how can you mend a broken heart

A few weeks ago, my heart broke wide open once again.

During a short but long overdue visit with Mary and Rohn, I learned a few things that both infuriate me and break my heart at the same time.

I remember that day in October 2008, when I laid on the bed next to Rochelle, just a few hours before she passed away. She was struggling to talk, and was unable to. I held her hand and laid my head on her shoulder and told her to rest, that it was okay. I told her that I'd help make sure that her son was taken care of, that he'd never forget his mother, and that he would always feel loved.

And now I feel like I've let her down.

A ten year old boy without a mom, whose new stepmother doesn't hug him, cuddle him or love him the same as her own child. A boy who needs affection and an encouraging voice. He looks so much like his mother, and he has her infectious spirit, her playful mischievous laugh, and her sense of humor. As my birthday twin, he and I share a special bond. I love that kid more than I have words for.

So, how is it that he has come to live in a home that doesn't encourage him to remember her, that tolerates but doesn't help him deal with his grief? How can someone look at this child and not feel his loneliness and want to ease it?

In a tolerant and patient and forgiving moment, I can almost understand why it's easier for Dave to let go of Rochelle's memory than to actively help Rohn remember, and how Jeannie might feel insecure with the ghost of her new husband's first wife hanging around. But then I see Rohn and I want to kick both of their asses. To not include Dave and Rohn's whole family in their wedding? To treat Frank and Mary like they haven't been Dave's other set of parents, let alone friends for all these years? To hear Mary tell me that she feels as though she's not only lost her daughter, but now a son as well just made me want to scream.

As for me, I just get a cold shoulder and a "your best time to see Rohn is when he's with Mary" when I contact Dave. He doesn't say it out loud, but I got the message. I'm no longer welcome as a part of his and Rohn's life. That hurts. But not as much as what that message and attitude are going to do to Rohn as he grows up.

I want so much to believe that Dave picked someone who is good for him and who will be good to Rohn. After all, he picked Rochelle, and look at how good they were for each other. I'm just not seeing that in his new relationship. And that pisses me off. Rohn deserves better. Dave deserves better.

I'm not used to feeling anger like this. It's not a natural feeling for me to be pissed off. I'm the one who finds the even ground and makes her way through life as peacefully as possible. Not that I don't rock the boat, I just don't do it in the heat of the moment. When that feeling of anger and (hard to admit) even momentary hatred came bubbling up while standing in the parking lot talking to Mary, it caught me by surprise. Later, as I was retelling the story to my sponge girls, the same feeling choked me up and it's been haunting me for the last few weeks.

Anger. It's part of the grief process, I know. I just haven't experienced it like this yet, so I'm not totally sure how to deal with it. I know it's a valuable emotion and I recognize that I need to allow this part of the grief process to run its course, and that eventually I'll find a way to focus and channel the emotions in a way that is helpful.

I just keep wondering who is going to teach Rohn how to deal with his emotions and grief in a productive way. Who will mend his broken heart?

3-18

Today is national Trisomy 18 awareness day. Although, for anyone who knows about it from experience, every day is Trisomy 18 awareness day. I'll never forget the day I learned about it.

Shauna, my best friend, had recently moved to Texas, but miles don't really matter to friends like us. We knew Shauna's doctor was concerned about something when they ordered more tests after a routine ultrasound. We even talked about the fact that if anyone could handle a baby with special needs - like Down syndrome - it would be her. After all, she took in a paraplegic kitten who wasn't expected to live a year (and is now 13). But then she got the results. It was so much worse. No amount of love and care would protect this baby. The statistics are depressing. There were so many if's. If he made it to term. If he made it through delivery. If he survived a few hours, or a few days.

And there was only one when. When our hearts would break completely. All we could do was hope it was all a mistake, pray for a miracle, and offer Shauna our support from afar. And when Jackson was stillborn on November 12, 2003, we all grieved. And we still remember.

My heart reaches out to all those who have been touched by T18 in their lives.

happy birthday

Today is Rochelle's birthday. Once upon a time it was one of my favorite days of the year. Now it's a bittersweet day full of tears and just the memories of celebrations past.



In 2009, on the first of Rochelle's birthdays after she passed away, Shauna and I had a virtual best friends date across the miles. We picked a movie that was a little lighthearted, and one that Rochelle would have wanted to see (My Life in Ruins). Then, at approximately the same time - our time zones are two hours apart - we went to the movie. Since mine was the later start, as soon as I got out of the theater, I called Shauna. We laughed, we cried, and then we cried some more. It was a day of survival, more than celebration. Our grief was still too fresh during that year of firsts to feel much of anything but pain that day.

