Reign Over Me

I received the movie Reign Over Me for Christmas and was able to watch it again over the holiday. Cynthia and I watched the movie for the first time back in February when she was about 8 months pregnant with Cara. We were really struck by the movie back then for reasons we wouldn't totally realize at the time.

The movie is about a husband and father, Charlie, (Adam Sandler) who loses his wife and three children in one of the plane crashes on 9/11. The movie shares Charlie's story as he tries to process this incredible loss while suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

I think the movie accurately portrays the depth of someone's grief after losing a family member. It shows the pain and anger that accompanies a loss. But what I love about the movie is the way Charlie breaks out of his anger, isolation and pain into a place of healing. After years of burying his pain inside him, he finally shares his story in what is one of the best scenes in the whole movie. After attending countless number of counseling sessions where hardly anything is said, finally there is a breakthrough.

I could write more about this movie but I don't want to ruin it for you. I highly recommend checking it out.

Reign Over Me

Marley & Me

Greetings from the mountains.

We are already enjoying our time away. This afternoon we spent time lunching in the local town, then perusing the local art galleries trying to secure some last Christmas presents.

We arrived to the house late this afternoon and have been relaxing ever since. My book of choice for the next few days is Marley & Me.

I was reading another book that I just couldn’t get in to, when Marley & Me sucked me in. The book is written by John Grogan, a columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Page three he writes about his childhood dog, “My mother would later tell me, ‘In fifty years of marriage, I’ve only seen your father cry twice. The first time was when we lost Mary Ann’ – my sister who was stillborn. ‘The second time was the day Shaun died.'"

Nothing like connecting with me in the Preface. He goes on to chronicle how he and his wife secured the newest member of their family, Marley. And how Marley goes through the highs and lows of their marriage with them. Marley for me is a cross between our two cats, Cierra and Kenzie. All the weird, quarky Marley moments attributed to Cierra and the sweet, tender moments attributed to Kenzie.

I’ll digress for a minute to say those girls have been my lifeline these past nine months. I read blogs of women of have experienced the loss of a child and say how they couldn’t go on without their living children. I feel similarly about my cats, to the point I said to Tim last week, how do people come home with nothing to love on…no child, no animal. Let’s just say our girls have gotten their fair share of attention these past few months.

The similarities between Grogan’s story and ours are uncanny, down the murder that occurred feet from their home right before they moved into their first house. A murder which no one, the seller, the agent, or the inspector, spoke of until they moved in. Our story involved a young girl. Sparing the details, I’ll share that I used to look out our back window those first few weeks and become very upset. It was February and Tim would always say to me, “You’ll plant some flowers in the spring out there as a way of honoring her.”

Grogan goes on to tell of the excitement of their pregnancy and how Marley rejoiced with them. And then how Marley grieved along side them when they lost their precious baby to a miscarriage. Animals are uniquely sensitive to our emotions. Recently Kenzie had a lot of bloodwork done. The doctor said, “I want to check her blood levels against what we saw in March [their bloodwork following the plant consumption after Cara’s death.] It showed that Kenzie was very stressed.” “Yes,” I said quietly, “that’s when we lost our daughter.”

I remember those days following Cara’s death. At one point with a room full of people, Kenzie, who under those circumstances would normally have made her presence scarce, climbed in my lap, as if to say we need each other now.

One more Kenzie story before I sign off. Our beloved cats are banished to the laundry room in the evenings, because their hyperactivity seems to display around 2:00 am. On the weekends, whoever wakes up first, will let the felines out for their breakfast and morning frolicking. Kenzie, who is not content until both of us are up, will go upstairs to meow at the bedroom door until the sleeping spouse arises. A spouse who is greeted with a glimpse of Kenzie’s tail flying down the stairs which communicates, “we are all up now, let’s play.”

In the months following Cara’s death, we noticed something strange about Kenzie. We will both be awake, and yet Kenzie will still be upstairs crying. A couple of times I have gone up there to tell her that everyone is up, and I find her outside the nursery.

