47

Today she would have been 47.

My big sister.

We are four years apart, so when I graduated from 8th grade, she graduated from high school.  When I graduated from high school, she graduated from college.

We share November for our birthdays.

We share November for our anniversaries.  The same weekend 3 years apart at the same hotel.  We shared the same wedding dress.

We are now share the raising of these two great kids.

I want to pick up the phone and wish her a happy birthday.  I want to give her a hug.

I just want my sister back.

Happy Birthday Zhea.  Love you, love you, love you.

Raw

We were talking tonight at dinner about monthly family dinners my sister and I are trying to get going.  M was wondering why we're doing them and I explained that we just want to try to make sure we get together a little more often as a larger family.  E followed up with, "it would be nice to see MG and KT more than once every two months like it's been lately."  Sad, but true.

Then A said, "When are we doing the balloons again?"  A simple observation.  E explained to him that not till October 24th.  He shrugged and said, "Oh yeah. It kinda feels like that time of year though doesn't it?"

Moments later I was driving in the car to elementary back-to-school night for L with my mind starting to follow the familiar road of memories propelled by A's comment. Car crashes. Disbelief.  Pain.

Then I passed the cemetery.

At the same time "Lover's Eyes" by Mumford and Sons came on my Ipod.

But do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage,
Tame the ghosts in my head,
That run wild and wish me dead.
Should you shake my ash to the wind
Lord, forget all of my sins
Oh, let me die where I lie
Neath the curse of my lover's eyes

I tried valiantly to hold the tears in, but finally let the floodgates open,   My body shaking and feeling my stomach drop and the physical pain of my loss.  It's still strange the way it hits me sometimes even almost 4 years later.  I pulled myself together by the time I reached the school parking lot, thankfully a few minutes early.  The release of tears breaking the physical manifestation of my raw feelings like a massage releasing a knot in your muscles.

Grief sucks.

Wound

I am wound so tight tonight.  I can feel the tension from the top of my head through my jaws and into the pit of my stomach.  I'm not really sure why I'm so out of sorts.

On Friday, just minutes before he was to compete in his only skateboarding contest of the year, A landed wrong on one of his signature tricks and sprained his ankle.  He was devastated and seeing him so upset brought tears to my own eyes.  He works so hard at his skating and once we decided he couldn't compete, watching boys skate who aren't even close to him in skill made it even worse.  We took his sock off when we got home to ice it and immediately decided a trip to the ER was in order as his ankle was the size of a grapefruit.  3.5 hours later we left with crutches and a cast with instructions to visit the orthopedist in a few days.  Typical A, he was all doom and gloom at first since we leave for the beach in a week and stay next to a skate park.  By today, he was researching herping spots at the beach and thinking about other fun stuff to do.  We see the ortho in the morning, so I'm hopeful the cast will come off and he'll only have to wear a brace.

CA, KM and the little girls were at the skatefest.  I invited them to come to support A and spend some time together in a neutral place.  It was strange and awful all wrapped into one.  KT told me aunt C was CA's favorite sister and asked was I a sister?  Then CA told A some ridiculous lie about being once being sponsored by a skateboard company.  The cherry on top was CA screeching at MG at one point that was awkward and cringe worthy.  Sigh.  I don't have the words.

I also got to play soccer this weekend in a local tournament.  It was so much fun.  I was out of the house both days for several hours and although kids didn't get fed and a certain 17 year old was mad at me for (God forbid) making her go to the used book sale by herself, it was totally worth it.  My dad even came to my afternoon game on Saturday and the final on Sunday.  I was seriously rusty and out of shape, but had so much fun.  In between games, there were great talks and laughs and doing something I know I do well, with people I like was awesome.  I can barely move today and my feet are killing me because I haven't worn cleats in months.  The pain, though, is a gentle reminder of the old Peg.  Somehow I need to find her more often.

The girls have been an absolute handful all weekend.  When E is hurting she lashes out on all of us, even little L. When M is hurting, she gets manic and difficult and just plain weird. It's often hard to know what is going on with them.  Not enough attention?  Too much attention on A or one of the other boys?  Who knows?  It's like getting slowly beaten to death by marshmallows every day.  The little annoyances aren't that bad individually, but together they are crushing me.  Crushing us. 

The new project at work is also going to be pretty stressful.  Interesting, and maybe even a little fun, but tons of work which makes me really nervous about how I'm going to make everything click at home and in the office.

I don't know where I'm going with this post.  Maybe I thought typing the words on the screen would take away the pressure.  I think it's coming off more like a bit of a pity party.  Is it possible to love your life and want to change it all at the same time?

