Jason's Untimely Thoughts

Turns out I’m not very good at designing Christmas Cards.  Our recent system was for Sarah to come up with the design, do way too much work on that, I’d crank out some slightly humorous yearly recap, then combine the two and have them printed at work.  I generally know what I want the design to be, or at least what I think I want it to be, but am evidently inept at pulling that off.  And then I have no hope of writing much this year, so look for your Christmas Card from us sometime next Spring.

In other goings ons, I’d mentioned previously I was relatively close to having the design of Sarah’s memorial stone done.  What I have in mind is below.

SEMB Memorial Stone (planned)

The vases and medallions (which are a Sun and a Gerber Daisy) are gold to represent them being bronze.  Turns out that bronze is nice and pricey, though, so reevaluating a little.  Will still try to keep the bronze medallions, but the top vase may go back to granite.  If anyone has a bronze source, I’d be happy to know about it.

As for stuff in my mind, I’m amazed and perturbed at my inability to have consistent thoughts and actions on personal stuff.  I’m lonely, naturally, but find myself only wanting to be alone too.  But not necessarily at the house, being alone at the house is weird and I want out.  Except sometimes, I’d really like to just hang out at the house.  And so on.  When I’m with people I want to be alone, when I’m alone I want to be with people, when I’m with the kids I am wishing for a night off, when I’m not with the kids I’m anxious to return to them.  The same inadequacies and inaccuracies apply to most every thought that goes through my head on truly personal stuff.  I pretty much would like to lay on the couch under a blanket and watch movies and sports in the dark and then sleep all day (just like college!).

Finally, you know the emails and stories you get, cards that come in, whatever, talking about the power of prayer and how “it really did work!”  Well, I have a hard time with that right now.  Did it work?  If it did, does that mean the people that said they were praying for Sarah weren’t?  And so on again.  I’m glad the various people are doing great, really and truly.  Not in any way trying to belittle that or discourage people from including me in the updates.  But I also cringe a little each time I read one of those.  Similar to my dreams post from a while ago, it just doesn’t seem like there’s a good answer to that question, but the question seems unavoidable.

People have told me they like reading this space because it seems real and honest.  Hope those last two paragraphs weren’t too real and honest for the general reading pleasure.

Beat OU, the land-thieving bastards.  And on a side note, screw ku.

Where I work, this used to evidently be one of the busiest days of the year.  Or maybe we were so far behind that today was busy trying to catch up.  Currently, it’s a day when everyone comes in to work but has nothing to do.  We’ll repeat the exercise tomorrow.  Well, I won’t, but I feel bad for those that will.  And I used to would have.

Random thoughts on Thanksgiving Weekend:

