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Love them!

When I started working at Aetna 23 years ago I noticed something odd. A lot of the women I worked with complained frequently about their husbands and many also complained about their in-laws. I never understood this. I’m not saying my husband was perfect but I certainly wasn’t going to complain about him at work. And let’s face it, I really didn’t have much to complain about.

A lot of credit for the man he turned out to be, goes to his parents, Andre and Barbara Ann (Prandini) teNyenhuis. They raised five children. The fact that they survived the first three is kind of a miracle! Patrick turned 1 just two short weeks after Gabriel was born. Daniel turned 2 the following month. So they had three in diapers at the same time! And then Dina was born a few years later but they weren’t done yet, Matthew arrived a few years later.

I met Patrick after they moved out of their Ashcroft house but my understanding is that they added on to their master bedroom to create a dorm style room for the boys. I’m not sure that I would have been happy about giving up my master bedroom but Mom and Pop made it work. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must have been to have so many small children at once (and I thought two was a lot of work)!

Mom and Pop not only raised those five children, they got them all through college and they all became successful, independent and happily married. They are all really great people to be around and I’m happy to call them my family.

I have awesome parents of my own so I wasn’t necessarily looking for another set (lol) but it became clear early on that my in-laws were very special. I remember Mom laughing with me about crazy things Patrick did and I always reminded him that she said if we ever split up they were keeping me. I may have imagined this but I’m sticking to my story.

Many people also complain about the fact that they “have to” split up holiday events between families. I was fortunate because it was important to both of us to be with both families and we did our best to make that happen whenever possible. My favorite holidays have been the ones where we had some combination of our families together.

I have contact with a lot of widows both in person and online. I regularly hear horror stories about interactions following the death of their husband or just the fact that the relationship ended with the death. I am so happy that I only have good stories to share. They have always loved me but I have felt it even more as they supported me through the death of their son. They remind me regularly that even though we may not talk every day, they are always thinking of the girls and I and they always love us.

Yesterday I got to spend the day on Shaver lake celebrating Mom’s birthday. I won’t tell you which one. We got to celebrate Zia Becky’s birthday too. I am so grateful to be part of this family! Happy Birthday Mom!

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And she’s off on a new adventure!

In a few days I will be dropping Camille off at UC Davis. I knew the summer would fly by and it has. I’m kind of avoiding all of the feelings I have about this. I know we will all be okay and she’s going to have a great time but it’s hard letting go of my youngest!

I love both of my girls equally. They are alike in many ways but also different. Sierra was fiercely independent. I know she missed us and we missed her but she was excited to experience college. When we dropped her off I was honestly just really excited for her.

With Camille it’s a little different and a lot of it has to do with the change in circumstances. Camille and I have been together since Patrick died. Initially it was just us that day. And when Sierra left for school last year it was just Camille and I for the entire school year. So, I think that makes it harder to let her go. Make no mistake though, she will thrive in college and I know she will make me extremely proud!

I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am that Sierra will be home with me for another year. We will get to have that time together just like Camille and I did. Eventually they will both be gone but having this extra year is going to make it easier for me.

I just realized that today is the 22nd. I completely missed the 20th. Every month I have thought about how many months it has been. But I didn’t think about 17 months. I think that is a good sign! And I think Patrick would agree.

I’m adding pictures that Cathy arranged for the girls to take as a surprise for me. They make me so proud!

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Personal Triumph

I’m on Day 4 of a weight loss challenge at the gym. I’m doing it right this time and following the meal plan in addition to working out so I’m counting on big results!

I stayed up too late last night for various reasons but I went to the gym this morning for kick boxing. Normally I stay for a core session but I was tired and the fans in the gym were not working so I just did one class.

I felt a little guilty when I got home so I took the dog for a walk. She is small so we just went a mile at a slow pace. I was listening to music and my “grief anthem” came on, “Ordinary World” by Duran Duran. Part of the lyrics are, “I won’t cry for yesterday, there’s an ordinary world, somehow I have to find. And as I try to find my way, to this ordinary world, I will learn to survive”. The first time I really listened to these words, a few days after Patrick died, I desperately wanted ordinary. At the time it seemed like nothing would ever be ordinary again but those words gave me hope.