The next year, feeling a little stronger, I had started running, and in honor of my best friend, I ran the 5K Starlight run on her birthday. The Starlight run is a race along the parade route right before the nighttime parade that is one of the signature events of Portland's Rose Festival. Back in 1986, Rochelle, Shauna, and I were all part of the marching band and we'd come to Portland and performed in that parade. I wore a birthday cake tiara, shorts honoring my high school alma mater and professing my band nerd status, and a shirt honoring Rochelle as well. After the run, we watched some of the parade then went out to eat and drink with some of my closest friends and my mom. It was a good way to celebrate Rochelle that year!



Last year was a quieter, more subdued celebration. I was in California, not far from where Rochelle lived until she was 8 or so. My nephew's birthday is the day before Rochelle's, so I was celebrating with him. For his day, we had a lot of cupcakes and a party at a gymnastics center. The next day, Rochelle's birthday, we went to see the Giants game and spent some time in San Francisco. It was a fun day, and spending time with my brother and family was wonderful. I think Rochelle would have been happy to see that day.

This year has been rough on me emotionally, with new grief coming my way and relationship challenges with various people in my life. My support team has also shrunk a little. One of my best friends, someone who has been a part of my life for years, isn't able to be there for me this time around. So that sucks. For Rochelle's birthday, I don't have anything in particular planned. Well that's not entirely true. I have a bag of orange slices (her favorite candy) and ice cream. I have copies of Pretty Woman, Steel Magnolias, Top Gun, and Beaches (some of our favorite movies). I have a playlist set up with the songs of our friendship (everything from ABBA to Madonna to Enya). Anyone want to join me for a sentimental movie fest and sugar high? Bonus points if you can sing every song of the soundtracks to those movies. I hate to sing alone.

Happy birthday my dear friend Rochelle. I miss you more than I can ever say. You will always be my very best friend.

triumph

A few days ago, I read this post. Apparently, it was just what I needed at the time too. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, trying to figure out why I'm feeling "stuck" again in this path through grief so I can do something about it. I tend to get insomnia when I'm stressed or working through a tough spot, and my sleep pattern has been completely shot lately.

When Holly died last fall, I knew it was ripping open the wounds that had started to heal over Rochelle's passing. It sucked. There's no way of sugar coating it. I wasn't just grieving one loss, I was re-grieving an older one at the same time. Even when you understand grief, when you've walked this road, and you know what to expect, it can still send you for a spin.

As I read Jennifer's story and insights, I had a few new insights myself. Perhaps that was all I needed, a little sample of someone else's perspective, to help me realize fully that I have more grief work ahead of me and I'd better get to it if I want my life to keep moving in the direction I've chosen. Not that I haven't been doing any, but in some respects I have been trying to just move on instead of moving through. And it's those things that I need to pay attention to.

Since the day I read this, something has shifted. I'm feeling a little raw, a little sensitive, and at the same time hopeful and grateful. Spending time with a dear friend yesterday helped tremendously. A little laughter, serious discussions, tears and some hugs, and I slept like a dream last night. Thank you Tammy - you are just as amazing and strong as you think I am. Here's to many more years of cookie butter and smiles!

an exotic evening

I had a chance to see an advance screening of a new movie last night. The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. A most excellent movie. Amazingly full of the stuff of life. Go see it. I can't even pick a favorite character - the casting was spot-on, and each person's story was a brilliant part of the symphony. Just go see it. I'm no movie critic - but this is funny and sad and serious and sweet all at once.

And it's full of little quote gems, like "It will all be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end." And, "I'm single by choice, just not my choice."

p.s. Judy Densch's character was my favorite. I think.

Intuition

It seems to come out of nowhere. The sinking feeling in my stomach. My worst fears  come to life. There is no hiding from the truth this time. No avoiding it. This is really happening. This moment that I’ve dreaded for months. And yet, as the pounding in my head starts and my stomach knots up, I also realize that I am not really surprised. At some level, I knew this was coming. I was waiting for this moment. My intuition was right again. (Damnit!)

I know I should listen to my intuition. It’s never been wrong. At least not about the big things. Sure, I might have an “intuition” about whether my favorite football team will be undefeated this year or not and I could be right or wrong about that. But when my intuition really speaks to me, it doesn’t lie. No matter what it is – life, death or love.

