Too Close to Home

This came up on my calendar today, and the timing of it couldn't have been better.

If you've been following the news (or my page) you know that there was a mass shooting very close to here just a few days ago.

So close that the cops tore past my house so fast that I couldn't even tell what color the cars were.

So close that I raced around town, picking my kids up from various places to make sure that they were home and safe.

So close that we locked our doors - something that we never do - until we knew for a fact that the shooter acted alone and was down.

So close that I couldn't tear myself away from the media coverage, my eyes searching the crowds on TV, trying to spot anyone that I knew to make sure that they were safe.

So close that one of my acquaintances was among the injured, and I recognized the name of one of those killed.

So close that I had no choice but to explain to my kids what had actually happened.

Too close.  Entirely too close.

The day after the shooting, it was revealed that the shooter had been served a PFA (Protection From Abuse order, AKA a restraining order) about 90 minutes before he went on his rampage. His former girlfriend filed it on him, alleging that he had physically abused her on at least one occasion.

As soon as that information was released, the discussion of domestic violence began. And of course it's impossible not to read the comments when articles like that are posted. And of course the discussions and the resulting comments and arguments and victim blaming brought back all sorts of not-so-fun stuff from my past - and it's been eating me alive for days now.

For the most part, I'm over it. Yes, I was a victim of domestic violence. Yes, it was horrible. But my life doesn't revolve around it. It is a part of my past, but it doesn't define me, because I won't allow it to do that. It's not something that I normally talk about on a daily basis - but every now and then, something brings it back to the surface and it eats at me. I think back to all of the reasons why I stayed for so long, and I relive certain moments and I feel the pain and the heartache all over again. And then I look at where I am now and realize that no matter how bleak things appeared to be at the time, I'm in such a good place now. But it's a constant battle in my head - between remembering the horrible times in the past and appreciating the good ones now.

And I know that as a community, we are strong. We are so incredibly strong. The outpouring of support from surrounding areas has been amazing and humbling. Our little rural area of Kansas has been thrust into the national spotlight, and we are shining through the darkness.

At the same time that all of this was happening, probably even within the same 24-hour period, I found out that not only is one of my friends dying from cancer - but so is another one. I knew about the first one. At least I knew that he was sick, but to receive the news that it had progressed so far so fast hit me like a freight train. The second one? I had no clue. I totally missed the posts about her condition until I went looking for her to ask her a question, and found out that she's dying. The freight train backed up and hit me a second time. Once again, I'm standing here questioning everything. Why do these things happen? Why is it always the good guys? Why can't we all just get along and why can't everyone live long and healthy and happy lives? Why does life have to be so damned hard?

It's been a rough few days, to say the least. I've been forcing myself to go out and run even when I didn't want to - because I know if I don't, I'll just sit here and eat everything and be lazy and be miserable and slide down into that hole that I try so hard to avoid. But luckily I have my Sole Sis/Slave Driver who keeps me going. She keeps forcing me to run, but that's what I need right now - because I know that if I don't get out and run, I'll feel like crap from sitting around like a lump. If I do run, I still feel like crap, but it's a good kind of crap (if that makes any sense at all). And the running is getting easier, and I do feel better - and that helps so much with the mental stuff right now.

One day at a time. One foot in front of the other. That's all that any of us can do. Keep going, don't stop, and eventually we'll get through all of the crap.

At least that's what I keep telling myself.

#HesstonStrong

What's really important?

Disclaimer: I've had a couple of glasses of wine. Forgive me if I turn the filter off for this one.

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Lately, I've witnessed a lot of people bitching about a lot of really stupid stuff. 

Seriously.

~ I've gained too much weight.

~ Someone cut me off on the way to work this morning.

~ My girlfriend broke up with me.

~ OMG look at what she's wearing.

~ He's a deadbeat.

~ I overslept and I didn't get to go to the gym.

~ I really want to buy this new bike, but I can't afford it right now.

And on and on and on it goes. I'm guilty of it just as much as the next person. I spent the day outside playing in the dirt and mud just trying to wrap my head around some recent events that hit entirely too close to home.

Our society has become one of total instant gratification, entitlement, and pettiness. 

We focus on the little stuff, and allow it to rule our lives. 

We judge. We criticize. We tease and bully and bitch and moan and whine and complain.

You know what we don't do? 

We don't pay attention. We don't focus. We don't listen.

We are so busy judging others that we forget to really see what is important. We are so wrapped up in our own lives that we forget that sometimes other people have problems that are bigger than our own. We forget that there is a whole world out there full of people who are struggling.

Hell, there are even people out there who are smarter than we are and who can actually help us - if we'd just stop focusing on ourselves and ask.

If there's anything that I've learned in my life, it's that someone always has it worse than I do. And no matter how awful I feel at the moment, I can always reach out and help someone - even if it's just a simple "hey man, I'm thinking of you" because I don't have anything else to offer. 

Why are we so self-centered? How did this happen? Why is it that in this day and age, we forget about everyone else out there and focus just on ourselves? When did we decide that it was ok to just forget about everyone else in the world?

Helping others has never been easier than it is right now. We can text someone with encouraging words and they'll get the message within seconds no matter where they are. We can send an email. We can make a phone call. 

We can go to the store and buy a greeting card and send it through the mail so that someone can get something cheerful instead of yet another bill in the mailbox. We can visit. And if we think that things might be getting really rough but we can't get there ourselves, we can get someone else to knock on the door and make sure that everything is ok.

So why in the hell are we not doing anything? Why are we allowing people who need help to go without? Why do we turn a blind eye to someone who needs help, and then act shocked when that person does something as horrible as taking others' lives along with his own?

We need to wake up. We need to focus. We need to reach out. 

We need each other.

We need each other now, more than we ever have.

Making Amends

I got a phone call yesterday. Actually, I got a voicemail because as soon as I saw the area code of the caller, I got chills and couldn't move to answer it even if I wanted to.

I waited for the voicemail notification, staring at the phone the entire time. I was sitting downstairs in the Mom Cave at the sewing machine, and the phone was sitting beside the machine as I worked. When the notification chimed, I picked up the phone, called the voicemail, and somehow entered my code with my hands shaking.

"Good morning, Amy! This is S, Jeff's father. I'm calling because I need to talk with you. I know it's been a long time and there's been some issues and so forth but anyway, I'm trying to reach out. I need to make some amends and I'd really like to hear from you. I'd appreciate it very much. I've been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and enough is enough. We need to make some peace here so anyway I hope things are well. My wife keeps track of you on the internet and she just says that you're just such a lovely mother and I believe that. Anyway when it's convenient, and if you don't, I understand too. I just would like to talk with you. Anyway, I hope it warms up there in Kansas. Give me a call. Please. Bye."