• Who decided it’s called “Black Friday” and why do we let them decide anything?  The economy seems to be pinning their hopes on a big spending day, yet we call it Black Friday.  Wasn’t “Black Monday” the day the stock market crashed (one time, not one of the recent times)?   I propose “It’s Really Rather Quite Nice, Come Out and Shop Friday”.  Really, I don’t care, I’m not going to the stores today no matter what you call it.
• I’m relatively close to finalizing Sarah’s memorial stone.  That sure is fun.  It starts with trying to figure out what to call it.  Avoid tombstone and gravestone at all costs, and then goes downhill from there.  Although it’s no fun, I’m comfortable with both the design and the people doing the work, so unless something unravels it’s as good as it could be there.
• Can’t remember if I’ve put this anywhere else or not, so here it is… when it’s time for someone to pick out my memorial stone.  I want a bench.  A relatively plain bench.  Name and dates are plenty, if someone feels like something else is appropriate to be written, that’s ok too.
• The kids and I enjoyed Thanksgiving with Sarah’s mom in the morning, with Sarah’s dad and many others in the afternoon.  We were happy to be with everyone and appreciate it all.  The kids had a great time, I had a rough time.  Not too much thanks coming out of me this Thanksgiving.
• Mizzou plays KU in football tomorrow at 11:30, in KC.  They’ve also announced it will be in KC for the next 4 years.  I’m glad, as long as it’s on Thanksgiving weekend.  Town is not the same that weekend anyway with school out, so having it in KC gives it some spice.  Plus it keeps me out of Lawrence every other year.
• This will be my 12th MU game of the year, assuming I’ll make the remaining 2 as well, will put me at 27 games in 2 years in 6 or 7 states.  Relatively absurd.
• There’s strong internet rumor that MU will wear gold jerseys tomorrow for the game.  We’ll see, I guess.
• More fashion & football, as long as the damn shoebirds don’t wear red socks, I really don’t care what either team wears.  And I’m serious about them wearing red socks, it’s disgusting and a disgrace.  For some of why I think that, here are four articles written by someone named Keith Piontek.  Part 1, Why most of the trash talked by ku fans is inaccurate.  Part 2, Why it seems the shoebirds were proud of the name jayhawk when it was chosen.  Part 3, Why Quantrill and the band raided Lawrence.  And Part 4, his conclusions.  A lot of reading, which could mostly be summed up as if we were the Missouri Bushwackers, most of the typical ku fan smack-talk would be close to valid.  As it is, it’s hypocritical and ignorant.  And the fact they typically wear red socks when playing MU, but only that game, is even more of both.  (Credit to them for not wearing them last year, though.  One more year of that and I’ll be done mentioning it.)

Traffic Light

Was driving home from CDC yesterday with Jack when we pull up to a traffic light similar to this, at which we’ll turn right. After explaining to him what insurance for the road is all about after hearing a commercial on the radio about Van Insurance from £149.

Jack says:  “That light has two arrows.  One pointing this way, which is to our house.  The other points up, for spaceships.  Some spaceships land on the road and fly up into the sky.  Some spaceships are strong and fly up in the sky.  Sometimes spaceships don’t fly, they just stay on the road.  But some cars are strong too.  The strong cars just run over those space ships.  Boom, vroom, crash, boom. vroom.  Our truck is strong.  Boom, vroom, crash vroom.”

Watch out for spaceships.

Winter blahs are definitely here.  Understandably hitting me substantially harder than normal.  Like most businesses, including ours here, I’m down for the year.

Boredom, sadness, and general ugh rule the night, the days take care of themselves.  First parent-teacher conference at Adelaide’s school is tonight.  She got all pluses and checks on her first report card.  Seems to me like smiley faces were a better way of rolling.

After saying for weeks and months that there was no way I was going to Ames, Iowa, in November for a football game, I committed to doing exactly that last weekend.  But now it looks like the other is no longer interested, which should be fine.  Except now I’m all interested in going.  Drive up solo would even be OK, just drive back that would likely suck.  I’d really like to get hooked up with a sideline pass and just watch the whole game down there, whilst I’m wishing.

I ate lunch at the country club yesterday, next to a table of old timers who were discussing football.  “The reason they win so many games these days is because the schedule is so bad.  Yeah, and because they play more games.  We should play Arkansas and Iowa every year.  We played Illinois, but they’re not any good this year.”

Mizzou did play Arkansas last year, destroyed them.  Arkansas and Iowa are both bad this year.  The bad Illinois team Mizzou did beat this year beat the Iowa team that we evidently need to play to improve our schedule.  Maybe the reason Mizzou wins so many games these days is because they’re freaking good.   Winning is hard, enjoy it.

So seems more likley I’m driving to Ames now, doesn’t it?

I’m downstairs paying bills in the dark tonight, which is a pretty good way to pay bills really, when I hear Jack crying.  I run into him on about the third stair, he says he wants me to come lay down with him.  Adelaide is asleep and the movie is over.  (This is a change, normally he starts screaming “Daddy!  Daaaaddy!” the minute Adelaide falls asleep.)

We go lay down and he starts talking to me.  I tell him I wish his mommy was here, he says he does too.  “Where did mommy go again?”  I ask if he remembers her going to the hospital, he does, he says she died, but “Where did she go?”

