I Wish I Could Take Their Pain Away

This morning as I was driving the little girls to Grandma and Grandpa Maile's house before I went to the gym, Eli said to me..."Mom? Can we get one of those things that helps you have good dreams? (a dreamcatcher) Because all I have is bad dreams now."

Conflicted

There is a strange and somewhat unexplainable experience that has become normal for me...I am consistently and constantly conflicted. Always. Or maybe not always, just sometimes. See? I'm conflicted. I've even wanted to write about it for some time, but then didn't want to write about it because I opposed my original thoughts on the matter. I've discovered that for me the process thus far in grieving and losing Naki has brought a new dimension to me, Abigail. I am a very conflicted individual. Nothing I say or feel makes any sense, and yet everything does. Uuugh.

People ask me often, several times a day, "How are you doing?". How am I to answer that question? I know all who ask it mean that they care about me and the girls and think of us often. Everyone who asks truly wants me to be okay, and yet that will never be an answer that is an honest description of how I view myself ever again. There is never an easy honest answer to that question, because I've learned that no matter what I feel in that moment, I also simultaneously feel exactly the opposite. That might sound impossible, but I'm here to promise you that oh yes, it's completely possible. Here are just a few examples of how I am constantly conflicted.

After losing my best friend I find myself shocked and angered when all those I encounter throughout a normal day are unaware of my new circumstances. How could their lives continue in such a trivial manner when mine has forever been altered? How can they not know and thus not comment on how terrible it must be for me and the girls? And when I see someone who is aware of his death I'm frustrated with myself when they chit chat with me for a moment about this or that and never once mention Naki's name, or don't hug me and tell me they're thinking of me and hoping and praying for our little family. With no logical explanation I find myself feeling the exact opposite emotions in the exact same scenario, maybe even just 5 minutes later. How can someone who is aware of my circumstances think to keep talking to me about it? Couldn't they just chit chat with me about this or that and never once mention Naki's name or not hug me and tell me they're thinking of me and hoping and praying for our little family?

Poor Naki...ever since he met me he's spent all his energy trying to convince me of how beautiful I really am inside and out. He would always joke with me that he could give me a compliment and I was so used to hearing it and had grown so accustomed to his complimenting me that it wouldn't hold the same significance as someone else complimenting me about the same exact thing. Why did I do that to the poor guy? Now I find myself being complimented so many times in a day, and I don't want to hear it from anyone but him.

Please DO NOT think I am morbid or that I need to be put on death watch when I tell you my next conflict. When I look at the girls and spend time with them, I know that they are my purpose here on this earth. I love them for who they are and for who they've helped me become. They are the reason I breathe. And yet I want to die. Hold on folks...calm down. I mean, I want to be dead. I guess that doesn't sound any better. What I mean is that I want to have lived the rest of my earthly years having raised our girlies successfully and be done with this mortal existance already. I want to live with my girlies and yet I want to be done doing it. Makes no sense. For a while I couldn't figure out how the loss of one person could make my existance seem so bleak. Then I figured out that it isn't only the loss of having him with me right now that makes death sound so appealing as much as it is not living with the pain of that loss. I am so exhausted from the emotional pain of it all, I just want to go to sleep and when I wake up be finished already.

I feel a bit disconnected emotionally in this next conflict. You'd think that having experienced the loss of someone dear to me through death that I'd be especially sensitive to those around me who have gone through or are going through the same life altering experience. I can logically feel that I should have empathy towards them and that I should be able to relate to some of the grief that they're experiencing. I even feel as if I should send them a thoughtful note, let them know I'm thinking of them, that they aren't alone, blah blah blah. But I just can't do it. I feel heartless and somewhat disappointed in myself for being so incapable of caring, being so self centered, and being so insensitive to someone else's tragedy. But I just do not have the ability right now to pull myself out of the manhole that I have fallen into, enough to peer over the top and wave at those passing by. I just want to lay at the bottom of it in the underground sewage called my life and forget about anyone else's needs but my own. I hate how I sound when I actually admit that out loud...I know that I should be caring, but I can't think of anyone else but me the and girls.