My first reaction was extreme anger. Then sadness. Pain. Anger. Devastation. Confusion. Intense sadness. Disbelief. Anger.

I screamed and yelled and cried and stomped around the house and sobbed and collapsed in the middle of the living room floor.

How dare he do this? Why now? What gives this man the right to call me and "make amends"???

I called The Dude and told him what happened. I forwarded the voicemail to him so that he could hear it. He asked me the Million Dollar Question: What are you going to do?

I've gone round and round and round in my head about it. I've listened to the message dozens of times. And here is my response:

Dear S:

First of all, I'm sorry to hear about your diagnosis. Cancer is a truly horrible disease, and I don't wish it on anyone.

I have not stopped thinking about how to handle this since the second that I saw your number come up on my phone. I thought about ignoring it and just not responding, but realistically - that gives you closure. You get to say "well, I tried" and pat yourself on the back. I thought about calling you back and telling you exactly how I feel, but I know that wouldn't end well. You would try to manipulate me and tell me again how everything was all my fault like you've done in the past, and I wouldn't be able to say what I wanted to say. Maybe a public blog post isn't the best way to handle it, but I don't have your address so I can't send you a letter - and this way it's "out there" so that everyone can see exactly what I said.... because I have nothing to hide.

Just to refresh your memory, it's been more than 5 1/2 years since you've bothered to contact me. To be precise, I told Jeff to leave for the final time 5 years, 6 months, and 2 days ago - and you never bothered to contact me since before then. You never called to make sure that Daniel was ok or to see if he needed anything. You wrote him off, just like the rest of your family did.

Even after I made it clear that you could have a relationship with Daniel, you chose not to. You continued to ignore him. Worse, you and/or your family made it your mission to make our lives more difficult. The decisions made by you and your family destroyed everything that I had and everything that I was for a while.

But now..... after all of this time..... you want to make amends.

Why? Because you're dying.

Think about that. You're not doing it because it's the right thing to do or because you miss your grandson, but because you're dying. You didn't even mention him in your voicemail - it was all about you and your need to make amends. It's not about anyone else but you. You think that if you do this now, you'll get your Get Into Heaven Free card.

You could have done this any time in the last 5 1/2 years, but no. You chose to wait until the last minute, giving me a guilt-laden ultimatum to make you feel better about yourself.

I have news for you.

No.

You lost your chance.

I have done nothing in the last 5 1/2 years but put my kids first. I have fought tooth and nail to give them the life that they deserve. We have struggled to rebuild what we lost after we lost Jeff, and we did it without your help. We have moved on, we have grown up, and we have learned what is truly important in life. I am not the same person that I was back then. I don't allow myself to be trampled anymore. I don't hide my feelings, and I'm not afraid to tell you exactly what I think of you.

You have done nothing for Daniel. Nothing. You have not been there for him. You have not shown him love or respect or anything but indifference. You have only shown him that he is not worth anything to you or anyone else in your family.

The good news is that he has a huge family who does love him. He has a dad now - one who he has chosen and one who loves him as a dad should. He has siblings and grandparents and cousins and crazy aunts and uncles who love him as he deserves to be loved - and they won't turn their backs on him.

You chose not to have that. You chose to wait until the last minute, hoping that I would feel bad enough for you to give into you and give you what you expect - but it's not going to happen. Maybe I'll regret this decision some time in the future - but then I'll remind myself that it wasn't me who turned my back 5 1/2 years ago.

It wasn't Daniel's fault. It wasn't my fault.

It was you. It was your family. It was your choices.

So there you go. You reached out. You tried. Good for you.

And I told you what I think. Good for me.

I guess we both got something out of this.

Peace,
Amy

My Take on Finances

In case you missed it, I posted a question on my facebook page tonight asking people what they wanted me to write about. A fairly common theme in the questions related to finances, and how I budget my money.

First off, let me say that I find this question.....hysterical? ironic? surreal? insane?

Let me explain.

For the majority of my adult life, starting in college, I was always broke. I didn't manage my money well at all. If I had it, I spent it - because that's what you do with money, right?

There were a few years, before I got married the first time, when I was somewhat responsible with money. I didn't have anything in savings, but my bills were getting paid and I could go out and buy stuff whenever I wanted to, but that was about it.

Throughout my first marriage, we struggled. The kids came quickly, and so did the expenses. We lived beyond our means, and it was hard to catch up when we fell behind. I have always been incredibly anal when it comes to balancing a checkbook and so ours was always balanced TO THE PENNY - which saved our asses when we had to live for 2 weeks with 38 cents in the checking account. But, I knew that nothing was going to bounce because we had that 38 cent cushion.

Fast forward through a couple more kids and two divorces. I wasn't working, but I still had bills. I sold anything that I owned in order to pay the utilities. I had payment arrangements out the wazoo in order to keep the bill collectors at bay. It was survival of the fittest to the nth degree - but we had food and we managed to survive.

And then my second ex-husband unexpectedly passed away. Through the fog immediately following his death, I was instructed to contact Social Security about benefits for Daniel....and I found out that we both qualified. We were within days of being homeless when we received our first checks - I hesitantly deposited them and paid our rent for the following month, and then sat down with the bills.

With that money, I was able to pay our bills. I was able to pay the rent and the utilities and buy a newer, more dependable van. I contacted anyone that I owed money to and set up payment arrangements and got everything paid off (eventually).

Now, a few years later....I have a system. As I get the bills, they get jotted down in my datebook. Just an abbreviation for the bill itself, and the amount due on the due date. That way, everything is laid out in front of me. Then, when we get our Social Security (towards the end of the month), I sit down and I pay every. single. bill. for the month. I write checks for what I have to and pay the rest online, but after about an hour or so, everything is paid. It's done. And what I have left is what I have left. With that money, I can go to the grocery store or whatever else I need, but I know that whatever is leftover is it.

Most of the time, what I have left has to last for 4 weeks, but every few months it turns into 5 weeks (we get our payments on the 4th Wednesday of the month) so sometimes things get a little tight on the 5 week months - but I've kind of gotten used to that.  I balance the checkbooks every few days, and then I average it out to see how much money I have left "per day" until the next payment comes in - I have a dollar amount that I am comfortable with, and if I go below that amount, then I know that I have to reign in the spending a bit.

I got lucky this year and I ended up getting a much bigger tax refund than I had expected (thank you, full-time crappy job)  and that helped immensely - it all went into the savings to use for unexpected house expenses and whatnot. Any "extra" money that I get goes into the savings - I can still access it, but it takes a little bit of effort because I have to actually transfer it before I can get to it to spend it. If I happen to get any "extra" money - it goes into the savings also. At this point, the savings is strictly earmarked for house and TMOART:14 expenses (if you don't know what that is, you'll have to stick around to find out). And for the first time in my adult life, I am actually looking into investing in some CDs in order to stash some cash just a *little* bit farther out of reach, without being totally unobtainable in the event of an emergency.

