Orphaned

Technically I guess that I am an orphan (as some have coined it) now that both of my parents have died. I don't really feel like that though, I have so many people that care for me that I don't have that lonely feeling that I associate with the word "orphan". I have (now that I've realized it) several families: Blood family, church family, band family, work family, friends family, and it goes on. There are still people I look up to, and people I feel I must "be strong for", so I don't really feel like an orphan.

Some of the things I miss about Nate

Hugging
His smacking kisses
Teddy (because he meant so much to Nate)
Our "surprised face" game just before going to brush his teeth
"Kakah klease" (cracker please)
Stamping feet run
"Choo-choo"
Giving him a bath
How he would run to the front of the car, point at the radiator and say "Hot"
"Who lives in a barn" game
Little Einsteins color and shape book reading
Hearing his crib music box in the morning
"Da-da!"
Tickling
Him helping me with the stuff in the dishwasher
Changing his diaper
"Vroom-vroom" game in the shopping cart
"Kakah klease" (because he said it so often, it's in here twice)
Finding trains all over the house
The sound of the motorized Thomas the tank engine all day long
Searching for Teddy for night time
"Nite-nite da-da"
Him kissing Ani good night (both of them were usually so sweet to each other)
"Suuuuuuuuuue!" when Auntie Sue would come over
"Einteins"
How he looked up into my eyes with the "you are everything" look
How I felt when I could tell him directly that I loved him

Sometimes I get stuck

Sometimes I just get stuck thinking about Nate and Ani and can't figure out what to do next. My mind just seems a blank and can't get restarted. It usually only lasts a couple minutes, but it's a very helpless feeling.

Christmas is still christmas...

As I've been preparing myself for the coming family get-togethers that will now be missing 2 more beloved family members, I've told myself that it just won't be Christmas without them. However, really, it's just the opposite, and for a very good reason. The fact that Jesus came here to pay our debt doesn't change when your son or mother dies, in fact it should really give us more hope, since we have been given grace to be able to see them again. Now, certainly it will be sadder to get together with family without Nate and Mom, but Jesus' promise hasn't changed, and remembering that might make the whole season just a little bit easier to get through.

I'll still cry for my son, and for not being able to see his eyes light up, but I'll see those eyes again some day.

Relationships...

So, for some reason, I've been pondering the statement "Money can't buy happiness/love". Probably because of the commercialization surrounding Christmas. What I think brings you happiness and love is your relationships. Your relationships with God, family, friends, co-workers. I think that maybe what gets in the way here is sort of a defensive reaction when you want to display or receive emotions from others. While it's an accepted form of comedy to say "I love you man", it's not always socially accepted to say that and really mean it. Maybe if we were more honest with others or ourselves regarding our emotions, life would be happier.

Money can certainly buy pleasure, but it's fleeting and insubstantial. It's an instantaneous feeling, not a grounded and persistent feeling like happiness or love.

Just my rambling...

Enjoying my siblings' company

I have really enjoyed being in my siblings' (including my in-laws) company this past week, even given the circumstances. I am reminded again at how blessed I am to have a great family. We have our disagreements of course, but that's what they are, just disagreements. I love my family completely.

I want to be able to spend more time with them, so I'm going to work on how to do that...

Let's not change any plans...

I am so pleased that everybody's behind going to our band concert tonight. It really is a different world for us for a little while, and lets us release a different part of ourselves. I'm even more pleased at how many of my family is coming tonight. I know that Mom wanted to go, and now so many of my family are attending. It's a great pleasure.

My happy laugh again

This should have been posted before yesterday, since I thought about it then. It seems a little odd now, after my Mom passed, but here it is...

I find that when I'm conversing with Ani now, I can laugh my happy laugh I had before the tornado. It's a laugh from deep down inside, and I laugh along with my happiness. I didn't set out to "re-enable" this laugh, really it came from Ani's expressions on her face. I just had to "happy-laugh".

Now that Mom's gone, I know that since I regained my happy laugh before, I'll get it back again with Ani soon.

Another introspective analysis...

Where, generally, does my pain come from regarding the loss of Nate? Is it my sorrow over not having him here on the earth? Is it my sorrow over not being able to love him or teach him? Is it my sorrow that he couldn't fulfill a potential here? Is it maybe my fear of what he possibly experienced during the incident? I wonder if that's a big part of it. I know that the experience won't matter to him in heaven, but I still can't quite shake the feeling that, even for an instant, he was utterly terrified during the tornado. The same goes for Ani, though I hope and pray that she too has lost that memory from her mind. The bigger problem I have with Ani is that I know she was scared, I saw her face just before I turned to go get Nate, which was when the tornado hit. I had just turned away from Ani towards Nate, and it hit. I know that parents can't prevent harm or danger, but I would never want my children to know that kind of fear before they're mature enough to understand what fear is.

