Remember

"Remember" ~C. Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay,
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.


This poem has appeared twice in my daily life in the past couple weeks. It struck me the first time I heard it, and it struck me no less this evening when it appeared as a song setting we will perform in May. I can't help but think that this might be you speaking to me as you watch me struggle. I have been struggling with moving on. Here's another quote, quite the opposite of the above. " Grief is the last act of love we have to give to those we loved. Where there is deep grief, there was great love. "  I guess, subconsciously, there has been some part of me that has wanted to grieve deeply to prove to you and to myself what we had. Since we never got to say those words to each other in person, it's like this is my final way of telling you exactly how I felt. And for that reason, it's hard for me to let go. Letting go means saying goodbye to you, and saying goodbye to the dreams we had.

Recently, a friend asked me how I would want you to act if this situation were reversed. I don't feel that's a fair question, but it certainly is interesting to consider. I don't think I can begin to answer it because I can't understand what Heaven is like from my place in this universe. But you were always about living life to the fullest, so I can't imagine you'd want any less for me now.

As for what that means, that's where I get stuck. I don't think I lead an unhappy life. I was driving home tonight and "Crash" (DMB) came up on my playlist. This song has a lot of memories for me. It's funny how a song can transport you to another feeling in another time and place. I was instantly transported to my high school years when life was carefree and I had not yet experienced the really ugly parts of life. This feeling of hope washed over me. It is something I haven't felt since you died. Yes, I've felt happiness. I've felt excitement. But hope? No. That died with you back in August. In just a few chords though, this song brought that feeling back. It didn't stay, but its fleeting visit was a great feeling. I'd like to have that feeling in my everyday life but I am not sure how to cultivate it. My view of life was permanently altered on August 19, 2014, and I am not convinced it will ever be the same. How does one feel hopeful again after seeing how quickly hope, beauty, youth, and love can be yanked away in a matter of seconds?

 I guess I feel like this was the straw that broke the camel's back as far as relationships go for me. As you well know, I put 110% into everything, and you were no exception. When my divorce happened in 2009, it took all I had to be open to love again. When Dave left, and especially in the way he did, I didn't think I could ever love again. But when we reconnected, our hearts connected on a level I couldn't deny. I opened up again, and you were taken just a couple months later. Part of the reason the whole hope concept is difficult for me is that it is rooted in faith, at least in my mind. And God knows how upset I've been with Him. It's not been pretty. He's heard a lot of yelling, screaming, and crying from me in the past seven months. People tell me to put my hope and trust in the very one who has taken you away. So yes, hope is a foreign concept for me right now.

A heart full of love

Hung with your brother again tonight. Always brings so much peace and so much heartache to hang with your family... simultaneously. As the months wear on though, it's more peace than heartache.

I just can't believe we're here. There's basically been no resolution as far as your estate is concerned. I won't detail that here. But I will say that the legal system baffles me. To refuse to give someone information regarding your estate when you've been gone nearly 6 months? What is wrong in our world?

I feel a tug at my heart to step up and take your house. Would your parents want that? Is that ridiculous? I want to live in the town anyway. It's your place. So much of you there. Is that weird? It might be.

Sometimes I feel like I've got one foot in the past, one here, and one in the future. I feel like that foot in the past will always be there in a sense. I will always love you. You will always have a piece of my heart. Anyone who gets me will have to accept that your initials are on my body forever. #sorrynotsorry They'll have to accept that so much of me is wrapped up in you, and that it's beautiful just the way it is. I'm not saying there's not room in my heart. There is. But a piece of it will always be yours. Full stop. And the right guy will not only get that, but embrace it.

The one in the here and now? She can be a bitch. I wrestle with her daily. Do I self reflect? Do I act purely based on no day but today? She's always got something to say.

The one in the future is the trickiest. The sentimental sap in me says- take the house. NOW. Don't delay. Then the realist in me says "The new guy may be willing to accept the indelible ink, but not so much living in your home." And would I be able to handle it? Could I live there? Could I sit on the couch and make a new life while remembering making the pork rub in the kitchen? Could I ever go near that garage without thinking about the time spent there in your shop? I know I'd sit in the living room and think about HGTV marathons and snuggles on the couch. And the porch? Well, that's a whole other story. So the realist in me says "no". But my heartstrings say yes.

