The Dead Brothers Society

I’d like to call this meeting to order by saying I hate that you’re here. Don’t take that the wrong way-- I hate that I’M here. Every last one of us would do anything to not qualify to be here.

That said—come on in and take a seat. Or stand. Or curl up in a ball and sob. Pick one. You’re here for life so you might as well get comfy.

The story that got each one of us here began the same way: Death locked your brother in his crosshairs and ripped him away from you. Now here you are-- stuck in this stupid unspoken society with the rest of us. None of us want to be here and yet we’re all so thankful for each other.

There is no welcome committee here—only hearts that will bleed with you and understand your pain. Although each of us feels the pain uniquely, we understand grief waxes and wanes. We know the grief cycle like the back of our hands and the sickening amount of emotion it brings. We literally feel your pain.

We won’t lie to you and tell you time will make this better. It won’t. You’re going to learn how to ride the grief waves like a champ though, I promise you that. We’ll be here when the undertow sucks you down and you need help resurfacing.

We look at you with understanding but not pity. The majority of us HATE that pity stare we get from those who haven’t experienced this kind of loss before. You learn to fake a half smile and nod as a thank you for their acknowledgement of your loss. Don’t be upset by it—it’s not their fault they pity you. They want to help and empathize but they can’t imagine what you’re feeling. Be thankful they don’t understand. We would never wish this kind of grief on anyone.

You’re going to deal with your grief in an untold amount of ways. Don’t fool yourself—the majority of your choices over the next while will be fueled by a broken heart. Most of us will tell you not to make any rash decisions during the first couple of years after his death.. but we also know that’s easier said than done.

You’re going to lash out, torch bridges, end relationships and make horrendous decisions because you’re wracked with grief. I wish I knew how to tell you to avoid this part but.. I did all of those things.  I’m not sure I’d do them differently if I – GOD FORBID—had to go back and do it all over again. It’s how I chose to cope.

You’ll pick your own poison, your own coping method.

At some point you’ll think you’ve got a handle on one stage of grief and you’ll be ripped back to the beginning. This is normal. I wish someone had told me that. I’ve run through the stages many times—some days all before breakfast.

He was almost five years older than me so he quite literally would pick me up when I fell. He was there when I learned how to walk. He waited with me at the bus stop. We took piano lessons together. He found me on the playground and risked looking uncool in front of his friends just to check on with his little sister. He played dolls with me (sorry for disclosing that, bro!). We annoyed each other like only a brother and sister know how to do. He made me believe I deserved so much better than the first boy that broke my heart. When I was a teenager he’d come pick me up no matter what time of the day or night I called. He played songs for me on his guitar. He loved my babies with the fierceness that only an uncle would understand.

He loved me unconditionally. He was always on my side even when I was wrong.

You’ll jam earbuds in your ears and run for miles and miles thinking you can outrun some of this pain -- even for a few moments. (Spoiler alert: You can’t.)

You’ll become fascinated with death.

You’ll feel like your heart was ripped out and put in a washing machine indefinitely.

You’ll develop a dark sense of humor.

You’ll relive that autumn night over and over-- the leaves crunching under your feet, the lights and sirens of the ambulance, the medics that held your hair as you violently threw up from shock. It was the definitive event that defines your “before” and “after.”

I’ve been at this over seven years—I feel like I know a thing or two about a thing or two when it comes to grief. I can feel it coming on most of the time now. Like an aura before a migraine I’ve learned when I need to brace myself for the inevitable wave crashing down on me and choose a route to channel it before it channels me.

Believe you me, that beast will body slam you into next week if you don’t find some way to keep it in check.

Find at least ONE person you can go to—your No Matter What person. They’re someone who loves you unconditionally and has seen you at your very worst. They know when to sit with you and simply be. They know you need to feel the heartache but will keep you from getting sucked into the grief abyss. They know they can’t get you out of a tailspin but they know how give you the strength to get yourself out.

