be a part of the Savior's return to this earth. Naki and I have taught and continue to teach that to the girlies. Previous to his death the concept of that beautiful return of the Savior's was vague and somewhat mythical. But now we hope for, prepare for, and anticipate that triumphant return for more than one reason. After asking me this question she'll usually say "I miss Daddy" and then move on, and both of these questions are typically a part of her nightly bedtime routine, a time when his absence is especially noticable. But the other night she altered from her normal questions. After she said I miss Daddy, I asked her specifically what she missed about him. I often ask her this question, and her typical answer is that she misses him tickling her. Her response this time was that she misses Dad bathing her, dressing her, doing her hair, playing with her, reading to her, tickling her, making her bed with her, and putting her seatbelt on in the car. I couldn't believe it! She'd never before been able to verbalize the things that she missed them doing together. I thought that by now because of her young age she for sure didn't remember any details. Instead I thought she remembered the overall feelings that he brought into her mind and heart. Immediately I knew that I needed to write down the things she remembered because of the inevitability of her forgetting them. I can coach her on them, and she'll "remember" those things just because I will have talked to her about them forever, but I thought that it was important for me to make a record of her actually thinking of and remembering them all on her own, especially because she did remember them a good 15 months after they'd not been happening.

I was overwhelmed today. So overwhelmed that I couldn't even talk. The moment came during church as I was listening to a discussion about gratitude and the things that we wanted to express gratitude for. Anyone could talk and say anything they wanted, and I was so overcome with my emotions, truly overcome, I couldn't even raise my hand. If I had, all anyone would have heard was a series of squeaks, sniffs, hand gestures, and more squeaks. I'm convinced the lady who sits behind me has started to bring tissues just for me, since she always pulls one out for me and I have yet to see her use one herself.

So I said nothing...outloud. But inside I was talking nonstop, trying to express to my Heavenly Father how much I recognize those things that I am forever grateful to Him for. My ability to finally clearly see those monumental things I call blessings astounded me, since previously even though I knew I was blessed I was still so bitter and had allowed that bitterness to taint my acknowledgement of those blessings. I am so grateful to find myself starting to come around the bend a bit from the hate and anger that have consumed my spirit for far too long, and the recognition of that was part of the reason I was speechless. I still have a bit in there, and suspect that I always will. Throughout the last 15 months I have experienced more emotions than I ever care to experience again, and more intensely than I care to experience again. But throughout all of it, I tried to do as my sister wisely counseled me to do. She told me to go ahead and let myself have that awful thought, go ahead and express that anger, go on and feel that irrational and illogical feeling, let myself be what I was in the moment. But after I had done that it was absolutely necessary to balance it with something positive, even if I had to think and think and think, and then just be able to say one thing that seemed inconsequential and didn't compare in positive value to the amount of negative value my other things held. I did it, and most days I did it grudgingly, ticked that I had to ruin my dreary and preferrably dark vision and outlook with something so nice and honest, even if it was just saying I was glad to have a washing machine, grateful that the sun was out, glad that my kids were okay with eating cereal for dinner, etc. Small things that I REALLY had to pull out of myself when I did NOT want to see the good in anything.

So imagine my shock today as I sat in church and found myself overwhelmed, just overwhelmed, as the flood of countless item after countless item, neverending acts of service given to my family, numberless blessings I've received and continue to receive, came pouring into my mind. It was so clear to me that all of those things are God's work and efforts to assure me of His love and concern for me, Naki and the girls. I was able to recognize how far I've come from those first awful awful months of despair and grief in it's truest sense. I know that over the last few months it's become easier and easier to find those positive thoughts to place as a balance to my negative ones. But today was as if a sun was bursting out right above my head and it's rays were covering me with their brightness, not to be denied or covered by any darkness I may have been feeling. It was an astounding experience.

It was the culmination of a process of emotions I've been sorting through for some time...the process of holding two opposite feelings in balance with one another. I've been struggling with it for so long. I'd been feeling like I was a walking disclaimer...no matter what smile I smiled, what laugh I laughed, what joke I told, what great book I read, what work I'd accomplished, what child I made happy, what blessing I acknowledged, I needed to give it my readily available disclaimer of "But I'm still very very very sad...you just don't see it on the outside." I'm working on developing an emotional maturity that's difficult to explain, but it requires an extreme amount of self honesty that is, quite "honestly", annoying. I actually want to be sad a lot of the time. I prefer it. It feels so comfortable, and sadness is my friend. We get each other. But if I am being honest I would be forced to admit to myself that being sad doesn't do honor to Naki. It isn't some badge of honor to walk around sad. It IS a badge of honor to take his children someplace fun and to laugh together, acknowleding in my heart that I am indeed having fun AND am extremely lonely, missing him and imagining what it would be like if he were there laughing and playing with us. It's okay to enjoy the activity with the girlies, and then to cry about it later. I can experience both emotions, and still be grateful for the many many things that God continues to give us.

This video says what my words cannot. My friend showed it to me, and I am addicted to it in every way. It is not computer aminated, but is actually done in the old fashioned way...with drawings. It is beautiful and makes me cry every time, because to me it embodies my struggles of opposing emotions and all that I feel for Naki. Enjoy. And have your tissues handy.

reaching

Last night I fell asleep laying in bed with the T.V. on. I never do that. But Naki always did. So it was the strangest experience last night when I awoke, heard the T.V. lightly in the background and saw the room lit up from it, and did what I always did. I rolled over and reached for him. I haven't done that ever. I've always known he was gone and somehow just knew even in my sleep that he wasn't beside me. I can't seem to find the words to explain how that felt last night, but it was a quick awakening when my hand rested on empty and cold sheets instead of his always warm and massive arm, leg, or chest. It didn't exactly make me sad so to speak, but just surprised me that I had the ability to still do what I'd always done after not doing it for over a year. I guess some habits are hard to break.

Yearning..

I want to hug, snuggle, punch, kiss, confide in, eat with, laugh at, dance with, pray with, rest with, play with, work with, giggle with, and much much more with this man. Oh, time can't go fast enough till I can do all of those things.

I. Miss. Him.