Placed Beside Me

Nick was a Lego maniac. He was constantly putting sets together and making his own creations. I have his finished products all over the house.

Today in yoga, the instructor spoke about surrendering in the twist and letting go of what didn’t serve us or was weighing us down. I wasn’t sure what it was I needed to let go, but her words resonated with me.

When I came home prepared to clean, I looked at all the Legos on my bookcase. At the bottom were my journals spilling over onto the floor.

Was it time to get rid of Nick’s Legos? Stephen packed his away before he went to college. One of the difficult parts of losing a child is that I don’t know what Nick would want. He loved technology, video games, reading fantasy. Would he still be into all of that?

It’s the unknown that leads to the what if’s, the second guessing, regrets, and inability to make a decision.

I have learned that what I cannot quite let go, I can place beside me so that it no longer plagues me with sadness. It’s so hard to remove something that was important to my son. The amount of possessions I keep of his doesn’t measure my love for him. That I hold in my heart always. His creations are a reflection of his personality. Sometimes I smile when I see them. Sometimes I cry.

I decided to pack his creations in their form he made into a bin and place them in the basement with all the other toys I have kept of my boys. I took photos first.

Maybe some day I will want to look at them again. Or maybe Stephen’s children will get to know who their Uncle Nick was and make new creations out of his classic Legos.

I don’t know, but I want the choice. And the space I created on that bookshelf? It’s more about the lightness I feel in me, which will allow me to write to and about my boys. Those shelves will hold those journals.

Muscle Memory

I couldn’t let the day pass without sharing a story about childhood cancer awareness month. Grief is like muscle memory. Your body remembers as easily as the change in seasons. As fall comes, we begin to crave hot apple cider and donuts, the crisp air, and early nights.

This is the time when my most damaged muscle pines for what has been lost. That muscle memory kicks right in at the beginning of September. The first day that Stephen had to go to school by himself without his big brother. Their first birthdays separated, the first Halloween dressing up on his own, the loss of innocence, the pain that seeps back in as stealthily as the leaves begin to change.

Despite all we do to bring about change, it sometimes feels that not enough is being done. No matter how much good I am surrounded with and all the support and love that I am given, my heart still skips and flutters with loss when I think about Nick.

Like so many other families, cancer took away one of my biggest joys, one of my greatest purposes in life. And it just sucks.

There are times when muscle memory is a good thing. For anyone who has lost a child, every season and every anniversary brings the heartache back.

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, but every day I don’t have my son. So every day we should work like hell to find a cure, give comfort, show love, and make a difference for a child battling cancer or any type of life threatening illness. That is the kind of muscle memory everyone should have.

family photo 2008
Our family September 2008.

Love Finds a Way

Today we lost a brilliant and beautiful soul, my friend Justin Bruckbauer. When my husband found me crying and I told him, he said that if you are going to let love into your heart, then you have to remember the goodness and joy that he brought into your life.

He was so right. If you met Justin, you couldn’t help but feel the love that he had for everyone who crossed his path. He was accepting, smart as a whip, and so very knowledgeable.

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2015–Justin joined us for our annual donation to The Melodies Center. Pictured with me and Dr. Gozman.

Justin taught me that no matter how much my heart breaks, love will always find a way to heal it. He taught me that despite the pain of losing someone special, I am grateful to have known the power of love and soak it in as this is what gets us through the sadness.

I had the privilege to see Justin this past Monday. I felt a sense of urgency to go see him and knew I had to visit. I am so very thankful that I did. We had the most engaging, fun, and fantastic conversation. Justin asked, “You like the Marvel movies, don’t you?” “Yes, I do,” I replied.

And then he was off. Justin talked about which movies came out first and how the infinity stones were entwined in the different series. He showed me the trailers to the new Logan and Guardians of the Galaxy 2 movies, and said how he looked forward to seeing them. I will go watch them in memory of this beautiful young man, who was a superhero to so many.

We talked about Greek, Roman, Norse, and Irish mythology. His faith and knowledge of the Bible and history amazed me. I felt completely at home talking to him about art and writing, and we discussed what other superheroes we could create. We even talked about Wonder Woman, my favorite.

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We could have kept talking forever, and it makes me sad that I won’t have the chance to continue our conversations. But Justin gave me the gift of love on Monday, and I will forever keep my heart open, so I will always know that feeling. It hurts, I know, but the alternative of not sharing my love with kids battling cancer isn’t an option. My heart breaks for his family and especially his incredibly brave and strong momma.

Justin, I know I will see you in my dreams as the superhero you are. Give my boy a hug for me.