Too often, the things my intuition tells me aren’t things I want to hear. I don’t want to know that my friend is ill, that death and grief will soon be part of my life again. I don’t want to know that my friend or lover has betrayed me. I want to hide my head in the sand, pretend everything is okay, avoid the pain that this moment of truth will bring me. Because it will be painful – it will hurt. It will take time to heal, it will paralyze me, it will force me to change somehow.

And yet, sometimes, my intuition tells me good things. Hopeful things. When I realize that this person I just met is going to be a wonderfully significant addition to my life, and could change me in ways I can’t even imagine yet. The knowledge that a lifelong dream may be on the verge of coming true is powerful stuff. It’s still scary and gut wrenching and sometimes a little paralyzing, but in a good way.

How do you know when to listen to your intuition? How can you tell when it’s just your own fears and hopes and you’re over-projecting them to avoid acknowledging the truth about a situation? Just trying to stay in denial a little longer? I certainly don’t have the answers. I do know that I am braver about listening to that voice inside when it’s telling me good news instead of bad. However, I also know that my intuition has a good track record of being right about the bad news.

Maybe intuition is my heart and soul’s disaster warning system? Danger ahead! Prepare for evacuation or battle! Will you run for the hills or stand up and fight?

Several years ago, my best friend Shauna was coming home for a visit. She’d just announced her pregnancy so we were throwing a shower for her while she was home, because we knew we wouldn’t see her again until after the baby was born. She got a call from her doctor the morning before the shower, asking her to schedule another ultrasound as soon as she returned, because “there was some unusual things on her last exam, and they just want to be sure nothing is wrong.” When she told me this, my heart sank, but we put on our happy faces and helped her get through the shower. In the coming weeks, we’d learn more about Trisomy 18 than anyone should ever have to. Jackson was stillborn some weeks later. Intuition=1, Sheryl=0

A few months after my best friend Rochelle’s symptoms started, and shortly after her first hospitalization for uncontrollable pain, she called me after a doctor’s visit. “They found it,” she said. “It’s cancer.” I know that none of us were surprised – at that point, we all suspected it. But to hear the words so clearly made my heart stop. It’s cancer. From the moment her first symptoms appeared to the day we said goodbye was less than six months. Intuition=2, Sheryl=0.

Can you blame me for not wanting to listen to my intuition sometimes? Why bother – it’s just going to tell me bad news – why not put it off to the last possible moment? But I’ve found that when I do listen to the warning signs, when I face it early on, when I acknowledge that I’m scared, it somehow makes it easier to face. I know that Shauna appreciated us being scared right along with her – that it helped her when she had to face the worst news an expectant mother could face. I know that I’m better off having faced my worst fears when Rochelle was sick and dying, and that my life is, in the long run, richer for having been so involved in her last months of life. For standing next to her as she faced death, even when it was the last thing I wanted to do. Those moments were painful, they changed who I am. But I think that having my intuition warn me ahead of time helped me prepare. It helped me face the facts with my warrior gear on.

Looking at it that way, I think I'll take a moment of intuition over a blindside any day of the week. Don't make me wear my emotional armor 24/7. Let me take it off for a while in between battles. My heart and soul appreciate the rest. May your intuition guide you and protect you too.

what's on your list

The last summer of Rochelle's life is hard to recall in detail. There was an awkward rhythm in my life, of attempting to maintaining a sense of normalcy in my home life while juggling trips to the hospital at lunch or after work nearly every day. At the end of the day, there wasn't a lot of time for me. My house and pets suffered, my work suffered, and my soul was taking a beating. Looking back, I know I was just in survival mode, but the specifics of that time in my life are muddled and blurry.

Since I was a little girl, I've always loved to read. I started when I was about four, and never stopped. When my mom came to pick me up from day care when I was five, I was reading stories to the other kids. There's a comfort and solace that reading brings me, letting my brain settle into a story, and lessening my worries of the day for a few minutes. Even if I just get a few minutes of reading in, it helps the day feel complete.

I read several books over the course of those weeks between early July and October. It's only now, looking back that I see the common themes and threads of cancer, friendships, and the process of dying that they shared, and realize how much they helped me process all the fears and emotions that came along with Rochelle's cancer and death.