You’ll find strength in yourself that you never would’ve dreamt existed.  It was born from necessity. No one can pull you out of the dark headspace you’ll get stuck in—you’ll do it yourself. This is going to make you or break you. For his sake.. let it make you strong. He wouldn’t want it to destroy you.

You’ll find yourself saying “my brother” instead of his name.  It becomes sacred. Invoking his name has such an effect on you—as if saying it will cause your heartbreak to materialize in front of you.

Accept this: the pain is forever. It’s part of you, just like he is. Where there is pain there is evidence of love. Don’t hide the pain or run from it.

One of the most devastating parts of this loss is the horror of thinking he’ll be forgotten. Keep his memory alive. You can and should do that. Talk about him when you feel like it, write about him, do things that would make him proud.

 When you get a little stronger and time has passed you’ll be invaluable to new members of this awful society. They’ll claw their way to you looking for relief. You can show them there is life after loss. You'll find a new kind of normal.  

To adjourn this meeting I want to remind you he’s very much alive in our minds. We’re here for you.

He loves you. Still. He’s part of you and he’ll always be with you.

pandora's box

I freaking love Fall. I mean everything about it.. the pumpkins, bonfires, sweatshirts, pumpkin spice lattes, Halloween costumes, jumping in piles of gorgeous-colored leaves with the kids, you name it.. I love it.

There is a nostalgia that blows in with the first autumn breeze that has always made my heart skip a beat. It reminds me of a dream childhood, the whimsical laughter of my family as we roast marshmallows around a bonfire, clinging to my brothers' arms as we sit on the couch listening to my parents read us scary stories. Memories frozen in time from what seems like eons ago.

For the past three years, a hatred for Fall has entwined itself into the magic of my favorite season. Like cream swirling into my morning coffee, there is no separation of the love and hate that exists in my heart for this time of year.

Oh Fall, how can I still love you? You are merciless in activating recollections of the night that ripped the heart out of my chest and altered.. everything.

The crunch of a leaf underfoot induces the graphic flashback of being restrained as I sob and claw wildly against the paramedic who held me back from my brother's dead body. The crisp wind that once blew in caramel apple-scented enchantment throws my mind into the back of an ambulance, sitting with my parents and Mike, crying with a mournfulness I didn't know existed. The trace of bonfire-infused air that once made me giddy prompts the remembrance of clutching the side of an ambulance, throwing up until everything went black.

I guess you could say the month of October makes me a little frantic. It generates a nonsensical perception of.. betrayal. As if it was the pumpkins, ghosts and candy corn that took my brother away. Sounds foolish but.. I suppose that is grief at its finest.

So.. that said.. you get it when I say I love autumn but absolutely loathe October 14th, right?

This time of year just makes me feel so.. mad hatter-like (that's as legit of a description as I can come up with). Every year at this time I just start wishing there was something I could do.. something more than going to his grave, more than missing him so much my heart could explode.. something to keep his memory alive, to remind the world my brother is still very much here. He's not gone and he never will be.

It popped into my head that I want a tattoo in his handwriting that says, "I love you, lil' sis." He'd written it a million times throughout the years-- on birthday cards, letters he'd sent when he traveled down in the south for a few months several years back, sticky notes, you name it.

Funny how ideas like that send a spark of hope zipping through my veins.

The problem being, there was a catch to it. (*sigh* Isn't there always?!) In order for me to find his handwriting.. it meant opening THE box. My Matt Box.

Looks funny to see that written down. I suppose until someone close to you dies you might not understand the sacredness of a box of memorabilia belonging to them. Or how just the thought of opening it makes you want to throw back ALL the whiskey.

The box has not been open since a month after Matt died when I filled it to the brim with all-things-Matthew and closed it up tight. In hindsight, I suppose I was hoping to conceal some grief inside and take even the slightest edge off the pain.

Grabbing the box from the top shelf in my closet, I sat down cross-legged in front of it.

Criss-cross-applesauce, Mommy, I heard Ella's little sing-song voice in my head.