Listening to the song this morning I realized that what I really wanted to do was ride my bike. But I hadn’t done that in over a year…

Patrick and the girls got me a mountain bike for Mother’s Day, 2008. I thought I would ride bikes with them but I ended up going for solo rides after work and working up to 17 miles at a time. I loved it so much that I decided to join Team in Training and train for a Century bike ride. I started with a loaner bike but purchased my own road bike before the actual event. Patrick was skeptical I’m sure but he supported me, coming out to repair flats and provide first aid supplies when I fell while learning how to clip out. I finished my first century in Solvang that year and went on to do 3 or 4 more plus various other rides that were shorter. Cycling is a great workout but when you are mainly doing endurance rides, and you’re me, you think that after a 60 mile training ride you can eat whatever you want. So I was never really able to lose weight and keep it off. I switched to walking and it helped me take off a lot but I was gaining it back. And then April 20th happened.

Patrick rode his bike out Shaw Avenue and did a few laps around Quail Lakes at least a few days each week. If I rode from home I always went down Shaw too, it was my favorite route. He was riding it that morning when he was hit and killed.

That day I wanted to throw my bike in the street. I got over that but then I avoided cycling to protect the girls. I rode in the Ride of Silence a month after he died but honestly I was still in shock then. I just wasn’t sure I could ever really do it again. And if I did, where would I ride? Shaw Avenue was ruined for me.

Today I decided to take my favorite route back. Cycling did not kill Patrick. A lack of sleep caused by a meth binge did. I could give up cycling to keep myself safe but if we gave up everything that could possibly kill us, how would we ever live? I put all my cycling gear on and inflated my tires We do love our gear! Then I realized I didn’t have my Road ID on. I almost went without it but I remembered how mad I was that he did not wear his as it caused an hours long delay in receiving official notification. I went and got it and realized that my first contact was still my husband. There are always reminders.

As I waited at the traffic light I remembered how frequently Patrick disregarded cycling rules and etiquette. That morning I was also a little angry because I was convinced he did something stupid. Later I was extremely grateful when the detective told me that Patrick did nothing wrong.

I wasn’t sure how I would react as I drove past the site. I have driven past a handful of times when I really needed an outlet for my grief. And I would scream and cry as I did that. Cycling is different though. Having the wind in my face was peaceful and I imagined him on his final ride. I’m sure he was thinking about mundane things or planning his day at work. I believe that he never knew what happened and it was quick and painless. I said a prayer and told him I loved him as I rode by. I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream. And then I turned at the next street and rode home. Mission accomplished.

I feel like a weight has been lifted. I know that he would not have wanted me to give up cycling or avoid that stretch of the road. He would have thought it was silly. I’m not sure how much I will ride now. I love my gym workouts and I love the strength they have given me. But I needed the ability to cycle and I needed my favorite route back. Now, the sky’s the limit!

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Grief is just a place I visit

I’m fairly certain that this title is something someone else said, I’m just not that original. Regardless of who coined the phrase, I really like it. Grief really is just a place I visit, I don’t live there.

I was recently talking about the day that Patrick died, with someone who hadn’t heard the story. This is a little bit unusual for me, in fact, I can’t remember the last time it happened. I really don’t mind talking about it. I’m not sure if that is good, bad, or neither but I think it might even be part of the grieving process to revisit it once in a while. The person I was talking to seemed to be worried that I would be too upset and thought he saw my eyes tearing up. I didn’t feel like I was going to cry. I made it through that day by keeping grief at a distance and for me, that has been a workable solution. I was able to get through the story with no problem.

I’m not saying keeping grief at a distance works for everyone. For some people, that might not be a healthy solution, but it works for me. And each time I tell the story I remember little things that I was grateful for and also just the wonder and the sense that I only made it through that day because Patrick and God were watching over me. I took things in little doses. Some were a bit strong but I didn’t feel like I was hitting a brick wall. Some of the memories are a little tougher than others but each time I feel them, it gets a little easier.

