Birthday Wish For Chris

Last February 19th, after I read her two bedtime stories, Meazi turned to me and said, “Mommy, I think my Daddy is sad about his Mom today.” I asked if my husband had said something to her about Chris. She said, “No, I just think so.” Remarkably, this date was Chris’s birthday. Her eyes got wide and she yelled, “Mommy! Why we did not celebrate? We didn’t even get a cake!” I told her that since Grandma Chris wasn’t here to enjoy it, we didn’t feel like celebrating. She was quiet for a moment and then said sternly, “Mommy, next time we are going to celebrate for her. We are going to get a cake. We will get a candle. I can make her wish for her. It is her birthday.” 

When I wrote that article for In Culture parent, I actually wrote the wrong date. Chris' birthday is the 20th of February, yesterday. She would have been 66 years old. We didn't get a cake, but we did find a way to celebrate. On our way to Chinatown, I asked Meazi if she wanted to visit the wishing well, and make a birthday wish for Chris there. She said she would. As we got closer she told me that she was going to wish for roller skates instead. I didn't have high hopes. Steven had shown Meazi and Melese an album that morning, old black and white photos of his family. The wishing well has little dishes scattered to collect coins. In front of the dishes are small signs like, 'health', 'long life', 'money', and even 'vacation'. You can be pretty specific about what you wish for. We gave the kids all the coins we had.

Steven bought them those annoying little snappers that you can throw or stomp.

We did a little shopping.

And exploring.

Then we went to one of very favorite restaurants in Los Angeles.

The food came, Meazi took a couple of bites, turned to me and said, " I wished for 'love' and 'happy' for Grandma Chris."

I wish you could have met these two Chris. They are remarkable.

Happy Birthday.

Their House.

In my family when someone dies there is a wake, there is a funeral mass, there is a burial. There is public grieving and remembering. A group of people gather with one person on their minds. There is collective sorrow. There are chairs or pews to hold those who are too sad to stand. There is music. People speak kindly of the deceased. There is ritual.

When Chris died there was none of that.

Yesterday, by putting together this montage, I attended the wake and funeral of my mother-in-law, seven months after her death. I wept for all that has happened, and for all that has not happened.

It is true that grief begets grief. You read about someone dying, a stranger to you, or even a friend or relative of a friend , and suddenly their loss becomes your loss. The death of someone you love comes rising to the surface, and you feel yourself become undone.

Steven and his brother, today on the 20th of March, hand over their childhood home. The house they grew up in will no longer belong to them. It has been sold. There will be new cars in the driveway, there will be a new family living inside. A man and his wife will move in, look around, and feel comfort in owning a new house. They will feel the desert heat. They will open the sliding glass doors and walk out into the yard. They will sit around the hearth on a chilly desert evening and they will consider themselves home.

On our way to Santa Fe last Christmas we stopped at Chris's house. It was a very sad place to be. Steven had someone come in to repair the fireplace. Several men worked for two days repairing it. Yesterday, as I was looking for pictures, I noticed that so much living happened around that fireplace. So much living.

For my husband and for my brother-in-law Mark, I love you, and I share in your grief. This house will always be your home, no matter who lives in it.

Look at the pictures. How could it not?

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

This Post Gets No Title...

I know that I have posted this picture at least once before. Sorry.

Today my husband and his brother travel here to scatter the ashes of both of their parents.

I wanted to write more about this, but I find myself, well, a mess.

Please keep them in your thoughts.

Weight of the World.

Depleted.

I am sick again. I have been since last Wednesday. It is evident that there are three 'sure things' that I receive from my part-time gig as a surly, substitute teacher; dirty looks from parents who say,"Oh no! You're here?! What happened to Miss Perky McPerfectson today?" An exposure to every known cough, cold, or virus known to man, 'Please greet each student with a firm handshake,' (No amount of Purell can combat sneezy second graders), and a measly daily rate.