In a nutshell, that is my budgeting strategy. It works for us, but it may not work for anyone else. I still struggle with the idea that my bills get paid because my ex-husband died, but at the same time I constantly remind myself that "it is what it is" - and I make sure that I make the best possible financial choices that I can for my family.

Dear House...

I left you today.

When I found you, I was desperate. I had no place to go. I searched and searched to try to find a place that would work for my family, and I couldn't find anything. Finally, you came along. When the kids and I walked in and looked around, we knew right away that we could use you, even if it wasn't going to be very comfortable. The landlord was willing to work with a single mom with 5 kids and no income, even if it meant that he would have to wait for the rent payments to come through the homeless prevention program that was assisting me.

Emotionally, I was at an all-time low in my life. Depression had truly gotten the best of me, and I didn't know what I was going to do next. My church family moved us - seriously, they packed up our stuff and moved us because I just couldn't do it. Honestly, I don't know if they even realized the extent of the darkness surrounding me at that point in my life. Whether they did or not, they stepped up and rescued me.

I remember standing in the middle of the living room as people moved in and out, carrying boxes and bags and piling them up in any empty space they could find. When you were packed completely full, they started stacking stuff on the porches. I sobbed as the amount of stuff in such a tiny place seemed to swallow me alive.

It took what seemed like forever for me to get my act together and get things straightened up and organized. I donated tons of stuff to get rid of it and make room, because going from a 2 story 4 bedroom house with an office and tons of storage, to you with only 2 bedrooms and zero storage made downsizing not only necessary, but mandatory. It felt good to get rid of so much crap - both literally and figuratively, because as I got rid of some of it, I felt the emotional baggage go along with it.

As time went on, I started to see the light. I got my stuff organized and I got my feelings organized. I started living life again. I filed for divorce and waited patiently for it to become final, which would happen on my 40th birthday. And 20 days after that, my ex-husband died and I boarded one of the biggest, scariest, longest lasting emotional rollercoasters ever created. His death was the last thing that I ever wanted, the last thing I ever expected, and easily one of the hardest things that I have ever had to go through in my life.

I spent hours sitting at the table in your kitchen, dealing with Social Security and pensions and death benefits and bill collectors and the IRS, trying to make sense of it all. And when I couldn't focus anymore, I'd fall over on the futon in the corner of your living room and sleep for a few hours until I had to get up and face another day.

Within your walls, I started to rebuild my life. I started dating, and then I stopped to deal with the emotions of his death. And then I started to live again.

I helped my kids with their homework. I did their laundry and packed their lunches and baked their birthday cakes. I planted flowers and cut the grass and replaced light switches. I canned sand plums and strawberry jam and applesauce. I fixed the She-Beast time and time again in your driveway. I held my kids while they cried and I disciplined them when they needed it and kissed their boo-boos that they got from playing in the yard. I started dating this crazy guy and then fell in love with him and even got up the nerve to tell him that I loved him in the front room in the wee hours of the morning before a road trip to Kansas City to take a friend to the airport.

And through all of this, I learned so much about myself. I learned just how strong I can really be - and at the same time that I don't have to always be so strong. I learned that I can take care of myself and my family, but that it is also ok to ask for help once in a while - or to accept it when it is offered. I learned that if you want something bad enough, you can get it - even if it takes a lot of time, effort, and patience to get there.

As we've been packing up our lives and moving stuff out over the past few weeks, I've been hit with emotional waves more often than I'd care to admit. As much as I complained about how small you were and OMG Why Can't We Have A House With More Than One Toilet, I loved you dearly. You were there for me in so many ways, not just as a house, but as a home, a shelter, and a place to grow.

There are so many amazing memories that happened within your walls. But what I will remember most is that I found the most important thing in my life within your walls.

I found myself.

The Ghetto-esque House
Sept. 1, 2010 - March 7, 2014

Maybe it's official....

Lots of stuff still going on with the house. After all of the chaos that was Friday, we had a fairly quiet weekend. I waited to hear back from Mortgage Lady because she said she was going to touch base with me on Sunday, but I didn't hear from her.

Yesterday morning, I got an email from a woman who works with Mortgage Lady. She needed some additional info (mainly documentation of that bill being paid off) and so we emailed back and forth several times until I got an email from her that about knocked me out of my seat....

Unfortunately {Mortgage Lady} is no longer with us. I believe that she is still going to finish the files that she has but she will not be in the {local} office.

Wait, what????!?!?!! What do you mean?!?!?! Mortgage Lady has been there for me from the get-go! She's been there since before I even started the process! How can she just leave me hanging like this??? Noooooooooo.......

After I got over my initial panic, Mortgage Lady 2.0 explained that she had been working with Mortgage Lady the entire time, and everything would be fine. She knows my story, she knows my file, and there is nothing to worry about.

Uh huh. Sure. Easy for her to say.

Anyway, more emails between me and Mortgage Lady 2.0, and me and Realtor Lady, and I started to think that maybe, just maybe things were going to be ok. They seemed way calmer about the whole situation than I was, so I did my best to take my cues from them.

I didn't have to work today, so after I got the boys to school I came home and started puttering around. I had gotten some empty boxes from work and decided to start in the laundry room, which has been a store room to a ton of games and toys that the kids just don't use anymore. I started going through the stuff and trashed the ones that were missing too many pieces, packed the ones that I want to keep, and posted the rest on facebook in the hopes that some of my friends would want to adopt some new games.

I actually made a little bit of progress, although there's still way more to do - but at least I got started. No more denial - time to start packing.

The Dude came over to hang out for a while this afternoon and we were talking about everything that has been happening with all of this. Then the emails started flying again. Long story short, closing is now officially scheduled for Monday, January 27 at 3:00pm.

Officially. Like.....it's going to happen.

*commence panic attack #745,812 of this process*

At that point we decided to go out and grab a (very) late lunch. As we ate, he tried to talk me down from my freak out (he failed miserably) and we just tried to absorb the enormity of what is about to happen.

As I go through this process, there are so many emotions that go along with it. On the outside, it's just me buying a house - not such a big deal. People do it every day.

But there's also the doubt, the fear, the caution that it might not happen. I know in my head at this point, it's going to happen. But it seems like such a stretch for me - ME - to be doing this. I've made some pretty stupid choices in my life, and none of them should have led me in this direction, but here I am about to commit to a 6-figure investment that in a way I feel that I don't even deserve.

