Christmas Memories

Think about your best Christmases ever. Who's in those memories? For me, it's my brother, my college roommate CJ (which as I think about it, is an odd choice because it was such a short snapshot of time in my life), and my first-born.


When I was a kid, Christmas Eve was spent at my Grandmother and Grandfather Swayne's house. Although both sets of grandparents lived within 10 miles of one another, I'm guessing that we stayed with Mom's mom and dad because there was more room at the inn. Jimmy and I shared a room. It was a small room - a twin bed against one wall, a crib against the other, and just enough room to walk between the two. There was a window at the head of the twin bed. I can remember looking out that window trying to catch Santa flying by. Jimmy peeking out through the slats of the crib asking me if I saw Santa yet. Jake is two and a half now, and he is exactly like how I remember Jim in those early years. I always woke up first Christmas morning and lay there trying to figure out how to wake Jimmy up without actually getting caught waking Jimmy up (and thus getting yelled at by Mom). We'd tear downstairs and open all our gifts. We were supposed to be quiet because Grandpa never got up for Santa gifts. I never understood how he could want to sleep instead of seeing all the great toys! Then in true older sister fashion, I'd look over Jimmy's toys and start playing with whatever I thought looked more fun than what I got. There's 23 of those Christmas mornings together.

The second wonderful memory I have of Christmas is 1984. My college roommate CJ and I had an apartment at RIT. We got ourselves a Christmas tree and put it up. We decorated it and put our gifts under it. I'm sure our boyfriends Rob and Dan probably helped, but I don't really remember that part. Just that CJ and I had our very own Christmas tree. I just remember feeling so independent and adult, all from one little Christmas tree.


My third stand-out memory of Christmas is Kirsten's first. Mark and I traipsed out to cut down a Christmas tree for our new house. It was by far the best Christmas tree we've ever had. We took Kirsten everywhere that Christmas, but the place I remember as the most fun that year was Mark's sister Sue's house. In our house, we open presents one at a time in some chosen order. At Mark's family, everyone got a pile of gifts and then they all opened them all at the same time. It was crazy fun for me. Mid-present opening, Kirsten got down on the floor in the middle of the torn wrapping paper. She was throwing the paper around and screaming at the top of her lungs. In the photo she looks like a mad-baby, but she was having an absolute blast amid the papers. Of course, everyone was laughing at her and paying attention to her, which made her perform her little act in the papers even more. I've always been one to follow the rules. I was always trying to be perfect. Let me tell you, that's very stressful. My husband has been a mellowing influence on me over the years. "My house is messy? So what, come on over for dinner." That would've never happened in a million years when we were first together. I would've killed myself (and everyone around me) making the perfect house before inviting people in. That Christmas in 1992 began the freedom of spirit Mark and the kids have given to me over the past 16 years.

Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.
--Augusta E. Rundel

Cancer dims the lights

The following quote is from the My Cancer blog on NPR:

"Putting the holiday season into perspective for all of us in Cancer World is a challenge. It's a time filled with traditions, laughter and making new memories. But cancer takes the bright colors of the holidays and shades them in gray. Nothing sparkles. Nothing twinkles. Cancer dims the lights."

So here goes...just because I am a sister, not a mother, father, wife, daughter, son, doesn't mean that my lights are any less dim. It angers me that people believe I shouldn't be still grieving the loss of my brother. People nod in agreement and sympathy when you say "You never get over the death of a child." or "It's so difficult for children to grow up without their father." or "She never remarried, she loved her husband so much." But if a sibling says "I miss my brother/sister everyday. It just isn't the same without them." We're cuckoo, there's something wrong with us that must be fixed.

Well, think about it people. I lived with my brother for 18 years, just as long as Mom and Dad did, longer than his wife and kids. He was my default playmate. I was his great protector. We learned to be who we are by observing and interacting with one another. I am me and he was him, in large part because of the other. We were rivals for our parents affection. We shared our annoyances at our parents, and teased each other about how we shared the quirks we complained about in them! We shared secrets. We freely fought, knowing the other wouldn't leave us forever. We would always be there for one another. Siblings are connected in ways different from all other familial relationships.

So I'm here to stand up for all grieving siblings. Let us miss our siblings forever. Don't put a timetable on our grief. Jim's death dimmed the lights. I don't want to buy new lights; I just want to adjust to living with less light.

Melancholy

Adj - "Causing or tending to cause sadness or depression of mind or spirit."

That about sums it up. Everything is still just all out of whack. "You'll find a new normal." "It gets better with time." Hmmmm... It is better. I don't believe I have the dreams as much anymore. I'm working, keeping up with my family. But my new normal contains this pervasive melancholy state. A constant empty chair in my peripheral vision.

About a month ago, I ordered an engraved brick to be placed on the RIT quarter-mile. It's the path Jim and I took from the dorms to classes daily while we attended RIT. It says "In Memory, Jim Marventano, IPKG 1992" I'm glad I did it, placed a semi-permanent marker dedicated to Jim, but it didn't lift my spirits.

I went to visit Kate and the kids over Halloween. It made me sad. Jim's gone from the house now. There are a few scattered snapshots and trinkets around, you see his handiwork in the projects he did, but it's clear he doesn't live there anymore and Kate has begun to live a whole life without him.

I came back and turned to fulfilling one of Jim's last wishes. Before Jim got sick, he'd begun finishing a portion of the basement as a playroom/half-bath for the kids. Dad single-handedly finished the basement for Jim over the weeks he was there. Jimmy was so grateful for all the work Dad did, and he talked to me about how he wanted to get him a new football jacket to say "Thank You." He never got the chance, so I took care of it for him. Again, I was glad I did it, but my mood didn't waiver.

Yesterday, I put up the holiday decorations around the house. The first box I opened had Jim's Santa hat lying right on top. I wore it around as I decorated yesterday thinking it would make me feel better. My melancholy mood didn't lift.

I still feel Jim got dealt one crap of a hand and that just wasn't fair. We all got ripped off. Some days I'm mostly angry. Some days I'm mostly sad. All days I just seem to exist in a melancholy state...my new normal it seems.

Trick or Treat

When Jim died, I'd been a big sister for 38 years. It was a big part of my identity - who I am. I still get lost navigating life without being "Sis." We often get defined by the roles we have in life - daughter, big sister, girlfriend, wife, mother. The longer we spend in those roles, the stronger hold they have over how we view ourselves. Jim spent 15 years defined in part as "uncle." He was phenomenal at it. I was just learning how to add that comparable "aunt" piece to my life when he died. He was helping me along on that journey. Jim and Kate were young and totally cool when Kirsten was born. By the time Rachel and especially Jake were born, I was ancient from a kid perspective and totally uncool. BUT, I wasn't broke anymore from buying diapers and baby formula, so I decided I could buy my way into favorite aunt. Shallow, I know.

This weekend, however, I get a chance to be "Cool Aunt Judi." I'm very excited to fly out to Wisconsin for Halloween. I get to trick-or-treat with Kate and the kids. Then comes the nifty part. Totally cool Aunt Kate is meeting niece Kirsten in Chicago to belatedly celebrate K's 16th birthday. I get to be Aunt Judi for three days. I worry sometimes about staying connected and close to my niece and nephew without Jim in the picture...but that's a post for another day. Today, I'm just very grateful that I get to spend so much time with Rach & Jakers. My goal? When Kate comes home from Chicago and the asks the kids if they had fun with Aunt Judi - I want to hear some big cheers!

