Thursday 9/17/2009 Back up

This post was delayed due to my 9/11 blogs

Today I’m sitting in traffic. It’s Sunday, why a backup?

Why a back up indeed. I’ve just come from the pet store where a local group was hosting an adoption event. I was looking at a little female lab/rotti puppy. I figure we both need adopting. But while I was there and the volunteers were asking me questions about my prior pet ownership, I could feel my throat tighten. The more I spoke of my buddy, my “puppy” Max, my 11 year old Lab Newfoundland mix dog, it all… backed up. This is the 3rd time this week this has happened. Each time has been at what was in actuality a tribute to either my husband or my puppy.

The first was on Thursday. I decided I needed to give back to the communities that mattered in the lives of my late husband, my children and me. I had asked to support a number of projects since March and was amazed at the red tape I had to go through just to support a worthy cause. I began speaking with the coach at the high school my husband attended. My husband was a star athlete, excelling in both Football and Baseball. I wanted to somehow impact the football team at his high school. After much back and forth, I “adopted” the freshman football team. Well that may sound a bit bigger than this is. What I really did was agree to feed the freshman football team. The Varsity and JV teams are given a hot meal on game day. But there is no budget to give a hot meal or any meal to the freshman team. So on Thursdays, freshman game day, I provide a meal for 35 players. On the first Thursday I was planning to have the lunches delivered but luck and timing allowed me to be in the area to assist with the delivery. I met the coach in the main office and he seemed a bit surprised to see me. I think he still wasn’t sure my offer was sincere. He asked if I would accompany him to the locker room to meet the other coaches and deliver the lunches. Because my husband had taught me the game of football, I started asking questions about the Varsity team as we made our way around campus to the athletic office. I asked about his team’s passing game, ratio of seniors to freshman and so on. As we entered the office and locker room, I began to feel a huge sense of pride. The coaches all stood as I entered the office and one coach started reciting my husband’s football highlights. I felt a wave of emotion come over me and a young coach standing next to me leaned in and asked if I was ok. I said I was surprised at the emotions backing up on me. He smiled and said, “I know what you’re feeling”. Oh my gosh I thought, not another widower about to share his loss with me. I knew I couldn’t handle it at that moment. But the look on my face must have caused him to elaborate. He leaned in close to me and said... “You’re emotional because, you’re in the boy’s locker room! If you want, I can show you the boy’s bathroom”. I started to giggle and could not stop until I got back in my car. Once in my car, I allowed the tears to fall. The experience was so gratifying and gave me a sense of closeness to a time in my husband’s life I was not a part of. As thankful as the coaches and team are, I am even more thankful. I think I got the better end of this deal.

On Saturday, the 12th Annual Run for Ryan took place in my town. Ryan was a senior in high school when he collapsed and died during Cross Country practice. His family spends the bulk of their time honoring this wonderful young man with fundraisers benefiting the booster club and local charities. I chose to sponsor this event because of what I read about this wonderful young man. He touched the lives around him so deeply and in such a profound way, as did my husband. I spoke with Ryan’s mother and knew from the moment she answered the phone that we had a profound connection. I sponsored the event and volunteered to help out on race day. Race day was exactly what you would hope for, cool yet not cold. The 8K, 5K and 1K was held in the evening and as I sat at the registration table, signing in runners, I began to realize that while this event and its significance was new to me, it was not new to the community. Former participants were welcomed with open arms. I was introduced as an honored guest, a friend. I met more people from my own town than I knew even existed. I saw the police chief I had spoken to by phone but had never met. When he was introduced to me there was a moment before he seemed to pull my name up and connect it… He then just stepped toward me and hugged me tight saying he was so glad to finally meet me. I was never introduced as a widow or someone who had had a loss. I was “our friend” or a “generous supporter”. With a few hundred runner/walkers the event was much more popular than I could have imagined. I worked the registration table, signing in the runners and noticing how young and old, these were folks who had deep roots in my little city. The names were business names, street names and building names. The people’s fathers, Grandfathers and Great Grandfather’s settled my town, developed our history. As all this was happening, I found my emotions backing up. No tears or sadness but a wave of emotions I was cautious to control.

Outside, as the National Anthem played just before the race was started, Ryan’s mom came over to me and put her arms around me. We held each other and cried for a short moment. Not only was this the day of the race honoring her young son, it was also the anniversary of the death of her husband, Ryan’s father. I had an unspoken kinship with this woman. This woman. Such loss yet she got up every day and searched for ways to honor the lost men in her life. As she did that day in and day out, she honored herself as well. She found great peace in keeping not only their spirit alive but also keeping her passion and drive vibrant and engaged. As it was time for Ryan’s mom to start the race, she introduced some of the key players in the event. She thanked her family, her friends the community and then she thanked me. It wasn’t a big gesture and almost no one knew what it meant, but just before the race, she turned to me and said, “mother to mother, wife to wife”, she blew me a kiss and fired off the starting gun. In the split second between her message and the start of the race, I looked up and saw the young police officer who had been with me the night my husband died. Between us there were maybe 100 people, but I knew then, more strongly than I have ever known anything before in my life. I knew I would survive. I knew that I was doing what was right. I knew I was part of a community in a way I have never been before. I knew that while painful, I was on my way to the next chapter in my life and it would be…ok. It will be as great as I choose it to be or as I make it. I knew I had great people around me, in my family and my community who had survived and triumphed.

When the race ended I stayed at the after party for just a short time. I walked around the park thinking about what I had experienced in the past few days. Would I have had these moments if he was still alive? I don’t know. There is also the bigger question, why wouldn’t I have the experiences with him alive? The answer may be as simple as me not creating the option for the moment in the structure of my life before. I think my ah ha moment was… I hold what happens to me in my hands. I could wring my hands and say oh poor me or I can grab on to something and hold on tight for the ride. I think I’ll grab on and hang on for the ride. I think it will be great. Different, but great. Scary maybe, but great. I now believe I can be great again as well.

I hope so…