I also got Steven sick, but at least we are sick at the same time, and not too worried about accidentally drinking out of each others' tea cups (not a euphemism).

I am also mentally depleted.I am depressed. What is on my mind? Oh the usual- death, cancer, politics, starvation, gay rights, ugliness, grief. HAPPY MONDAY!

My friend Lori brought my attention to this post. Check out the comments. I would like to thank Becca for posting this. I really appreciate it. It is one thing for someone like me (agnostic on a good day, liberal, theatre major) to say something, but for her to be so strong and take a stand, well that is inspiring and brave. Some of the comments on her post made me physically sick to my stomach. There were people who actually said that it would be better for an orphan to die than to be placed with a gay couple. Knowing that there are people like this in the world, makes me want to crawl under the covers and never come out.

Beautiful Becca, thanks for speaking out.

Does anyone else feel like they are just biding their time until the next cancer diagnosis? Is there anyone out there who is NOT dealing with cancer in some way? When I first heard about my mother-in-law's diagnosis, I immediately consulted Dr. Google. Look what I found. Steel yourself first...

Baby Emily (Not an adoption blog unfortunately).

Joseph (Yeah, you read those dates right).

Then, last week, there was news from a friend who found out that her fifteen year old nephew was facing a diagnosis of his own.

Then there is a friend that Steven has known longer than he has known me. This friend called because his father also has a glioblastoma. His father had surgery on Thursday. Steven spent part of his weekend explaining to his friend some of the exercises he could do with his father to help him recover.

And what about Abby ?

Epidemic. Cancer is an epidemic. Why is there not more research on what causes cancer? There are millions and millions of dollars pumped into researching treatment options and new drugs.
Like this one.

Guess how much that helped Chris? Not at all. It turned her green like the Incredible Hulk. It did not help her in any way. Not in any way.

When I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer the doctors asked me if I grew up near a nuclear power plant. Uhm, no I didn't. What is your next guess doc?

I am frustrated. I am scared. I am angry. I don't want to lose any more family members, fleshy or furry, to cancer. I don't want you to either. But we will. We will all continue to lose our loved ones to cancer.

I know what you are thinking.... "Bring back Jane Kurtz!!" (She'll be back on Friday).

Cancer. Gay Rights. What on earth am I trying to say and why am I saying it on my adoption blog?

Life is short.

Live fully.

Hug longer.

Gaze into each other's eyes.

Connect.

Forgive.


For a few of the people who commented on Becca's post...


If you happen to meet someone who loves someone of their same sex, open your arms, your minds, and your hearts. Congratulate them on their happiness. Let go of your anger, and your prejudice.

It is ugly.

It is as ugly as cancer.

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

Grief...It's What's For Dinner.

Note to self... Do not put anything on your blog, even as a comparison, that you might end up needing. This is why, in the future, you will never see this, this, or this here at the eyes of my eyes.

So where are we on the Kubler-Ross graph? Who knows.What I do know is that people deal with grief in different ways. Some cry. Some are too stoic for crying. For some people, grief manifests itself in the sciatic nerve, the stomach, and in a 60 hour bout of the hiccups.

Sometimes people turn to new, strange hobbies...

That's where Steven is today, beekeeping.

I am okay. I am okay until little things creep in. Like overhearing this...

Steven, to his brother Mark who is in Phoenix cleaning out the house: "Yeah, those are African animal cookie cutters. She must have just bought them."

All I can do at that moment is whimper softly from the couch,"Please hold on to those."

Or reading this in a card," You took such good care of your mom just as she took care of you."

That one really gets me. I can't even type that without crying.

There has been a big hullabaloo lately over at my adoption agency's online forum. For a lack of a better phrase, people are losing their shit. There haven't been referrals for months, and people are panicking. Wait times have been extended, and families are abandoning ship for agencies that promise faster placements. I am avoiding the chaos. There is less of a sense of urgency now for obvious reasons. I realize that there were three of us waiting. This is the excitement order: Me, Chris, then Steven. Now that my co-captain in waiting is gone, I think I have lost some of my enthusiasm. Part of it is a fatalistic, "It is probably not going to happen at all," feeling. I guess that would put me in the depression stage huh?

