Today of course I’m reminded of BalanceTimes Day, which I guess had something to do with standing on one leg or something.

Last night I went out to get some stuff for the kids….well OK let’s be honest Lisa TOLD me to go out and get some stuff for the kids. I was picking cards and thinking about how I always picked out the birthday and Valentines Day cards for mom from the kids, even when Kev was technically and adult. I’d toss him the card; he’d say thanks and fill it out, usually with a little joke of his own thrown in.

It’s just another one of those silly little things that I miss so much. It hurts sometimes to face these kinds of things, but they bring up good memories too.

Happy BalanceTimes Day Kev. I hope you’re having some fun today. We miss you, and we all for sure love you, today and every day.

I said no, but upon reflection I think the answer is a little more complicated than that. I think the real answer is I don’t know who myself is anymore.

I definitely don’t feel like who I used to be, but I’m not sure my sense of self has coalesced enough yet to say I feel like who I am now.

I think what’s happened is day to day cares and problems have taken over my quest to find the new me. I’m worrying a lot about the little stuff again. I suppose you could look at that and think I’m making progress, but going back really isn’t an option, so making progress towards the mistakes of the past really isn’t moving forward. The goal is not to be who I was.

I feel distracted and off balance. I feel as if I’ve lost track of something but I’m not entirely sure what. I feel as if I’ve had a really good idea, but I’ve forgotten what it was. If you’ve ever read So Long and Thanks for All the Fish by Douglas Adams you might see that I feel a lot like Fenchurch does when she first meets Arthur Dent.

Practitioners of meditation talk of the human minds infinite capacity for distraction. I experienced this today. I went for a walk to focus my thoughts and maybe figure out where my head is at, but my mind instead wandered to the trivial. I kept shaking my head in an attempt to fling off the unimportant and focus on where I am and where I should be. The results were not promising. The stupid kept winning the battle for attention.

The act of writing forces me to focus. I have to form a thought and explore it. I have to find the right words to express what I’m thinking or feeling. I’ve been struggling to write lately. When it’s working well the words seem to flow from someplace outside of my own brain. That’s when the filters are off and I’m in touch with something deep inside myself. Right now the filters are clogged. It’s a slog to find anything that’s not crap.

Oh well, for the moment the trivial is calling and must be attended to. I need to find the quiet place within.

As you may have guessed, I spent Sunday Night watching the “Big Game” (no copywrite infringement here sir). It was a little like déjà vu. I watched the same two teams essentially play the same game with the same result as four years ago. The difference was me. I’m a different person.

In 2008 I was a typical Pats fan. It took me a couple of days to get over the loss in the Big Game. This year I got up from my seat, walked into the kitchen and started putting stuff away. By the time I was done I was over it. I’ve written about perspective before. I received a heaping dose of it in between these two games.

For a while Sunday, in the first half I was on the edge of my seat, almost the same way I was in 2008. I had that fan anticipation that I guess is really why we watch sports. It’s something to care about and invest a little passion in that really doesn’t matter a whole lot in the grand scheme of your life. At half time I took my dog for a walk.

As I walked down towards the end of my street I noticed an unusual sound, helicopter rotors. When I cleared the end of the street and could see down the main road towards the highway the pitch of one of the copters changed. I looked and could see the landing lights descending. “Medflight” I thought immediately. It’s amazing how fast my mind can make that connection now.

I surmised, correctly, that a serious accident had occurred on the highway just a mile or so from my house. When I made it to the end of our walk and doubled back I could see where the flashing red lights were, one exit down. I said a little prayer, to Kev I guess, asking him to help out whoever might be needing it just down the street from our home.

My mood really changed when I got back home. It’s just one of those things that brings everything back. I watched the rest of the game, interested, but not with the rapt attention of the true fanatic anymore, I was detached. When the game was over I checked out a couple of local news web sites and discovered that the crash was a rollover, one fatality, one Medflight. There was a pit in my stomach and it took me quite a while to get to sleep that night.

It’s still very difficult to shake off the feeling that the worst happened once, and it can happen again. I suppose I’m no more statistically likely to lose a child today than I was on October 12, 2010. I would hope I’m at least slightly less likely as my surviving children have learned a very painful lesson about consequences. But the truth is I can’t ever go through life with blinders on again.

So I live with fear.

The other day, for some reason, the dog was all stressed out in the morning. A little voice in the back of my head whispered “maybe he can sense something bad is going to happen”. I think it was in the back of my mind all day.

When the kids ski I’m always worried, and the truth is they are both better skiers than I am, Drew is substantially better. Of course Drew is also a thrill seeker who lives to go as fast as possible on the most challenging terrain. Kata is more cautious, but not nearly as comfortable on skis as Drew.