Driving around Orem and Provo has whole new meaning for me. Every street I turn on brings with it memories of a time I was on that same street with my baby. A time we were going somewhere with the girls to play, a time we were going to the grocery store to just pick up milk and diapers, a time we were driving the girls to dance, a time we were driving to go trick or treating, a time we were going to visit his family, a time we were going to the movies with the girls for our annual New Year's Eve movie night, a time we were going to the softball fields to watch his games, a time we were going to a BYU sporting event. You name it, we've been everywhere in this town together. It brings a smile to my heart to think of all the fun things we've done together in our little towns of Orem and Provo. It also tears my heart out to think that I will no longer be doing those things with him in our little towns of Orem and Provo. Because of that, I constantly think of picking up and moving...just getting away. I know I could never do that. We need to be around his family for as long as we possibly can. I see no reason to ever move. But my emotional roller coaster every time I'm in the car makes me erratically think, "That's it...we're moving."

I've known for a long long long time that I have lived a fairy tale of a life up until now. I'm not sure how Naki's being gone fits into that image I've had. But I've loved the life I've had. Now I hate it. I hate imagining life without him. Every time I walk into a room in my house and don't see him there, the thought runs through my head, "I hate my life". Every time Eli and Eva come to my room crying at night I think, "I hate my life". When I have to take the girls out of school early once a week for therapy, therapy for heavens sake, I think "I hate my life". When I went to see the girls running in some races in school and he wasn't there to cheer them on or give them advice, I thought "I hate my life". At church when I am wrestling all the girls at the same time on the pew and don't truly hear anything that's being taught I think, "I hate my life". When I think of the time when all the remodeling is finished and my dad's no longer here, I imagine putting all the kids to bed and then sitting alone, truly alone, without Naki to talk to, and think, "I hate my life". When I anticipate our anniversary on which we always went to the temple to perform temple sealings, and him not being here and me going by myself, I think, "I hate my life". When I was getting all the baptism details and birthday party details done this past week and he wasn't there to discuss my plans with I thought, "I hate my life". When I was watching Monday night football and he wasn't there to tell me which guy had come from which college team, which guy was a rookie, which guy he had on his fantasy football team, and what BYU player had been drafted there, I thought "I hate my life". When I wake up, go to the gym, pick up and drop off kids, and overall go anywhere where there are other human beings that I smile at when I'm screaming inside, I think, "I hate my life". When I hear people talk about how blessed they are with their sweet little family, I think "I hate my life". When I see loving couples holding hands, talking, or even arguing, I think "I hate my life". And yet, when I come home from a hard day at church and find a sweet little bag on my front porch with a cute little pair of Christmas socks for each of the girls, I think ....well, I don't know what I think, but I don't think "I hate my life". When I go to Malia's birthday party, and everyone there is my extra pair of hands and arms in holding my baby, chasing one of my babies, helping clean and pick up garbage and put away tables and chairs, I think "I'm not alone". When I go to the grocery store and pay for my groceries with a gift card that the responders from that horrible night from the Orem Fire Department dropped off for us, I think "I am not alone". When I arrive to church hoping to find a seat and see a dear friend sitting sideways with her legs outstretched, saving the bench where we've always sat, I feel "I am not alone". When a sister in the ward offers to take Ane out of Sacrament Meeting so I can hear something that's being said, I feel "I am so loved". When I am trying to prepare a talk for Malia's baptism and the thoughts just won't solidify and I can't get anything prepared, only to stand at the podium and have words flow so smoothly and effortlessly, I feel "God really is aware of Malia and me today". When I come home on any given day and see complete strangers working for nothing on a house that is everything to me, I think "God is taking care of you, Abby". When one of my daughters is struggling to believe in God, and words to answer her questions come so easily and quickly into my mind, I know, "God loves this little girl...and he loves you, too".

Because of all the remodeling, repainting, and such, most of all the pics we had on the wall are down and stored in one room until all the work is finished. As a result, I really haven't seen many pics of him since he's died. Plus, I was really bad about being able to decide where to hang pictures, and as a result didn't really have that many pics of any of us on the walls to start with. I've pulled one or two pictures of him out and put them where the girls can see them, and in a couple of weeks they'll all get hung. But as a result I havn't had to see his face on a consistent basis since he's died. It's relieving because looking at him is so extremely painful. And yet I want to dig out all the pictures of him that I can find. While looking at them I try to burn their images in my mind for fear of forgetting. But I've noticed that after I've looked at pictures of him I set myself into a downward spiral of gloom and sadness. I've discovered that I feel less empty and bleak when I don't see his face as often. Sounds terrible, I know. But looking at his pictures, which are usually pictures of either me and him or him and the girlies, are just so damn painful that it's almost easier to avoid them...it helps avoid the feeling of not being able to breathe. Just for survival reasons I find myself avoiding the pictures of him. I want to see them, I don't want to see them. I want to see them, I don't want to see them.