I tell him she’s in Heaven.  “Where’s Heaven?”  I mention the stars and sky and say I believe she can come around us still, we can talk to her, maybe she can talk back to us, and maybe she can come visit us in our dreams.  “Yeah,” he says, “and I can hold her cheek.”

For as long as I can remember, Jack uses “hold your cheek” as a source of comfort.  Might reach up during the night, certainly while falling asleep, or just between bites of a PB & J sandwich, and put his hand on your cheek for a few seconds (or minutes).

I ask if she visits him in his dreams, he mentions holding her cheek again.  I ask if he’s held her cheek lately, “Yeah, downstairs on the couch, when I watch a movie.”  Which happens every morning and afternoon.  No matter whether current or memory, it makes me feel good that he remembers her and remembers her as a source of comfort.  Makes me cry too, of course, but am glad he remembers.

The kids & I took a trip that Sarah & I had started planning a year ago or better, to Waco for the MU-Baylor football game and to visit friends and their children.  It was a good trip.  I was apprehensive about the all day travel each way, but there were no major issues.  The luck of returning on the day we turned the clocks back an hour helped a ton, although I was sad that I made the kids miss their school Halloween stuff.

All in all, the trip was better than I expected.  The kids love that group of people, as do Sarah & I of course, so much fun was had.  We were able to trick or treat in nice weather, which was odd, but saw a festive scene in that neighborhood.  JT fell asleep before we were finished, but the girls kept going well into the night with a memorable (long and loud) serenade trying to attract trick-or-treaters to the end of the cul de sac.

The football game was a good game, since we won, and the Baylor fans are of course very nice.  Someone had the audacity to give us a “thumbs down” after the game, only to be immediately scolded by the rest of his group.  A bit different than the drive by shoutfest in Austin.

The better than I expected part, though, was really no one having any real breakdowns, myself included.  At least 8 people in Waco that Sarah thought very highly of, so it’s a tough group to be around in a lot of ways…. especially in leaving that group.  I’m not sure whether to take it as a sign of progress or a sign of sadness that I was able to leave without having some panic.  Progressive sadness, I guess.

MU Basketball season unofficially starts this week.  I’m expecting a bit of a reliving of the early football season stuff, as there were routines to basketball season too.  Primarily, Sarah sat in exactly the same spot for each game for the past many years.  I feel bad for those that sit on either side of her, as they will feel that missing too, I’m sure.

Finally, I’ll be glad when elections are over tomorrow, if for no other reason than I’m sick of people telling me how they’re going to vote.  If I wanted to know, I’d ask you.   Also curious to see if all the “We Support Our Commander in Chief” signs that still fill some yards come down when “our” becomes someone they don’t like.

Way over simplified, but I think in general moms of the world become selfless, sometimes to a bit of a fault, once the kids come along.  While the dads of the world become selfish (or moreso, smartasses).  Job first versus family first and who gets to do which is the easiest typical example.  Could also go with who sleeps with the kids every night in their little beds versus who sleeps in the big bed all alone.  Or who gets the minivan and who gets the truck.  Combined, it’s a good system, especially if you get the truck.

One of my concerns at the moment is who is going to give the kids the selfless portion of things.  I’m still at work, I’m still concerned about getting my own sleep (but still having a hard time wanting to go to sleep), where do they receive that typical mom unbridled unconditional love without reservation that Sarah would have been providing?  There are lots doing more than their parts to help, but in the early morning or middle of the night meltdowns, having a team to contend with the meltdown was a good system.  Having just me to contend with the meltdowns isn’t the best system.  I make good effort, I think, to make sure the kids understand right and wrong, but I wonder if I’m able to do that, long-term, in a way that they understand intrinsically that they’re loved, regardless of right or wrong.