In one of the books I read that summer, a character was battling cancer. She had retreated to her childhood summer home on the beach with her sister and her best friend, and the things that each of them were facing in their lives and relationships followed them there. One passage in the book keeps coming back to me, even now, years later. The main character, as she found out that she had cancer, was a master list maker. But the day of her diagnosis all her lists disappeared. From that day forward, there were really only two lists in her world. The list of things that no longer matter, and the list of things that matter.

The list of things that no longer matter.

The moment your priorities change and your world becomes so simple and so difficult in the same breath. When you hear the word, "cancer." And weeks later, when you are laying next to your best friend, whispering to her that it's okay to let go and leave the pain of this world behind, just hours before she does.

In the years since Rochelle passed away, when life's troubles start to weigh me down again, when my job gets a little stressful, when people I don't care about say mean things to me, I ask myself, "Does this matter?" The answer is almost always no. The typo, the mucked up address file, the name-calling psycho don't matter. They all go on the list of things that no longer matter. Every time. In the totality of my life, these things do not matter. They do not get to suck up my energy and steal my happiness.

The list of things that matter to me is a short and sweet list, and it doesn't have actual "things" on it. It's simply a list of my people. It's love and laughter, peace and contentment, memories made and memories still to come. That's all I need. What's on your list?

monday motivation - you choose

For today's Monday motivation - a little reminder of the power of personal choice. You can't control what others do, what happens to you, or the things people say to you, but once it is part of your life, you get to choose the direction it sends you in.

re-kindred spirits

You know when you meet someone and you instantly know that you're destined to be friends? That spark of connection between kindred spirits? What a great feeling! To know that someone else in this world "gets" you, and your quirky sense of humor. When you're sitting on the tailgate, eating ice cream cones and telling life stories a few days after meeting, you can't deny the bond that is already formed.

I've been lucky to have a number of friendships that started this way. But even better, I've had old friendships renewed this way. I've always taken friendship (and fun) seriously. But some of those friendships fade over time. We grow up, move away, get married (or not), have kids (or not), careers, houses, illnesses, divorces, heart break. Sometimes, someone or something else is responsible for the interruption in your friendship. Life just happens. A week without talking turns into a month, then a few months... and pretty soon it's been years.

I know I was better prepared than most for losing my best friend, Rochelle. I had 20 years to get used to the idea that I would outlive her. That didn't make it easier, but it did mean that I never, ever, not even once took our friendship for granted. Sure, it helped that we were kindred spirits, so we got along like peanut butter and chocolate. And whenever musketeer #3, Shauna was around, it was more like peanut butter, chocolate, and bananas. I'm not saying Shauna is bananas... oh who am I kidding? That girl is hilarious and funny as only slipping on banana peels can be. (Love you girl!)

I've come to realize that Rochelle left behind some really interesting gifts for me. One of the most remarkable to me is one that keeps appearing when I least expect it. That is the gift of rekindling friendships with those who I have considered kindred spirits. Or, as I might call them, re-kindred spirits! The chance to reconnect after a 2, 5, 15, or 20 year lapse in regular communication. I'm not just talking about catching up on the facts and statistics of our lives, but really reconnecting. Confirming once again, that the spirit is stronger than time and distance. That love, friendship and trust can survive and blossom again. Within minutes of seeing my twin best friends, Kendra and Roxann from 8th grade (after more than 20 years had passed), we were once again sharing stories that are reserved for those closest to our hearts - the ones that are bittersweet or painful. That's the beautiful thing about re-kindred spirits - you already know you can trust them to protect your heart!

In the 3+ years that have passed since Rochelle died, I have lost count of the friends who I've reconnected with. I'm sure she's sending them my way, and I'm grateful for that. She's that sort of friend, even in heaven. It's nice to know she still watches out for me, and sends me old friends to remind me that friendships do last lifetimes.

And I'm also finding that there really is more room in my once-broken heart. Room for new friends, old friends and especially re-kindred spirit friends.

Angel visits

The other day I went to see a friend - someone who has been an inspiration, a mentor, a healer, and a motivator in my life and my journey through grief. I was telling her that I've been having trouble with staying motivated and haven't been running regularly, so she suggested that I run the Starlight run again this year. After all, it was the run that got me started in the first place. Two years ago, I ran it on my best friend's birthday. As the day went on, I was thinking about our conversation and I remembered this passage I'd written a few weeks before my first 5k. I'm looking forward to a few fun ABBA inspired runs as I get ready for the next one... and it never hurts to have an angel cheering you on.