Conflicted.

Surprise of the Day

I'm trying to get things ready for Malia's baptism. She's asked me to speak on her special day, and so I've been trying to gather my thoughts. I thought it would be special to include in my talk some of Naki's own thoughts on baptism, and so tonight I've been searching for the letters Naki wrote me while we were missionaries, and I can't find them! I'm positive I kept all of them...but their whereabouts are a great mystery to me...I'm trying not to hyperventilate when I think about not being able to find them. They're just letters, not him. But still, I really want to find them. I do have his missionary journal, which for him is more like a journal just from the Missionary Training Center...he didn't write much consistently after that. But it's been cute to read his words from when he was 19. He copied a practice of mine with his missionary journal. Something I did as a teenager with all of my journals was name each one...seemed to make it more personable to write to 'someone', and so I named each journal. At the beginning of his missionary journal he wrote the following:

"With this journal I wanted to do a little something different. I decided to give this journal a name. I got this idea from my sweetheart Abby. I miss her...I especially miss talking to her. We used to have communications at least 2 or 3 times a week. So with this in mind I name my journal after my sweetheart, Abigail."

One entry I discovered tonight was dated February 26, 1997. It seems he'd just received a letter from me in which I vented some frustrations to him that I'd been feeling about some things he either had or hadn't been including in his letters to me. I can't remember the letter he'd just received, but I do remember that I missed him terribly. It seems that the two years we spent apart as full time missionaries was a dry run for our time apart from each other now. Here's what he wrote to me in this particular entry:

"Right now I want to say I love you and wish I could be with you every second of the day...that's why I miss you like crazy...I don't know why you get like this, thinking that you're alone and things. Don't you think I go through those things? Think about it. I'm here with people I never knew before in my earthly life and you talk about lonely. The only comfort I get from being here by myself is from the Lord. He makes up the difference in my life now. Know that I'd love to be there with you every second of the day but once I think about that, the days turn into eternity and just drag. I'm focused on the work because 1. it is the most important work in the church and 2. because the harder I work the faster the time goes and we can be together again, forever. So don't think like that again, okay Abby? You're not alone. I pray every night for you and worry about your safety. I'm there with you in my heart."

I know he didn't write those words for these circumstances, but they're my coveted Surprise of the Day.

Malia's getting baptized!

Many of you have asked, and so I thought it easiest to post the information here rather than try and call everyone. Our beautiful Anamalia turns 8 this Friday, and is getting baptized the following day, the 5th, at the Stake Center on 1600 North in Orem at 10:00 AM. She's decided that she would like to be confirmed the next day, Sunday, during Sacrament Meeting at 1:00. My Malia has never been forthcoming with any of her feelings that are deeply felt...been that way since she was a baby. You have to pay real close attention to her cues, otherwise you'll miss what she's trying to tell you. But I knew that she was disappointed that her Dad wouldn't be able to baptize her. We talked about the love he feels for her, and about how although being baptized by your father is special, ultimately getting baptized is less about who baptizes you and more about the Priesthood used to perform such a beautiful ordinance. I am still feeling out the waters on that one to see how she's doing with such an alteration in her original plans. She's also the first one to have a birthday after his death. But so far, all of the girls have done surprisingly well with Halloween and Thanksgiving...I can hope that her birthday and baptism will bring joy to her and not too much sorrow. We just can't wait for Saturday...she's so excited it's contagious...

A little bit of remodel pics

I'm told this was just the beginning of the heroic and generous onslaught of workers that came to my house on Friday. My mom and dad were wise and experienced enough to know that during this period the house would not be user friendly. A HUGE thank you to Auntie and Uncle who watched the munchkins for the majority of the day while Grandmother and I ran around from store to store, getting some details squared away while she was in town, and while Grandfather waved his arms around, walked purposefully from room to room, and overall appeared very busy when in fact he had know idea what to do next. (Just kidding, Dad!) Several worker bees had already been at the house throughout the previous several days, getting started on individual projects. In the picture above, you can see the new windows. What a difference! It makes me feel like I'm in a different house. Truth is, the windows before served us just fine, but if I can look at things through some rose colored glasses right now, then I'm all game for that. Plus, who wants to pay more on their heating bill? Not me...nothing like being economical and lookin' good doing it. (I mean the windows, not me...) I've tried to upload these pictures in an order that makes some kind of sense. Some of them are out of order, but you'll get the general idea of some of the stuff going on around here. Below is the picture of what used to be the wall between the kitchen and the upstairs living room. Naki always always wanted to knock this wall out. Therefore, no more wall.