Today is Nate's birthday

Today is Nate's 3rd birthday (and Christy's birthday too). I can't imagine how hard this is on Christy, since Nathaniel really matches what happened 3 years ago. He was a genuine gift from God (meaning of Nathaniel) to Christy and I.

We had a birthday party last Sunday for Christy and Nate. Sue had a good idea, we would buy toys that Nate would have liked, and then donate them. It was hard; hard to buy the toys, and hard to unwrap them. We are trying so hard to make this day a happy one, and focus on how wonderful he was here on this earth, and not focus on the fact that he's not currently here on this earth.

I cried when Nate was born, and now I cry on his birthday. How I miss my little boy...

How true it is that children fill a void that you didn't know you had.

Nate, my son,
a brief exchange we had, but so many memories.
I remember giving you your first bath,
I remember how you would look at me in complete trust,
I remember, oh so well, the sound of your toddler "stampy" walk/run,
I remember you asking for crackers,
I remember trying to comfort you after you burned your fingers,
I remember "lives in a barn" game,
I remember you saying "more!" for tickling,
I remember dancing with you,
I remember being your "Da-da",
I remember,
I remember,
I'll always remember.
I treasure,
I treasure,
You are so precious.

Another balancing act...

So, now Mom's in a nursing home, Ani needs me, Christy needs me, and I monitor the new house's status. There's no particular answer to my dilemma, but how often should I go visit Mom? I both want to, and not want to (so sorry to all you English language pros out there) at the same time. I want to go each day, but am I taking time away from Ani and Christy (and work too)? Others say that I need to do things for myself too. I know that the situation is fluid, and that changes come around that make it so that no particular apportion of time is possible. I also don't want to just wait until I feel guilty about _not_ visiting Mom, 'cause then I'll just feel guilty a lot. The easy answer is something along the lines of "go as often as you feel necessary for you or Mom". I guess that's something similar to "wait until you feel guilty", except it's more of an active thing, rather than passive. I want to go often so that Mom hears me and knows that I believe in her. I really wish she could tell me how often to come, but that doesn't work. I'm working on what feels right to me, and it probably doesn't occupy as much of my mind as this post implies. Part of writing here in this blog is to facilitate getting things out of the background recesses of my mind to the forefront where at least I can view them. All of you are just along for the ride...

Will Nate still be my little boy?

I don't know what it's going to be like in heaven. I'm scared that Nate won't be my little boy anymore. My love for him is for my little baby boy I used to carry and chase around the couch. Things might be so different in heaven that my perspective here has no meaning, but just as I can't bear the thought of Nate being totally gone, I can't bear the thought of not expressing my love for my little boy.

May I leave? My brain's full....

One of my favorite "Far Side" cartoons...This boy is in school, and he says something to the effect of "Miss Johnson, may I leave? My brain is full".
I feel like that sometimes. There's just so much to be concerned about, not necessarily worrying about, just concerned. I'm concerned about (not necessarily in priority order) Ani's condition and her future, our house being built and the finances, Mom's condition, the ongoing grief over the loss of Nate.
Sometimes it feels like my brain is full, or at least at 100% processor utilization (hey, I'm a geek, that's my language). I find myself sighing, or kinda moving along like a robot. Sometimes it happens while I'm driving, and I'm on autopilot, I shake myself up so that I can assert more concentration so that I'm driving more safely.
See, I don't know what it really means to "give it to God", whatever that's supposed to mean. I have earthly responsibilities and I must fulfill them, so understandably they occupy my mind. I suppose what it really means is more along the lines of trust, or releasing the paralyzing worry factor. I think about the "Be still, and know that I am God", and how to live that. Maybe it's really kind of like "Do your job, I'm with you, don't worry yourself to death". I find that many of these things are understandable in a rational sense, but become very difficult when you are in a deep emotional well.

Too much

Too much, oh God, too much,
I'm needed, so I can't just shut down.
Roller coasters are fine for amusement,
but not for us flawed emotional beings.
Again, I feel like the ocean buoy,
sometimes above the water,
sometimes submerged.
Gasping, I come up,
to hear Ani laugh,
to see Mom shake her head.
God, keep me afloat.