Gowing up - Growing old

Yesterday the swingset came down. No one has really played on it since we moved into this house in Dec '00. Kirsten received the kit as a birthday gift from Mark's friend Paul and his wife Janet. We set it up in the tiny yard at our first house and Kirsten played on it a lot. By the time we moved, and moved it with us, Kirsten had outgrown it. Sean has sensory integration dysfunction and was never keen on it. So we've been moving it around the yard for the past eight years; pushing it farther and farther towards the hedgerow. Every once in a while the little boy next door comes over with his dad and plays on it. We've resisted disassembling it for the past two summers, anticipating that perhaps Rachel and Jake would play on it. Rachel and Jake came this summer, but never made it past the pool. Fall arrived and Mark started talking about taking it down. Tuesday was the day. Both kids grumbled a bit, but in the end don't seem to miss it. I don't miss it either - no one used it, it was looking worse for wear out there, and it was a pain to mow around. I do, however, miss what it symbolized - that I had small children living and playing here. My oldest is preparing to apply to colleges. I'm excited for what lies ahead, but sad to see that part of my life done. Perhaps as winter sets in, time will slow down just a smidge for me and I'll be able to ease myself into being the parent of an adult.

1986

I was in my final year of college and Jimmy was a Senior in high school. That year the Rush Henrietta Sperry Comets football team won the Section V Football AAA finals. Jimmy played left tackle. (Or right? Okay, if you're the quarterback looking at the center, Jim's to the left - so that's left tackle?)

I can remember driving from my apartment at RIT to Fauver Stadium to meet my parents for both the semi-final and final games. It never occurred to me not to go, even if I had to forfeit a beer or two those weekends to cover my admission tickets and parking. In the semi-final game, Jimmy got hurt. Messed up his ankle enough that it still bothered him as an adult. Mom and I were sitting together, when Jim stayed down on the ground after the play. Mom was petrified. I was too young and stupid to be scared. Of course he'd get up - it's just a game and he's Jim, of course he'll get up. He did get up and even made the local TV news being helped off the field by team mates. See Mom - he's fine. Everything's okay.

Jim knew he was going to college complements of his brain, not his brawn, so he had the doctor tape up his ankle good and tight for his last game. He played hard in that final game. It was a crusher - the 1986 Comet team beat Greece Athena quite handily. The guys were thrilled.

Dad found an old VHS tape of those games a few months ago. I just transferred them to DVD. Mark and I watched both games as the machine copied from the VHS tape over to the DVD. Jimmy was right there. I could see him so clearly. My brain filled in all the details of that season that weren't recorded on tape. He was just right there. Then the tape ended and he wasn't. The thing about grief is that the wound remains raw for a long time. You learn to carefully avoid pressing on it, but then it's like running into the footboard on the bed in the middle of the night. You don't see it coming in the dark and then - "OUCH! Crap. That hurts."

Jimmy was just right there for two hours the other night. It was great to see him again. I've missed him so much over the past year. Then the tape ended...I whacked my leg on the footboard of my life and it hurts.

Raw wounds and scars

Many of you know that during my initial research on colon cancer two+ years ago, I found a blog on NPR called MY CANCER written by Leroy Sievers, who was fighting the "second coming" of his colon cancer. Leroy died recently from the disease and his wife, Laurie, has continued the blog. As a "griever," I'm glad she did. She's giving a public voice to "Now what happens?" Her post today was really good and addresses what I think of when people say to me "Time heals all wounds."

September 26, 2008
Healing The Giant Wound

It's this grieving stuff that's got me confused. There aren't really any rules. Granted, there's actually a book called "Grieving for Dummies." But for me that just adds insult to injury.

There are a lot of experts who can tell you how you're supposed to feel. There are groups you can join, bereavement sessions where everyone can speak about their individual pain. If you're not a "joiner," those seem a little odd.

For me, grieving is an attack on my soul, my core.

I look at it this way. It's a giant wound right now. And it's covered with a very big bandage.

As time goes on, those bandages will get smaller, until I'm left with a scar.

That scar will last my lifetime.

-- Laurie

A rough day

Yesterday was a rough day. I didn't expect to be as an emotional wreck as I was. The main part of my day was bearable because I'm swamped at work, but once work ended I cried at every thought of Jim...and my thoughts were filled with Jim. A whole year. That just doesn't seem possible. The lump is still in my throat, so I'm not in any shape yet to share what yesterday was all about, but I do want to say thank you to a few people who reached out yesterday in a myriad of ways:

Tonia & Ted
Auntie Cheryl & Uncle Bob
Aunt Dot & Uncle Don
Rozanne
Amy
Cheryl

If there's one thing I've learned over the past year about grief, it's what my Aunt Dot said yesterday "I hope people have learned that the old adage about not bringing up the person who died with the people who loved them because you don't want to make them sad, is a fallacy. By saying something, you aren't reminding them of it. They live with their grief every day."

I'm not the most thoughtful person - I can be when I think about it, but most of the time I'm just in my own little world, clueless. To those of you who remembered yesterday and reached out in a thoughtful way, you amaze me. I hope that I can learn by your example and as I travel forward in life, I can "pay it forward," becoming more aware of times when I should reach out.

September 17th, 2008 - one year

Love you...miss you...every day

We Fought Cancer…And Cancer Won.

There was a depressing and enlightening article on cancer in this week's Newsweek titled "We Fought Cancer and Cancer Won." http://www.newsweek.com/id/157548

It's a long aritcle, but worth the read. Beating cancer is like winning the lottery - most people who play never win, there's a fair number of winners of small prizes (NED less than 5 years), and very few big winners (NED 5+ years).

I'd read the studies when Jim was in treatment, but to see it again, made me so discouraged: "In the studies that led the FDA to approve Avastin, for instance, the drug prolonged life in patients with advanced colorectal cancer by a median of four months."

I also want to share a Web site that I found when Jim was sick - "Choose Hope" http://www.choosehope.com/money.jsp It's where I got our Swarovski Crystal Hope Bracelets in colon cancer blue and my Cancer Sucks baseball cap. They donate 10% of their total sales (before expenses) on a monthly basis to a variety of leading cancer research institutions. They make sure that their money goes directly to general cancer research. That way, every cancer gets a portion of their donations. It's small amounts - in August they donated $5,000 to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital and a $1,000 to standup2cancer.org - but the pennies add up.

Bad reality makes for bad dreams

Mark tells me I mumble and cry out in my sleep a lot. Probably once a week, I wake up and can remember the dreams. This has been going on for almost 2 years now. The dreams are no worse than our reality - Jim's there, then he's not. In my dreams, sometimes we're little kids again, sometimes we're teenagers, sometimes it's the years right before he died. But the ending of the dreams is always the same, I lose him somehow.

We went to Disney World when Sean was 5. As we were all outside waiting for the taxi, Kristen had to go to the bathroom and she went back inside the hotel. What four adults didn't see was Sean followed her. But he was far enough behind her that he lost her in the lobby, got confused and walked down a long corridor with shops. Kirsten came back, but no Sean. I was 100% terrified. I'd lost him. For 15 long minutes, 4 adults and Kirsten searched for him. Finally, he arrived back at the hotel with tears in his eyes, holding the hand of a Disney employee.

That panicked terror I felt when I lost Sean is the terror I feel in my dreams. But it doesn't go away, I wake up and Jim is still lost. There's no Disney employee holding his hand, leading him back to me. No waking from the dream to find a less grim reality.