One morning, before Chris died, Steven and I had the following conversation. It was 6:00 am.

Steven: I'm wondering...Nah, never mind.

Me: What?

Steven: It's too early. Never mind.

Me: No, go ahead. What were you going to say?

Steven: I was wondering if we should just print up a picture of two cute Ethiopians and show them to mommy.

Me: I was thinking the same thing! But then I worried, what if there really is a heaven, and she knows we lied to her?

Steven: I was thinking the exact same thing.

In our house this is big. For a lapsed Catholic, and a lapsed Jew to suddenly have a strong inkling that there is indeed a heaven, it's a big thing. Maybe we were just trying to make ourselves feel better. Nonetheless, we agreed that although it was tempting to show Chris a fake 'proposal' and make her a grandmother before she died, it wasn't a good idea.

There are things that have helped in the past couple weeks:

A day with this guy...

A musical package from a friend...

All of your prayers, thoughts, comments, poems, and quotes have been extremely helpful. This one in particular from Jana...

"This may seem weird but I couldn't help but think that having the sweet love of my life singing and whispering in my ear while I passed away would hands down be one of my biggest "dreams come true". People spend their whole lives chasing after that kind of intimacy and Chris had it."

I never really thought about it that way. Maybe Chris was lucky in that she had an intimacy most people crave and don't receive.

The greatest solace of all, I think, is a new image that I have created in my mind. It is of Chris finally joining her soul mate again after many, many lonely years.


He is waiting for her. The door is open. She climbs in. They sit together coffee in hand, and watch their grandchildren's story unfold. They aren't worried that it is taking too long. They have faith that it will happen. They know that someday their son, his wife, and their Ethiopian children will use those cookie cutters. They are omniscient and beautiful. They suffer no pain. They are together at last. It is a heavenly day.

That would be nice wouldn't it?

When You Lose Something You Can't Replace...

Where to begin?

There is so much that I want to say, and so much I should probably keep to myself. I will say this, Thank You for your support. You guys are amazing. What would I do without you?

I can’t really talk about August 30th without talking about Pip.


At the very beginning of June, I showed up at a friend’s birthday party without Steven. Pip wanted to know where he was, and when he would be back. I explained to her that his mom was sick, and that he had gone to Phoenix to take care of her. I ended up hitching a ride home with Pip and Squeak. In the backseat, wedged tightly between two car seats, we re-hashed the highlights of the party. Pip reached into her goody bag and pulled out a green yo-yo she had received as a party favor. “Could you give this to Steve?” (Steven never goes by 'Steve', in Pip’s case, however, he makes an exception). I sent the yo-yo on to Phoenix in a care package that consisted mostly of all things ginger. Ginger is great for chemo-induced nausea.

When Pip and Squeak came over in July. We talked a lot.

Pip: When is Steve coming back?
Me: I’m not sure.
Pip: Aren’t you scared without him here?
Me: Nope. The house is safe and I have these two big dogs keeping me company.
Pip: But aren’t you scared at night, all alone without Steve?”
Me (wavering a bit) Uhm, no I’m okay.
Pip: But isn’t it scary when it’s really dark, and you are all alone and Steve is not here?
Me: Well, yeah actually, now that you mention it, I guess I am a little bit scared.

Conversation two..

Me: I’m so happy to see you guys. I just love you guys.
Pip: Why do you love us? You’re not our mom.
Me: You’re right; I am not your mom…
Pip: You are just our best friends.

Did I mention that I love Pip and Squeak?

August 30th was the monthly Ethiopian Adoptive families play date in Little Ethiopia. Steven reluctantly agreed to accompany me.

Pip completely lit up when she saw him.