May 26, 2010

Last night, I went out for a 3 mile jog, preparing for the 5k Starlight run that I’m running in my best friend Rochelle’s memory on June 5 (also her birthday). As I was leaving my house, I chose the ABBA gold album to be my running partner. ABBA always reminds me of my best friends Rochelle and Shauna, and the hours we spent driving around our hometown singing at the top of our lungs more than half a lifetime ago.

About two miles into my jog, I was really starting to feel tired. I was thinking about Rochelle, half wondering what she thought of my crazy plan to run a 5k on her birthday. I mean, it’s not something she would have ever done. I’m doing it for myself, my health, dumping my sweat, grief and emotional baggage on the road and leaving it there. The Starlight parade will follow, and Rochelle enjoyed a good parade, so I imagine her silliness, playfulness, and happiness will be with the crowd that night.

Anyway, as I plodded along, feeling weary, this song came on. For the first time in many years, I listened to the words. Heading up that shady wooded path, I started to smile. My breath felt easier, my feet felt lighter, and by the time the second verse started right at the 2 mile mark, I was smiling and laughing as the line “pushing through the darkness still another mile” tickled my ear drums. I couldn’t help but feel that this was Rochelle’s way of letting me know she approves of my crazy plan, she believes I can do it, and that she’s looking forward to the parade on her birthday.

I do believe in angels. My best friend is one.

"I Have A Dream" (Abba)

I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale
You can take the future even if you fail
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream

I have a dream, a fantasy
To help me through reality
And my destination makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness still another mile
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream

I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale
You can take the future even if you fail
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream
I'll cross the stream - I have a dream

Heartburn - and how I named this blog

There's a movie from the 80's called Heartburn. I haven't seen it in many years, but I remember watching it several times with my best friend Rochelle. We were in high school, and it was a very grown up movie for us to see, not our usual fare of Back to the Future and Can't Buy Me Love.

Carly Simon sang a song for the soundtrack of that movie, and it quickly became a favorite song for both Rochelle and me. The song, Coming Around Again, includes children singing Itsy Bitsy Spider. That song has been a frequent flier in the soundtrack of my life, and my favorite lyric is, "so don't mind if I fall apart, there's more room in a broken heart."

Over the last few months, I've been through a bit of an emotional wringer. Another friend, another cancer, another child left to grow up without his mom, and another husband left without the wife he adored. If you know me, you know I've been down this road. I understand what it's like to lose someone you love. This time, however, it wasn't MY best friend. Instead, it was a family member's best friend, and a lifelong family friend. In some ways, that made it harder.

While I was losing a friend too, I felt the pain that my family member was experiencing . I saw what she would go through before she did. I could anticipate the course of emotions, the frustration, the anger, the helplessness, the worry, the need to drop everything and just be with your friend. And yet, I couldn't totally understand because she deals with life differently than I do. This cancer was different. The families involved had different communication issues. There was tension I hadn't felt when Rochelle was ill and dying.  So, while the stories had similar endings and parallels, they are different.

Regardless, my pain in losing Holly was compounded by the memories and pain it stirred up. Things I'd already dealt with and worked through and scars that were healing from when Rochelle died were ripped open. I felt like I'd taken a giant step backwards, and I suppose in some ways I did. I retreated into comfort mode. Comfort food, comfortable clothes, comfortable couch potato life.

But what does that have to do with this blog? Well, let me tell you. I got sick of being comfortable. I was so comfortable some of my clothes were becoming less so. Nothing too drastic, but my running shoes had not been getting much of a workout and it was showing. So, I made a plan to get myself back on track. I started focusing on my diet again. Back to the gym. But I was having trouble staying motivated and sticking to it. Then I realized I was missing the secret ingredient - my monthly dates for acupuncture.

I made an appointment, and back I went. As I was sitting there, catching up with my acupuncturist, telling her the story of the last few months, she reminded me of how far I've come, even though I've slipped backwards for now. There were several things she said that day that stuck with me. She's good at that - planting seeds of thought. One was a suggestion that I write a blog, because I have a different perspective than a lot of people about grief. So much is written on grief about losing a parent, a child, a spouse. But how much have you seen from a friend's perspective? At the end of the appointment, she said something that hit home so hard I couldn't even speak. She said, "I know it sounds cheesy, but there is more room in a broken heart."

So, I'm here to share my stories. I hope they make you laugh and cry and remember and learn. And when the sun comes out and dries up all the rain...