Compelling

I suddenly feel compelled to create a photo album of Nate. I'm using iPhoto, and it has this cool feature to set up an album really quickly. It's very hard and emotional. However, one thing that's so wonderful to see is that at least 90% of the pictures have Nate smiling. He was a happy boy here on earth. I want my album to be somewhat representational of my love for him, and it will probably show.

The enormity..

Sometimes, the enormity of what has happened hits me, and I just feel exhausted. I know that I can't live in the past, but it saddens me so much to see simple pictures of Ani when she was much younger, even a baby, and she could do so much more than she can right now when she's 5. I want my baby to be able to play again, I want her to sing again, I even want her to be naughty again.

Shadows

The sun is shining,
and still, there are shadows.
Shadows of doubt and uncertainty that I didn't have before.
They catch me, and I stumble.
There's a light that's missing now,
a light that took away my shadows.
Oh, you parents, open your eyes.
See your children for what they are,
not what they do or say.
They are beacons of love in this world.
If you allow yourselves to see their light,
it will outshine all the fires of mischief they may start.
Their light brightens your way too,
don't think that they're the only ones getting something from this relationship.

Quick parenting adivce

As Todd and I were discussing the other night at Chipotle' (yeah, I know, a hotspot for philosophical discourse), due to unforseen things, parents can only really promise their child's "now". It's not possible to promise them a future, really. I don't mean that you stop planning, stop promising your child that "I'll always love you, always watch over you", because they need that. They need the confidence that you're there. What I mean is that as a parent, you should fully embrace the present. It's a cliche' to "live in the now", but I really understand it now. It's sad that it took such a tragedy to really understand it. And it's not like I didn't hold them precious, or pay attention to them, I did, but maybe I would have paid more attention or something. Maybe I would have been less frustrated with them when they were misbehaving, since, really, they're only being who they are anyway. Maybe I could even have treasured their naughtiness.

My most peaceful momemt before the accident

Let me tell you about the times I was most peaceful in my entire life. These times were usually in the morning when it was my turn to get up with the kids. I would lay on the couch on my side, and Ani would curl up behind my knees, and Nate would sit on top of my hip or ribs, and we would have a blanket over us and we would watch TV. I have never felt so at peace, at home, in my sweet spot, whatever you want to say. The same thing goes for when you rock a baby to sleep. Their look of total trust in you is so powerful.

Yeah, oboe solos

Or is it "soloes"? :) Anyway, Christy mentioned this on the caring bridge site. I'm just a sucker for oboe solos. A few rehearsals ago there was a piece we were playing and here's this absolutely beautiful oboe solo that soared above the band (which is unusual in our band, since most everybody plays a volume step above the printed dynamics) and it just touched my heart. There are things like that where I am moved, though perhaps not as deeply as when things happen within my family, but pretty deeply anyway. We were watching "Across the universe" the other night, and since the Beatles are my favorite band ever, it was really pretty cool to watch and hear. I've heard all the songs at least a couple hundred times (well, maybe not "I've just seen a face", but I've heard that one a few times) and it was really cool to hear the different harmonies. There were different harmonies/chords that really brought out parts of the song that made a difference to telling the story and that touched me. It was also pretty cool to see Prudence coming in through the bathroom window (you Beatles fans should know this one). There were other visual clues, like Jude cutting the green apple, that were cool.

A new prayer of mine

I pray that someday I can rejoice in where Nate is now, rather than be so sad over where Nate is _not_ now.  I can't imagine how bright and shining his smile is now.  Or how sparkly his eyes are.  Those were truly part of his namesake, "Gift of God".  It's just so hard that our gift was here for only a short time.  I don't believe that God sent the tornado to "take him back", but I believe God took him back right away after the tornado hit him.

Part of my pain...

I think maybe part of my pain over the loss of Nate is that it feels like I'm not doing my duty to take care of him.  I still find myself planning parts of my day in my head to take care of him, get him up from his nap, etc.  All I ever wanted to do is to serve Christy, Ani and Nate.  Now I can't serve Nate.  Nate's in a place where he doesn't need serving, but that doesn't help me when I can't do anything for him.  Oh, my son, I miss you.

Feeding Ani's mind and development...

I need to try and come up with my own strategy of keeping Ani's mind vibrant and active, because I know it's working to some higher level than just responding to funny sounds. She seems to really react well to humor, so maybe I'll try and mix some teaching (keep up with the ABCs and numbers) with humor. I'm also going to try and mix up some stuff that she can just think about in her head, without the need for physicality. She used to love to realize that things rhymed, maybe I'll try and teach her to compose poetry in her head? Stuff like that.