I've kept this mostly to myself. Every once in a while, if the dream is bad enough, Mark will ask about it. He'll ask if it was about Jim, and when I say "Yes," that's all the explanation he needs. But this morning, Kirsten admitted to the same dream. She was sitting with Uncle Jim and Aunt Kate, eating and talking around Mimi and Papa's kitchen table. All of a sudden Aunt Kate gave her the strangest look. She said in her dream she thought she had food on her face, but when she turned back to Uncle Jim, he was gone and she knew what Aunt Kate's face meant. She woke up crying.

September 17th marks the one-year anniversary of Jim's death. I don't see the dreams stopping for any of us in the near future.

A year of helping others - 30 minutes at a time

Dear Judith,

Happy Anniversary!

This time last year you were about to help save your first life!

It's been one year since you made your first blood donation with the American Red Cross on 8/24/2007.

On behalf of the patients who's lives you have helped save, we would like to say "Thank You!" Each and every one of your 5 donations this year has touched so many people within your community.

If you are once again eligible to donate, you can find a blood drive in your neighborhood and make an appointment at www.DonateBloodNow.org. To speak directly with a Donor Satisfaction representative please call 1-800-GIVE LIFE. Please be sure to mention your Donor ID: XXXXX.

We're looking forward to celebrating future anniversaries and many more lives saved in the years to come!

Your friends at the American Red Cross - New York Penn Region.

And James Robert laughed...

Last summer, before Jimmy got sick enough that he didn't want to leave the house, I visited. He was under doctor's orders not to drive because he was on some pretty hefty pain killers, so I got to be chauffeur while I was there. He was still strong enough to tick things off his To Do list, and although he had to rest, after those rest periods, he was pretty good. One of the things he needed to do was to get a part for the Burley - a bike trailer they had attached to his bike. He needed to attach it to Kate's bike and required a special part. So off we went to the bike store. While we were there, he window shopped. He told me he wanted to trade in his bike. He'd ridden Kate's and it was so much easier to ride than his. He wasn't wistful like he was in my later trips, knowing he wouldn't ever get that new bike. He and I discussed it like it was definitely going to happen after we got cancer under control.



So yesterday, when I headed out to purchase a new bike for myself after giving mine up 16 years ago, Jimmy was a little voice in my head for the trip. Mark and I stopped first at the store where I'd bought my touring bike so many years ago - Peddlers in Henrietta. The CHEAPEST road bike they had was $779. I believe Jimmy was standing behind me, holding me up so I didn't pass out from sticker shock. I took a test ride on the bike and boy was it nice. It seemed to practically ride itself, but as Jimmy was so fond of telling me, I'm cheap, so I just couldn't wrap my head around $800 for a bicycle! Off we went to Towners and Park Ave Bikes where the least expensive road bikes were $850 to $900. I was told I could thank high gas prices for the high price of commuter bikes. Ugh... Mark and I went to lunch, the entire time I was saying I just couldn't do it. I couldn't spend $800 on a bike. In my head, I was saying to Jimmy "I know, I know, I'm cheap. But Jimmy, $800????"

I came home...bikeless...still struggling with my dilemma. I'm having trouble running still. Yesterday's 3 mile run was actually a 1 mile jog, a 1 mile limp, and then a final 1 mile hobble. So I really need to get a bike. But $800???

Later that evening Mark tossed a Performance Bicycle sale catalog at me. I went to their outlet Web site and found a $1399 K2 T:Nine Jetstream Ladies Road Bike on sale for $699. A 10% off promotion and the whole thing could arrive at my door for less than $700. As I was trying to decide, I remembered going to the bike store with Jim. I would give anything to be able to lay down the $800 for a new bike for him. If I could do it, I'd lay the money down for him in an absolute heart beat, but I can't. In the end, I decided life really is too short and I bought myself the bike.

Today I went to Performance's Web site to look at shipping to see how long it'll take to arrive and saw that today I could've gotten 20% off instead of yesterday's 10%! and I swear I could hear James Robert laughing.

The crazy season has begun

It's the beginning of August and Fall sports have already begun in earnest at the Kling household. Sean is beginning his 5th year in the local youth football league and Kirsten is trying out for Varsity Volleyball for the high school. It's difficult to believe that last year at this time, Mom and Dad had already begun their month+ long stay at Jim and Kate's.

Jim loved this photo of Sean and had me print and frame it for his bedside. He said it was very cool how I got the referee in the background and the other team players coming at Sean. Apparently,I even got the Nike logo showing on the ball. He also had me get a larger print and send it to Sean with a note about how proud he was of him. We framed it and hung it over his bed.

Jakers is just all boy and it makes me sad knowing Jim won't be around to share moments like this with him. Jim was so proud of Sean, and Kirsten. He would've been even more so of Jake and Rachel.

The beginning of this season has also given me a few smiles. Last year, when Kirsten tried out for Volleyball, she called Jim during tryouts to let him know how it was going. After she talked with him, I got on the phone.
He said to me "I don't think Kirsten likes the coach."
Me "Why do you say that?"
Jim "She kept calling him Coach Yucko."
I started laughing "His name is Coach Yockell. She's saying Yockell, not Yucko."
Jim "OH! Well, that makes more sense."
So poor Coach Yockell is forever called Coach Yucko in our house because it makes us smile and think of how funny Uncle Jim was. Some day the child will probably slip up and call him that in practice and she'll be benched.

We're almost a month away from a year since Jim passed away. It still seems unreal to me that he's gone. Unreal and very wrong. Rachel told me last week that she missed her Daddy and wished he didn't have to live in heaven. She would like him to live with them. The "they" I always like to quote to Mark say that it gets better with time. It wasn't better at a month. It wasn't better at 6 months. So far, it's not better as we head towards a year. We'll miss Uncle Jim a lot this fall as we head into our first sports season without one of our biggest cheerleaders.

So many others

Jay Monahan, Cherie Geiser, Tony Snow, Leroy Sievers...
Just a few of the people that our greatest hopes and worst fears were pinned on when we got the news Jim had Stage IV colon cancer. Jay died very quickly after diagnosis, like Jim. Cherie fought for more than 10 years, Tony beat it briefly only to have it come back again stronger than ever and take him quickly. Leroy was given 3 months to live. He's now on year 2, but it's been a long hard battle and is now wondering if it's time for hospice.

I see cancer everywhere. My uncle, a good friend, a neighbor's sister, a church friend's toddler niece, my boss' best friend, a coworker's wife. More and more every day. So many lives upended. Even when the outcome is "no evidence of disease," it's such a difficult road to travel for the patient and their families. The treatments are horrendous for the patient. Everyone ages in the process from the stress and worry, then you never stop looking over your shoulder for it to rear its ugly head again and start the battle anew.

When I hear of another person with cancer, it makes me relive the treatment year with Jim. It makes me so sad that someone else and their family have to live through that. It's a crazy roller coaster you can't get off of, no matter how sick you are. You're scared all the time. Leroy writes a blog for NPR called My Cancer. In one of his posts he talked about how he would just like a break - not a big one, just some time within a day without the pain and sickness. I'm so grateful for Jim's 400 cancer-free minutes during his dive trip in Mexico with Kate's dad. After that, he never got another break.

I bought myself a baseball cap from an organization called Choose Hope. They donate profits to cancer centers around the US, two Jim went to and one was another option they considered. It says in big letters across the front "CANCER SUCKS." I wear it a lot. I can see it makes people whose lives have never been touched by cancer uncomfortable and scared. In 1971, President Nixon signed the National Cancer Act and declared a war on cancer. Today, 37 years later, we're still scared to death of cancer. That's just not right.

Wearing my cap, I know right away the people who've been to battle - they smile and sometimes say "great hat." One gentleman at the races stopped me and said "My wife's an oncology nurse and she sees a lot of those caps." Oncology nurses...angels sent to earth to help cancer patients.