Pip:(half joking in reference to the newly acquired soul patch) Are you Steve?!!!

Steve:(half joking in reference to Pip looking significantly more toothless than three months ago) Are you Pip?!?

Pip gives him a huge hug.

Pip: Wow, you were gone for so many years. How many years were you taking care of your mom? You look so old.

Steven does look older. Older, gaunt and grief stricken.

We take our seats around the messob, Pip leans over and quietly asks, “Did Steve get the green yo- yo?”

I assure her that he did.

Throughout the lunch, several tiny Ethiopians throw their arms around Steven welcoming him home. It was such a wonderful thing to see; A glimpse, hopefully of the future. The thought of these beautiful, sensitive, thoughtful kids meeting the children that we would be entrusted with, was almost too much to take.

When we got home. We had a message from our neighbors. They wanted to know if we could babysit that evening. We were happy to welcome our twelve-year-old neighbor over to our house. She ran back home early on to grab her guitar.


Steven showed her some new chords. She showed Steven how to play, ‘Smoke on the Water,’ and ‘Paint it Black,’ (which were funny choices for our very proper, very well behaved, very Catholic twelve year old neighbor.)

We introduced her to one of the world’s best movies, ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’. We ate pizza and chocolate chip cookies. She ran home to get three vanilla cokes. We finished off with a couple daring games of Jenga.

The whole day, at least to me, felt like a Future Love Paradise day; a day when we were parents at long last.

Our friend went home with her parents. We got sleepy on the couch and went to bed. We were restless and couldn’t sleep. We were talking about Chris, and I asked Steven to tell me how she would die. Mark called from her bedside a few minutes later. She had died while we were talking. Mark was there, holding her hand, telling her all about the things, we her children, and her grandchildren were going to do in the future. He sang softly to her as she took her last breath.


My husband has lost both of his parents. He will turn forty this year, and most likely will become a father.

All that I can say is, batten down the hatches.

Chris. February 20th, 1945 - August 30th, 2008.

Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world
which He has created according to His will.

May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days,
and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon;
and say, Amen.

May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.

Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored,
adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He,
beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that
are ever spoken in the world; and say, Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us
and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

He who creates peace in His celestial heights,
may He create peace for us and for all Israel;
and say, Amen.

Mother and Child.

I've been thinking a lot about mothers lately. It is obvious why I am thinking about them so much. My mother was just here visiting for a week, and Steven has been in Arizona with his mom since the beginning of the summer.

In spite of my feeling like a walking Cymbalta commercial, I thought I'd share my thoughts.

I have been thinking a lot about life and death; about beauty and ugliness, about joy and sadness, about how we live, and how we die.(Great, you're probably thinking, just what I need on a beautiful summer day! Feel free to click on one of my links at the right to avoid these subjects all together).

I wonder how we, as humans, continue to go on. How we manage to pick up the pieces and move forward. How knowing what we know, and seeing what we see, we are able to continue to live.

(Holy Crap. Please don't pull my dossier, I am just a little bit down. I am just reaching out a bit here).

Let's talk about the good, the beautiful....


My mom....

My mom. I love my mom. She is great. She is smart, and funny, and kind. I know it might sound strange for a woman of my age to say, but having my mom in the next room for seven days was so reassuring.

My mom was inundated with all things Ethiopian while she was here.


She ate it up,(well most of it, the wat was too spicy). She is very interested in Ethiopia, and her future grandchildren. She even attended Pip's Birthday party...

She listened to my political pleas....

She made me laugh out loud. We had gone to Barnes and Noble. She had a gift card from a student, that was burning a hole in her pocket. On our way out of the store, THIS MAN thought we were following him. He said,"Hello ladies." He had just been signing copies of his book at the B&N Store. I said, " Don't worry,we aren't stalking you." He said, "I have lots of experience with that!" Then he quickly introduced himself. My mom introduced herself back...