What Ani did last night

So, I get home and Ani is already in bed, though she's still awake. She's not fussing, but still awake. I go in to say goodnight and say my "nite-nite prayer" over her, ask her if she stayed awake to wait for me. She's on her left side, and I lean in over her right shoulder and tell her my nite-nite prayer and I love her. She's breathing slowly and evenly and easy, her eyes are craned to the right to point at me, and then I feel her hand come up and touch my chest. I take hold of it and put my finger in her palm. She squeezes my finger firmly. She's still not fussing, her breathing is still in its slow easy rythm. She still has her eyes on me, though we still don't know if she can see, or if she can how much she can see. I tell her that she's holding my hand and she loves me too. I tell her again that I love her and that she's safe now, and we're watching over her. I've seen her bring her hands up, but pretty much when she's fussing or grunting. Did she do it this time on purpose? I really want to think so because it was so completely situationally appropriate. I'm going to take it as an intentional action and hold it close to my heart. It is literally the closest thing she's done to saying "I love you daddy" since the accident. I pray it's a sign for the future.

Also on the light side...

I think I can probably recite "Finding Nemo" all the way through.  Ani really likes it, she vocalizes  and laughs and smiles through it all.

On the light side

(pun intended)

On the light side, I played the Xbox 360 game "Star Wars: The Force Unleashed" and finished it.  It was pretty fun, and it provided hours of diversion for my mind.

Hard week

This has been a hard week.  First, finding out about Ani's seizures, then her tube procedure and how uncomfortable (and urpy) she's been since.  Christy was pretty down on Weds and it's kinda kept going with me since then.  My girl is so beautiful, it's hard to accept an invisible injury.  Sometimes I'm afraid what will happen to my faith if Ani is not healed per our prayers.  It's not like I'm praying for a DVD player or something, and I understand that sometimes the answer is either "No" or "Not now".  But how can I not hope for so much more for my child?  I want her to grow and change and learn, and I pray for that all the time.  Seeing her uncomfortable and hearing her cry when she gets a tummy bubble is just exhausting, physically, emotional and spiritually.  I'll get through, it's just not an easy or enjoyable ride.  It really is a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of thing now.

I do see things in Ani now and then that give me excitement and hope, but sometimes it's hard to hold on to the good things, and easy to fixate on the bad things.  I grieve not only for Nate every day, but also for Ani's loss of capabilities.

Ok, Da-da

Nate and I used to play a game (I played it with Ani too, in the past) to teach him about emotions.  I would make a face (sad/scared/happy/excited/surprised).  Nate started to understand, and when I would do the "Daddy sad" face, he would come over and stroke my head and say "Ok, Da-da" until I said "Daddy happy!".  Then he would smile.  I could use a little "Ok, Da-da" right now.  I have found a place inside me that I think is a God-given center of peace, though sometimes it's hard to find.  I have named this place my "Ok, Da-da" place.  Over the last week, it's been quite hard to find it, I have been sad over Nate and Ani.  God grant me more ability to find this place and to calm myself and send my prayers there.  Funny, I've also made a couple "slips of the mind" and said "Daddy" to God, I've just gone with it.  I want a heavenly Daddy to make things better.  It makes me feel better, even at my age, to allow myself to feel that there's a Daddy still looking over me.

My second saddest day

I think that the second saddest day of my life will be on or around Dec. 9th 2011, even though it's my wife's birthday.  That will be near the day that Nate will have been gone from this earth than the time we were blessed to have known him on this earth.

I miss you my little boy.  Daddy's crying because he can't see or hold or kiss you.  He's also crying because of what happened to your sister.  I love you my beautiful little boy.  Hug, kiss.

How much time?

There are times where I feel guilty that I'm not thinking about Nate or Ani.  It's as if a fixation on Ani's condition in my mind will somehow cure her.  I pray all the time, but not constantly.  I need to focus on driving, working, and caring for Ani.  It's so hard to allow myself some time to just be me.  Of course, the me that's me now is different than the me before May 25th, and I want to be that person again.  It's difficult to figure out who to be.

How sweet the sound

How sweet the sound of the words "Da-da" or "Daddy". How painful is the absence of them. I can still hear Nate's voice say "Da-da" in my head, and I need to watch the video to remember the sound Ani's voice saying "Daddy". How my heart will soar when I hear "Daddy" from Ani again. How could I never have known before the birth of Ani that I was meant to be a "Daddy"? How was this never revealed to me?

Sometimes I fib a little

Sometimes I tell Ani that I'm crying for Nate when I'm crying for her.