Drew is leaning to drive; He’ll be eligible to get his license in less than a month.

Maybe that’s the biggest source of stress. I trust Drew, but he’ll be at the mercy of other drivers as well.

The world is a crazy place. Bad things happen sometimes and you and I can’t do anything about it. Of course the world is a beautiful place too, and if you love someone you always have to live with the risk that for one reason or another they could be gone someday. I guess there is no point in obsessing over it. I suppose my tomorrow isn’t guaranteed either.

I just have to try my best to let life happen. I can’t control everything, and if I did it wouldn’t allow my kids the freedom to grow up.

Breathe Deep…..

I’d like you to take a moment and reflect on all the people who care about you. Think of your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, friends, teachers, coaches and co-workers. Think of the web of interactions that makes up your life. Think about the impact that all those people have on you. Consider the impact you have on them in turn.

Now take a moment to think about what all those people would do if you were suddenly, inexplicably, taken from them. Consider the devastation you would leave in your wake.

Now the next time you face a decision which could put you in a dangerous position ask yourself if it’s worth the risk.

We all face decisions every day. Some are simple and benign and others are critical, but each and every decision has consequences.

Should you go out drinking tonight? Should you try that drug, just this once? Should you drive too fast? Is it cool to wear my seatbelt? My buddy’s been drinking but how an I going to get home? Wouldn’t it be fun to ski off the trail here?

Before you decide to take the risk, consider me. Ask yourself if you would want to put your parents in my shoes.

There have been times were I’ve been angry with Kevin for putting himself at risk. He was told thousands of times not to drink and drive, not to be a passenger with someone who had been drinking and to wear his seatbelt. He didn’t think about it. He gambled with his life. One night he lost the bet.

I get angry when I think of the devastation left in his wake.

On October 13, 2010 I had to tell my son that his brother was dead. Chew on that for a minute. I had to look him in the eye and tell him he would never see his older brother again. Kev wouldn’t go to his games, give him advice and watch his back ever again. The truth is that excruciating moment was experienced over and over that day as the word spread. Is that something you want for your loved ones?

Kev didn’t want to die. He didn’t mean to die. He didn’t plan it out. Kev didn’t think “to hell with it, I’ll just risk my life tonight and if I live, great, if not oh well”. The truth is Kevin didn’t think at all. He didn’t consider the consequences of the decisions he made. He was just winging it.

Don’t do that. Don’t risk everything.

The fundamental difference between an adult and a child has nothing to do with age, or how you carry yourself or what you do with your time. Adults take the time to consider the consequences of their actions. Children just wing it. If you want to be treated like an adult you will need to act like one. That means you’ll think through what you’re doing. You’ll consider the risks you take and the pain you could cause if you make bad choices and it all goes wrong.

Don’t make your parents stand where I stand today. Don’t put your brothers and sisters through what my children have been through. Don’t leave your friends struggling to make sense of your loss.

Just take a moment and think.

Last week it started acting up, and as of this moment it’s unable to connect to any kind of network. I think it may be to old and tired to fix.

What it means for now, is if I’m going to write, I need to work on my home computer. Between e-mail, facebook, youtube, homework and spider solitaire I don’t know how much “processor time” I’ll be able to get my hands on.

Stay tuned.

For a while I thought I was going through ups and downs, but in retrospect, those ups were not really ups. There were perhaps a slightly higher grade of low, but I think it’s more likely that they were just my mind taking a respite from the despair. The pain was so great, and so constant, that from time to time emotional circuit breakers had to kick in, just to give me a little break from myself.

These days I’m feeling something a little different. From time to time I feel pretty good. Those good days are few and far between, and they honestly don’t last too long, but they have happened, and the fact that I can feel good is like a beacon. I know, even when I’m in a trough that a good day can happen. I don’t feel guilty about those good days either; I just enjoy them when they happen.

It gives me a goal. I can have a good day, and if I can have a good day, someday I can have a good week.

When I was living in the real pain, I didn’t really see how bad it was. I doubted that I’d every feel better than “okay” for the rest of my life. I guess what’s changed is I want to feel better. Kevin doesn’t want me to be depressed until the day I die. Being miserable doesn’t prove how much I love him.

I wouldn’t call my present mood “happy”, but the truth is my current state of mind isn’t really related to Kev. What I know is that I’ll work through what’s bothering me and maybe then I’ll be depressed or angry or sad over Kevin. But one day soon, I’ll be in a genuinely good mood. It’s a lot easier to feel crappy when you understand it’s not permanent.

Of course, my family and I have suffered through an unspeakable trauma when we lost Kevin, so whenever I feel down, or whenever I notice someone else in the house feeling down I have to ask the question.