"I'm T.C." (T.C has been my mom's name since she was a kid.) John gave her a look and she said...

"Top Cat."

Later I called her Top Cat, and started laughing. Here in LA, if you introduce yourself as Top Cat you might as well break out the pasties because you are obviously a stripper. My mom said, "No! Top Cat! You know the cartoon."

Here is Top Cat, my new favorite cartoon character...



When I dropped my mom off at the airport on Monday,I immediately began to weep. Would that be the last time I spent with my 'healthy' mom? How long do I have left with my parents? Why do we live so far away from each other?


So often during her visit, I imagined what was going on in Phoenix. I saw these and thought of Chris...


I saw this and thought of my husband...

It's hard to see. It is the 'Sisyphus' watch. I think that you would agree that my husband is having a Sisyphean summer.

My husband and his mother are spending time together too. Their time is weighted, heavy, and sad. I hear my husband use the words, 'disappointing', and 'futile'. I hear the weariness in his voice, and the sadness in his heart. I wonder how we hold on, and what makes us want to continue.

I feel like I am about to break, and then I see something else...

I see mothers.

I see mothers and children...

I see the strong , single mom and her daughter...


I see the sensitive mom and her son...

I see the mom who just threw a great first Birthday party for her six year old...


I meet a mom who chose Ethiopia because she could adopt an infant, but on the way her heart swells and she adopts a Habi, a Habi who was waiting just for her...


I read about a mom who handles a setback with grace. I read about a mom who inspires me to run.

I hear the sweet voice of a new mom, reassuring her new babies in their first language.

I meet another mom,who is also a Julie in Los Angeles...


I meet this mom, who wrangles two small body surfers without even blinking.

I meet a mom who is as strong, as she is tall.

I peek into the lives of Cindy, and Rana and Evelyn; I meet Courtney, Jana, and Heather.

I see that they too, like me, are moms in their hearts.

I think about these strong women, and the other women out there,(in my life, in cyberspace, on my blogroll), and I think about how beautiful motherhood, and I hope you don't mind me saying this, but especially adoptive motherhood is. Thinking about this brings me a flash of joy, a smidgen of optimism, a hope for the future.

I also think about my husband and what a great father he will be. I think about my parents and how lucky I am to know them. I resist the urge to write something here like,"Go call your parents! Tell them you love them!"

Okay, so maybe I don't resist the urge.

Go call your parents. Tell them you love them.



I think about what kind of mom I'll be. (Right now that would be the ill-tempered, quick to anger, weepy mom.)





I think about my mother-in law.

I think about her sons. I think about her life. I think about how life seems futile and unfair. I think about what an amazing job she did raising her sons.

I worry and I weep. I wonder what they will do without her, what I will do without her. I know that we don't have much time.

I hold on.

I think of you.

I borrow your strength.

I Hope you don't mind.

The World is So You Have Something To Stand On....

Steven came home for the weekend. He has been in Phoenix since the first week in June. He has been taking care of his mom.

It is hot in Arizona, hot and boring.

For fun, Steven decided to cultivate the 'soul patch'...

Unfortunately, I think this makes him look like this Guy.

He, however, thinks he looks like this Guy.

Between you and me, he could have shown up looking like this guy, and I still would have made out with him. (It's been a loooooong month.)

We found a new favorite children's book. It is a hand-me-down from Pip and Squeak.

"A Hole Is To Dig," by Ruth Krauss; pictures by Maurice Sendak.

We, as a family, wholeheartedly agree with the themes of this book...















I'll spare you a photo for this one. Let's just say this, sometimes it is good to see your husband so that he can remind you that you are about six hours shy of a unibrow.



Our family is still pretty much consumed with grief. I guess that is why I don't feel much like blogging. When Steven was here, I snuggled against him and pressed my forehead firmly between his shoulder blades. I breathed him in. I could sense a sadness so deep. During these trying and difficult days, we must remember these lessons from our new favorite book...