If only tears...

If only tears,
If only regrets,
If only heartache,
If only fear,
If only memories,
If only tears, my son, you would be back a thousand times.

How do I put it into words?

It's nearly 5 months since I've held my son. Such a simple act, but such a profound loss. It's been nearly 5 months since I've heard Ani sing or really talk to me. Seems like an eternity.

Feedback fuels me

I've become "addicted" to the caringbridge site guestbook.  It keeps me going to read the comments.  Can you readers do the same here?  When I get down, these comments keep me going.

Where's my Nate?

I was washing dishes tonight, and before I knew it, I started looking around for Nate.  It was several seconds before I could stop myself.  I miss him so much.

Ani's response to me tonight

When I was telling Ani her nite-nite prayer, I finished and told her that I loved her forever and ever.  She vocalized.  She made the same sound that she's made before when I told her that I loved her.  So, I told her that "Yes dear, I know that you're saying you love me too, thank you".  She smiled.  Also, I told her that she should never give up trying to talk to me.  Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do it, even a little voice in your head saying "I can't do it".  "You tell that little voice to shut up, because you are brave.  Annika is brave.  I think you're brave, mommy thinks you're brave, Auntie Sue thinks you're brave, and God thinks you're brave".  As I was telling her this, she got this really big, open mouthed smile that lasted past the "God thinks you're brave".  I SO WANT to believe that she's processing so much of this, and that she's just TEMPORARILY stuck in this body that doesn't want to behave.  Yeah, I know that temporarily might mean many months more, but I have this problem where my human weaknesses get in the way of me holding on to hope sometimes.  I want to believe, but my own little voice of "what if she doesn't" comes to me.  Maybe I should use the words I tell Ani to tell myself.  However, I'm not sure I'm brave.  I get so sad and weak sometimes that it's almost paralyzing.  It only lasts a few minutes, then I can pull myself together.  But it's so very hard.

How do I look at the world now?

I've always tried to maintain a child-like (not childish) curiosity about the world. That got me into my astrophysics degree, and probably some trouble as a child. Anyway, I feel isolated now in some ways. The world certainly doesn't look like it did before. I'ts almost like I've lost _my_ child eyes when I lost my children's eyes. After having kids, it enhanced and enriched my own perspective on the world. When Ani told me she loved the snow, and didn't I love it too, I said that I like to use the word "love" when referring to people. She replied "You can love the snow daddy, it's a 'snow love'!". How can I argue with that? I gave in, yes I can love the snow with a snow love. Now, in ways, I feel isolated from Ani (and certainly Nate, of course) because she can't tell me about her perspective. I really want her to tell me that there's a "rain love", or a "christmas lights love" or something like that. Maybe I'll get my child-like perspective back; maybe then the colors of this world will be vibrant again, the autum trees will be more alive, and a simple rain will touch me deeply again.

Hard times...

There are times in the car when I just start crying and say aloud, to no one, "I miss my son".

Time hasn't healed, yet...

Over the 4 months since Nate was with us, the pain hasn't dulled, if anything it has become more acute.  I am SO aware that his voice and stomping around is not with us.  I get to hear Ani vocalize and laugh, so that makes it better when dealing with what happened to her.  I am aware of just how very long it has been since I have seen Nate, heard Nate, played with Nate and held Nate.  Oh how I miss that smile and sparkle.  I get a little bit of it from the picture on the mantle, but that's bittersweet.  I often see little boys at the church child care area that look like Nate or remind me of him.  It makes me miss how he would press the elevator button to open the doors, or how he would stomp in the puddles, or how we would all walk hand-in-hand out of church.  I have that image in my mind, but I'm afraid that it will fade.  How I wish that we would have taken a picture of us walking together.  Nate loved Ani and Ani loved Nate.  How weak I feel when the reality of Nate in my heart needs some "back-up" by pictures.  Yeah, I know, I'm only human, but my memories of Nate and love for him are about the most important things that I have now that are so difficult to manage.  My feelings of loyalty to Ani and Christy and God are the most important things that I keep close.  Family is so important too.

We are more than we seem

I was just at another funeral today, I was thinking of how I think about Nate and his smile and sparkle in his eyes.  How I thought as I saw his body before the funeral, how much was missing, and how this "vessel" that was in the casket wasn't the entirety of Nate, how he and what he _really_ was is somewhere else.  I literally heard in my head the words of Yoda, from "Return of the Jedi" (yeah, I'm a nerd):  "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter".

Failed promises...