I know that realistically, I could not afford to do this without the Social Security. And I am well-aware that I would not be receiving that if my second husband hadn't passed away. That makes this whole process more than a bit bittersweet for me. I still battle with the feelings of guilt over his death, even though I know that it wasn't my fault. I struggle with the thought that the money that Daniel and I get because he died is what is making the home of my dreams a reality for me - but at the same time, I know that I am doing the right thing by making sure that we have a home that suits our needs in so many ways.

I think about my battle to avoid homelessness a few years ago, and can't wrap my head around the fact that very soon, we will be in a house with 6 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms and more than enough room to meet our needs plus some.

Overwhelming doesn't even begin to describe it. Seriously, there are no words to describe how I'm feeling right now. I wish that I could explain it, and I will probably ramble on and on about it over the next few weeks as I try to work through all of it in my head. All I know is that right now, I'm caught somewhere between ecstatic and numb - and feeling maybe a little bit of both.

697 days

We reached a milestone today.

697 days.

Daniel was born on June 10, 2007. On May 6, 2009 - I told his father to leave our home for the last time ... 697 days later.

Daniel and I met The Dude for the first time on November 25, 2011 - 697 days ago.

As of today, The Dude has been a part of Daniel's life longer than his biological father was.

It's bittersweet for both of us. I asked The Dude today what he thought about it and his response was "conflicted". He's glad to be a part of Daniel's life, but at the same time he feels bad that Daniel will never get to know his father.

Honestly, it's the same for me. I know that his father loved him. I know that he had the potential to be a great father. But it just didn't happen that way. The addiction was too much to overcome and it tore our family apart before it took him away from us forever.

But, we have a good life now. We have come so far as a family and we are finally in a good place. The Dude has been amazing to all of us. Daniel looks to him as a father and I am so incredibly thankful for that. He knows that he has another father - but he also knows that The Dude is there for him and loves him even though there isn't a biological connection.

At his age, Daniel doesn't realize the significance of today. I've been thinking about it for weeks, because not only do I realize what this means for Daniel, but I realize what it means for me. I never dreamed that I would allow anyone to become such a huge part of our lives, but yet somehow, The Dude has wormed his way in and he still claims that he plans on staying. We have gone through so much crap in the past few months between work schedules and house hunting and injuries and illnesses and vehicle breakdowns and stress and chaos and panic - and yet we're still hanging in there (and creeping dangerously close to our 2 year anniversary) and doing everything that we can to care for our family - even if it's split between a couple of different residences for a few more months.

Life is good. Crazy, chaotic, and not always predictable, but it's good.

Lots of -ations today

Today was a day full of -ations.

Information.

I spent the morning and early afternoon at an information fair in town today, handing out flyers and talking to people about Cub Scouts as we try to round up more boys to join our pack. I ran into some people who I haven't seen in a very long time (and The Dude ran into a buddy from his youth who now lives in Florida and was just "passing through" the area - weird) and met new people and talked until I couldn't talk anymore - which is a huge feat for me because believe it or not, I don't like to talk to people.

Celebration.

We went to a barbecue today to celebrate the life of Jared's classmate who passed away 2 weeks ago from brain cancer. The food was wonderful, lots of money was raised, and there were so many people there to celebrate and honor the life of a little boy who touched so many in his 9 short years of life.

Someone asked me how the kids were handling his death. Honestly, they seem to be handling it better than I am. Jared doesn't say much about it, other than asking an occasional question or two. I've tried to talk to him about it, especially in the days leading up to and right after Sam's death, and I've explained a lot to him. I think that he understands it, but he's still young enough that it doesn't consume him. But as a mother, I just can't even imagine how his family feels. I just can't. It tears my heart to shreds if I think about it too much, especially when I realize that it could easily be one of my kids.

They even had a pink fire truck there.

Frustration.

Just trying to get everything done that needs to be done before I start my crazy work schedule on Monday. I have so many things that I need to do, and I'm quickly running out of time. I feel like I have to have the house clean and the laundry done and put away and the meal planning completed and and and and and........ My inner control freak is coming out in a really big way, and it's driving me insane because I know in my heart that everyone will survive even if the house is a mess - but that's not how I want it to be.

Inspiration.

Along with trying to get household stuff done, I'm also trying to finish up some craft projects. After the barbecue, The Dude and the boys and I went fabric shopping (ok, I shopped while they walked the mall to stay out of my way), and just the simple act of picking out the fabrics that I need got my mind spinning and I was able to sit down tonight and design the quilt squares that I need to make to finish one project.

So for now, I'm going to go cut fabric into pieces and sew it back together again and maybe get one thing crossed off of the to-do list.

Just one. That's all I need before I go to bed.

Laughter and Tears

Laughter.

The Dude and I went out today to get some mulch for the church playground. Our city takes all of the branches that come down during storms or whatever, mulches them, and anyone can go and get the mulch. For free.

Of course, I had to play on the pile of mulch. Duh.

And of course, once you get up there, there's only one way to come back down.

We found a friend.

What a stud.

He had to wear his "work boots" too.

This would be *before* we broke the tailgate.
And you can get an idea of how much mulch is actually there.

Heat index of 102 degrees + physical labor =
nasty-stinky people

Ick.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tears. So many tears.

Jared's friend lost his battle with cancer this evening. 

Sam was 9 years old, and would have gone into the 4th grade with Jared next month.

And now he's gone. My heart is broken for his friends and family. 

It's not right. It's not fair. 

F*ck you, cancer.

Rest in peace, Sam.

Sam and Jared in December 2012

At a loss.

I just don't know that I can say much more than I already said.

I don't know what else to say. This one ...... this one is bothering me more than some of the other recent tragedies for some reason. Maybe because I have 2 races scheduled in the next 3 weeks. Maybe because a little boy the same age as Jared was killed. Maybe because part of Daniel's biological family lives in the Boston area.

We all deal with tragedy in different ways. Some of us sit, glued to the television or the computer, waiting for every report, every picture, every video. Some of us ignore it. Some of us pray, or cry, or scream, or laugh. Some of us post inspirational sayings or memes, or change our profile pictures, or join online movements or groups to show our support to the victims.

I don't know what I'm doing yet. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. I do know that when I have a few moments tomorrow I'm going to run a huge bag of clothes to a local charity that gives them away for free so that others can get some use out of them. And I'm going to wear a t-shirt from one of the races that I've done in the past. Neither one of these motions will change anything - nothing can change what happened. Nothing can bring back the lives that were lost today. Maybe donating those clothes will make someone else's life easier. Wearing a race t-shirt shows my support for the running community as we all try to understand what happened today.

We can't all be there on the scene to physically help, and we can't all afford to send donations. But we can all do something on a local level, no matter how small - and that something has the potential to have a positive impact on someone else's life.

