Wednesday August 1, 2012

August.  Really?

Erin told me today that there are 34 days until school starts.  She was not happy when she relayed that information.  And while I was able to get her to do a little school supply shopping, she did express her feelings through her notebook choices:

Dan and I are raising a first class smart ass ... we're so proud.

And while the days are dwindling, Erin is making the most of the summer that's left.  Last night it was a friend's birthday party sleepover that involved exactly zero hours of sleep!  Tomorrow, it's back to playing a little volleyball.

Dan is in the middle of a busy couple of weeks that will see him home on Willow Lane for only two nights in 12 days.  Uff da.  One day at a time...

I continue with my IV infusions every day and the course of treatment has been extended a couple of days until Monday, August 6 when infectious disease will see me for a follow up appointment.  Hopefully Monday's labs will allow the ID doctors to clear me to get the picc line out, and then they will most likely switch me to an oral antibiotic for a few more weeks.  I am so ready to get this tube out of my arm and be able to play a little tennis and golf again.

I have been spending my time working on Shannon things:  the book, the Graham Arena memorial,  the scholarship fund.  I feel compelled to keep pressing on, to keep these things moving forward.  It feels mostly good most of the time...

While I'm talking about Shannon stuff, I just wanted to pass this along -  my uncle is doing the Warrior Dash race September 8th, and he's raising donations for St. Jude in honor of Shannon.  Such a kind and thoughtful gesture.

We are grateful that Shannon's tumor cells are at St. Jude, and that they are a part of the much needed research.  Research is how science advances medicine.  And research takes money.

If you are interested, you can click below to check out his fundraising page:

Fran Davies - Warrior Dash for St. Jude

Monday July 30, 2012

We made it through Shannon's birthday.

There's a story about a little girl who returns home late after being at her friend's house.  When her mom asks her why she's late, the little girl explains, "I was helping Jane.  Her doll broke."  The mom says, "Did you help her fix it?"  The child replies, "No.  I helped her cry."

Let's just say, I was glad to sit next to a friend at church yesterday who recognized that she couldn't fix my doll, but she could help me cry.  That's part of grieving - letting it go some times.  I thought we were in for a really long, sad day.

But, we also found people who helped us remember Shannon in a happy way.  Family and friends sharing stories and memories with us lifted us up.  Our family who gathered to take a walk helped buoy us, too.  It's so comforting to know they will always remember.

So, with the help of friends and family, we got through the toughest "first" so far.  How lucky we are that communication is so easy today.  People showed support in so many ways - in person, on the telephone, via e-mail, via text, via Facebook posts, and even via snail mail.  Such kindness.

By the end of the night, Dan, Erin and I were smiling and laughing at the home videos of 2 year old Erin and 5 year old Shannon.  Erin, smiling and content, quietly observing things, and Shannon, jumping in front of the camera and hamming it up every chance she got!  Funny stuff.

If you had told me in the morning that I'd be laughing by the end of the night, I'd have told you you were crazy, but there we were.  

So, I awoke today feeling better, yet still thinking mostly about myself and my family.  Then the universe helped me snap out of it...

I heard from a friend whose dad had a stroke over the weekend.  And I ran into another friend whose husband is on a long road of recovery after a terrible accident. Each of these women has been kind to me on my journey this past year and, despite what was on their minds, each still took the time to ask me how Shannon's birthday went.

So I am reminded to step outside myself, and remember the bigger picture.  Everyone has struggles.  And even in the midst of our own pain, we can still choose to be kind and gentle and engaged with one another.

I had a correspondence some months back with one of my college journalism professors, discussing my book idea.  (I'm not sure if he really remembered me 20 years later, but he was kind enough to pretend he did.)  He read some of my stuff, and gave me some feedback, which stuck with me:

"The message is this: that life is sometimes painful, that we are measured by how we respond to pain and loss, and that joy is never far away."

Sunday July 29, 2012

It was always her eyes that would draw you in.  At every age, you could read her excitement, her enthusiasm in those big, brown eyes.

Our baby girl would be 14 today.  Such a loss for all of us - and I mean ALL of us who miss her - to not get the chance to know her at age 14.  I think we would have liked the young lady she was becoming.

We are going to do our best to honor and remember her today.  Taking a walk with family, working on her Graham Arena memorial, and maybe even looking at some photos and home videos.  Trying to remember all the happiness, all the positive energy, all the spirit that she possessed.  Trying to remember those eyes.

Happy Birthday, Shannon Anne...

Friday July 27, 2012

It's get away day at the cabin... the ritual clean up has begun - sheets have been washed and are drying on the line, we are shaking out the rugs and sweeping the floors of a week's worth of sand.  Same as it ever was.

Our time up here at the lake has been mostly good, though sometimes poignant.  I think you could say that about life in general for the three of us - mostly good, sometimes poignant.  And, we are coming to accept that the poignant moments are good, too, in their own way.  It means we feel Shannon's presence and we are thinking of her.