I took my cap to an embroidery shop on Thursday. They are going to put "Remembering Jim - 5/28/69 to 9/17/07" in an arch across the back opening. I'll be wearing the cap a lot and hoping I'll live to see the day when others won't have to.

Expecting Adam by Martha Beck

I borrowed this book from Mom's bookshelf one Sunday when I was over for dinner. I'm enjoying it a lot. Martha Beck's a very clever and humorous writer - similar to my sister-in-law Kate, and Elizabeth Gilbert who wrote Eat, Pray, Love. Last night there was a paragraph I must've read six times over because it made me go "Yep!" I thought I'd share it on today's blog post because it resonated with me. NOTE: ALL LEGAL TYPE CREDITS go to the book's author Martha Beck. :-)

“I once saw a television special about a woman who was saved from falling off a cliff by some supernatural force, which she thought probably consisted of one or more angels. The woman and her fiancé had climbed a steep hillside to watch the sun set over the ocean. As twilight fell, they decided to take a shortcut back to sea level—an extremely short cut, as it turned out. The path they chose went almost straight down, and the rock face proved to be soft and crumbly. By dark, the couple was in serious trouble. The tide was coming in, and they were literally clinging to the fragile cliff by their fingernails. Then, just as the woman’s strength gave out, she felt a strong, warm power lift her up, propping her against the rock. Aided by this mysterious force, she gradually made the climb to the beach, arriving safe and sound about fifteen minutes later.

In the meantime, her fiancé fell off the cliff and died.

After some of the things that happened to me while I was expecting Adam, I have no trouble believing this woman’s story. I am quite ready to accept that Something helped her down that cliff, probably the same Something that got me through the smoke of the high-rise fire in Cambridge. But whatever the Something was, I can’t fathom its motivation. As I watched the television special, I kept imagining what the woman’s fiancé must have thought as he plummeted past his beloved, perhaps even seeing as he went by, the angels who were gently transporting her to solid ground. If I had been in his position, I know what I would have thought. I would have thought ‘So what am I, bat guano?' It would have been the last thing to go through my head, if you don’t count the rocks at the bottom of that cliff. Perhaps the angels had a chance to explain their reasons to the deceased fiancé later, but I, for one, don’t understand.

I get the same feeling when I look back on all the mysterious assistance I received during Adam’s gestation. I don’t know if others from my apartment building had invisible helpers hauling them out of the smoke the day Food Shak burned. I doubt it. No one ever mentioned it. Perhaps, you may say, I was the only one who really needed paranormal assistance—but that logic doesn’t work for me either. How many times a day does some poor hapless human really need a good supernatural protector and fail to get one? People are tortured and killed and raped and pillaged on a daily basis, and if there are angels in the vicinity, they apparently just sit around watching—wringing their ectoplasmic little hands, probably letting nature take its course.

A great deal of human energy, including mine, has been spent trying to figure out why some people get help from angels and some get lobotomized by flying debris from freak wheat-threshing accidents. Religious people always seem to have simple formulas to explain this. If you’re very, very good, says the formulas, you can avoid the gods’ disfavor and court their assistance. If you sacrifice a goat, you will be blessed. If it’s the wrong goat—say, one with a gimpy foot—you will be smitten with a pox. If you join the right church, you will live long and prosper; if you leave it, you are consigned to eternal misery. Believe me, you don’t grow up in Utah without hearing a great deal of this sort of reasoning. But none of the causal connections I have heard preached by any religion fits the facts as I see them. All I can say for sure is whatever supernatural beings are operating around us, they are working from a priority list that is very different from mine.

Strangely enough, I have learned to trust them anyway.”

So that's the thought for today. Reflect and do with it what you like.

I love being an aunt

What a hoot my little guy of a nephew is!

A big day in the Kling household

Last week, all four of us piled into the car and headed east to Canandaigua. We had lots of little things to do like haircuts and picking up a birthday present, but the main goal of our trip was for Kirsten to take her written learner's permit test. She passed and we now have a new driver in the Kling household! (...Damn - that reminds me I need to call the insurance company.) I was a total geek Mom and made her stand for a photo with her permit. It's one for the baby book. I got home and immediately emailed photos to Mimi & Papa. I sent photos to Aunt Kate & Aunt Jo too. Then I got sad. It was a huge day in my life - one of those big right-of-passage moments in your kids' lives. It would've been big for Jim too. I can still see the little blond pipsqueek riding off with Uncle Jim & Aunt Kate in the back of Aunt Kate's jeep, hair flying in the wind with a big smile on her face, and now she's in the driver's seat. I wanted to call him and share. I wanted him to get on the phone and tease her like he did so well. I cried pretty good that night - for all the moments, big and small, my kids and his, won't be able to share with him.

Camping World is NO Williams and Sonoma

When Jim first got sick, Kate had a post about what a great company Williams and Sonoma was. I'm devoting this particular blog post to what an absolute crap company Camping World is.

We attended the Camping World Indy Car Grand Prix at Watkins Glen this past weekend. Prior to going, we needed an additional propane hose similar to one I had just purchased at Walmart fo $18.99. It was $32.99 at Camping World. A quick look at the shelves showed a similar markup for other items I'd ordered through Amazon.com or bought at Walmart. So, back to Walmart we went.

We arrive at the Glen on Thursday to find that our site is across a one lane road from the Camping World "guest/employee" reserved camping area. Not a problem at this point, but I do notice that they are all "living in" stock units for the weekend. So the trailer with the big sign marked "One Owner - Nice & Clean" didn't anywhere also say "Let a bunch of drunken race fans live in it for the weekend." I'm pretty sure that won't be on the disclosure sheet for the sale. At first I thought only used units were being lived in, but it appeared they had no problem bringing the new units down. So YUCK>>>>>! That is definitely against my rules.

There's also a very nice rule at the Glen that quiet hours are from 11pm to 6am - this includes the use of generators. Obviously the Camping World folks didn't believe the rules applied to them -- "THE SPONSORS" of the race. Right across from our spot, they backed in a fairly old (thus LOUD) refrigerated diesel truck and let it run 24/7. At 11pm the first night, Mark nicely asked them to turn it off. They chose to ignore him. At midnight, I was in their face screaming, as only a mother with children who can't get to sleep can do, to TURN OFF THE GOD-DAMN TRUCK! The Camping World employee, though drunk, was trying to humor me, until Mark arrived and boy did it get ugly. Guy told Mark he was "the f*&kin' sponsor of the race." I thought for sure he was going to take a swing at Mark. They ended up moving the truck about 50 yards farther away, but still ran it all night. The next day we went to Glen Security who assured us they'd take care of it, they had a spot for Camping World that had a guard on it all night where they were supposed to leave their stuff. At 11:30pm the next night I hear one Camping World person say to another "We have to turn that truck off or move it." The other responded "Let's wait to see if security comes by again." Nice...glad to hear the rules apply to everyone BUT Camping World.

Needless to say, Camping World is on my big SHIT list. They won't be coming off...EVER.

No more Double-Dog Dares

Even though I was the older (and supposedly wiser) sibling, Jimmy could always get me to do anything. He'd double-dog dare me, give me his best "Uncle Bobby shit-eatin' grin," promise to come along, and then off I'd go, my better judgment and any fears left behind. Years of my "personal scientific experiments" proved to me, he really was the only one to be trusted without reservation. Our adventures were never too dangerous because he always offered to go along, and he wasn't cruel, so whatever he had in store for me usually ended up being a blast once I put my eldest-child phobias and fears aside. So there I was yesterday at Darien Lake, being cajoled by my eldest to get on the Superman roller coaster. Feet planted firmly on solid ground, I stared up at the highest point of the coaster — 200 feet in the air — knowing I'd never get on it of my own accord and the only person who could possibly convince me to strap myself in next to him for the ride was gone from my life forever.