Little Black Dress

I've got a thing with clothes.  I'm not in any way a fashionista, but I gain comfort and confidence from certain outfits or items.

My day-to-day mom outfit usually consists of sweats or shorts and a variety of nike or addidas, dryfit, short sleeve or long sleeve tees.  Despite my rare ability to exercise or play soccer, my inner athlete is reflected in my wardrobe.  That, and the fact that my husband pretty much gets me the same thing every holiday.

Today I had a meeting with a new client for a kick-off meeting for my new project.  13 years of Catholic school and daily uniforms has resulted in my need to put on my professional clothes if I'm going to an important work related event.  I haven't really had to interact with a client in the past few years, so I was a bit out of sorts late last night trying to figure out what I was going to wear.  The pickings were certainly limited by what was clean and what needed ironing.  I found a suit jacket that I've always liked, but the accompanying pants were wrinkled and I was too tired to make the effort.

A little black dress hangs in the back of my closet.  It's a simple, Ann Taylor number with cap sleeves.  It's hung there on its hanger for over three and a half years.  It often catches my eye and propels me back to that first and last time I wore that dress.  Jeanne and Mike's funeral.  For some reason I've never been able to  wear it again, despite multiple opportunities.  It's always seemed like an untouchable object or a portkey from Harry Potter that would magically transport me back to that day.

I made a quick decision last night in my exhaustion that this dress would be perfect with the suit jacket.  Clean lines and professional, it would be perfect.  With slight hesitation,  I pulled off my tee shirt and pulled the dress over my head.  It still fit even though I've lost a lot of weight in the last few years. I put on that jacket and, as suspected, the combo worked great.

When we were little, my favorite game to play with my sisters was what we called "big business."  Jeanne would set up a desk in the basement and from what I remember the game centered around taking notes, answering pretend phones and filling out "business" forms that we created.  As adults, my sisters and I have joked when one of us was in our "big business" mode.

I decided that rather than look at that dress and think that it was going to sink me in my grief for my sister, this little black dress was going to carry her with me today.  I don't know why today was the day.  Maybe it was because I was just too tired and being practical outweighed the feelings associated with the dress.  Maybe the rawness of my grief is softening.  Maybe I just needed my big sister today and that dress was the closest thing I could get.

Whatever the reason, I'm glad I wore it.  It gave me comfort and confidence in the stress of the day.  I think I'll wear it again.

Crossing the Line

I had a really annoying conversation with C this morning that has stuck with me as the day has gone on.  It reiterated once more to me that while K and I have the respsonsibility of taking care of these two girls and put up with all of their crap, at the same time trying to give our boys the life we wanted for them, nobody in our family really sees us as full parents to the girls.

I get this.  Sorta.

Backstory is required on this one.  So, last week E got her SAT scores back and they are really good (2230 good).  This with her grades, extracurriculars and overall story, opens doors to lots of choices for her for college.  Pretty much anywhere she wants to go.  She is still talking about the Naval Academy, but we don't want her to go there and since she is way behind on the application process, I don't really think she wants to go there, but has this glossed over image of what being in the Navy will be like. Her dad was a Navy pilot briefly and I suspect she thinks this will honor his memory in some way.  If she eventually wants to join the Navy, we can't stop her, but I don't think she has the emotional maturity at this time to make a career decision.  There are tons of other reasons why I don't want her to go to Navy, but that's the biggie. 

C and I were discussing this and as the conversation turned to some of the other schools she's looking at (Northwestern, Princeton, Bucknell, William and Mary) I made the big mistake of mentioning the cost of some of these out-of-state schools and whether or not $62K per year is worth it, when she can go to W&M (in-state school) and get a great education AND swim there (which is what she wants to do).  I also don't think E really wants to be too far from home.  Too far away from her family (her immediate family, her sisters, or the rest of the gang).  Her issues with attachment make this especially true.

The line then got crossed over. C told me that SHE didn't think E would be enjoy William and Mary despite how much we loved it.  I mentioned that some of the Ivy League schools are really expensive and while we're looking into all the financial aid stuff, she also wouldn't be able to swim there.  She said, "Peggy you need to get over this William and Mary thing.  I really don't think she'll do well there. I want a fresh start for her and going to the same place we went doesn't do that."

She went on to lecture me how Jeanne and Mike had the plan for swimming to pay her way through school, but since money isn't an option any more she should go to the best academic school which will set her up for life (i.e., the Harvards, etc.).  I said that E wants to swim in college.  She wants the whole package, academics and swimming, which W&M and Bucknell will give her.  I also explained that K is looking in to all of the finance aspect of this to make sure she has all of these options (scholarships, financial aid, etc.) and we would never keep her from going where she wants, but at this point we're still in the preliminary stages.  There are still tons of schools out there we need to investigate.