Here are all the girls lined up, ooohing and ahhhing as Grandfather did 'karate kicks' on the wall. At the time I was upstairs getting ready in my bathroom and I could hear all these girly squeals and cheering. I turned my blowdryer off, only to hear Grandfather say, "Do you want to see Grandfather do a Karate Kick?" The crowd went wild, or very squealy. Then after the kick I heard him say, "Now do you want to see Grandfather do a Karate punch?". Again, the audience was in raptures. It was so so so cute.

The beam still there is holding the current wiring. It will eventually be gone.

This picture is out of order, but I can't seem to change it for some reason. Here is the kitchen before it got cleaned up, after the windows were changed to doors, after the kitchen window was scooted over some, and after the initial wall for the island was put up.

Here's the head honcho for the project getting tough with the kitchen wall in order to move the window over.

Our dear friend worked several days along with his friend to replace all of the windows in our house. Like I've already said, they just look stunning.

This part of the remodel was Naki's plan for this coming year's tax return. Don't know how he would of made it happen, but I know he would have. He was pretty determined. This was the beginning of the kitchen window removal in order to change them to doors.

This is so crazy fun! Thank you to all those who came over and helped that I don't even know were here. You are helping to bless me and mine by making our lives in this space I call home functional and easier for me. Thank you so very much.

Lightening Bolts

This past little while has been the most miserable, exasperating, lonely, distraught, hopeless, depressive, and wishing-I-was-dead-too several days that I believe I have experienced in a long time. "A long time" seems somewhat strange to say, seeing as how it's only been 46 days since he's died. Hmmm...I can't believe that I've made it 46 days. I think the words 'a long time' are fitting, after all. On the first day I didn't think I would make it to the second day, let alone the 46th day.

I haven't been blogging much lately. There are several several reasons. One reason is that excluding the natural and most obvious chaos that we're experiencing around here because our Daddy is not here with us, we are in the midst of crazy house-remodeling-chaos. We are the luckiest people. We are getting to have so many fun things done inside the house right now, including brand new and stunningly beautiful windows, wall removals, rooms being painted, furniture moving (not the normal moving...this moving is through windows that needed to be removed to accomodate our favorite extra large furniture, plus furniture being passed along some massive manly shoulders, up on the roof ledge, and up through the addition window!), piano moving, closet reorganizing, kitchen emptying, more wall removal to change windows to doors, window moving, kitchen cupboard removal, kitchen sink removal!, and whole kitchen removal. Plus new appliances arriving by special mover delivery all the way from Northern Idaho spearheaded by my ever reliable mom, flooring and patio design and such, packing and organizing all kitchen drawer stuffs spearheaded by my dad, and now eating our meals in the garage. (Thanks for that, too, Grandfather!) Thank heavens for a large garage...we not only have new shelves built in there, (Thanks, guys!), but are able to store all the new kitchen appliances, old kitchen appliances, living room furniture, bikes, toys, laundry machines, microwaves, flooring, new windows, and everything else under the sun. Oh yeah, the car, too. Needless to say, it is crazy over here. Crazy, and yet fun in a strange and twisted way. Some may say this is not the best time for all of this craziness, but I say why not. It has been good for me to have something else to think about besides my misery for a change. And truthfully, it is so dang fulfilling to see all the things Naki had planned inside his head come to fruition for his house. He really wanted to do all these things so badly. And because of him and people's love for him, we're able to do it. Thank you to all of those who are giving so generously of their talents, their supplies, their connections, and their patience as we figure all of this remodel stuff out! Today we drove my mom and my brother Tim to the airport. We'd been gone a while, and it was getting close to lunch time. Eva was finished with being in the car and was anxious to get back home to eat. She whined to us, "I hungry for the garage!" Apparently, she doesn't mind eating out there. They say it may take about 2 weeks to get all of this accomplished, which in remodeling speak, is pretty amazing. That is unheard of, since they're building the cabinets and everything in that period of time. I can't wait to see all of it come together. So bittersweet. Finally getting to do all of our house dreams, but without him to enjoy it with. *sigh*