My heart is so full of love sometimes. Now is one of those moments. It's just bursting. I'd like to light up the world with the love I felt for you and with you. Our love was special. It was one that could've been a light to others. And that's why it feels so unfair to me now. It was meant to be that. And in one fell swoop, it was taken from the world. So ridiculously unfair. There's nothing that can be said that can make sense of this. Throw scripture at me. Throw platitudes. None of it matters with you gone. I wish I had words for the love that has filled my heart with you. I wish I could have you here for even 60 seconds. I'd throw my arms around you, hug you until you begged for mercy, and tell you exactly how I feel. And let you go all over again. Just let me do that. You haven't visited since September, and my heart just needs to tell you again. I love you.

Enormity and gravity

The enormity and gravity of one day.

I was on my way to the gym this week when I was overcome with sadness, yes, but more so with a huge realization. My life changed forever on August 18, 2014. When I think back to my life on August 17 and prior, I was much more carefree. I had worries over the stupidest things. Then Nick's accident occured and none of that mattered anymore. So I guess we could even say- the enormity and gravity of one moment. That's all it took to change my life, and the lives of countless others touched by Nick. 

I would liken it to my divorce in some ways. Before my divorce, I had always been the kind of person who set her mind to something, created some short and long term goals, set to work on them, and achieved them. It was always a linear equation for me, and a relatively easy one at that. I set my mind to it, I put in the work, and I exceeded my own expectations. My divorce was the first time that equation didn't see me through. I had set the goals, I had put in the work, and yet, we still failed. Why? Because my ex didn't hold up his end of the bargain. It seems naive 6 years later, but it was the first time in my life I realized that there are two distinct individuals in any relationship. And while those people share life together for a time, they can, at any point, choose to break faith with one another, and choose to no longer invest that time together. That's what my ex did and it permanently changed me. 

I feel the same way about August 18th. Nick was on his way to work on a beautiful summer morning, enjoying the sunshine and his bike. I am positive he didn't get on his bike that morning and wonder if it would be his last ride. But it was. Why? Because of someone else's negligence. Because of someone else and her what...? Distraction? Were the kids arguing in the car? Was the sun in her eyes? Were her brakes going bad? Whatever it was... She changed so many lives that day she chose to run that light. Nick didn't know it was coming until it was too late. I often find myself wondering what he thought in those moments. And in reality, I'm sure it all happened too fast and he likely didn't have time to think of anyone or anything other than how to avoid the impending collision. But I find myself wondering, nonetheless. 

I guess I kind of think of August 18th as the day I permanently lost my youth, in a way. When you're young, you tend to think you're invincible. You don't think about death as something that can touch you. And in one moment, someone I had imagined forever with was rendered quadriplegic with injuries that ended up being fatal. It's just so bizarre how life works. That someone's life can be taken in an instant with no warning. 

I don't mean to diminish the pain of those who have lost someone after a long illness, but it's so different, and I guess each has its blessing and curse. For someone in the grips of an illness, they have time to take care of affairs, spend time with family, and make mental adjustments. But there is the fear to conquer, the suffering and pain involved for the sick as well as the family around them. For someone who loses their life suddenly, I guess we could say it's a merciful experience for the dying. No fear to conquer. But that also means no time to say goodbyes. No time to minimize regret for either side. 

I've just been so preoccupied with the enormity of this. How life can change in an instant. It makes everything seem so trivial. We spend so much time waiting for the right moment. "We'll have kids when the time is right." "I'll go on that trip in a few years." We count on time, as if we have it to spare. And the reality is, we have no idea what we have. I could die tonight. When you start thinking that way, it changes you. It changes how you approach life. Take the trip. Stop waiting for the right time. THIS is it. There is no right time. Just do it. 

It seems so perfect that this lesson would come from Nick's death. Nick always lived in the moment. He was not the type to miss a party or a chance to give you a hug. Teaching us lessons still... 

Memories and photographs

I guess we've come to the morbid part of the blog.