It wasn't really what she said that bothered me, but the tone of her voice.  Her attitude that she could "tell" me what I "had" to do without the pretense of friendly advice or "in my opinion" tones. I know she loves E and wants what is best for her, but she crossed the line and I actually think she knows it.  I was talking to her about E and college choices as a way to share and vent a little.  She certainly wouldn't talk to me in that manner if it was one of the boys.  What was hard too, was that she also made statements like "it's her decision not yours and when she turns 18 you have no more say."  Of course it's E's decision, but as her parents now we want to help her make the right decision and just because we adopted her later in her childhood doesn't mean that we don't get a say or that we don't care like we would with the other kids.  Moreover, we don't stop being her parents when she turns 18.  We don't stop being her family.

The underlying feeling from the conversation was that in her eyes we aren't E's parents.  It struck me as funny since she complains all the time that CA is just acting as a caregiver for the little girls, but at the same time in her heart merely sees K and I as caregivers for the big girls.  I know there are confusing feelings since they tried to parent them and gave up.  They chose not to parent these kids.  I don't want to discount her feelings.  I wanted to scream into the phone, however, "keep those feelings to yourself!  This isn't helping me!!" At the end, I felt that C's aunt relationship E trumps our sister relationship.  I know it's more complicated than that, but in the aftermath of a pretty uncomfortable conversation, that's how I feel.

I'll stay on my side of the line and won't call her out on it. I'll contiue to do the best I can for all of our kids. C definitely has some stuff to sort out with regards to the girls and the accident.  I wish it didn't have to sometimes be at my emotional expense.

Dear

Dear Zhea,

E turned 17 on Sunday.

I think you know this.

I hope you know this.

We had a great weekend with her, celebrating with the whole family on Saturday night and as the seven of us last night.  Geoff and Kathleen came to the party Saturday and we drank some of Mike's whiskey, talked about you and cried a bit.

She's grown up a lot this year.  According to her psychiatrist she's turned a corner with her depression and attachment disorder.  We're weaning her off her meds in the next month.

She still can be difficult, prickly and moody.  Some of that is being a teenager.  Some of that is her personality.  Some of that is due to the awful cards she has been dealt.

She worries about her sisters and feels responsible for them.  She fights with M incessantly, though, and really doesn't seem to understand how to help her little sister. 

She especially worries about MG and KT forgetting you.  It breaks my heart.  I'm worried about them too and each time we see them I am overwhelmed by the feeling that that are not where they are supposed to be.  Not who they are supposed to be.  The guilt is suffocating.

She misses you and Mike terribly.  I think she's spent the last 3+ years harping on all the things that have changed and what she's lost (her house, neighborhood, swim team, friends) and she's finally settling into her real grief. She needs to be here, in her loss, but I still want to protect her from the pain and any more heartache.

We talk about you all the time.  I want you to know that a day, and sometimes hour, doesn't go by that I don't think about you and the accident.

The boys are doing fine.  They love the girls and are still adjusting.  We all love them and are doing our best to give them a loving, stable family.  M and K especially are developing a really sweet bond.

As with most holidays, we went through all the motions and did what we're expected to do.  I made E her favorite red velvet cake.  We sang and she blew out the candles.  C and I caught each other's eye as the song ended with tears swelling.  You.  Should. Be. Here.  As much as this was E's day, it was yours too.

I promise to continue to do my best by the girls. I really do love them. I hope you're proud of them.  I hope you're proud of me.

Jeanne, you are forever in my heart.  It still hurts so much to think about our life before the accident and what might have been.

Love you,
Peg

Caregiver

I was talking to little sister C yesterday on the phone and stating with disbelief that CA had gone to Brunei (yes you heard that right) for 10 days, leaving the girls with the au pair and KM.  She did not have to go on this trip.  It is not work related (she is a high school history teacher). But she wanted to go and so she did.  Leaving, knowing that her wife has been struggling with her role in parenting (doesn't really like kids) and had just started a new job after almost 2 years without work.  Purposely missing Easter with the girls and with our family.

During my ramblings of disbelief, C finally interjected and said, "Peg, we just have to come to terms with the fact that CA sees her role as a caregiver not a mom.  We can't possibly understand her decisions because we parent and she sees herself as merely a caregiver.  The family needed her to take the girls and she did, but this sacrifice isn't going to keep her from doing what she wants to do.  In her mind, she took the girls so she deserves to go away and get a break.  In her mind, she is leaving the girls with two other caregivers so what does it matter.  We have to face facts that KT and MG are being taken care of, but not mothered in the way Jeanne or the rest of us would.  That completely sucks, but that's just the way it is."