Something horrible happened today - but we can make positive things come out of it.

A step in a different direction.

Today has been another one of those insanely crazy busy days. It seems like I say that a lot, but it's true. I got the boys off to school this morning and immediately took off on a 45 minute trek to another WalHell to get the rest of the stuff that we needed for Emily's (and 5 of her friends) costumes for her upcoming talent show - because of course our local store didn't have enough of what we needed. So I drove an hour and a half in order to spend about 15 minutes in the store grabbing the rest of it. But, that mission was accomplished, and now I just have to make the costumes - which shouldn't take long at all.

I came back home for a few minutes after that and sat down at the computer to check on a few things. What I found was shocking, as I learned about the death of someone from high school. Seems like we've been going through this so often lately - old friends, acquaintances, ex-boyfriends, family friends - some expected, some not, but all seemingly without rhyme or reason. I hate it. I so wanted this to be a good year, and well frankly.....it hasn't been all that stellar so far.

But.....maybe, just maybe things are about to change a bit. I've been tossing around the idea of getting a part time job for a while. However, the chances of finding a place to hire someone who hasn't worked a "real" job in the last 7ish years and can ONLY work when the kids are in school were slim to none - or so I thought. Long story short - as of today, I officially have a very part time job. Because of their "social media policy" I can't say where it is (so if you already know because you know me, hush!) but it's just a few hours a day while the kids are in school and she'll totally work around my schedule if I need a day off to go on a field trip or whatever. So that's kind of cool. And scary. But cool. And a little bit of extra money here and there is never a bad thing. So, cool. And it's close enough that I can walk - once Mother Nature gets over her little attitude problem that she seems to be having.

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On a funny note - and just because it's one of those moments that I don't ever want to forget - this is what Daniel can do with his hair when he runs around so much that he's super hot and sweaty. Something tells me that it's time for a haircut. Needless to say, he got a bath as soon as we got home tonight.

"Mommy, look! I gave myself a mohawk!!!"

Two years.

Today is an anniversary. Not a happy one, either.

I wrote this post 2 years ago today, just a few hours after it happened. I wrote this one on the first anniversary, one year ago today. You can go back and read those to get the full story - because I'm not going to relive it again.

I read both of them a few hours ago. And I cried. It still hurts, even after two years and all of the progress that I've made - it. still. hurts.

I don't get it.

For the most part, life is good. If you know me in real life or if you've read my blog for any extended period of time, you know I'm generally a very happy person. However, I've been dreading this day for weeks but was hopeful that it wouldn't bother me that much.

Wrong.

Contrary to what some people might believe, it still really gets to me.

I don't really know what it is that bothers me. There are so many mixed emotions and it's so hard to explain to anyone - including myself - what is going through my head right now

For the most part, I don't feel guilty. I mean, I do - but I don't. I know that I didn't force him to drink. In fact, I did everything in my power while we were together to get him to stop drinking - but he wouldn't couldn't. I firmly believe that I did everything that I could, but a part of me still wonders if I couldn't have done more. But I will never know the answer to that.

I still grieve the loss of what could have been. When I married him, I wanted the happily ever after. But we didn't get that. Even after we separated, I still wanted it. I still hoped that he would get sober and we could reconcile and get that happily ever after. But it didn't happen. That hope was yanked out from under me the day that he died.

I am sad that Daniel will never know his father. He wasn't even 2 years old when we separated so I doubt that he remembers anything. He recognizes his father in pictures, and he knows that his father got sick and died and is in Heaven now - but he's too young to understand much more than that. The older kids remember more, obviously - and we keep our talks about him centered around the good memories rather than the bad ones, as much for Daniel's sake as for our own.

I know that as time goes on, it will get easier. It is already easier in many ways - but there are still days that it sneaks up on me and it still takes me by surprise. Maybe one of these years, the day will just go on past and I won't even remember the significance of the date until later. Maybe it'll happen next year, or the year after, or 10 years down the road. Maybe it will never happen.

All I know right now is that no matter how happy I am, there is still that sadness. It's not so much for me as it is for Daniel. And although I am sad that he will never know his father, I am thrilled that he has The Dude in his life to take on the role of a father figure for him. Knowing that he will grow up with a man in his life who loves all of us in spite of everything makes the sadness easier to handle.

It's not the life that I had planned - but it's the life that we have now. And we are doing whatever we can to make sure that it is the best life possible.

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March 27, 2006 - our wedding day

We need to turn it around...

I went into the beginning of this new year full of hope and excitement. I really do think that there are going to be some wonderful things happening for me and my family this year. I was anxious to get this year started for so many positive reasons.

But then the new year started - and it didn't start well at all.

I found out on the second day of the year that one of my friends was going through a personal hell, and as a mother, it hit home for me.

On the third day, we got more devastating news that again, hit me so incredibly hard.

The Dude has been having problems with his truck. My "service engine" light was on. He has to get two teeth pulled tomorrow afternoon.

It just hasn't been a stellar start to the year. But at the same time I know that it could always be worse.

We spent part of the afternoon today working on his truck. Although we didn't get it fixed, we have now narrowed down the problem and are about 98% sure that we know what's wrong with it. He can drive it for now, for short distances, but it needs to be fixed. Of course that doesn't come for free, but we can get it taken care of in the next couple of weeks.

My "service engine" light? I had a sneaking suspicion desperate hope that it was something stupid - and it was. Turns out the gas cap wasn't on tight enough to make it happy. Stupid thing. But the light's off now, so it's good.

Tonight, however.....tonight was hard. As I mentioned the other day, a little boy who was the son of one of Sarah's mentors was killed in a horrible accident last week. As a mother, I can't even begin to imagine the impact of losing a child. I just can't wrap my head around it. After the kids got home from school and basketball practice tonight, Sarah announced that she wanted to go to the boy's viewing. I wasn't sure that it was a good idea, but she and I talked about it and she really wanted to go. I told her she would have to check with her father, since she was supposed to go to church with him tonight. He agreed that she could go, but only if I went with her. So plans quickly changed, Ex1 came and got Emily and Jared, I took Alex and Daniel over to The Dude's house, and Sarah and I went to the viewing.

It was so hard. So incredibly hard. Seeing the little boy's parents and sisters there, and the other mourners...looking at the pictures and the videos from his short little life....my heart shattered so many times tonight. Seeing the pain in his mother's eyes as she hugged me and thanked me for coming....I have tears running down my face as I'm typing this.

All I've been able to think for the past few days is "something's got to give" - there has been too much bad stuff to start off a new year. Way too much. It needs to change, and somehow we need to turn it around. So I started thinking - always dangerous for me to do.