As we sit in our mountain cabin each devouring our books, we occasionally stop to reflect how we are ready to know our next chapter. We have lived some beautiful chapters already, the story of a pregnancy filled with love and anticipation followed by pages of heartbreak in burying our daughter and finding life without her. She is very much a part of our lives. We are three. But we are ready for the next part, the story that continues to unfold for our family. What does it hold? When will we have some direction? Some indication of that which we so desperately long to have?

9 months

Hard to believe. My stomach drops when I let it sink in. We had 9 months of life with Cara, and now we're living into 9 months of death. It shouldn't have been this way. We miss our baby girl so much.

Cynthia and I were talking last night about how over the past couple of weeks we've been moving into an acceptance stage in our grief journey. We shared this last night and I share this now with so much reservation. Because here's what acceptance doesn't mean. It doesn't mean "we're over it" or "we're moving on." It doesn't mean that the grief and pain is over. It doesn't mean that our grieving and mourning stops here. It doesn't mean that we forget.

But it does mean that we are starting to accept and live more into our new reality of a life forever marked by Cara. It means that each and every day we'll wake up and think of what could have been with our firstborn, baby girl. It means that the pain and grief from life without Cara will be present the rest of our lives, but it just won't be quite as raw. It means that Cara will be an integral part of all our family traditions for the rest of our lives. It means that Cara's brothers and sisters, and extended family and friends will know Cara, and hear many stories about how she changed us forever.

I said to Cynthia last night that I feel like this past year will be big blur when we look back. Cynthia quickly corrected me and rightfully so. She said that she thinks we'll remember this year more than ever in the years to come. She described this year as the richest and fullest year we've ever had...

We experienced our first pregnancy and the birth of Cara. And even though there is so much pain from her death, her life brought so much richness into our world. 9 months later Cynthia and I can say that because of Cara our marriage is so much stronger. Because of Cara we have taken better care of ourselves emotionally (through counseling) and physically. 9 months later, because of Cara we have slowed down the pace of our life so we can enjoy the richness of hikes, bike rides, birdwatching, gardening, quiet moments in our house, vacation trips, our church community, dates together, and visits with family and friends. Because of Cara, I'm pursuing a vocation that is closely linked to my passion for music. Because of Cara we're starting a Healing Ministry at our church. Because of Cara life is rich and full of more purpose, hope, peace and love than we've ever known.

Because of Cara...

Cara will continue to bring many more wonderful things into our lives. It doesn't stop here, it doesn't stop at 9 months.

The Call

Cynthia and I watched Chronicles of Narnia, Prince Caspian: The Return to Narnia recently and were both touched by the song at the end of the film, "The Call" by Regina Spektor.

The songs plays as Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy leave Narnia.

Watch and listen to it here. (Just listen if you don't want to see the last scene of the film).

This song struck a strong connection between Cara and us. It seemed like Cara was saying these words to us...

I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye

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

The Call

It started out as a feeling

Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder
Til it was a battle cry

I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye

Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never
Been this way before

All you can do is try to know
Who your friends are
As you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye..

Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean that you have to forget

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
Til they're before your eyes

You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say good bye

A gift from Australia

Last week I found Carly from Australia's blog - To Write Their Names in the Sand. I wrote to her, and this morning we received a precious gift...

Silver Lining

I had a really beautiful experience last night driving on the freeway to visit with a friend. I was listening to a mix Tim made with the lights of the city all around me feeling the excitement of going to a place I love.

And yet still in that beautiful moment, my grief consumed me. I was listening to River of Love, a song we sang at our last church which was in this city. It was there I met the friend I was going to visit.