I know so many people who have lost someone in the last few years and it’s amazing how we all find our own way to get through it. At times I have felt that I have not been able to support people as much as I had hoped and I’ve tried to figure out why that is. Earlier today I posted my blog from the five-month mark. In it, I mentioned the Widows Hope Facebook group that frightened me early on. I think the reason is that I have never been able to imagine myself living in Grief. I can visit but I prefer to visit Hope, Laughter, and Love. I can handle being in those places. Occasionally I stop by Struggle, Loneliness, and Doubt, but those are brief visits too. I’m not saying that this is the only way to survive. I guess the only advice I can give is to try to give yourself a break from the grief. You can visit every day but keep your visits brief.

One of my favorite places to visit is Laughter. I think I made this clear to people early on. Living with Sierra and Camille has helped. They share their father’s sense of humor and it has gotten us through many difficult times. One of our favorite things to do as a family was to visit thrift shops in San Luis Obispo and occasionally in town. Patrick liked to be a miser and he actually bought his work clothes at thrift shops. I think his employees knew this without even being told 😂😂😂. He also liked to find little treasures there and the girls loved finding clothes. I usually bought books or odd household items. A short time before he died the three of them went thrifting and decided to have a contest. They could each spend $5 and I had to judge whose item was the “Most Awesome”.

The girls bought clothing so their presentation involved coming down the stairs wearing their purchases and working hard to sell them. Camille was first and she came downstairs in this ridiculous gauzy pantsuit with patches sewn on. Clearly it was supposed to be some sort of uniform. The funny thing was that I imagined it was originally just a pantsuit. She strutted down the stairs then jumped off and pointed at the suit. As she later said, the suit spoke for itself and words weren’t required.

Sierra was next. She is also really funny and has a background in Speech and Debate as well as Mock Trial and Moot Court. So she is very persuasive! She strutted down and twirled in the most ridiculous t-shirt I have ever seen. She said that she loved that someone put in the effort to display their love of frogs by cutting out a panel and carefully sewing it into the t-shirt. Then they decided it would be a little bit more awesome to keep that extra part, cut it into fringe and add beads. I was dying at this point!

Patrick went last because he knew his would be the most awesome. He bought one of those apple parer/corer/slicers. He gave an elaborate presentation on the virtues of this handy kitchen tool. I don’t eat a ton of apples but I could see the appeal in having them so easily prepared to eat. I deemed it a good purchase but Sierra was my hands down winner. I’m not sure he ever forgave me for not choosing him! 😉

The Friday after Patrick died, Amy and the kids arrived from Nebraska (Dan arrived a little earlier), and Dawan and Tom made it home from Europe. So, the house was packed and we were all very sad. I remembered the thrift store contest and asked the girls to recreate the presentation. That was the first time our house had been filled with laughter since the nightmare began and it was awesome. After the presentation the girls shared other stories about their dad and it was exactly what we all needed. We had been grieving a bit too much and we needed a laughter break.

Like I said, Grief is a place I visit. It’s not my favorite place to go but it’s not all bad. There are good memories there as well as painful ones. And sometimes I do get a little bottled up and I need to visit Grief to let it all out. I have no trouble finding my way there but I always make it back home. If you ever have to visit, try not to stay too long.

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Giving In

Every once in a while I give in and feel a little sorry for myself. I’m excited about retiring, going to school, and having many other positives in my life. But, I still want that other life back! It probably wasn’t as perfect as I make it out to be. I know I wasn’t blissfully happy every minute of every day, but I was comfortable, secure and loved. It’s hard stepping out of my comfort zone.