Yes, it completely sucks.  It really sucks for KT and MG who are getting adequately cared for (at times still debatable), but not getting an intimate relationship with their parents.  Even the latest au pair has the personality of a brick and there doesn't appear to be any real affection between her and the girls. This is the third au pair the girls have had in two years with the first one being let go after consistent partying and the second one leaving before her contract was done without saying goodbye to the girls.  CA and KM have consistently pick au pairs that they can get along with without considering how they'll interact with a 5 and 6 year old. All of this for two children who have lost their parents, been in three different living situations since the accident and not living with their biological siblings. As a result, the girls behavior at times is atrocious. They often hit, bite,and destroy their way through family get togethers.  MG in particular is withdrawn, and throws killer temper tantrums when she doesn't get her way.

Unfortunately, this also carries over to our house.  We've gotten used to "sister hangovers" from M after she spends any time with them.  She worries about her little sisters and sees the obvious differences between our two families. "Is KT happy?"  "Are they going to be okay?" "Why can't Aunt CA just dress them in clothes that fit and aren't dirty or make them look like boys?"

E asked me yesterday what our plans for Easter were.  I explained our normal schedule and then mentioned that I was hoping to have KT and MG overnight at some point.  I told her that I still had to talk to KM.  "Why aren't you asking Aunt CA?" she questioned, "Isn't she going to be around for Easter?"  I had to explain to her about the random trip to Brunei.  "This is just so wrong Aunt Peg, it always has been and it always will."

How do I respond to that?  I simply stated, "I know honey and I'm really sorry.  I'll do my best to make sure you're with your sisters this weekend."

I finally got hold of KM last night and convinced her to let the little girls come home with us on Sunday night and I'll bring them home on Monday.  Their spring break doesn't coincide with ours so that's about as good as we can do. It was pretty apparent that KM isn't happy about C being gone.  During our conversation, she repeatedly excused herself to yell at MG for not finishing her dinner.  Awkward to say the least.  She seemed pretty stressed out.  I totally get that, but hearing how she talks to the girls is often so hard to stomach, since I rarely hear her talk about or to them with any real signs of affection.

What makes the whole situation harder is that CA presents such a different front to the family (especially my parents) when we get the rare occasion to see them.  Her words just don't reflect her actions.  She hides away from us and is afraid to have authentic interactions with us.  For example, KT was brought to the emergency room for burns and we heard nothing about it.  Her recent diagnosis of severe nut allergies was glossed over, but I have to listen ad nauseaum about how they are both learning Latin in school (pre-K and 1st grade??).  I get lectures about how dangerous the "princess culture" is.  I'm told not to get them books as Christmas or birthday presents because they already have too many (they have one small shelf of books that are way too young for them at this point with no early readers for MG).  I am talked down to like I haven't been parenting for almost 13 years. I know I don't see the whole picture and don't see them on a day-to-day basis.  The fact, however, that I don't really know them anymore and that CA doesn't share their family life with us is so troublesome.  The rest of us just don't operate like that.

I try to have empathy to her situation.  I try to understand how her life of growing up gay in our family has effected her behavior.  What makes it hard is seeing how it's affected the girls.  It's hard to separate my feelings of empathy with my guilt over not taking the girls ourselves.  These are Jeanne's little girls.  Up until the accident, I knew them intimately through my relationship with their mom.  For the first year after the accident, I often cared for them like I was their mom, bringing them to doctor's appointments, reading to them before bed, changing diapers and cuddling on the couch.  I am now mothering their big sisters.

C is right.  I can't make CA be a mom when she had lived 20+ years as an adult choosing not to have kids.  I can't make KM like kids.

I can try to get them over with us when we can.  I guess when you already have 5 kids, what's 7?  I can try to keep a positive relationship between the sisters and try to help my girls when they get upset.  I can continue to reach out to CA and try to model for her a positive sister relationship so we can improve our connection.

Our new family life is already hard enough and the bleed over from theirs makes things even more complicated. I just wish things were different.

Always

But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
We'll live a long life

So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
'Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold as long as you like
Just promise me we'll be alright

-Ghosts That We Knew, Mumford and Sons

She was my big sister for 39 years.  She taught me to read. She did my hair for prom. We wore the same wedding dress (she convinced me to promise dad I'd also wear the dress when the one she loved was above the budget).  We were pregnant together twice.  She was my go-to person for parenting advice and sharing all the little things the boys did from rolling over the first time to deciding to lick the other kids in his first grade class because he was "being a lizard" (you can guess which kid did that).  Our friends became their friends.