It's the little things like this that trip me on my road through grief. Something so benign as a roller coaster I have no interest in riding, makes me catch my breath and I see another hole in the fabric that's me created by Jimmy's absence.

The Tower of Terror - Disney World 2003

"Just having a little fun with you" said the Cosmic God

12:55pm Sunday afternoon. The first of Sean's classmates arrives, the storm clouds gather and it starts to rain! It continues to rain as the rest of the class arrives, and just for fun, the Cosmic God (which I just told my neighbor Brian didn't exist during our euchre game the other night when he and Mark started to get a little "uppity" with their winning hands) threw in a single clap of thunder. I was getting pretty worried as all of us huddled under our 24'x12' canopy. Thankfully, the Cosmic God was just having a little fun with me and the single rain cloud in the sky passed by in about 20 minutes. By 12:50, it was sunny and warm and the kids were enjoying the pool.

It appeared to me that the kids had a lot of fun. They ate, ran around, swam, had a whiffle ball game with Mr. Michalski, and even convinced my daughter to fill water balloons for them. The three hours passed very quickly. I met a lot of nice parents, which as your children get older you find you don't know the parents like you did when they were in Kindergarten and just about every mom or dad volunteered in the school. I'm sure Sean will remember for a long time that we had the end-of-the-year party at his house. I'm glad we did it. And Gloria Gaynor was correct - I did survive. :-)

I think I've finally gone over the edge!

I want to start this post by saying right up front - "I'm not a big fan of children." Oh, I love mine well enough, and I adore my niece and nephew, but in general I just don't care for them. I imagine my feelings towards children is how many people view exercise or vegetables...something necessary for health and life, but you'd much rather sit on your butt watching TV and having a big old bacon-blue cheeseburger or piece of double-chocolate chunk cake.

So what then, besides I've absolutely LOST MY MIND, would possess me to sign up to host the end of the year party for Sean's 4th grade class? Yet, there I was, back in October at open house saying to Mark "Oh look - Mr. Michalski would like to have an end of the year pool party for the class. Wanna do it?" And my dear husband, who doesn't care for children any more than I do, said "Sure, why not?!" Well, if truth be told, I think his response was more like "Are you sure?" Then I think he was just so shocked I suggested it, he said "Why not."

"Why not?" I say. Because here we are two days before 25 4th graders, about 6 parents, and one teacher, are ready to descend upon my home and IT'S GOING TO RAIN! And not just a nice summer shower late in the afternoon. It's going to be cloudy and thunderstorm. Now what?

I'm a bit strange in that I have rules. I've made up these rules based on years of personal scientific experiments. For example, NEVER, EVER get in a grocery line with a male running the register - even if his line is totally empty and all the others snake around the store for miles. Invariably, I'm enticed into breaking this rule, I end up being the last one through all the lines, all my groceries are smashed in the bags, and I end up saying to myself "I have rules for a reason. Why, oh why, don't I follow them?"

My scientific experiment for my "don't ever have children for a party in your home" rule comes from way back. 1996 - Kirsten's 4th birthday. I decide to have a fun girly birthday party at our house. I invite a dozen little girls who arrive totally decked out in dress up clothes, hats, mom's high heel shoes, etc... But it's okay because I have a plan. I've enlisted my new sister-in-law to come over and help me paint finger nails and toes. We've got jewelry making stations, make up and hair stations. We are PREPARED. Within 30 minutes all the girls have gone through all our prepared stations and are looking at me like "Okay, now what?" "Now what? I'll tell you Now What? NOTHING - I've got NOTHING." Thank goodness Aunt Kate and Uncle Jim had given Kirsten some totally cool outdoor toys for her birthday, so the girls ribbon danced and did some sort of hop scotchy thing. From that point on, my children have always had their birthday parties where all I do is write a check for X hours of entertainment!

So, if you see me outside all day tomorrow and Sunday morning doing the "Un-rain dance," you'll know why and you'll know not to approach the crazy lady unless you're carrying some "mother's little helper!"

PS - That's Jim holding Kirsten in the background of that last picture. Unlike his big sister, he was amazing with kids.

"The" Swingset

So here it is...in all it's glory...the swingset Kate and I carted to Kohler from Cosco's in Milwaukee by ourselves. It certainly is grand. The back side has a rock wall and rope ladder. Rachel and Jake will have a wonderful summer playing on it. Kate will get a bit of a respite allowing the kids to go out and be entertained on it. The kids need some smiles and laughter this summer, and this is sure to deliver.

Good, "afternoon by the pool" reading

My friend Amy and I went down to the library's annual book sale on Friday morning. My sister-in-law, Jo Anne, clued me in to how many great books you could get cheap (and James Robert would tell ya'll that I'm cheap...although I prefer the term "bargain-hunter"), so when I saw the advertisement for the sale, I knew I had to go. We bought some great books at $1 per hardcover and $.50 per paperback. As we paid, they reminded us to come back the next day for their $2.00 for a bag of books sale. $2.00 for as many books as will fit in one of those plastic grocery bags! I took the kids down to see what was left. On a whim, I threw a bunch of paperbacks into my bag. I wanted some books that I didn't care if they got a bit wet while reading in and around the pool.

I picked up "{THE} HOURS" by Michael Cunningham. It's not a book I would typically pick up, as the cover has picture from a movie based on the book. I'm a bit odd in that as a general rule I feel books should be books, and movies should be movies. Whenever they meet, people are usually disappointed. But this particular book swayed me with the "Winner of the pulitzer prize" tag...which of course, like all good marketing, worked to reel me in.

Anyhow, it was fantastic! A quick afternoon's read. I got to the final chapter and the relationship of one of the characters to the others dawned on me and I sucked in a breath. It was just fantastic. I highly recommend it. If you don't mind a bit of warped pages from pool water - I'm willing to lend out my copy.

Oh - and here's another piece of advice...skip "The Haunting." I was very disappointed in it. I absolutely love M. Night Shyamalan's work. This had moments, but there just wasn't enough of his brilliance to carry the entire movie. I felt sort of gypped. Of course, Betty Buckley got high billing in the opening credits, so I guess I should've known...the last time I've seen Betty Buckley was in 1980 on "Eight is Enough!" It seemed more like a Made for TV movie. A pretty good one...but still not quite big screen material.

My oldest turns 16 today

Jim and Kirsten - June 1992

Funny...I was just remembering Jimmy's 16th birthday and today Kirsten turned 16. I think back to what Jim & I were each like at 16. One thing is for certain - we thought we were pretty invincible. As long as you didn't get in a car with a stranger or someone who'd been drinking, you'd live forever. Such simple rules we lived by. The world gets so much more complicated as we grow up. Okay, well the world's always complicated, but at 16 it doesn't seem to be.

I feel for my mom and dad today. I look at Kirsten and want her to dream big and go for it. I know my parents felt the same for Jimmy and me. Looking at the photo of Jimmy's 16th, never in a million years would I have imagined those dreams ending so soon. I look into Kirsten's face and can't see her future any more clearly than I saw Jim's. But I send up wishes to the heavens for health and happiness.

Today's happiness is pretty simple - the new M. Night Shyamalan with Mom (me) and her friend Roya. Then a sleepover. Life is good for her today, and that's all I can ask for.

Happy 16th Birthday Kirsten. Love - Momma

An awesome birthday and one totally cool sister!