I was thinking today how bizarre and terribly sad it is to me that all we have left of Nick are memories, photographs, and some material possessions. So much of what we know of someone comes from our five senses- what they look like, how they smell, the sound of their voice and laugh, their touch. I vividly remember the sight of Nick- 6'1" of beautiful olive colored skin, big brown eyes, awesome facial hair, long and silky dark hair. I remember the ink sleeves on his arms, the sandals he always wore (trademark hippie style), the chain he always wore around his neck. I remember so much about our time together this summer. The way his hands felt on my waist, the way it felt to hug him as he would hold me. The way he would nestle into my chest and breathe me in. The way I would run my hands through his hair. The way my face would feel after kissing him with all that facial hair. The way he always smelled like a combination of metal and wood from the shop and pork from all the cooking he'd do. The way it felt to snuggle into him as he would rub my back. The way his hands looked as he would prepare pork for the smoker. The way he'd lean into me on the couch as we watched HGTV. These memories are ingrained in my mind. And they are all based in my senses and the way they interacted with Nick.

I put together some of my favorite camp photos today and thought about this. How hard it is when someone you loved so much is gone and you can no longer hear their laughter, smell their signature scent, touch their skin, look into their eyes. I guess I always thought of loss as losing a relationship more than losing a presence, but now I see it is both.

All of these memories are you, Nick, and I worry so much that I will forget you. I worry I'll forget about camp. I worry I'll forget the look of concentration you had as you taught me about your pork recipe. The way I asked "Can I know what's in the rub?" And the way you responded "I want to tell you someday" with a wink. The way you looked into my eyes and said "You should come to Nashville with me this fall. We'd have a blast. You'd love it." That devilish grin you always gave me when you'd tease me. The way you'd whistle to Syd when she was off tracking a critter. The way your eyes would look when I came to you with a project idea and you were thinking of some way to kick it up a notch. The way you liked to tease me in front of our friends for being a "cradle robber" when I was a total of 9 days older. These things are you, just as much as your zest for life, your care and concern for others, your sense of humor, your prankster style, your ability to work with your hands, your love of dogs, your love of the great outdoors, and on and on.

I guess the bottom line is it kills me when I remember that these things are physically gone and I can never see them again here on this Earth. I am a person of faith, so I do believe I will experience all these aspects of you someday in some other place, but it feels like an eternity until that day comes. And every time I remind myself of these realities, it feels like someone has driven a knife into my chest. I cannot kiss you. I cannot hug you. I cannot comfort you. I cannot call you. I cannot help you build things. We cannot build my headboard. We're not going to Nashville. The days at camp will never, ever be the same. The five musketeers will be four, and sadly, a cloud of sadness will hang over the whole affair. I just never realized how much the physical loss of you would bother me as much as the emotional loss of you.

I guess that's why I enjoy visiting your house so much. It's an encapsulated piece of you. Your house remains the way it was when you left it early Monday morning, August 18th. Your bed still isn't made. You always thought it was a waste of time to make the bed, and I tend to agree. Your shop is as it was. The furniture is still out on the porch from this summer. Those bags of mulch I said I'd put in the garden are still stacked by the garage. You'd never let me put them down. "I'd rather spend quality time with you!" But some things are very different and remind me that you are gone. There were always empties by the sink and on the counters. Your siblings have taken those in to be recycled. The bathroom has been tidied up and your jewelry catch all is empty as your siblings have collected those pieces as memorials of you. The bench by the pond has been overturned for the winter. Your car is parked differently than you would've parked it.

Ironically, these things make me feel like you're still here and gone forever all at the same time. Your room smells like you, so how could you be gone? But there would never be a clean counter if you were here, so I know it can't be. You would've brought your bench in for the winter along with the furniture, too. 

I miss you so much it hurts to type this. Sometimes I find myself bursting into tears out of nowhere, and always, without fail, the first words out of my mouth are "I miss you so much!". I do. And I guess I thought it'd be easier by now. I also beat myself up and tell myself I have no right to miss you this much. I wasn't your long time girlfriend. I'm not one of your siblings. I should have moved on by now. These are the thoughts in my mind. But none of it changes the fact that my life changed forever on August 19th, and it will never be the same. I miss you, and I grieve the loss of a 20 year friend, as well as someone I had imagined forever with. Nothing makes this pill easier to swallow. We're going on five months and in many ways, I miss you more now than I did a couple months ago. Thankfully, I don't have that awful, nauseous feeling of fainting every time I think about the grief. It's more physical exhaustion than physical illness these days.

I miss you, I love you, and I'll be seeing you.

New Year's Eve- the most dreaded of days

It's been awhile. Grab yourself a glass of pinot. I'll wait.

Ready? OK! New Year's Eve. I think you either hate it or love it. I happen to not be a fan. And it was even worse this year. Who wants to remember a year in which you lost someone you imagined spending your forever with?