I had promised Nate that we would ride on a train.  Though I took him to the train museum and he loved it, we never got to take him on a real train.  I feel so bad that I promised him something that I didn't deliver.  Obviously I never thought that I would lose him.  Maybe it feels bad because I, in some way, feel like I failed in my promise to keep him safe.  I know that's a promise that's impossible to fulfill, just like the premise of "Finding Nemo".  Still, I think about those things that we tell our children because they need it, like "I'll always watch over you".  I guess I'm not really beating myself up over the train promise, maybe I just feel sad that I never got to see his smile if we had done it.

Too quiet

Oh, how I miss hearing "Kaka klease" (cracker please), and Ani's singing.  I want to hear Nate's "Da-da" or "Ma-ma" again.  I want my son back.  I want my daughter all the way back.  I want to hear Nate's toddler "stompy walk" on the hardwood floor.  I want to hear him say "Einteins" (for "Little Einsteins").  I can hear him say "Choo-choo" on one of the videos.  I can hear him squeal in the dancing video.  I am so sad.  There's such a huge part of me that's missing.  I want to hear him say "Hand" to get me to come play with him, or "more" to have me cuddle/tickle him more.

To be a kid again

Sometimes I want to be a kid again.  Not for the energy of youth now, but more for the lack of responsibility, for somebody to tell me "It'll be Ok", "I'll watch over you".

A new skill I have to learn

I was at the coffee shop this morning, and I saw a bunch of wild turkeys in the field. I would always point this out to Ani & Nate. Upon reflection, I realized that I need to learn to "un-mute" my internal monologue so that I can more fully describe the world to Ani. She deserves to get information about her world, about things she may not see, just like I would have when she would ask me questions. I cannot EVER treat her like a lump, I need to actively incorporate her into this world. I've started to think about ways I can take her out and let her experience things, even in the state she's in. I've thought about going to the Walker art museum, and just explaining everything I see. I've thought about going to one of the big, old churches like the basillica just for the echoes, since Ani is primarily auditory right now. I need to think of more things to do like this. Put any ideas into the comments.

Ani used to talk about Nate.

I just read in the caringbridge guestbook that Ani would tell stories about Nate at precious lambs (daycare at church). I never knew that. I cry when I think about it. I really, REALLY pray that Ani gets to a level where we can explain about Nate, in a physical and spiritual sense. Not that I really want to tell her about her brother's death, but she deserves to know.

Hope

So, here's what I think about Ani's future, and I'm going to hold on to this:

It's probable that Ani will get better than she is now.

It's possible that Ani will get a lot better than she is now.

It's not impossible that Ani will get dramatically close to where she was before.

I can hang on to the first two, and pray for miracles to satisfy the last one.

My birthday today

So, it's my birthday today.  Now, more than ever before, I can say that what I really want for my birthday doesn't consist of "stuff", or material items.  Those things are fun, but they don't really have any touch on my heart.  Not that they did before, but things that touch my heart are much more prominent now.  Family, friends, my loved ones, those are the things that touch me.  What I really want for my birthday, down to the depths of my soul, is for God to quickly heed and grant my prayers of healing for Ani.  My birthday wish is that I can have dreams for Ani that include some minimal level of independence eventually, her eyesight returned, her singing returned, her mind and creativity returned.

Nite-nite Nate-Nate

We still say goodnight to Nate every night.  It's a very tearful experience, but here's what I say.

Sleep well my precious son, may God watch over and protect you while you sleep, and may he soothe you through your nighttime troubles and keep you until we can be with you again.  I love you Nate, and I miss you very much.  Hug, kiss (make a smack sound like Nate would when kissing).  Nite-nite Nate-Nate.  "Nite-nite Da-Da" (I say this for him, but I can hear it clearly in my head in his voice).

Where's the balance?

I just watched some of the "Dancin' in the kitchen" video I have of Ani, Nate & I dancing in the kitchen.  I find absolution in the size of Nate's smile, his joyful squeals, and the totally trusting way Nate and Ani hold my hand to dance.  I've remarked before to others how awesome the responsibility is, of being a parent, when my children have looked up into my eyes.

What is the balance of accepting Nate as no longer being with us vs. allowing myself to temporarily "forget" our situation by losing myself in things like reading, blogging, video games?  How do I stop feeling guilty for taking small diversions to take my mind off of the enormity of our situation?  I can't go through life always meditating on how Nate is no longer here, that's not fair to those who "need me to be here".  I also can't bear the thought of forgetting the least little thing about Nate (or Ani's previous life).