I read Kate's blog where she told of Jimmy complaining about his birthday always falling on John Calvin's family camping weekend. We did go quite a few years on Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends and it was a blast - one of my favorite things to do as a kid. But it got me thinking about Jimmy's birthdays.
The year he turned 16, I threw him a surprise birthday party at my apartment at RIT. How is that for a totally cool sister?
Okay, well I was semi-cool...I started freaking out when Mike Brown carted in the beer ball and stuck it in my sink, so I ran upstairs to hide and sent my boyfriend down to make sure Campus Safety didn't get called! I think they all had a really good time, and it was one time I got to play the role of totally cool older sister.

Happy 39th Birthday

It's been a long, tiring month emotionally. We drove to Wisconsin over Memorial Day weekend to scatter Jim's ashes on Forest Lake. Forest Lake is just about as far north in Wisconsin as you can get without having dual-citizenship (although there's a small slice of Michigan that gets in the way of the Canadian border). The picture above shows just how beautiful it is there. You can see why Jim loved it and wanted it to be his final resting place. It was worth the 17 hour drive to be part of the memorial Kate arranged.

We scattered Jim's ashes on our final day there. It turned out to be the perfect "Jim" day. It was sunny, but cool - a flannel shirt & jeans day - Jim's favorite. The long weekend had passed, so there wasn't anyone else on the lake. Kate's dad took us all out on the pontoon boat. As we left the dock, there was an eagle perched in one of the highest trees keeping an eye on us. Two flew in the sky as we motored between the two sites where we let Jim's ashes go. I believe that was significant. In Native American culture, both Bald and Golden Eagles are highly revered and considered sacred within their traditions and religion. Eagles are honored with great care and shown the deepest respect. They represent honesty, truth, majesty, strength, courage, wisdom, power and freedom. As they roam the sky, they are believed to have a special connection to God. The Eagle is considered to be a messenger to God. It was given the honor of carrying the prayers of man between the World of Earth and the World of Spirit, where the Creator and grandfathers reside. How fitting is that?

I had been really nervous about scattering Jim's ashes - another symbolic gesture of letting him go. Enough time had gone by that the shock that gets you through the funeral services that immediately follow death was gone. Was I going to completely lose it? I held it together. In the end, Jim wasn't any more gone than he was before we scattered his ashes. The wonderful stories and memories we shared of him around the dinner table were exactly the same before we scattered his ashes as they were after.

We finished up our visit by celebrating Jim's life and his 39th birthday. Kate's mom, Jenny, had ordered a beautiful white cake with a deer on it. Rachel helped Grandmommy light the candles on Daddy's cake and carry it out. We all sang Happy Birthday to Jim. I am eternally grateful to Kate for arranging such a wonderful private memorial service for Jim over his birthday. I also want to say thank you to Kate's parents, Tom & Jenny, for opening their home to the six of us.

Happy Birthday Bo. I miss you every single day. Love - Jude

May is a shower of tears

There's been much to say without any words to describe what's rattling around in my head. Starting April 30th and through the mid-June is a rough stretch for us. April 30th was my Dad's birthday. First one without Jimmy. May 11th was Mothers' Day. First one without Jimmy. Tomorrow is my birthday. First one without Jimmy. May 28th is Jimmy's birthday. First one without Jimmy. June 5th is Jake's birthday. First one without Jimmy. June 15th is Fathers' Day. First one without Jimmy. It's a month jam-packed full of firsts. We barely get through one first, and we're upon the next. I expected Mothers' and Fathers' Days to be rough, the birthdays surprised me a bit. I guess I forgot how family-oriented birthdays have always been for us.

At the end of May, we'll travel to Wisconsin to scatter Jim's ashes. I anticipate that will be very difficult for me. I feel like there needs to be some permanent monument to my brother, so that all remember he walked this earth and was loved dearly. I fully understand the human need for cemeteries. I spent a good portion of my youth helping to tend the graves of my grandmother's relatives, so I was raised with those monuments to loved ones. Scattering ashes into the wind is the the exact opposite of that permanence. The symbolism of it to me is quite overwhelming. Kate asked if I wanted to keep some of the ashes. I didn't. I already have a private part of Jimmy with me all the time, in my heart. He's with me all the time, I didn't feel that I needed a physical part of him to feel that connection. I guess that seems rather contradictory - I want a physical public monument, but not a private one?

I guess I found some words to explain the haunt in my eyes this month. I'll miss you tomorrow little brother.

My 5th Birthday: May 14th, 1970 - Me, Jimmy, and cousin Rich

Books, wonderful books

I've always been a reader. I can remember being fascinated with books as a little girl. My favorite Auntie was studying to be a teacher when I was a toddler, so I believe I can safely blame her for this love. She would read to me for hours. When I was four, she and my uncle got married and they moved to the Albany area. It fell to my older cousin, Susan, to read to me. Chapter books were above my own ability to read at the time, so that's what I begged for. Every night during my visit, Susie would come down and read me a chapter before bed. (Except the year I got the chicken pox. Then she refused to even come in the house! She'd come down to visit, make me go up to the second floor and open the bedroom window, then she'd stand outside the first floor and talk to me.)

An older lady, Grace Austin, lived next to my Grandmother and Grandfather Swayne. We didn't visit Grace much, but I do remember whenever I got to go over there, I was drawn to her bookshelf. She had a copy of Gone with the Wind from the year the movie was released. It was printed like a bible - two columns on each page, very fancy print at the beginning of the chapter, still pictures from the movie. I think I was probably able to read Dr. Seuss by myself at that point, but for some reason I just loved that book. Grace died around the time I was in the sixth grade and somehow I ended up with that lovely book. I read it cover-to-cover that year. I was quite proud of myself for reading such a grown-up book.

My Grandmother Swayne was also a reader. I believe I've said before that I'd go and stay with her for a couple weeks in the summer, and just about any weekend I could get someone to drive me down. When I was in college and had my own car, I'd drive myself down and spend the weekend with her. There was a bookshelf in one of the old bedrooms where she saved the books she'd read. The first night I was there, I'd make my way into the little bedroom to see what wonderful book I'd get to read during that particular visit.

So it doesn't surprise me that in my grief, I've turned to books. I recently purchased one based solely on its title, I Wasn't Ready To Say Goodbye. Talk about a great title! It's actually written for people coping after the sudden death of a loved one, but there was a lot in it that resonated with me. I especially liked the following quote:

"Grief is not something we 'get over' or heal from as if it were an illness. It is a journey to a new stage of life. The goal is not forgetting or resolving. The goal is to reconcile yourself to your loss and discover some kind of spiritual meaning. You will always have a relationship with the person who died, but the relationship is different. Your quest is to discover that relationship."

Blog readers - HELP!

Before my brother passed away, he talked to me about buying a bench and putting a plaque on it in his memory. Kate's family had done that for an uncle, I believe he said, and he thought it was a really nice idea for my kids. He thought maybe out by the pool, but we keep the pool area locked for safety reasons, the kids aren't allowed in there alone, and it's not really open/accessible year-round. So I suggested putting the bench in a garden, where anyone could go sit without supervision.

Well, Mark and I expanded a garden and I purchased a bench Kate thought Jim would like, but I can't figure out where I can purchase one of those engraved signs to attach to the back of the bench that would say something like "In loving memory - James R. Marventano / May 28, 1969 - September 17, 2007" If anyone knows where I might get one - either in or around Rochester or online, I'd appreciate you dropping me a line.

As soon as the garden is finished, I'll take a picture and post for all to see. Thanks!