River of Love
Recorded by Leslie Phillips

There's a river of love that runs through all times
There's a river of grief that floods through our lives
It starts when a heart is broken into
By the thief of belief in anything that's true
But there's a river of love that runs through all time

There's a river of love that runs through all times
There's a river of tears that floods through our eyes
We fight through the night for freedom as it fades
Into a jail where we fail everytime we make a break
But there's a river of love that runs through all time

I had to run before I knew how to crawl
The first step was hard but I have had trouble with them all
But now the night grows darker and the day grows dim
'Cause I know I never will see you again
And I almost made you happy

There's a river of love that runs through all time
There's a river of fire that burns with no light
The flame is the pain of dreams gone up in smoke
From the lies we deny and breathe until we choke
There's a river of love that runs through all time

My thoughts were centered around the bold words and some feelings I have been trying process but haven't been able to reconcile. The first step was hard but I have had trouble with them all...I was transported back to the hospital, wheeled down the hallway of the maternity floor, sitting in front of the elevator, no baby in my arms. I was leaving her there.

I had to walk to the car, into my house without her and collapse on the couch. A belly, days before filled with life, deflated in front of me, a symbol of my broken body and it's inability to care for my baby.

At this point last night, I was sobbing, driving down the highway, trying to figure out how to get it together. I didn't want my friend to know I was this upset, I want to be able to enjoy my time with her, I didn't want other people to think I had been crying. I longed to crawl up in a ball on my couch and even considered turning back.

Thankfully the next song on Tim's mix came through at the perfect moment.

Heart of Life
John Mayer

I hate to see you cry
Lying there in that position
There's things you need to hear
So turn off your tears and listen

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No, it won't all go the way, it should
But I know the heart of life is good

You know it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing
Then the circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No, it won't all go the way, it should
But I know the heart of life is good

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But I know the heart of life is good

I know it's good

From 2,900 miles away in Seattle, I felt like Tim was speaking to me. Telling me to stop crying and go be with my friend. I reflect on how all of my friends have "defended the silver lining" and reminded me that there is still joy in life. Hopefully one day I'll find it again...

All Saints' Day

Dear Cara Grace,
Life is so incredibly painful without you. I found myself sobbing hysterically today over your absence. I miss you so much, sweetheart. I hate how my body, my awareness, the doctors - we all failed you.

I wanted to dress you up yesterday, my little pumpkin. Instead, Daddy and I hid away in the house with the lights off. Still one dark haired little princess found her way to our doorstep and reminded me of you.

I long to know who you would have become and the joy you would have brought us. Yet even in the one day we had you, you brought us so much joy. You were a marvel of a baby. Seven and a half months later the finality of your death is still setting in. I can't believe you are gone.

You are the first baby and the first saint for our church. It's a horrible honor. I can't fathom that tomorrow we celebrate you, my little wonder of a child. Honey, I miss you. I long to know you and to hold you. All around me my friends have children and are having children. You will always be missing in those friendships.

Tonight we went to Ms. E's house. We celebrated All Saints' Day with a feast of wine and good food. The table was set in fall colors, a sign of the harvest and celebration of the spirits. Mr. D offered a prayer of remembrance for those who have gone before us and missing from our gathering.

Cara, you are my greatest joy and your death is my greatest heartbreak. In you is wrapped up all of my emotions, all of my being. I'm slowly deconstructing my life and rebuilding it. Your daddy and I live our lives very different all these months later. Our focus is on enjoying life through activities that are life-giving like bike riding and playing games and watching movies together.

Tomorrow we celebrate you, that you have drawn us closer to our faith. We are still discovering what that means and will always be. There are so many things I don't understand about God - when he moves and when he doesn't and what it means to pray through that. I find myself stronger in my faith when I don't have the answers than when I do. Faith is just that, trusting in what I can't understand.

Cara, we long to have another child with us. We have all these lessons we learned that we want to put into motion and pour into your brother or sister.

I love you, my beautiful angel, gone far too quickly. Make yourself known to us. I'll be ever watching. You took a big part of my heart when you left us too soon.

Love,
Mommy