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Journal entry 9/12/08

You know how your heart is expanded when you are blessed with a child?  I think my heart has been expanded for my fellow humans a little bit.  I feel it's easier to feel genuine emotion for those about me.  Also, it's easier to express emotion for them too.  However, at the same time, it's more difficult to hold myself back from the dark abyss of my grief of Nate and Ani.  This is weird, do I express my sadness for Ani's losses as grief?

Journal entry 8/31/08

It kinda hurt to check Ani into church today.  I say "0612" (the last 4 digits of our phone number) "Annika", but there's the "and Nathaniel" that just cries to come out.  I have to choke it back, and it's a painful lump in my throat.

Journal entry 8/29/08

Babies,

Now, when I see little babies, I smile.  I smile because I can see the hand of God in an infant.  I don't know why I couldn't before.

Pray for me.

Pray for me.  Pray for God to give me strength.  Pray he gives me wisdom and discernment.  Pray that I can show love more easily to everybody.  Pray to give me hope that conquers my fears, doubts and weaknesses.

Journal entry 8/29/08

Nate is still SO REAL within me.  It takes no effort to just pretend he's in the other room or just hiding behind me.

Journal entry 8/29/08, Ani's nighttime prayer

Sleep well my precious daughter.  May God watch over you, protect you, heal you, strengthen you and give you courage, and may he soothe you through your nighttime troubles.  I love you Ani.  I am so proud of you Ani for your hard work and every day you are getting a little better.

Journal entry 8/29/08

I can still feel the weight of Nate's arms when he would hug me.  I can still feel Ani's bear hug.  I wouldn't mind a little "strangling" by my little girl right now.

Journal entry 8/29/08

It's selfish, but I want to hear "I love you daddy" or "Nite-nite da-da".  I may be able to hear the first one with earthly ears again, but not the second.  I'm trying to avoid defining myself with sadness and loss, but when something colors your entire perception, it's hard to avoid.

Journal entry 8/29/08

Know what?

You can't bring anyone back by gritting your teeth hard, by crying, by getting angry, by being scared.  Know what else?  You can't stop trying to bring them back.

Journal entry 8/28/08

My perfect life...gone.

How was it perfect?

It wasn't money.

It wasn't power.

It wasn't cars.

It was giving my love to a little boy, a little girl and my wife.  I can still give my love to my wife and little girl, but what do I do with the infinite love that's left over?  The one earmarked for my little boy that God gave me?  Even if we have another child, God will still give me another endless pool of love to give that that child.  I used to tell my wife, at night when we held hands, that I was living my dream life.

Journal entry 8/28/2008

Sometimes the world seems so dull and colorless.

Like it's a veneer,

like the only things that are real are the depths of emotions that we share with each other.

Old journal entry 8/25/08

I've just realized that it's becoming harder and harder to remember how Ani looked like when she danced.  How she sounded when she wanted more time at bedtime.  I can remember Nate's voice for certain things, but seeing Ani like she is for the last 3 months is blurring my "before time" memories of Ani.

Speech today

Here's a speech I gave at a golf-tournament fundraiser put on by my coworkers today.  It's not that I don't want help, I just rail against the circumstances that put me in the situation.

As I stand here, it feels harder than standing in front of a design review with Navy brass and Boeing.  Maybe that's because I'm now speaking for my flesh and blood instead of CSCIs.  First off, I want all of you to know how much it means to us to have received your prayers, well wishes, visits & donations.  I am bouyed up by your show of support today.  Please know that you are providing for my daughter's future and current care.  She is currently mostly immobile, but is starting to show signs of intentional movement.  She is also showing signs of her personality coming out.  She will cry when she's sad or in pain, and is quick to smile & laugh when we hold her, tell her jokes, or she sees her favorite characters in movies or TV.  Any quote from "Finding Nemo" will get her laughing.  She is also showing us that she desparately wants to talk with us.  We have noticed that the "spark of awareness" in her eyesis now more evident than before, and her "cognitive breaks" are occurring less and less often.  She is attending kindergarden now, and is enjoying being with the other kids.  It was a rocky start, but she is getting used to the bus ride now.  While her future is uncertain, we are hopeful and will remain dedicated to her physical, emotional and spiritual care.  We are progressing in our quest for our new home and hope to be in it sometime in January.  Again, thank you so much for your support, believe me, it helps keep us going so much.

Grief lingers

Grief,

You can forget it,

and it stays.

You can deny it,

and it stays.

You can accept it,

and it stays.

You can pretend,

and it stays,

You can bargain with it,

and it stays.