In my last post I mentioned my little recurring film clip. There are also places that trigger memories. There is a spot on Fowler, just South of Gettysburg, where Patrick’s bus broke down on the way home from the shop. The mechanic came and towed it back in. I picked Patrick up from that spot and every time I drive by I picture him standing there. I’ve picked him up by the side of the road many times over the years. I wasn’t sure why this one stood out and then I remembered that it happened on Monday and he died on Wednesday. So it’s one of my last memories. I’m sure he got in the car, leaned over to give me a kiss, and said, “Thanks Babe!” I actually gave him several rides that week and that was unusual so it’s a blessing that I had that extra time with him. I wish I could remember every bit of every conversation. I don’t think we talked about anything profound. That night we probably talked about the soccer awards dinner we were heading to. Sometimes it’s the little mundane things that I miss the most.

When I drive down Shaw, past Sunnyside, I imagine his bus parked in his usual spot at the old SJVR office next to BCs Pizza. How many times did I stop there on my way to work to drop off the phone he had forgotten at home? Sometimes I would stop there to pick him up on the way to a sporting event. It was always nicer to ride together.

His memory is everywhere but as time goes by I feel that I’ve lost some of my memories. He always had a better memory than I did and I think of questions I want to ask him every day. My current class is a little more scientific than the others and I would love it if I could ask him to explain some concepts to me. I’m not even sure if he ever studied neurotransmission but he could probably read a blurb in a textbook and make it easier for me to grasp.

When I have bad days or any kind of disappointment really, I always wish for that life. I’m not sure if it’s normal but anything negative in my life now turns into part of my grief. Something completely unrelated will happen and next thing I know, I’m at the cemetery, or driving down Shaw, to pass “the spot” and let out my pain.

My grief is probably more private now. I have to keep my shields up so I can function but I am also a little grateful when something upsets me because I know that I need that regular release that I get when I let go and feel.

I really don’t want to post this because it seems dark and sad and that is not how my life is. This is just part of the process. Letting the feelings out. Dealing with them. I really don’t think I will ever be 100% pain free again. I will always miss him. But, I will continue to embrace life and enjoy the years I have left! I know he would want me to.

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The Red Shirt

Have you ever watched a movie where someone has a kind of film loop running through their head? It’s a real thing. Mine is Patrick, riding his bike, with a long sleeve red shirt and the baggy bike shorts I bought him for Christmas (with hidden padding so no one thought he was too serious about riding). He has an intense look on his face because that’s how he was when he was out riding. He viewed fitness as an obligation and he usually looked serious when he was working out, I think he might have liked it a little but he probably would argue with that.

I guess you will probably think it’s sad that I have these images of how he would have looked right before it happened? And I guess maybe it IS a little sad but I’m so used to it now. And yes, sometimes I let the film go forward a little and imagine what happened. I try not to do that too much because it is harder but it’s odd how much little details matter.

The day after his funeral, Mom and Pop (his parents), picked us up to drive to Porterville for Zio Angelo’s funeral. I sat in the back with the girls on either side of me. We needed to go to be with everyone and I was actually relieved that we didn’t have to be the focus anymore. While we were driving, Mom gave me a card she had been carrying around for Patrick and I. He had recently helped them put in a new mailbox and I had done their taxes. The card was to thank us and it included a gift card for dinner. She had been carrying it around since before he died. I knew that she needed to give it to me but I think it was really hard for both of us. I choked up a little but vowed to keep it together for the girls.

Then my phone rang. It was the funeral home, calling to tell me they had a few personal effects, the clothing he was wearing that day. They thought I might want it thrown out. I had been trying to determine what he was wearing. I can’t tell you why this was important but it just was. I thought it was the red shirt with black on the sleeves but I just wasn’t sure. I tried to ask without anyone in the car realizing what I was asking. I’m not sure how I did it but they confirmed it was the shirt. I told them that someone would pick the items up. I got off the phone and struggled to hold it together. I spoke to a Patrick in my head and begged him to help me hold it together and I really think he did.

We got to the church and the rosary was first. This was good because I bowed my head as if praying and just sobbed. I think the girls were sitting by their cousins and I had the teNyenhuis sisters-in-love with me and they just surrounded me. After the rosary there was a brief viewing/visitation and during this time I moved and sat away from the girls. I knew their aunts would be with them and I just needed to be away, just for a bit. I sat with Elisa, Marissa and Livia (Prandini cousins) and I think I actually stopped crying but it was nice to feel like I didn’t have to hold it together.