In the novel that is my life, she was is a major character.

************************************

People like to say that our loved ones who've died are never really gone because they live on in our hearts.  A popular cliche, but I suppose it's true since our love for them certainly doesn't go away when someone dies.  As Mel pointed out in a recent post, their stories stay with us even if they aren't physically there.

Jeanne is still present in my life in so many ways, not just tied up in an amorphouse feeling of love and loss.  At times it feels like she's still here.  I don't mean in the metaphysical, hovering around and watching us kind of way.  Even though my grandmother believed in ghosts, I'm a bit skeptical.

I sometimes think that they are just on a long vacation.  The other day I was sending out an evite for one of the kids birthday parties and I saw that I still have Jeanne and Mike's emails entered in my contact list.  I can't delete them.  If I send them an evite, will they RSVP?  Will they come back?

I talk to her all the time, mostly in the form of random questions.

Has M always been this difficult?

Were you scared?  Did it hurt?

How can I help E, when she doesn't want me but wants you?

Can you see us?

Are you proud of me?

Are you mad at me for not taking MG and KT?

Just like when she was alive, I sometimes get mad at her.  Angry at the parenting decisions she and Mike made that impact our family and my boys.  Angry at her for leaving.

Jeanne's absence in some ways makes her even more present in my life than before.

*************************************

I'm noticing that my grief isn't buried as deep.  Most days I keep it at bay with the excuse of my need to be present for the kids or that it's indulgent to feel sad when my parents lost their little girl and the girls lost their parents. 

It's coming out at random times.  Listening to a song alone in the car.  Watching a TV show.  Reading a book.  Folding laundry. A late night text from C sharing a memory.  Catching my reflection in the mirror and seeing her.

I catch my breath and remember that I lost my sister.  My big sister.  Tears wash over me.  Just as quickly I can usually pull myself together not wanting anyone else (K, the kids, random strangers at Target) to see. Pulling myself back from the pain.

*************************************

She's always here and not.

I miss my sister.  I want her back.

Flip side

This weekend was KT's 5th birthday party.  K and I were unable to be there due to sports conflicts with the big boys.  C took L and M to the party, and we let E drive (on the beltway) to the party since she had to swim.

Immediately after the party, I got all kinds of reports from people who attended.  L had a great time and was the kid who busted open the pinata.  According to C, M and KT spent a significant amount of time together one-on-one and M was great.  C innocently told me that on the way home, M told her she asked KT about how much of their old life she remembers.  C thought this sounded sweet and M seemed fine...my red flags went up.  E showed up right as the party was ending, claiming she got out of the pool late.  She stayed 25 minutes and left.  Again, everyone thought this was great that she stayed, but she had nothing else going on that afternoon and could have stayed hours to play with her sisters.  My red flags raised slightly higher, especially after she sent me texts that it was the worst swim day of her entire career (her times did not reflect that in the least).

This weekend was a perfect example of how people see the girls and think that everything is hunky dory as long as they are smiling and seem happy.  I'm not saying they aren't generally happy kids, but their grief is often a palpable feeling in our house and there is nothing we can do to help.

Nobody wants to acknowledge that fact that we separated these 4 girls, after they already lost the two most important people in their young lives.  I know it was a reality that we tried to avoid and failed, but it doesn't make it any easier to stomach.

All day Saturday I got the happy texts from my sisters and my dad.  Party was great, girls were great, all is wonderful.

But I remember last year after KT's birthday.  M ended up in the ER.  E refused to swim claiming her heart just hurt too much.

Unfortunately, my gut won out on this.  I got home around 8:40pm after doing a switch down in Richmond with K for D's soccer tournament.  Within minutes of me getting home, M broke out in horrible hives and started acting weird. After ruling out a food reaction, I figure out it was stress hives.  My poor little girl.  A dose of Benadryl and cuddling up with me on the couch calmed her down enough so she could go to bed a little after midnight.

No hives on Sunday, but a repeat on Monday gave us a physical reminder of the girls' grief.  As we explained to the boys on Sunday afternoon...the girls miss their sisters.  We can try to ignore it, but sometimes a bout of hives drives the truth home.  It sucks, for all of us.

On the flip side, though, this year didn't result in a trip to the emergency room, and E swam great Sunday morning,  getting another personal best and junior nationals cut.  We were able to talk to M about her hives and why they happened in an honest and straightforward way, which was definitely different from last year.  K has been especially good checking in on her the last two days and giving her some extra love.

We're making strides one glacial inch at a time.  I hope for the day when everyone else's vision of our family is the true reflection. I'll take these little victories for now, though, even if my assessment is based on just different levels of suck.