The main reason I haven't been blogging is somewhat complex. When I first started writing soon after Naki died, it was because I found that I needed an outlet of sorts to help me explore my feelings and my experience with grief and loss. It was so therapeutic for me that I would find myself thinking or processing an emotion I was feeling and knew that I just had to sit down and write it out. After doing so for a couple of weeks, I was surprised to find how many were rooting for me and were strengthened by my thoughts and words. This was something I hadn't expected, and found that Heavenly Father uses all of us and all of our experiences for each other's good. If we don't pay attention to those around us, their experiences, and at least try to learn from them, then we are fools. So I realized that I had the opportunity to use my experience for the good of others. This empowered me, and yet it crippled me. I soon found myself feeling an emotion that I would normally have written about, and yet started editing those emotions in my head before writing about them. I found myself feeling that if I actually wrote out the dark dark dark and draining thoughts and emotions that I was actually thinking or feeling, those reading would not be strengthened from my words but would instead be saddened, depressed, and discouraged. And so I would not write, but instead would go to sleep and cry. Not that I didn't do that before, but this time it was different. I wasn't healing...I felt stagnant.

One of the things I read in a book a friend gave me about how to survive the loss of a loved one is that the grieving process is not to be pictured as a slanted line that starts at the bottom and gradually and continually moves up and up. Instead, it is to be pictured as a lightening bolt. It starts at the same spot as the afore mentioned line, and in fact may start moving upward on a slant. But instead of continually moving in that direction, you may come back down in a straight unslanted line, move surprisingly forward, and shockingly back, jagged and unsmooth, jolting and painfully unpredictable. That is exactly how this whole thing feels. I was so furious on the 2nd day after his death. I got through that bout of anger and felt relieved when it was over. I naively thought that *Whew!*...I've made it through the anger. Little did I know that it was only the tip of the iceberg. I've been revisiting anger for the past week, and it's been a doosey. No one should have to experience this kind of anger. I thought I was dealing with it, until one night I woke up in a cold sweat from a series of dreams in which I was beating up anyone I met with a 2x4. I was pretty fierce, and the worst part was that I didn't feel any remorse, whatsoever. Apparently, I'm pretty damn mad. Yes, I said damn. I've also discovered that I can swear up a good blue streak. So far, only in my mind. I'm working super hard on controlling it and not developing any mental habits that I don't want hanging around forever. But truthfully sometimes those words are the only words that can honestly express the anger that I feel oozing from my soul. I had a heartbreaking moment this past weekend at my niece's baptism, when I realized that I had been holding so hard onto this anger...I was enjoying being furious beyond description. It occurred to me while I sat there at that beautiful service that if I don't work through this anger, and decide to not hold on to it as my new identity, then I will in fact carry it with me beyond this life. If there is anything I know for sure, it's that you can't take your "things", your mortal possessions, with you after this life is over. What you can take with you is what you have learned, your knowledge, who you've become, and the love or hate you've developed towards the people you encounter in this life. It was a shocking moment for me to realize that when I die, if it was tomorrow, that I would carry that horribly drowning, strangling, and suffocating feeling of hatred towards my Heavenly famly and myself forever. There would be no hugging going on, only a bunch of punching, kicking, screaming, crying, etc...heaven help us all if I happen upon a 2x4 there...So, now I'm working, AGAIN, on getting through my extreme anger.

That, in a not-so-short summation, is why I haven't been writing. I've been worried that I wouldn't help anyone by being so negative and quite frankly, a huge downer. But, I had a huge realization this past weekend that writing is not for anyone reading but is in fact part of MY healing process. If I offend, sadden, or depress anyone, I apologize. But just hang in there...on this lightening bolt-shaped ride of grief, there are some really horrible moments. I worried that they would get old and repetitive. But now I know that it is important that they repeat...they teach me over and over again the doctrines that will help me heal. One time just isn't enough. I need lots and lots of repitition of the teachings of the Savior that heal and purify. And so, just like the awful and wishing-you-weren't-alive moments, there are hopeful and uplifting moments as well. Currently, there are more of the former, but I can hope that the balance will gradually shift and change, and jolt me back to a new and better place.