That great big beautiful family got me through that day. I love them all so much!

My sister picked up the clothing and it is packed away somewhere. Probably it should have been thrown out but I just couldn’t do it yet.

So I still have that little video playing. I know there are treatments for PTSD type things but I don’t think I really need it for this. It’s not constant and it’s not horrific. It’s just him, riding. I still can’t believe this happened. Over time it has gotten easier. I don’t cry very much, but it is still shocking every time I am reminded that he is gone. And I still wonder about the little details. I can’t help it. I don’t need to know them but maybe if I did it would be different and I wouldn’t wonder so much? So hard to know. Sixteen months later and I promise it is easier and I am mostly happy. When I write down these painful memories I feel like I am releasing them a bit. Thank you for helping with that.

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Village of Support

My mind didn’t let me believe it right away. My heart knew that Patrick was gone but I also knew that I was going to have to wait for confirmation. As the shock settled in, the first thing I thought was, “My house is a mess!” I realize that people don’t care about these things at times like this but I knew, without a doubt, that a lot of people would be in my house that day.

When you are born into the Hatch, Boyles, Prandini or teNyenhuis families, you know that family is everything. I am so lucky and blessed that ALL of our extended families are pretty similar when it comes to caring about each other. Family is extremely important. And “family” is a loose term because all of these families are known to “adopt” anyone who starts hanging around, lol. One of the things that these families do best is support each other. So, when I realized Patrick was gone, I also knew that I would be encircled in love and support. I only actually told a few people, but spreading the word is also a given for all of these families. As I sat in shock that morning, the “Village” of my family sprang into action. Calls were made and plans established to ensure that we were taken care of that day and the days that followed. For the first few weeks my job was to just get through each day. There were people to take care of anything. I was overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

Since then I have often reflected on the amazing amount of love I felt during that time. People always tell me how strong I was but how can you not be strong when you have so much support? Since then I’ve watched other people go through similar experiences and they also had a lot of support. But I realize that there are tragedies every day and we never hear about the ones where there is no one around to help the family.

In April there was a shooting spree in Fresno and four people died. One of the victims had just started working for the same company as my brother and was killed on the job. My brother told me that his fellow employees did a lot of fundraising for their coworkers family. They also contacted the other families to offer help. Some of the other families indicated that no one else had reached out to them. So, having support is contingent on whether or not you were lucky enough to be born into a large family, marry into one, or both and whether or not you have a large social network. I thought about what those first few days and weeks would have been like if I were alone and I couldn’t even imagine it.

In November we relived our experience in the worst way when my best friend’s dad, Ron Stebles, was hit and killed. I felt so awful for the family but this time I at least had an idea of what to do. The first thing is food! The family is in shock and they need sustenance. I was staying with Cathy, who had been there for me but I knew I could call my family and before long Denise and Denny arrived with food and water. They were happy to help because they were also grateful for the support we received.

In May, I watched my friend, Sarah Beasley, go through the tragic loss of her son Aaron. I was able to respond in a way that I knew would have been helpful to me and an idea begin to form. I have all this gratitude and so do a lot of other people. Why don’t we pay it forward by being there for families who are not fortunate enough to have the support we have?

I am thrilled to be starting Village of Support to do this. Initially it is going to be a Facebook group of volunteers. As there is a need I will post it and whoever is available right then can offer to help. The list of ways we can help is just starting. Number one is food but there are also things like helping the family navigate through all of the business that needs to happen (funeral arrangements, etc). Maybe it will involve just sitting with someone or helping them with household chores. I suspect that we will come up with a long list of items as well as volunteers and/or experts with a specific skill. I’m going to need a lot of help because I’ve never done anything like this before. But, I have a Village and it grows every day! If you have ideas please keep them coming. If we can do even one small thing to make the process of losing a loved one easier to get through then we will have succeeded.

