Four Years

Four years. I gave my Mother-in-Law a hug today and she commented that it never gets easier and that this is the toughest one yet. I 100% agree. The whole past week has been awful for me. It’s like the calendar flips to August and I am not okay. My emotions have been raw…lots of not sleeping…crying in the shower…trying to breathe with the weight on my chest and the knot in my throat.

I had a solo camping trip planned for the weekend. I thought it would be a good time to get away by myself. Do the whole introvert thing…refill my cup…recharge my batteries. Saturday rolled around and being alone was the last thing I wanted. Levi got out of bed about 9:30 and I was still in my pajamas…laying in bed crying. We ended up road-tripping down to Northfield together. I tortured him with the bookstore and the yarn shop…but then I bought him gadgets at the kitchen store and bought him lunch. At lunch I thanked him for spending the day with me and admitted that I was spiraling. He knew…and honestly did just want his Dad would have done to snap me out of it.

Sunday the four of us went to the zoo together. It was one of my favorite days in the past four years. I love the dynamic the four of us have developed. At one point we were walking on the trail and they were a little bit ahead of me…joking around with each other…and all I could think was “Babe, just look at our babies. They are so perfect”. They also completely get me and the things that make me tick. We were walking on the trail that goes back in the wooded area of the zoo and stopped at a bench overlooking the lake. They commented that it would be a great spot for me to go to sit and write.

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Today was rough. The kids had their own plans during the day…which was fine. I also wanted to spend some time by myself. I took the dogs for a walk this morning…then put the top down…and headed South. And stopped in Red Wing because it started raining on me. I ended up sitting in Caribou with a coffee and writing for a little bit before heading back home. I spent the afternoon crocheting and binge watching a show. Anna and Levi (Seth was working) and I met some of my in-laws for dinner.

We came home and Levi decided to reorganize my kitchen cupboards. As he was taking apart my kitchen, I was watching him and thinking about grief and different ways of expressing it. My kids are all very private about their grief. All three of them kind of just went about their days today as usual, but they show their grief by wanting to spend more time with each other. We spent a lot of time together this weekend and none of it was Forced Fregien Family Fun. We chose it and I love that. I think there is no better way to honor their Dad…and I love seeing all the pieces of him in our kids.

Write On…

Yesterday was a very big “ending” for me. In the story of my life, it marked the culmination of a chapter that only lasted 14 months, but was extremely impactful on my life. It was my last therapy session with Tara. We spent our time together talking about our chapter. Going back to May 3, 2024 when I first sat in her office. I don’t remember a lot of what I said, but I do remember how I felt. I was done. I was depressed and felt like I had no purpose in my life anymore. I struggled to relate to people and have any kind of relationship that felt real. I felt unseen…invisible…lonely all the time. I was tired of constantly wearing a mask to appear “normal” to society and not make other people uncomfortable by my grief. By that point, I had been struggling for years. It was a struggle that began when Jason was first diagnosed in May, 2020 and then became unbearable after he died in August, 2021. She was my last hope…and I told her that…at our first meeting.

And for 14 months she has listened to my story…witnessed my pain…shared in my joys…applauded my adventures…encouraged my writing. Her eyes never strayed from my face…she never tried to change the subject…she didn’t try to fix things for me. She occasionally gave advice when I directly asked for it…but mostly, mostly she just listened. And she not only listened, but THANKED me for telling my story…for being vulnerable…for sharing my whole truth. That was…and still kinda is…crazy to me!!

That chapter is a really hard one for me to turn the page on, but I am so thankful that I am the person that I am now for the start of this new one…and whatever adventures it may bring. I was hoping to start it with another camping adventure…but stupid decisions on Tuesday led to me being laid up with huge blisters on my heels. Lucky for me I have an awesome son who doctored me up last night when it looked like infection was setting in….so they are feeling pretty good…but not “let’s put shoes on” good.

So instead I’m going to embrace a weekend at home. Spend some good time in my gazebo. Do some writing. Read some books. See some family…maybe an impromptu get together with friends. And that feels just perfect.

Tara wrote me this note yesterday. It now lives on my desk. So many words of hers will forever live with me…but I really love these…

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Beginnings…and Endings

I love to start my mornings out in my gazebo. Today is perfect for it. It’s Juneteenth so I’m off of work. The sky is clear. There’s no wind. It’s still cool enough that I popped on my fire table. The sound of water trickling in my fountain and the birds singing drown out a bit of the urban noise. The lilac tree that shelters my gazebo is blossoming. The dogs are laying peacefully by me without chasing squirrels or bunnies all crazy. If only I could train them to run in the house and refill my coffee cup for me.

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My emotions and thoughts feel deep today. I’ve been thinking a lot about beginnings and endings. How life is full of them. Hell, every day has a beginning and ending. Some beginnings are the start of something we never want to end, and the end is painful and full of grief. Sometimes we can’t wait for the end, and celebrate its arrival. Sometimes we can’t wait for something to begin and can barely stand the anticipation and its arrival is marked with celebration. Sometimes beginnings feel uncertain and are marked with anxiety and trepidation. Most beginnings and endings aren’t that dramatic…they just ebb and flow with the passing of time…unmarked…unnoticed really.

Yesterday I had my third to the last visit with my therapist. Only two more weeks with her. We talked a lot about the ending of that relationship and how I feel about it. She is the one person on this earth who I can say completely knows and sees me…that I 100% trust. The only other person that I could say that about is Jason…and he died. So, it’s hard for me to keep the loss of my relationship with Tara (my paid therapist) in perspective. It feels like so much more than the loss of a business relationship.

I also am constantly reminding myself that last May, when I first walked into Tara’s office and sobbed on her couch, was also the start of a much more important relationship that will never end…my relationship with myself. She helped facilitate that…peel back a lot of layers…heal a lot of hurt…rebuild trust in myself. That was the real purpose of her time in my life.

So Monday I have a consult with a colleague of hers that she thinks will be a good fit. I’m trying really hard to be optimistic. To feel some excitement for this new beginning. But it’s hard. I told Tara yesterday that my fear is that I won’t be able to get over my weekly therapy sessions not being the same…I’ll lose my motivation for them…and I’ll just stop going. But maybe this will be a good beginning….sometimes we just don’t know.

Hearing “I Love You”

I had a hard time falling asleep last night. Usually I write or read until my eyes can’t stay open and then I’m out. Staying asleep is usually the hard part. Last night I just lay there thinking about how much I miss hearing Jason say “I love you”. For almost 21 years of marriage those were the last words I heard every night before I went to sleep…and the last 15 months when his memory was untrustworthy he would sometimes say it more than once. He would say “I love you” and then “I can’t remember if I said it or not yet”. I would just tell him he could tell me a million times and I wouldn’t mind.

Sometimes when he was having a rough day he would follow-up his “I love you” with “Thank you for taking care of me”. To which I would respond “You don’t have to thank me for that. You would do the same for me”.

When he was first diagnosed he would get really frustrated with himself when he couldn’t remember things…details about his doctor appointments and such. I told him not to worry about all that…the only thing you need to remember is that I love you and the kids love you. That’s it. And you know what? He never did forget that. He couldn’t keep track of anything else…day of the week…plans for the day…whether he had eaten or showered on a particular day…but love…that he remembered.

Those three words are powerful…don’t forget to use them.