The day started out well. I went to WOD. I did get teary eyed during a lift. Happens often as I confront fears at the gym and think of Nick. Finished the WOD, went to breakfast with my awesome CrossFitters. Then, I went to get my car fixed and started thinking. And thinking. And thinking some more. The same way I always do. Why didn't I go see you August 8th? Why did I push so much? Why didn't I ease up and enjoy our time together more? Why didn't I understand your life and the demands placed upon you because you came from a large family? Why were you taken at such a promising time? Why, why, why....? I found myself pulled over crying hysterically. I didn't want to cause an accident. I couldn't see through my tear filled eyes, let alone focus on driving. Then, Alex texted me. "What are you doing tonight, buddy?" I was honest with him and told him I was having a really rough time and would probably do nothing. He said he was in the same boat. Then, it occurred to me. We'd been saying we should get together with Katie, and here was the chance. The three of us hate New Year's Eve and none of us had plans except to sit on the couch, drinking solo and being depressed. Not a recipe for a good evening.

Plans quickly changed! I made some stew and prepped the house. Alex and Katie came over about 7:30, desserts and drinks in tow. We all had our sweats on and were ready to spend an evening together. We did some mad libs, shared stories and laughs, and just had a fantastic time being ourselves and enjoying each other's company. They left a bit after midnight. We texted each other as each got home safely. All were thrilled to ring in the New Year together, and our hearts were full. And it left me wondering... how does this happen? Each of us had planned to wallow and be upset and none of us needed that. Each of us needed uplifting. Is it God who put it on Alex's heart to text me? Nick? The "universe"? I always wonder this. This is my philosophical question for you today. How do we get what we need? I do realize that the realists out there will say it just "happened". I don't think that way. Alex and I talk regularly but not every day. How did it happen that he texted me just at the moment that I was falling apart? I don't think these things just happen. So again, I ask... How do you think it happens that we get what we need? Is it fate? Does the universe give us what we need? Is it God? Is it Nick intervening? Is it a combination of these? I've heard all of these explanations used. Just curious to hear what you think.

There was one dark part of the evening. Nick's younger brother is the spitting image of him. I find it hard to look at pictures of him, honestly. He and his longtime girlfriend were out on the town and posting pictures to social media. The girlfriend is a girl I grew up next to, but she is about ten years younger than me. I babysat her and her brother for the better part of five years. They are awesome people and I love her dearly. Katie remarked to Alex that Ethan and Sheila had been together a long time. He said yes and laughed and said the family always wonders when Ethan will pop the question. Alex said they love Sheila dearly and that she's part of the family. And I got terribly sad. It was a moment I felt some horrible self-pity. Ethan and Sheila are great people. I wish them all the happiness in the world. And yet, here I was, terribly jealous of Sheila for all the things she seems to have coming that I will never experience. I love Nick's family dearly and would have given anything to be part of it. I will never get that chance. So I felt horrible- for having these chances taken from me and from Nick, and for being jealous of Sheila.

And yet... I am still getting what I need. In the midst of this horrible tragedy, Nick's family has drawn close to me and vice versa. Alex told me his parents want to invite me over for dinner soon. Nick's sister and I have plans to get together soon and also to go to Lilydale in the Spring. I thank God and Nick for these things. And I have no doubt that he is up there, asking God to help us all through these moments. These things don't just happen, in my mind. God cares for us, and he ensures he fills the void. "God never closes a door without opening a window." I am so blessed that Nick's family is my window, and I only hope that I can be the same for them.

You keep finding ways to tell me to pick myself up. Ray LaMontagne's Be Here Now came on this morning. Then Pearl Jam. One of your favorites. And now a Coldplay song that says it so well- "Warning Sign". Friends telling me to live my best life for you. To honor you. And I know that's what you want. I feel it. I just can't get there.

The truth is- I thought of you as my final destination. There was so much love, promise, and light between us. So much spark when we were together. No one had to be anything they weren't. We just let it all hang out.  I have no one else like this in my life. No one with whom I feel I can be completely myself. You were so one of a kind. I fear I will never find that again in my life. And what's possibly worse, I'm not sure I want to. I want you to be my final destination, even if it's not here and now.

I am so miserable today I texted my best friend to tell her not to bother picking me up for tonight's gig because no human being should have to put up with me. And that's the truth. No man or beast should have to deal with this. I am so full of sadness, grief, anger, and frustration, and it just wells up and pours out. I have no control over it. I have never felt anything like it.