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Steam Donkeys

Yesterday marked 16 months without Patrick. I’ve been in a pretty good place emotionally but at the same time I still miss him. I love that I can hear his voice anytime I want on videos. I was watching more videos and wanted to share a few more that were meaningful. MTA is a standard Bluegrass song that he’s played for years. I love his corny joke at the beginning and I love his singing. I sang in choir for years so I can be a little critical and early on I didn’t exactly enjoy his voice (I know that’s awful to say). After years of practice he had a really nice voice. Abdul has a great voice too so he took the lead on a lot of songs but Patrick is singing this one. 🙂 MTA

I also realized that there was another song that really showed his improved banjo skills so I wanted to share that one too. This was always played right after Peace, Love and Understanding. I think you can tell how happy he was to play it too. Little Sister

I can’t remember if I’ve already shared this story, if so, I apologize. My sister and brother-in-law met Abdul at work and they became great friends with he and his wife, Shannon. Dawan and Abdul both have birthdays in February and in 2012 they had a combined party. Abdul’s son plays in a Bluegrass band called The Creak and they were going to be playing at the party. Dawan wanted Patrick to meet Abdul and Patrick was excited that he could bring his banjo for a jam session afterwards. The party was nice with great food and drinks and the band was really good. Afterward they all played for a long time. As we drove home Patrick told me, “I know this was Dawan and Abdul’s party, but I really feel like it was especially for me, I had so much fun.”

After that Patrick and Abdul regularly got together to jam, eventually calling themselves Grass Half Full. The following February we were talking and I mentioned that Dawan and Tom were in Hawaii. He said, “I KNOW! They took Abdul with them!” I laughed and said, “Well, it was for his birthday.” And he said, “I know, but it is OUR anniversary! That pretty much summed up how much he enjoyed Abdul’s friendship. They continued playing together and even had a gig or two.

Dina and Jeff arranged for them to play at the Central Sierra Historical Society and Museum. While they were there they were asked if they knew any songs about logging or the Shaver Lake area. Since there weren’t any songs Patrick sat down with Jeff and gathered some area history and then over the course of a few weeks in early 2013 he wrote 8 songs. They renamed themselves The Steam Donkey’s after the machine used in logging and one of the songs he had written. Patrick designed a t-shirt logo and had t-shirts made.

One evening they were practicing and I came across an email from Mike Kuhl, my cousin Keith’s best friend who we now consider family. Mike wanted to know if Patrick still went to monthly Bluegrass jam sessions. I told him that he mostly played with a friend and I was actually sitting on the couch listening to them. I asked why he was asking. He replied that he finally bought a stand up bass and wanted to play it. I told him he should come over right now. Then I told the guys and they said, ” We need a bass player, tell him he’s in the band!” He didn’t come that night but they eventually got together and the band became three.

They had a lot of fun for the next few years, mostly just jamming together but they played at least 5 times in Shaver and once in Clovis.

Abdul moved down south so they weren’t playing as often but had a concert scheduled for June of 2016. Like everyone else they were devastated when he died.

Abdul recorded a video for the memorial service that was included with the slide show I previously posted. Here is the link to the video of Abdul. Abdul’s Memorial video

He sent the link the Sunday after Patrick died. This happened to be the same day as the season premiere of Game of Thrones, a show that we had all watched together. We had all been at Dawan and Tom’s but the girls came home early to watch the premier. They were very happy that the character Jon Snow was brought back to Life by Melisandre, the Red Priestess. When I got home I sat on the couch with them to watch the video. It was very emotional since we could see how much Abdul was hurting. After it ended we all sat there crying. After a few minutes I was getting worried that they were still crying. Sierra looked up and said, “I just wish the Red Lady would bring Dad back too.” We all looked at each other and started laughing. It was the kind of thing their Dad would say. I knew we were gonna be alright.

Abdul got the tattoo below on his arm in memory of all the good times.

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Hiking

The week in Hawaii went by so quickly! We had a great time and I think Patrick would have approved.