Tomorrow, January 10, 2013 is my 2 year blogiversary. It's been 2 years since I started this crazy thing.  And Sunday, January 13, is both my 42nd birthday and the 2nd anniversary of the day that my 2nd divorce became final.

I need to celebrate. I want to celebrate. I want to be happy. While I can't forget about the bad stuff, I can't focus on it - and I don't want anyone else to focus on the bad stuff either.

So what do we do?

I know what I'm going to do. I've always been a huge fan of the "Pay it Forward" movement (as is my good friend over at Mom-troversial) and I'm going to start making a really conscious effort to pay it forward as much as I can and in as many ways as I can. I have a pile of stuff sitting by my front door already that needs to be donated - and it's going to go out this week. We have toys that the kids have outgrown or they don't like or whatever. Guess what? They're going out the door too.

I've made up my mind that I am going to do as much as I can for two of my favorite local organizations too - our homeless shelter and our women's safe house. I have my own personal reasons for choosing those two in particular, but they're going to be getting some of my time, my money, and any of my "stuff" that they can use.

So - for my blogiversary and for my birthday, this is the best gift that anyone could give to me (*cough* along with a pair of warm fuzzy slippers so that I don't have to keep wearing The Dude's that are 18 sizes too big for me *cough*). Go out and do something for someone. Donate something somewhere. Be nice to someone. Donate something that you don't need anymore instead of selling it. Volunteer your time. If you have the cash, make a donation to a local organization that needs it. There are so many ways that we can make someone else's life just a little bit easier, but we overlook those things so often in our hurry to deal with our own lives. Pay it forward, people. Please.

So go and do it, and tell me what you did. Leave it in a comment here, post it on my facebook wall, send me an email, whatever. Tell the world that you did it, and maybe you'll inspire someone else to do the same thing.

Too much. Just too much.

If you hang around on my facebook page at all, you might have noticed that I decided to hide for a while yesterday. I feel like I owe you an explanation so that you know that we're all ok. Sort of.

Yesterday afternoon, Ex1 called me. He wanted to warn me that Sarah was probably going to have a bit of a rough evening. I could tell from the tone of his voice that it was bad, but I had no way of knowing just how bad it was until he said it.

Without going into too much detail, a woman who has been a mentor to Sarah was in a horrific accident, and her toddler son was killed. The woman and her infant daughter were both injured, with the baby sustaining more serious injuries.

Sarah, obviously, is devastated along with so many of her friends. As a mother, I am completely heartbroken. I don't know what I would do if something like this were to happen to one of my kids. I honestly don't think that I could handle it. I really don't.

As I was getting off of the phone with Ex1, trying to absorb the information that he had just handed me, my phone immediately rang again. This time it was Alex's father, who was calling to let me know that Alex's great-grandfather had passed away the night before. So he came over last evening to tell Alex.

And of course, it doesn't end there. We had to go pick Jared up from basketball practice after supper, and this lovely sight greeted me when I got in the van. So while The Dude's truck is still broken, I'm praying every time that we get into the van that it is just something stupid triggering that stupid light, but we all know how my luck with vehicles goes....needless to say, we need to get this checked out immediately, or we'll be down to no vehicles between the two of us, and that just won't work.

But I have to say this....and I know that I've said it once or twice before. I am so lucky and so grateful to have The Dude in our lives. He has been dealing with 2 broken teeth (when it rains it pours) and has been absolutely miserable and in horrible pain. He had planned to just stay home and crash last night so that he could get up for work this morning, but instead he came over and just hung out with us to keep us company since we were all having such a rough night. He was in no condition to do much of anything, but just having him here made such a big difference. He is definitely my rock.





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P.S. I intentionally left out the details of the accident, and the specific relationship that Sarah has with this woman for many reasons, not the least of which is because I don't reveal specifics about our location. Please respect that - and if you know more because you're local and/or you know us - please do not divulge those details here.

Rough day

I've been dreading this day for weeks. Seriously. I knew that it was going to be rough, but I wasn't sure how rough - and now it's starting.

One year ago today, February 2, 2011 - is the day that my ex-husband (Daniel's father) passed away. It was the day that my entire world turned upside down and inside out. We had been separated for 20 months when our divorce became final, and divorced for 20 days when he died.

Long story short, if you're not familiar with it - he was an alcoholic. There was a lot of denial about that fact, but it is what it is. It contributed to his death at the age of 46.

For the relatively short time that we were married, I tried to help him fight the alcoholism. I tried to make him "see the light". I tried to get him to stop drinking. When he first moved in with us and we would have a "few drinks" before bedtime, I would even go so far as to drink way more than I needed or wanted to, with the assumption that if *I* was drinking the booze, he wasn't - and that would somehow help him. If I found a bottle hidden somewhere, I would dump it down the drain. I kicked him out of the house numerous times, threatened him with divorce, called the police when I feared for our safety, forced him to go to rehab - none of it worked.

Sometimes it worked for short periods of time, but he always fell back into the same patterns - until I had finally had enough. I didn't feel that the kids and I were safe anymore. So I made him leave one final time. That was by far one of the hardest things that I have ever done in my life, but I knew that there was nothing that I could do to help him. He had to help himself.

He moved back east with his family, and we stayed here. We tried to talk things out on the phone, but it never worked. He was usually intoxicated and I would lose my temper and hang up on him. All I wanted him to do was to get sober. I loved him. When he was sober, he was a wonderful person; but all it took was one drink and the ugly part of him would come out. He was a man possessed by a demon, and there was no controlling that demonic presence. I tried.

In the meantime, because I was not working, the bills were not getting paid. His child support was not getting paid. He wasn't working because he didn't have his drivers license as the result of a DUI arrest when he was still here. He was getting unemployment, but he refused to pay the child support after the first few months.

The last conversation that I ever had with him will haunt me for the rest of my life. It was in September or October of 2010. We had been separated for nearly a year and a half by then. I still remember it so clearly - we were in the old house, and the kids were in bed so I had gone out on the porch while we were talking - or trying to talk. The subject of the child support came up, and he informed me that he had no intentions of paying it. He refused to pay what was court-ordered to support Daniel. I had had enough. I suggested to him that he relinquish his parental rights to Daniel. By doing so, he wouldn't be responsible for any more child support payments and he could go on with his life and try to repair the relationship that he had with his older son, and allow Daniel to grow up not having to wonder if his father cared about him. I told him flat out that at this point, Daniel didn't remember him, didn't ask about him, and he would be better off with no father at all instead of having a drunk one who might waltz in and out of his life once or twice a year and pretend to be a father. I wasn't saying these things to be mean - to me it was, and still is, the truth. I wanted Jeff to be free from the responsibility, the obligation, and to focus on healing himself without the additional pressure of financially supporting a child who didn't choose to have a drunk as a father.