Good Grief.... Therapy #1

We started grief therapy two Thursdays ago and I am still feeling good about it. You know it's a good thing for all the girlies when they can't stop talking about how much fun they had and when, like last time, Eli kept asking "Are we leaving to go to therapy yet, Mom?". She was DYING to get there. My first meeting with the therapists was by myself. It was several weeks ago, and served mostly as a get-to-know session: getting to know the kids (names and ages), getting to know their initial reactions to Naki dying, getting to know their chosen form or forms of coping with this death, and overall getting to know what I wanted to accomplish and my insights into the entire situation. I prefaced one of my questions with "I know it's almost impossible to answer this question..." and then asked them how long they thought this process might take. They, as I expected, can't put a real timeline on healing, but did say that you can tell if the girlies really need it if they keep asking to go, and that the opposite was also true. If you told them that it was time to go to therapy and they were resisting, it meant that they really didn't need it any longer. It has been fascinating to watch the girls' different emotions and reactions during the session. The therapist I initially met with practices with 2 other licensed therapists. He thought that it might be beneficial for our situation to meet first as a group and see the different dynamics that arose. It was clear at the first session that Eva was not developmentally able to hang with the other girls, as far as attention span, thought processing into verbalizing, etc. So after the first week they've separated them. Eva now goes on a separate day than the other girls...oh yay...one additional appointment I must be responsible for. I don't doubt that Heavenly Father keeps me busy now, and has always kept me busy even before Naki died, because I know myself and recognize my naturally lazy tendencies. If given the choice, I'd lounge around all day, maybe take a shower before 5:00, and rent movies with one easy click of the remote. Alas, that is not to be.

The first group session we attended was hard for me. Not only emotionally, but hard because of the girls' chaotic behaviors. They started the session by speaking with me privately to give me the opportunity to inform them of any updates that had occurred since we'd last spoken. During this chat I learned something fascinating about the brain that I wanted to share. I've always known that the brain has different areas that are responsible for different functions of our body. I learned that the area that holds Trauma and Emotion is in the back, while the area responsible for Speaking and Thought Processing is located in the front. This would explain why I feel so tongue tied when trying to express my emotions for all I'm experiencing right now. Sometimes it literally feels like there are no words in the human language to express this pain, disappointment, and shock. They then informed me that Creativity is with Trauma and Emotion, thus their reasoning for working creatively during their sessions. It occurred to me later that this may be why it has been so healthy for me to try and write creatively about my thoughts and feelings, even though at times the words are hard to find.

After our first chat we headed as a group downstairs to a huge playroom that has pretty much no furniture. It's in a basement, so to speak, so there are no windows. But there are shelves surrounding the room at one end, and buckets of various playthings all around with a whiteboard covering the opposite wall of the shelves. It is here that they work on whatever creative project they'd planned for the session. After we finished downstairs, we headed back upstairs, where they again met with me privately to discuss any of their thoughts or insights. The first week we went downstairs as a group. The girls were, as many kids would be, in new-toy heaven. Everything there was new to them. Subsequently, when they were told by the therapists to come have a seat, they were not the best listeners. The purpose of the first session was to start helping the kids develop some trust. They did puppet play, which was fascinating to listen to. They asked all of us, me included, to go and pick a puppet out of this huge pile that we felt would best represent ourselves. Then we were supposed to use the puppet in a short skit to tell about ourselves. I was seriously impressed with the therapists as they were able to take what the kids "acted" and applied it to who the girls are individually, especially since several of them didn't really say anything about themselves, and instead acted out a scene between them and their Dad. After each girl had finished their turn, the therapists would restate what they'd learned about whomever's turn it had been. They were eerily accurate. I was also seriously impressed with each of the girls. I loved hearing what they had to say, and they were so brave to just sit down and interact with these new adults whom they'd never before met. In some ways it must have felt a bit safe, because there was no right or wrong answer.

Can I just say, that I was caught off guard when it was my turn. I didn't expect to get emotional. I've heard Oprah describe herself crying as the "Ugly cry". I may have not ever seen myself cry, but I've heard myself try to talk while crying, and it just sounds ugly. Uuugh. How do those people who cry and sing at the same time do it? They look so graceful with a tear peacefully streaming down one cheek as they give their big finish...Me? Not so graceful.