Patrick was so full of life, and now that he is gone I feel like we should really LIVE for him! Yesterday we tried to go snorkeling at Hanauma Bay but got there too late and we weren't able to park.

We had planned to go to Diamondhead after Hanauma Bay so we just went there instead. It was exactly the kind of thing Patrick would have enjoyed. He loved to be outdoors! And although this was a pretty tame hike, he would have enjoyed the beautiful views. I couldn't help but reminisce about other hikes over the years.

While we were still in college, several of us decided to hike Half Dome. I was several years removed from being an athlete but how hard could it be? We stocked up on provisions like sodas, chips, and beer. There might have been some sandwiches and water but we mainly carried the worst possible things for a hike like that. Dan and Amy were with us and on the way up either the guys ditched us or we mutually agreed for them to go ahead. We were a little slow but I was determined to make it to the top. Did I mention that no one checked the weather forecast? 🤣🤣🤣 Years later Dina would marry Jeff Young and he would teach Patrick how to seriously hike. Back then, we were young and stupid!

As Amy and I reached the base of Half Dome the guys were coming down and thunder clouds were rolling in. We didn't get to go up. I was disappointed and exhausted from the climb. We started down and hey, someone forgot to tell me that my legs would hurt worse on the way down! Then it started raining and our path soon became a slippery river! Patrick stayed with me and protected me on the way down. I'm not going to lie, I clutched his hand and cried most of the way down! And yet he still stayed with me and loved me! ❤️❤️❤️

We always intended to hike more but we were at such different ability levels. And I was never fit enough to do the kind of hikes he loved. Jeff introduced Patrick and his brothers to real hiking. They all worried that someone would die but Jeff always got them back in one piece, even the time they sent the guy with the worst sense of direction to get water! My husband could get lost driving home!

Our last family hike was the Ontario Ridge trail in the summer of 2014 in Avila Beach. It was almost 3 miles and my Fitbit counted the equivalent of 77 flights of stairs. The way up was okay but there were a few times that Patrick steadied me or took my hand to pull me up. I had been working out and I was proud that I could do the hike. The view from the top was beautiful. The way down was steep and slippery. He patiently helped me down as the girls waited at the bottom. It was a fun day and I'm so grateful for that memory.

There are so many things that I would not have been able to do without Patrick by my side. He was my rock. He gave me such a good life and so many good memories! I still have times that I wonder how I can possibly go on. And there are other times that I am amazed at the gifts he has given me. I credit his love for the girls and I with giving me the strength to keep going. There are still times that I stumble but usually someone is there to help me up. And always there is his voice, telling me "you can do this!"

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FEELing

We went to Pearl Harbor yesterday. Dawan didn't go but texted me while we were gone. I told her it was hard because I just FEEL everything so much more now. My emotions are magnified at a place like Pearl Harbor. She knew exactly what I was talking about. We've talked a lot about how we are more empathetic now. I think the girls were affected too. They requested happy music when we got back in the car. Sierra said she had never felt so patriotic before. I'm glad that they got to experience it. As usual, I was thinking of the widows and families and how their futures were shattered. I know many of the men were really young but I'm sure that some had wives or girlfriends back home. I wonder how their lives turned out?

I still find it amazing that what I am going through is not unique. I hear new stories every day, yet before Patrick died, I was blissfully unaware of how fragile my perfect life was. If my writing has no other impact, I hope that I encourage you to embrace life, show your love, and don't wait for the "perfect time" to follow your dreams. Life is precious. Love is precious!

Today I am lying by the pool, enjoying a nice breeze and looking at the clouds for signs. If I see a particularly corny or obscene shape, I consider it a gift from my husband. ❤️ Mostly I'm just enjoying being here. I also FEEL other things more. I'm grateful that I have a good life and for the love that always surrounds me. I'm lonely, but it could be so much worse. I'm grateful to be in such a beautiful place and to have my girls with me. 😊

When vacation is over I'm probably going to be making a change. I'm not sure what yet but my next step will be volunteering or getting a job. One step at a time, my new life. For now I think I will just stare at the clouds and remember. 😊❤️❤️❤️