Auntie warned me...

When I began donating blood last year, I received a wonderful "Good for you!" email from my favorite Auntie. She told me of how she'd been giving for years and years...since her college days. She also mentioned that she was always so disappointed when the little finger prick blood test came back with a haemoglobin level too low to donate. Well, today my iron was too low, and I'm disappointed - just like Auntie said! I guess it was bound to happen at some point seeing it's pretty common in women, but, just like Auntie said, it is disappointing.

A very fun last evening

Our last evening in Kohler, we did two really fun things. Kate got tickets to the Kohler Arts Center to see a performance by the Koresh Dance Company. First off, the Kohler Arts Center is phenomenal. The Kohler Arts Center Web site gives you an idea of the phenomenal scope of what this organization brings to the community. We saw a performance mix of ballet, modern, and jazz dance. The first two dances were a bit sexual in nature and both Kate and I started wondering what we'd gotten Rachel and Sean into! But, it turned out to be PG, so we were happy. It was set to some really fun 40s, 50s, and 60s music. All the kids really liked it.

Jim and Kate took me and the kids to the Arts Center the first time we went to visit them in Wisconsin. We saw a drum performance that Sean really liked. Jim asked me how I liked it, and I'll never forget what he said after I told him "Yes, very much." He said: "Kate's amazing. She finds really cool stuff like this wherever we go." He said it with such respect and admiration for her. I have to agree - Kate does find the coolest things to do when we visit. And let me tell you, that's not exactly easy with kids who range from just under 2 years up to just under 16. Rachel told me how her Mom took her to the Kohler Arts Center to see the lassos. I guess there was a guy who did all these lasso tricks. Rachel thought it was just the coolest thing. Kate said after about two minutes, her arm would fallen off twirling the lasso around!

After the performance, we went to Cold Stone Creamery for ice cream. For those of you who've never been to a Cold Stone, it is amazing. They hand-mix all the extras into your ice cream on an ice-cold stone (ha! thus the name). I got the "For Coffee Lovers Only" flavor. Funny, Kate said that was one of Jimmy's favorite's too.

It was a great visit and I miss Rachel and Jake so much already. It's good to be home, but it will be really difficult for me not to see them every day. I saw a lot of Jimmy and me in Jake and Rachel. I also liked being able to help Kate out with some of the little things. Things like taking the garbage out and emptying the dishwasher. When you're the only adult in the house, every time those little tasks need to be done, you're the only one to do them. You look at them and think "Geez, I did that the last ten times, it's not my turn! Can't someone else just do it this time?" It would be nice if the distance between Lima and Kohler wasn't so far.

We are women, hear us roar!

Today, Kate and I took the 3rd row seat out of my truck and drove down to the Cosco in Milwaukee to pick up 725 lbs worth of Sunray Playset for the kids! Jim would've been proud at our ingenuity getting it unloaded and into the backyard. We didn't lift it! We scooched it to the edge of the truck and lowered it onto the Amish-made wagon Mark and I bought Rachel. Mark uses our wagon to move the racecar engine around, so I figured this wagon would definitely move a 200 lb box! We then balanced each box on the wagon and moved the boxes one by one to the backyard.

The most difficult part of our day was deciding we were two tough chicks for having gotten the swingset by ourselves, and attempting to move Jim's lift chair to my truck. Even dismantled, the bottom part was very heavy and we struggled with it - but we got it out of the house without any broken bones, broken chair parts, or dings to the walls or doors in the house.
I'm sure Jim was shouting at us "DON'T DO IT!!!" the entire time, but we are talking about his sister and wife after all...two headstrong, take no shit women. We conquered today, and I hope he's now smiling at us, even as he's still shaking his head at us in disbelief.

Sunday - Summer time fun!

We went to Blue Harbor Waterpark on Sunday. It was a lot of fun for all the kids. They had fun stuff for little Jake, all the way up to Kirsten's age. It was nice for Kate to have someone to tag team with. Jake and I spent a little time going up and down climbing towers and through water sprayers, while Kate went down the waterslides with Rachel. The kids were pooped (which I had to explain to Rachel meant tired, not literally "pooped!" She looked at me in horror when I asked if she was pooped.) :-)

Monday is a more laid-back day, as Rachel has school in the morning and a dentist appt. in the afternoon. It looks like the weather is finally going to warm up, so perhaps we'll get out for a walk. I brought my running clothes, but have really been struggling in the morning with a head cold and I just haven't been able to get out to run. Kate's doing great though! She bought herself a pair of those Nike sneakers that connect to your iPod and she's been walking/jogging every day since I've been here.

Only a couple more days of fun here. I'm sad. I'm having a blast with the kids. Rachel is a lot like I was as a little girl. Jake is all boy - rough and tough and a ton of fun to play with. He's even saying Jude now.

Hopefully, I'll be able to post another update before we leave Wednesday morning.

Day #1 - BRIO fun!

Hi everyone! It was a LONG trip to Wisconsin, but we did pretty good. Left our house at 8:03am and arrived in Kohler about 9:15pm (10:15 EST). I guesstimated pretty good -- 12 1/2 hours, plus an hour for each kid! Rachel waited up for us, which was fun for us to arrive and see her right away.

Saturday, we were all pretty beat...us from the drive and Rachel from waiting up for us, so we just hung around the house. Aunt Judi brought a Brio train set for Rachel and Jake. It was Sean's and I offered it to Jim for the kids a while back, but he wanted to wait until the playroom downstairs was finished before accepting any more toys. Dad finished that room for Jimmy during August when they were here, so Kate thought it would be great to have it now. It was a big hit! Jake absolutely loved it. So much that he was a little selfish with his sister and a couple fights ensued. They are very much like Jimmy and I were. She's a bossy big sister and he's a feisty, take no prisoners, little brother. She thinks nothing of telling him what she wants him to do, and he takes a big swing at her with whatever toy is handy if her idea doesn't suit him. (Jimmy used to bite me.) Sunday we're heading out to Blue Harbor - a waterpark. Pictures of that outing later!

Spring has arrived!

It's officially warm enough here in Lima that the cat, who hates the dog, is willing to broker peace for a patch of beautiful sunshine!

It looks like it's going to be a rainy travel day for the kids and me. We leave for Wisconsin to see Kate and the kids tomorrow morning...hopefully before 8am. It's about a 12 1/2 hour trip sans kids. Add an extra hour per kid and you've got our approximate arrival time! I'm going to try and post some pictures of the kids and their cousins and let everyone know how the trip is going. Wish me luck!

Mild sleep apnea

Well, I wasn't dreaming — Mark's actually stopping breathing while he sleeps...about 11 times per hour when he's on his side. That's considered mild in the medical community, but not by my standards! It's actually more frequent on his back - enough to bump up into the moderate category - but he snores so loudly on his back, I don't let him stay in that position too long. It's pretty frightening to know you wake in the night because your spouse stopped breathing and then his body involuntarily thrashed itself awake to start breathing again. I worry about him - a lot. Sleep apnea can cause a whole slew of other health problems like high blood pressure and strokes. He thinks I'm crazy for worrying and rolls his eyes at me when I voice my fears. He's going to try a CPAP machine while we work on weight loss for both of us. We've both gained a bit of weight from the stress of my brother's illness.

There was one night where he was totally silent - so silent I considered poking him to see if he was still breathing! What has my life come to?