The second part they asked us to do was to go back to the pile of puppets and this time we were to pick one that to each of us represented Naki. We were to act out things about Naki to both therapists, since they would not have the opportunity to meet him. Again, very amazing process, considering that once again the girls were indirect in their skits.

Well, as a side note, that's not entirely accurate, the part about not having the opportunity to meet him. Despite how miserable I am with my new widowed state, I am able to see some of the tender mercies of the Lord in my life, some of which happened long ago that I am only now able to recognize for their true purpose. One of which was Naki being able to coach Lose's T-Ball team last summer. It was the greatest experience. It was extremely unusual for Naki to be able to do such a thing with his crazy 2-jobs-or-more work schedules. I remember when we went to sign up Lose, which we did late, that they told us her team still did not have a coach. I called Naki on the spot and he agreed to do it, not knowing how it would work itself out. Of course, it did, and he had a great time with all of those beautiful kids. Instead of using the word 'coincidence', I'm using the words 'tender mercy', when I tell you that it turns out that one of the boys on the team is the son of one of our therapists. This therapist was able to have some interaction with Naki which I think is priceless as he works to help our girlies. I know this connection was one more way the Lord has allowed me to see that He loves me and thinks of me, even before I knew I needed it or in ways that I didn't see it's significance until now.

When I first met with the therapists at the get-to-know session, they informed me that when we are there I get to turn off the parent switch and let them take over. They want the kids to interract with me but not, I guess, have to worry about minding their p's and q's while I'm there. They even told me that they let the kids come in and play with all of the toys and then purposely do not make them clean up the mess. They described it as making someone eat their own throwup. Eeew, I know, but if you think about it, it does make sense. So as I sat there and watched Malia doing her skit, and Lose reached over and snatched Malia's puppet from her hand mid-sentence, I grumbled inside. Then when I watched Eli, wearing a skirt, lay on her back and lift her legs over her head, several times, I shifted uncomfortably and heroicly refrained from making her sit up and pay attention to whomever's turn it was. When they asked Malia to stop drawing on the white board and come join the group on the floor and she didn't, I bit down hard on my tongue. And when Line was trying to turn around and not look at her sisters because they were embarassing her, I didn't tell her that it would be okay. This "not parenting" thing is hard! First I complain about parenting, and then I complain about NOT parenting. So after we had finished our first puppeting experience and were going back for our second, I asked the therapists if I could tell the kids something. They said of course, and then I proceeded to tell the kids that they still needed to be respectful to each other. After I'd finished, the therapists kindly put me in my place by saying, "Don't worry about that...leave that up to us. You just come sit down." *gulp* After the session was completed, they'd informed me that next time they'll start with the kids only and work with them on whatever project they're doing for the day, and then I come in at the end to let the girls explain everything they'd worked on to me. I've been officially booted! I misbehaved. I knew better, too, but I just couldn't take all the poor behavior! They explained to me that the reason they would have me wait to come in at the end was to spare me pain from anything the kids expressed, and also to give the kids permission to express anything they felt. I've learned the hard way, when Eva has screamed to me over and over, "I Hate You!", (which she has never said and that I'd never even heard expressed in our house), that kids often blame the living parent for the deceased parent's death. They want the girls to be able to explore those feelings without me present. Otherwise, the girls never will process those emotions while I'm there for fear of hurting my feelings.

I know that some parents feel that their children's behavioral choices are a direct reflection of the parent, but not me. I know that I've taught them well. For me, when they act like they were acting, it's a direct reflection on themselves! And it was killing me to see them putting themselves out there like that. During our post-session chat, they explained to me that they were thrilled to see all that chaotic behavior coming from the girls. Their somewhat disrespectful and crazy behavior, they said, is an outward sign of their inner chaos as they confront head on all of their grief.

*lightbulb moment*

They told me that had they been able to sit perfectly still, stay on their spot, quietly walk from place to place, come when called, hold eye contact, not interrupt, etc etc, they would have been concerned. At this stage of the game, that type of behavior would mean that they would be repressing their emotions, which is not healthy for healing. So hurray for us! We're definitely on the road for healing...I'll remember that when 5 out of 6 are crying at the same time, no one will listen to me, I'M even crying, and it's only 7:30 in the morning.