All this selfish talk also comes up because that’s how I judge myself at the moment.  Basically, this isn’t what I signed up for.  We had a good deal going, living where we wanted, how we wanted, and doing mostly what we wanted, when we wanted with only occasional whines (me) about money along the way.  I worry that my rush to get home is hurting me at work.  I worry that I’m an idiot for worrying about that.  Mostly though I feel sorry for myself that Sarah’s not home to share stuff with, including the work of parenting the kids.  And I think I’m an idiot for feeling sorry for myself.

I’d like a reset button, to reset the parts that don’t make any damn sense to me.  Like, the past 4 months.  Who needed that surgery anyway, or why wasn’t I more adamant on certain details during the recovery?  Why didn’t I know more and why couldn’t I predict the future?   And I’d like to be able to have fun again.  And I’d like for the times that are fun to not then cause guilt about how can I have fun given the circumstances.  And I’d like for the kids to be able to run up and hug their mom.  That’s the part I’d really like.

This is possibly the most rambling entry I’ve ever written.  And perhaps the twentieth where I mentioned that things aren’t fun.  I should have called it Rambling Whining.

Sitting at the house on Saturday, between the Homecoming parade and the homecoming game, flipping through the channels.  We land on the Texas Tech at KU football game.  Jack says “Hey, look at that parrot!” as they show the ugly bird on the middle of their football field.  A few seconds later, “That parrot is wearing shoes!  Why that parrot wearing shoes?”

He has a stuffed parrot, “My parrot doesn’t wear shoes.”  No, what does your parrot have?  “My parrot has toes.”  Exactly.  Birds don’t wear shoes.

I was very pleased with the way Sarah’s “party” turned out, including most of what I remember of my own remarks.  One thing, though, that I regretted even before I finished saying it was the talk of Sarah watching MU football games, bounces going our way, etc.  I simply don’t believe that in the realm of space/time/eternity/infinity, watching (and certainly not interfering) in a football game can possibly rank very high.  And then I don’t believe in ‘curse’ talk or whatever that many MU fans seem to anxiously bring up, so the opposite of a curse can’t be the case either.  She’d want them to do well, absolutely, because of the fondness and how much the rest of us follow it, but more than that doesn’t seem realistic (a word that doesn’t seem to fit with any of this paragraph).

A large group of friends gathered in Austin for the game.  Fellowship, you might call it.  A great time was had by all, even the one who fell immediately before kickoff and had to miss the game while his newly broken wrist was attended to.  One of the first things he said Sunday morning was “it was a great time”, before pausing in self disbelief that he’d said that.  It was a great time, though.  The kids missed this trip, but will travel with me to Waco in a couple of weeks for more fun.

Bits of perspective have added to my ability to withstand what others call disappointing losses.  Following the Tigers is still fun and I still hope they win, but I’m no where near miserable when they lose.  I enjoy the journey as much as the game, or it’s at least closer to even.

Through all of this, it’s the silent times that bother me the most.  I’d thought it would be hard to gather as a group of friends, when almost all were there with their spouses, with Sarah very much a missing part of that group.  Really, it wasn’t, though, as good times and such hid the missing.  It was the flight home, the drive home, the calm moments throughout that were harder.  Makes sense, as it’s the same on normal days too.  Busyness hides the sorrow.  It’s the times when the house is empty, going to bed early without being fully exhausted, that are still hard.  I feel like I understand how an addict needs the action the addiction provides, as the quiet times can be intolerable.

Finally, the Columbia Daily Tribune did a nice piece of Hold That Hug.  Here’s a link to the article.

This past Sunday, a cast of many completed an enormously successful venture in honor of Sarah called “Hold That Hug“.  Friends, photographers, and family combined to organize and manage the event.

Cast of Many, or most of them

At least 147 families, consisting of at least 504 bodies, with at least 3 dogs, all had their family portraits taken at Stewart Park near our house.  It was a neighborhood gathering, a kids run in the park gathering, and a very nice tribute to Sarah and to everyone that helped organize and photograph.

The photos from the event are online and for sale here.  All proceeds from those sales will be donated to Pictures of the Year International.

The Photographers who donated their time and services