His last words to me during that conversation were "over my dead body". Those were the last words that I ever heard him say. A few months later, he was dead.

That conversation haunts me to this day. I know in my head that I didn't cause his death. But I can't help but wonder if I could have done things differently. Maybe if I had given him one more chance, he would have gotten sober. Maybe if I hadn't kicked him out, things would have turned out differently. What if....?

Not a day goes by that I don't think about him and wonder what I could have done differently. In my head, I know that I did the right thing, but that conversation replays in my head time and time again, and I struggle with it daily. There are times that the guilt is unbearable, but I know that no matter what anyone says or thinks - I did the right thing. I had to protect myself and protect my kids. I had our best interests in mind when I made him leave. I couldn't take the risk of someone getting hurt again - including him.

So now, a year later...I look back at what happened and I continue to wonder what I could have done differently. I deal with the guilt as best I can. While I wish that things had turned out differently, I know in my heart that he is at peace. The demons are gone. Each day does get a bit easier but there will always be a part of me that blames myself. I know that I did the right thing - I just wish that there had been a different outcome.

To his family: I'm sorry. I'm sorry that things turned out the way that they did. This is not what I wanted. I never wanted to take him away from you. I never wanted you to go through this kind of pain and heartache. I never wanted to take him away from his older son, and that in particular is something for which I will never forgive myself.

But at the same time, I also want his family to understand that I will not feel guilty for moving on with my life. I am doing my best to raise my kids in a way that will make everyone proud. Daniel is an amazing little boy who is smart and funny and athletic, and he is happy. You were given the opportunity to be a part of Daniel's life, and you chose not to take advantage of it. You have refused to provide information that I needed that would qualify him for benefits that would help him. And those are things that to me, are unforgivable.

A year later, and I am stronger than I ever thought that I would be. I am happy. I have found a wonderful man who treats me and the kids the way that we deserve to be treated - and I will not apologize for that. My little family has gone through a lot of stress, heartache, and pain to get to where we are today, and I am proud of where we are. We have plans for the future, and we are doing what we need to do to make those plans a reality.

I will never forget Jeff. But I have forgiven myself for what happened.

Rest in Peace, Jeff.

I don't even know what to say.

It's been a day. A day full of ups and downs.

The morning was crazy. Alex and Jared both woke up with wet beds, but luckily I at least got them stripped and the wet sheets into the washer before we all left for school. Annoying, but not so bad in the grand scheme of things.

After Daniel and I got back from dropping everyone else off, I at least got Jared's bed remade, but hadn't gotten as far as getting Alex's done.

The Dude has been fighting some pretty severe back and neck pain, and was finally able to get into the doctor yesterday. The doctor poked and prodded and ordered x-rays, which of course couldn't be done until today. So before I took Daniel to school, we took The Dude to the hospital for the x-rays. We don't know anything yet, but he's hurting. And he's miserable. And it sucks.

I took Daniel to school and then went back to The Dude's house and hung out with him for the afternoon. While I was there, Ex1 called me.

Rewind about 13 years, when Ex1 and I moved in together. We lived on the same property as our landlords, an older couple with children about our age. They were our landlords, but they were our neighbors and our friends. We did things together. We asked them for advice. They were guests at our wedding. They were there for the birth of my older 3 kids. Even after we bought our house 5 years later and moved out, we still kept in touch with them. After Ex1 and I divorced, he moved back out to the same little house on their property and lived there for about another 5 years before he and Wife3 bought their current house. So this couple has been an integral part of our lives for a very long time, and have been sort of surrogate grandparents to my older 3 kids. Several years ago, the wife was diagnosed with cancer. She fought a long, hard, brave fight...but she lost the battle this morning. Ex1 and I decided to wait to tell the kids until he brought them to my house after school today.

When he and Wife3 brought them home, we told them. And it was awful. I knew that they wouldn't take it well, but to see the heartbreak....I can't even begin to describe it.

I was supposed to go to a meeting tonight, but I called and cancelled. There was no way that I could leave the kids less than an hour after telling them the news. So instead, we went and picked up The Dude and went to Burger King for supper, just to get out of the house and distract them for a couple of hours. They ate, they played, and The Dude and I visited a bit with the couple who was sitting next to us.

At one point, one of my kids looked around at how we were all sitting and said "Look - (pointing to the girls) it's the sisters....(pointing to the boys) it's the brothers....(pointing to me and The Dude) and it's the parents!" Wow. The Dude and I just kind of looked at each other and let it go at that point.

Then later, the man who was sitting next to us said something to The Dude and referred to me as his "wife". I about choked and said nothing - The Dude and I have talked about everything and he knows that I have absolutely no intention of ever getting married again. EVER. And before anyone jumps to any conclusions whatsoever, no, we are not talking about it, we are not thinking about it, and like I said, it is not an option in my book. Even if it was an option, it is way too early in the game to even be thinking about it. So there. But after the couple left, we got a good laugh out of it.

We then took The Dude home, and I ran inside with him to get his mp3 player so that I could use it when I run tomorrow, and while we were inside, one of the girls came running in to tell me that Jared had a nosebleed. I went outside to check, and he was standing in the middle of the driveway in a puddle of blood, with blood covering his coat and his hands and his face. We grabbed some tissues to slow it down, got him into the house to get him cleaned up, put his coat in a garbage bag, and finally came home. Needless to say, his coat is now in the washer, so I'll be up for a few more hours to run it through the dryer several times to get it completely dried.

We finally got home and started the whole bath process, and then of course I realized that I still hadn't made Alex's bed. So I did that in a hurry and managed to chase the boys into bed at a reasonable time. It's now 10:00 and the girls are finally going themselves.

Sarah had a major meltdown earlier - just crying her heart out about the loss of our friend. Being the oldest, she has the most memories, but also the most questions. Why did she have to die? Who is going to feed the cats? What if her husband falls and no one is there to call for help? What about the dog that always followed her around the farm - what's she going to do without her? Why didn't I get to say goodbye? Luckily, my kids haven't had to experience much death. They've only been to a few funerals, and they were young enough that they don't remember them. They don't know if they want to go to her funeral or not, and Ex1 and I decided to leave it up to them - if they want to go, we'll make sure that they go - but if they don't want to, we aren't going to force them.

For now, the kids are in bed. I have to clean up some stuff in the kitchen and make sure that the coats that are in the washer get into the dryer so I'll be up for at least a couple more hours...but I am so looking forward to just going to bed and crashing and forgetting about this day for at least a few hours. I'm going to go run tomorrow and brain dump again - I think at this point I need to.