Family and friends have been checking in with us this week, knowing that it might be a hard week for us.  We are so grateful for the continued support, for those who recognize that this grief, this loss, this learning to carry on is ongoing.

I wrote an epilogue for the book while I was up here, sent it in, and I got almost immediate feedback from my editors.  They feel it's a great ending, because its not really an ending.  It will never truly end for me or for Dan or for Erin.  As long as we live, this will be a part of our story, something we live with and live through.

So, we finish another first today - the first family vacation at Lake Hubert without Shannon.  We did well.  We had fun.  We felt close to Shannon through the memories.  We felt at peace.

And yet, another big first is looming, of course.  Shannon's 14th birthday should be Sunday.

How does a mother, a family, acknowledge a child's birthday when the child is gone?  It doesn't feel quite right to have a party, and it doesn't feel quite right to not do anything.  People are asking what we have planned.  The straight answer is, right now, we have no idea what to do.  We're making this up as we go along, trying to allow ourselves to feel what we feel in the moment.  We can't predict how we will feel on July 29th, so we'll take it as it comes...

Wednesday July 25, 2012

A stormy and unsettled day in Nisswa MN - a welcomed relief from hot and sunny.  Our bodies need some rest and recovery after three days with Team Lang - our pals from Rochester who headed out on Tuesday.

Over an inch of rain fell overnight.  Sunny the Wonderdog and Erin never flinched when the thunder and lightning hit about 3am.  Complete exhaustion.  This morning, Erin asked, "is it OK if we just have a chill day?"

Shannon is everywhere we turn up here.  Even Tuesday at the Baxter Mills Fleet Farm Jen observed, "hard to believe we were in here shopping for kayaks with Shannon just last August."

When we asked Shannon last year what did she want?  Anything? Anything you want?  Her answer was kayaks for the cabin.  If you were one of the countless donors to the Shannon Fund we thank you again.

Erin and Lexi enjoying the kayaks

Our friends reminded us again how fortunate we are to have this spot on our earth for our family - "second to none" was one observation.  So in the midst of the beauty - there is a sadness.  There always will be.  I just keep thinking, "Shannon would love this right now".  Everywhere we turn. 

The Langs brought with them rocks they designed to throw in Lake Hubert to honor Shannon in their own way.  Perfect.

Rocks for Lake Hubert

I can't explain the loss.  I can't explain the why.  Only that she would demand we keep going.  And she would demand that we continue to be kind to each other, to our world.  My sister Megan forwarded us this poem that captures that sentiment really well.

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken 
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, 
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho 
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans 
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, 
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.  
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

~ Naomi Shihab Nye ~

Sunday July 22, 2012

Just a quick update here ... we arrived at Lake Hubert on Friday afternoon and I think Erin and her friend Lexi have been in the water for approximately 80 percent of their waking hours!  We are lucky that Erin has a good friend who, like her, is also is part fish.  The weather has been gorgeous.

Lexi's family joined us yesterday, and while we like them as people, they also just happen to have a boat!  All kidding aside, it is great to have the Langs here and share this beautiful place with them.  So today has been filled with swimming, boating, skiing, tubing, kayaking, napping, reading and eating ... over and over and over ...

Just to give Erin some credit, she accomplished her goal of getting up and staying up on waterskis for a whole trip around the bay!

We are doing our best relax and and enjoy.  And remember.  The Langs are some of our "safe people", so we feel comfortable and free to talk about Shannon and share stories when we like, which is nice.

All right, gotta run.  We have a very pressing schedule - everyone is waiting for me to finish this post so we can head to the Chocolate Ox for some ice cream...

Thursday July 19, 2012

I still can't believe she's gone.

That thought runs through my mind about a million times a day.  But over the last 10 days or so the aftershocks of Miss Shannon's death have been felt by each of us in a big way.

Maybe its more on point to equate Shannon's passing to a tidal wave.  There is the underwater earthquake.  You know the waves are coming.  And they still catch you off guard.

The waves of emotion have hit Jen, Erin and me each in our own ways.  And on Monday night we felt them together then we spent the rest of the week trying to regroup and get ready for our family trip to the lake as a threesome.

There is also that July 29th date looming - the day Shannon would turn 14.

So out emotions and senses are heightened again just as they were in the days following Shannon's death.  But that has helped too.  Helped me remember.  Helped me stay grateful for the beauty in our world as I roamed the prairies of Southern Minnesota this week in search of sales.

Shannon's name came up often in my sales calls this week as I visited people that I have known for years.  Customers and friends that knew about Shannon's passing.  And some that didn't know and cried when I told them.

My wife Jen received a lovely note from Shannon's Aunt Jen this week acknowledging our continued grieving and Erin's first summer as an only child.  "I have been thinking of her a lot lately, how tough it must be, to be home alone without someone to fight/play with this summer.  I think about how much you must miss those sounds.  Those sounds of "summer" when you are a mom with kids."

Maybe that is what has us in a funk this week.  We miss the sounds, smells, smart-assed comments, and that beautiful perm-smile.  We miss it all.

We still can't believe she's gone.