Is it Kev, is it teenage stuff, is it work stress, is it puberty, menopause, or is it Kev?

It’s actually not as easy figuring it out as you might think.

A few weeks back I was going through a really difficult patch. I was depressed, not crushingly so, but I was. I went through a few weeks of this before I was able to work out that I was angry. I was angry that someone very special deeply loved and with a wondrous future was no longer with us.

Once I worked out why I was struggling, it was kind of easy to process and get out of the dumps.

I’ve been down a little this week too. For once I don’t think it has much to do with Kev. I was working on getting a new job, one I must admit I really wanted, and it feel through last week. I went away for our annual ski trip last week and I was able enjoy myself some, but the rejection depression is hitting me a little this week.

One further complication is the changes that I’m going through. Since I’m not the same person I was “before” I react to stressors differently. I’m more actively aware of my mood. In the past I might be down for several weeks and not even realize it.

As I’ve worked to reconcile this loss, I’ve had some bad periods, some decent periods and a few pretty good days. Most of the time, when I’m down, it’s related to Kevin, but not always, sometimes it’s just life.

If anyone would like to offer me a great job, I’d love to hear about it…

A couple of weeks ago the power plug on my Garmin blew out. Kev had a Garmin which his father brought over when he cleaned out Kev’s car. It’s been sitting up in his room ever since. I dug out the plug this morning and connected it to my Garmin so Lisa could find her way up to jury duty. I don’t think Kev minded. Thanks buddy.

Kevin’s room this morning is pretty much the way he left it on October 12, 2010. His cloths are still in the closet. His nick nacks are still on the walls and shelves. It’s a little messier. Kev wouldn’t like that at all but some of the stuff from the wake, the collages and guest book and a few other things are just in there, not particularly ordered.

Kevin was very particular about his cloths. Many of his friends have come over and asked for various articles of clothing which they wear to remember Kev. They have very specific memories of a certain t-shirt or sweat shirt. The pile of cloths we washed and folded sometime last winter is still sitting in the basket on his bed, minus the articles his friends took.

One of the standard admonitions in the grief books is to eventually clean out the room so it doesn’t become a “shrine”. I guess my answer to that is “why not”?

When Kevin’s grandfather died we had a discussion about what he wanted done with his remains. He expressed his desire to be cremated, and we honored his wishes. If there is a downside to that, it that there is no place to “visit Kev”. So I guess we visit his room from time to time instead.

Does that make it a shrine? Maybe it does, I don’t know, frankly I don’t really care. It feels “right” to leave the room as it is. I have pretty much intuited my way through the last 15 months. See what “feels” right and to follow it.

Will we ever clean it out? I don’t know. If we need an extra bed for a guest people are more than welcome to sleep in there. When my c-pap machine blew out and we had to wait for a new one Lisa slept in there (she could still hear the snoring through 2 closed doors but at least she could get to sleep).

I suppose the only possible problem with this is if one of us thinks it’s time to clean out the room and the other wants to keep it as is. We’ll jump off that bridge when we get to it.

But until then, or maybe even longer, that’s the closest thing we have right now to a “Kevin Memorial”, so if you’d like to stop by feel free. The price of admission is you have to be willing to tell us “Kev stories”. Ones we haven’t heard are the best but I’m okay with the ones I’ve heard before too.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

Everyone engages in this type of endless rehashing when something does badly. Of course, when your child dies, you beat yourself up endlessly.

I hear stories, parents who lost children to suicide or overdose, and I think, “yeah, I kinda get how they feel.” We must have missed something. We dropped the ball somewhere along the line.

We raise our children. We try our best not only to teach them right from wrong, but also smart from stupid. We tell them, beg them and plead with them to not put themselves in situations which could be dangerous, but mine did it anyway, ergo I must have done a poor job, he didn’t get the message.

I could have been harder on him, but maybe I should have been more understanding. I should have punished him more, or less. I don’t know but I should have done something different. Guilt is confusing.

I can understand that I didn’t make the bad choices that night, but I can’t shake the feeling that I missed played my hand somewhere along the line. I feel like I failed. If the loop had been closed, if he’d gotten the message, he wouldn’t have been in a car that night.

I didn’t make the bad decisions that night, I get that part, but he shouldn’t have made those decisions. He shouldn’t have even thought about getting in the car.

He wasn’t supposed to come home that night. He was supposed to come home in the morning. He was supposed to do the smart thing, but he didn’t.

I’d like to tell you how I worked this out and wrapped it all up in a nice bow. I can understand on an intellectual level that this tragedy wasn’t my fault, but on an emotional level it isn’t that easy. I just get caught in a loop.

I feel guilty, get angry and then I feel bad about being angry.

Reconciling this is really hard.