RIP Uncle Sam

October 22, 1937 - October 5, 2011


It's been many years since I've seen him - I think it may have been in 2000 when I went back for my Aunt Doris' funeral. As a child, I remember Uncle Sam being tall, so tall....and he was big. Not fat, just big! And he had this huge booming voice that let everyone know what he thought - whether you wanted to know or not! And he was always bald, or nearly bald. I remember being slightly terrified of him when I was younger, simply because he was larger than life.

I remember his house - the only one that I ever remember him and Aunt Dorothy living in. It was an old Victorian home, and it was made at least partially of stone. There was a stone wall in the yard with an archway in it, and I always thought that it was the coolest. thing. ever.

I should have gone to see him and Aunt Dorothy when we were back in Pennsylvania, but I didn't. No excuses - I just didn't. And that's something that I will always regret.

But now, for him there is no more cancer. No more doctors poking and prodding. No more pain.

Just peace.

An Open Letter to my ExLaws

Dear Family:

Let me start out by saying that I am sorry for the way that things have turned out between us. This is not how I wanted our relationship to be. When I married Jeff, I had visions of the perfect life, the perfect marriage, and the fairy tale ending in my dreams. Sadly, it didn’t turn out that way – at all.

However, there are some things that I need to say to you before any attempt at a "relationship" is made between you and Daniel. Honestly, at this point I am not even sure that I want him to have a relationship with any of you – this is something that I have struggled with for a long time, not just since Jeff's death.

My life, and Daniel's life changed forever on May 6, 2009 when I asked Jeff to leave our home for the last time. So many things happened leading up to that night, and I am quite sure that you know little or nothing about any of them. I'm fairly comfortable saying that I doubt that you know about the majority of the times that I had to call the police to our home because Jeff was in a drunken rage. I doubt that you know about the time that he choked me when I was 6 months pregnant with Daniel, or the time that he knocked me flat on the floor and almost broke my glasses, or the time that he kicked me because I finally figured out that he was hiding the bottles of booze in his boots. I'm assuming that he didn't tell you that the reason that I finally asked him to leave that night was because he was so intoxicated that he had pulled a knife out and was waving it around in front of the kids like a raving lunatic.

I doubt that you know about any of this. Why? Because since May 6, 2009, you haven't asked. You haven't picked up the phone to call and check on the well-being of your grandson. You haven't sent a letter explaining your feelings toward me. You have made no attempt at contact at all. To be brutally honest with you, that pisses me off. As far as I'm concerned, you wrote Daniel out of your lives more than two years ago. You weren’t there for Daniel when we lost our home and were within days of being on the street because Jeff refused to authorize the mortgage company to talk to me. You weren't there for Daniel when we lost the van because Jeff refused to work with me to renew the tags on it.

Jeff always used the excuse that because I had filed the PFA against him (after he threatened to kill me, by the way), no one in his family could contact me. Well, guess what? He left here on May 6, 2009. The PFA wasn't served to him until around mid-December 2009. Where were the phone calls during that 7 months? Where were the letters then? There was no legal reason at that time preventing you from contacting your grandson. YOU CHOSE NOT TO.

Even while the PFA was in effect, there was nothing preventing you from contacting Daniel. NOTHING. One call to me would have confirmed that. One call to the local police department here would have confirmed that. Did you do it? Nope. You chose not to have contact with Daniel. For the record, Jeff's visitation with Daniel was not limited during that time either. The judge informed him during the hearing for the PFA that he could have contact with Daniel ANY TIME HE WANTED TO, but he also chose to ignore him, his own son.

After the PFA expired, it took less than 12 hours for Jeff to call and start harassing me again. Did you call to check on Daniel? Nope. Again, you made the choice to ignore him.

Did you bother to call me and let me know that Jeff was sick? Or that he had been admitted to the hospital? No. Had I known, I might have allowed Daniel to talk to him on the phone one last time. But you robbed both Jeff and Daniel of that chance.

When Mary called to tell me that the family wanted to have a "relationship" with Daniel, I was angry. How could anyone who ignored a beautiful, smart, funny, amazing little boy for 2 years be deserving of having a relationship with him? You don't deserve anything from him. Nothing. He didn't deserve to be written off by his own flesh and blood – he didn't make that choice - you made it for him.

One thing that I don't deserve is the blame for Jeff's death. It is not my fault. I didn't force him to drink bottles upon bottles of booze every week. Yes, alcoholism is a disease and it clouded his thinking, but guess what? There's treatment for the disease – he made the choice to refuse that treatment. Mary informed me that he was in such a "deep, dark depression" because I wouldn't allow him to have contact with Daniel, and that it was that depression ultimately caused his death. What kind of a mother would I be if I allowed my toddler son to have a conversation with someone who was so drunk that his words were slurring? Yes, most of our phone conversations ended by me hanging up on him – but that's because I don't deserve to be spoken to like he did, and I don't have to be subjected to a drunk, either in person or on the phone.

I don't really care what you opinion is of me. You don't have to like me. But you have an amazing grandson here that you have ignored for more than two years. And nothing that you can do can make up for that, and nothing you can say will make me forgive you for it. You can come up with every excuse in the book, and I don't care – the point is that you never made the effort. Distance shouldn't be an issue – in this day and age, family can maintain a relationship from opposite sides of the world, if they choose to do so.

Like I always told Jeff – "it's all about choices". He chose to drink, he chose to refuse treatment, and those choices ultimately led to his death. You made the choice to ignore Daniel. I made the choice to remove myself and my kids from a potentially dangerous situation.

Don't get me wrong – I am absolutely devastated by Jeff's death. I never knew that it was possible to hurt this much, even after more than 3 months. I still loved him, and in a way I still do. I always hoped that he would get the treatment that he needed and that he would once again be the man that I fell in love with, and that we could make another attempt at having a real family again. I never wanted things to turn out the way that they have, but I had to do what I did in order to protect my kids and myself.

Daniel is sitting here on my lap as I type this. He's drawing pictures in a notebook and talking a mile a minute, and every now and then he turns to me and wipes the tears from my face. He has no idea that half of his family has ignored him for the past 2 years, because I haven't told him. He's too little to understand. His life consists of the family and friends who have been here for him without fail, and he is so happy and healthy and well-adjusted and smart because of the positive influences in his life. I refuse to allow negativity into his world right now – he is too young, and he has plenty of time as he gets older to deal with that.

If you are going to be a part of his life, I ask that you respect my feelings. As I said before, I don't expect you to like me or to agree with the decisions that I made, but I ask that you respect them. I did, and continue to do, what I believe is the best for my family. I will not tolerate anyone belittling me (or Jeff) in front of any of my children. I will do anything that I feel that I need to do to protect myself and my kids from any threat or negative influence out there.

It's up to you. If you want to have a healthy, positive relationship with Daniel, I give you my blessing.

Sincerely,
Amy