It's like a terminal cancer that keeps eating at you until the day you die.  Then, it's meaningless, because you're with the one you lost.

Tears

There's always tears,

it's just sometimes I don't cry them.

Conflict

Grief,

It's a conflict.

Between what?

Between the reality your heart feels,

and the reality of an emptiness beside you.

Fear

Sometimes when I go places where Ani, Nate & I would go together, I'm afraid someone will ask me where my son or daughter are.

Old journal entry

Oh Nate, I think that when I'm 80, and you should have been 38, I'll still be looking to see if you're running around or between my legs.

8/10/08

Old journal poem

O Ani,

As I try to look into your future,

I get the feeling that you'll surpass yourself in some ways,

and lose ground in other ways.

I will be amazed and proud at your achievements...

And I will be proud to serve you when you need help.

That's what daddies are for.

T-shirt

Sometimes I want to get a t-shirt that says "I'm way sadder than I look".

Sadness

Sometimes I'm so sad I can't even cry.

Scars

The scars on my body may never fade,

but everyone can see them.

The scars inside will also never fade,

but only I can see them.

Old journal post

I have never sought fame, never notoriety, but if some of the news coverages cause 1 more person to pray for Ani, then it's all good.

Old journal post

Having had Nate with us for 2.5 years is kind of like the "It is better to have loved and lost than never having loved at all".  I am SO much richer in all ways after having been Nate's father.

Journal poem

O my son Nate,

I had so much to teach you.

O my son Nate,

I had so much to learn from you.

O my son Nate,

you filled a void I didn't know I had.

O my son Nate,

I miss you more than I could possibly have imagined.

8/4/08

Old journal post

8/4/08

Violation

To be powerless to stop my two most precious beings from being hurt,

I feel violated.  To have such a void in my life, I feel violated.  To see my daughter work so hard just for getting nourishment, I feel violated.

Journal post

7/31/08

Now that Ani is capable of smiling and laughing, I find that when I think of it in the car, I can smile.  Then I feel a twinge of guilt because I'm smiling and Nate isn't here, so why am I smiling?

My grief

Journal poem:

My grief is a snake,

curled up, hidden inside.

Waiting to strike...

Waiting to crush...

It doesn't kill,

though it might be easier if it did.

It only releases when you're about to suffocate.

Then it crushes again.

It hides & releases when you acknowledge it,

waiting to strike again

when you've forgotten it for awhile.

7/30/08

Dreams, dreams everywhere, but not a drop to drink

I am coming to accept the fact that my dreams for my son will never be fulfilled. What I'm trying to hold on to is that where he is right now, he understands love more fully than I do. He understands how much I loved him on earth, and how much I love him right now. When he was here, his limited human perception gave him his childlike viewpoint on love, but now his perception is expanded. I pray that he understands now that even when I gave him "timeouts", or when I yelled at him to not bite his sister, that I still loved him with the fullest expanse of my heart.

The more difficult, in a different way, situation to deal with are my dreams for Ani. I haven't found an answer for how you rationalize the "pray for the best and plan for the worst" when it comes to dreaming dreams. Or how it comes to accepting Ani as she is right now. I pray that Ani will be healed to some extent, and I believe this to be true, but I don't know the extent. I'm struggling with how to remember Ani as she was without letting that affect my life with how she _is_. At least before the injury, I fairly well understood how life would progress for Ani. I need dreams and plans to look forward to, to work towards. I won't accept that Ani & I need to just cruise through life. I find that I need to craft dreams that are at once achievable, and others that are couched in the viewpoint of "not impossible". I need to be OK with dreams that are "not impossible", even if they may be "improbable".

Disaster strikes

On May 25th, a tornado ripped through Hugo. My family and I were caught on the main floor, trying to get to the basement when the tornado hit our house. The house was pushed off its foundation, and collapsed around us. My 2.5 year old son Nathaniel was killed, and my other child, my 5 year old daughter Annika was left with a serious brain injury due to lack of oxygen to her brain. Where this blog was originally intended to be light-hearted about being a dad and gaming will still be about being a dad, but one who has lost so much. I have lost my beloved son, and I am diminished greatly by this. I have also lost the interactive and vibrant parts of my daughter, who I adore, and she is left with a very difficult life ahead. This blog will contain some of my poetry I have written as a result of our tragedy, prayers, requests for prayers, and some blogging about how I am getting through each day.
Apologies in advance if I elicit tears from readers, rest assured that this keyboard is also wet with tears.

First post

Hopefully I'll post here every so often. Being a parent means that there's always something new...