Wisconsin-bound

Friday, the kids and I are heading out to visit Kate, Rachel & Jake for 4 days. I'm excited to see them, but at the same time pretty anxious. I still say "We're heading out to Uncle Jim and Aunt Kate's." or "...my brother's house." It can't not be his anymore. This is what it's supposed to look like when we visit, but I know it can't look like this anymore either. My sister-in-law is great - Jim couldn't have married better. The kids are going to be climbing all over one another having fun. It'll be a wonderful trip...but we'll all know there's one person missing whom we all wish wasn't.

Here's to some wonderful friends

In yesterday's post, I said I had some wonderful friends. However, rereading the post made me wonder if perhaps I had dismissed their importance in my life because they haven't shared all 42 1/2 years of it. So, in alphabetical order, here's a few big THANK YOUS to friends who've helped me through an awful year -

Adam - who lost his best friend to cancer earlier in the year; met me out for coffee several times to listen and share. Adam understands my perfectionist tendencies and desire to remain "strong," so he was the perfect person to listen! He and Charlie also gave me more time off from work to spend with Jimmy than any other employer on the face of the earth would have.

Amy and Brian - my medical reference team and impromptu dinner hosts. Amy and Brian were a medical sounding board for an entire year, and weren't afraid to ask us down to dinner immediately after Jimmy passed away. I don't think I would've bothered to eat that night if they hadn't cooked for us.

Andy - we kid that we were separated at birth about 8 years apart, he continues to be my daily phone therapist! He and his partner, Mark, sent me a gift card to use towards travel costs when I was traveling to see Jim in Wisconsin and to doctor's appts in NYC or Chicago with him & Kate.

Cheryl - who was going through cancer treatments herself, and still asked and listened. It must've been terrifying to hear about another cancer patient losing the battle, but she didn't flinch.

Chris and Ursula - who sent YUMMY Cheryl and Company goodies, and then sat with Sean at the memorial service because he started to cry while I was in the receiving line and Mark wasn't around to comfort him.

Christine - whom I hadn't heard from since after high school, who called me on my cell as I was driving to Jimmy's to say goodbye, who showed up at the memorial service, and who wrote me a beautiful note about her memories of Jimmy and me as siblings. How many of us would've done that after 20 years? Talk about a warm-hearted person, that's Christine.

Jeff and Terry - who sent a beautiful floral arrangement as soon as they found out of my loss, and ask Mark how I'm doing every time they see him.

Lori - who never failed to ask about my brother when we were outside with the kids...always with tears in her eyes showing her pain for me. Lori gave me a lily to plant out near our pool. All summer, I'll be able to look at the beautiful flowers and think of Jimmy.

Melissa - my running and drinking partner, who listened to an entire year of cancer ups and downs as we jogged our way around Lima or over an alcoholic beverage on her deck. And her husband, Russ, - who kept Mark sane and busy with shooting! And who handed us an Exxon/Mobil gift card to help with gas money on our final trip out to say goodbye.

Rozanne - who sent a DVD called "God said Ha!" It made me laugh and cry. I'm now a Julia Sweeney fan.


And here's a few big THANK YOUS to some very important family members who were/are critical in helping me survive!

Auntie Cheryl - who calls and emails me more than anyone else. Auntie lost her niece in a car accident before we lost Jimmy. She'd been through the wringer already and knew how much she was needed in her niece's life for support.

Tonia & Kyrie - Auntie's niece was their daughter & sister. They know the sadness and held out hands of comfort. Tonia gave me a bracelet from Compassionate Friends that says Forever in my heart. I don't ever take it off. I wear it all the time with the one Jeri had made up in colon cancer blue that says "We love you Jimmy"

Aunt Susie - my mom's best friend. An absolute rock for my mom. Thank you for taking care of my mom because I just can't — I'm hurting too much myself. Thank you for driving out to Jimmy's with us for the memorial service. It was the quickest ride ever out there and it was a comfort knowing that you were in the car with Mom & Dad on the way home...they were so tired and I was worried about them driving home alone.

David & Jessica - Poor David...my older cousin, who hears from me at Christmas and the odd family gathering. One day, when Jimmy's chemo wasn't working, I just couldn't handle it anymore and called him. And then I kept calling...but only when I was overwhelmed. David let me lay everything at his feet, then he picked it up and carried it for me for a while. It must stink to be the oldest in an Italian family. I suspect David has to pick up more than just my burdens, but I sure am thankful for him, and his wife Jessica - who lost her sister too, so she knew just what words would comfort.

Jo, Steph & Rick - who stayed with my kids (and dog) just about every time Mark and I scooted out of town to be with Jim. And let me tell you...my kids are unique and a challenge! Especially Sean who won't eat - he's beyond a picky eater.

Linda - who continues to check in with me on almost a weekly basis to tell me she's thinking about me and encourages me to keep chugging along through my grief.

Lynne - who gave more support to Kate and me as we were looking for treatment options and cures for Jimmy than anyone, including Dr. Haid.

I truly am blessed and am thankful for everyone in my life who helps me keep going every day...even if I haven't mentioned them specifically in this post.

Just ordinary events to tell a friend

Nothing earth-shattering has happened in the Kling household. We bought a new stove with some of our tax-refund money. It's a really nice professional-style one, but is stainless steel, so eventually I'll have to swap all the other appliances out to match. I've been going to the gym. I made it through another cardio-circuit class Thursday without keeling over (which at one point seemed a likely scenario while I was hopping up and down on a BOSU balance trainer.) It snowed one of the nights last week and we got about 4 inches of thick wet snow on the ground. My poor crocus didn't know what to do! All things that make me miss Jimmy. I didn't realize how much we called one another and told each other every day stuff, until the phone connection to his office and his cell weren't there anymore.

I seem to have moved into different circles over the years. I have some really wonderful friends, but none of them are carry-overs from growing up. I see some of my old friends every once in a great while - a Christmas card or an e-mail here or there. It's wonderful to see them and hear about their lives, but it's sporadic contact at best. My friends are set in different times of my life - with very few of them wandering from one time to another. (For example, there's no high school friend who's still an integral part of my adult, married-with-children, life.) I've come to realize that Jimmy fulfilled many roles in my life - the one I'm missing the most lately was long-time friend. Someone who knew just about all my stories from then until now. He knew just about everyone who ever crossed my path. I could say "Hey - Greg's in Portugal now at the University of Lisbon." and he knew just who Greg was and that it was very much like him to be an academic in Lisbon. Jimmy knew why I'd want to know what Greg was doing almost 20 years after my circle moved to include a different set of friends. Don't get me wrong - I have Mark and I tell him just about everything, but things about people and places from before I knew him, just aren't of much interested to him. (Although sometimes it's a small world, as I found out Mark dated a friend of mine from Junior High...long after Jr. High!)

Life goes on, but I feel I've lost my historian - the person who tracked the details of my life. Almost like there was a book "The Marventano Children," which included interwoven chapters of our lives. We created that book together, each of us aware that the other one was adding to the book. Adding our interpretation of events in the other one's life. Hearing about a fight with a spouse and knowing they reacted the way they did because of growing up with our parents and grandparents. I've said before that Jimmy called me cheap in NYC when I refused to take a taxi from JFK to Central Park because the subway was so much cheaper. It's a funny story, but when he called me cheap, there were so many pages of our book that jumped out with those words that made it a good inside ribbing between the two of us.

There's no one that transcends time in my life like Jimmy did. Even going forward, if Mark and I live until we're 100 and 104, there will always be a good 27 years of my life that are dark for him. 27 years that really made me who I am and who he married. Chapters in the book written in a language only James Robert and I knew - things that made us the quirky, odd birds that we are. Now I'm just an odd bird and no one really understands why! He at least knew I was an odd bird and couldn't help it...it was Mom & Dad's fault! ;-)