Part of my frustration stems from the fact that no one understands where I'm coming from. Not that they should. It's a very unique situation. We were dating. We had a falling out. We reconciled, and were attempting to get together. Had set a date to get together the evening of your accident. And it never resolved because you were taken from us. I can't get over it. I don't even know where to start. How does one get over the loss of a love that was so promising?

And tonight I am supposed to sing a gig that includes "Set me as a Seal." Set me as a seal upon your arm, as a seal upon your heart; for love is strong as death. Even typing it brings tears to my throat. How will I possibly sing that?

There will never ever be another you

Platitude: A statement that expresses an idea that is not new; a flat, dull, or trite remark, especially one uttered as if it were fresh or profound.

Let me start by saying this: we all know how awkward that moment is when you try to comfort someone who is going through something awful. We all want to be the one who says something that brings some momentary comfort. Never before did I know that that is truly impossible. Ok, to be fair, maybe not impossible. But you're bringing maybe a small ray of sunshine into an otherwise cavernous abyss. I never knew what it was like to be the one on the receiving end of the platitudes.

"He's not suffering now, and he would've." ; "He's with God."; "God has a plan for this in your life."; "Remember the happy times."

Let's tackle these one at a time.

1. You're absolutely right on this one. He would've. And being the Christian woman I am, I tend to see this as God's mercy and grace. God took him partly to spare him what would've been a horrible reality for Nick. Nick loved the great outdoors. He loved to barbecue, ride his bike, and work in his shop. I didn't really see him sit except to drink a beer with friends or wait for some que to cook. So yes, he would've suffered. But that doesn't make this reality any less awful. I'm here. He's there. And I must live out what feels like eternity before I see him again.

2. Yes, and again, thank God for that. This one is a comfort, actually. I know my brain cannot possibly comprehend the peace my friend must feel being in God's presence for eternity, but again, I also know he's not here with me. I can't call, text, or visit.

3. Please don't ever say this again. It makes me want to throw things. What good plan could possibly include the death of someone so near and dear to me at a time that was so full of promise? I had finally thought God was answering my prayers. And it's not even that. Regardless of the way things ended up with us, Nick is loved and needed by so many here. This plan sucks. Sorry, God. God can take my anger. He's heard a lot of it lately. Check out the Psalms. I'm not the first or the last to scream at Him.

4. I do. All the time. And it is amazing and heartbreaking all at the same time. When you spend enough time with someone, you talk about the future. What you want to do, dreams you have, and how they fit into that. To think of all the happy times is also to remember all the conversations about trips to the Adirondacks, and down to Nashville. The headboard we still had to build. The dresser in your shop that needs a woman's touch. The media room in my house. All the projects we wanted to do. The trips we wanted to take. The concerts we wanted to see.

The most heartbreaking reality in all of this is that no one can ever be you, Nick. No one. I try to remember all the things I love about you because as the days pass, I imagine all those things as sand in an hourglass, slipping through my hands. Your laugh- I could listen to it forever. Especially the devilish one when you had a prank prepared. The way you'd look at me like you couldn't get enough. Your love of your dogs. The way you could take a project and put your own spin on it. The way your eyes would light up when you'd talk about your siblings and nieces and nephews. The way you could just as easily talk about something philosophical and deep, like your biggest fear. The way you could make anyone a friend. Your smile. It is one of the most beautiful things to me and one forever ingrained in my mind's eye.

God makes each of us beautiful and unique. He brings us into each other's paths for distinct reasons, at just the right time. He is the creator and cares for each of us more than we can know. I hardly think it's an accident that you reached out to me this past June. We spent two awesome months together a very short time before you went home. God designed that. And I'm so thankful to Him for it. It has made your leaving so much more difficult. But I have so many memories of you. When I prayed today, I told God that when He took you home, you took a piece of my heart with you. I suppose that's a platitude. But it comes from my heart, Nick. You will always have a piece of my heart. A big chunk actually.

A friend recently said to me: I'm sorry your heart has a Nick shaped hole in it. I couldn't have said it better myself. You are one of a kind, Nick. Always have been, always will be. I know I'm one of many here missing you, but I like to think that I have a piece of your heart, too.

"Death has no power to keep apart a love forged so deeply in a person's heart."