I stared down at the box, almost expecting it to burst open like a jack-in-the-box causing an explosion of Matt keepsakes to satiate the room.

Resting my elbows on my knees, head in my palms, I bit my lip, starting to second guess the whole idea. I knew full well that cracking this box open had the potential of making my day go to hell within a matter of moments.

There's a reason this box hasn't been opened. It's not that I don't love thinking about Matt and all of my memories of him but sometimes it's just.. too much. Too sacred. Emotionally, it's the equivalent of taking a baseball bat to the chest a couple dozen times. Same goes for talking about him.. I can only reminisce about him with a handful of people because Matt and his memories are revered to the utmost extreme.

So there I sat, drumming my fingers against my cheek.

Just open the f'ing box, Mel. You're not Pandora. It's just.. stuff. Matt's stuff, yes, but for the love of God, OPEN IT.  

I found myself having to remind myself Matt was not in there. My heart rocketed into my throat.

Just breathe, Mel, just breathe.

Slowly, I undid the latches on the ends of the box.

Snap, snap.

A blue button-up shirt folded neatly on top immediately captured my attention. An image of him wearing it flickered alive. I couldn't help it.. I took the bait-- grabbed it and before I could get it to my face to breathe in the essence of my brother, hot tears stung my cheeks.

Shit, I thought to myself, maybe this box was never meant to be opened.

Too late. You can't unring a bell.

As much unimaginable grief as this box contained, I found myself delving deeper and deeper into it. Becoming submerged in my own galaxy of grief and searching frantically for.. what? Not just my brother's handwriting. For an answer. For.. him. Anything that would make me feel closer to him.

I rocked back and forth as I read over hundreds of cards sent from family and friends, delicately ran dried rose petals that had been on his grave against my cheek, half-smiled as I held the guitar-shaped incense holder I had bought him fifteen years ago in Jamaica, pawed through so many of his old guitar picks, drawings and "letters" to Uncle Matt that Patrick and Anna had scrawled in the days after his death, cried AND laughed looking at pictures of he and I with our arms around each other, drunk as all hell while we were in Hawaii as teenagers.

And then.. I found it. I found what I was looking for. A letter from him. He had written it to me when he visited Georgia several years ago. Sure enough, "I love you, lil' sis" was scrawled across the bottom in his handwriting.

For a moment it felt.. magic. Like he was saying it right to me.. at that exact moment.

Have you ever cried AND laughed at the same time?

I'm so thankful I opened that box. As bittersweet as the waves of memories that crashed into me were.. the indescribable warmth of feeling him with me.. even briefly.. somehow made it easier to breathe.

I guess what I'm getting at with this blog is.. you guessed it.. I miss my brother. A lot. In so many ways and dimensions it's hard to grasp and impossible to put into words.

I'll never stop keeping his memory alive and I feel like it's my duty as his sister to ensure he isn't forgotten.

Ten days from now will be the third anniversary of his death. Not that the month of November is going to make missing Matt go away but for some reason.. this month is just so unbelievably difficult to get through.

With that.. I love and hate you, October. Go quickly.. please go quickly.

worth the fight

It's summertime, 1989.. and I'm five years old, playing outside with my big brother, Matt. Out of all the things to do we decide to play on a rusty old swingset that used to sit on the back of my parent's property.
We're laughing and swinging as high as we can, the chirping of birds and groaning of the ancient swings are background music as we kick higher and higher towards the sky. We're happy to be in the sunshine and happy because Matt's not sick as he so often was due to his asthma growing up.

Leaping off the swings, I climb a ladder attached to the swingset that leads to monkey bars. Matt jumps off his swing and heads toward me. As I reach for the first rung, I turn my head to say something to Matt. I grab the air instead of the rung and start to fall. I'm wearing shorts and the shins on both of my bare legs connect with rusty nails jutting out of steel side bars on the side of the ladder. The nails slide into my shins and rake several inches down as I slide down the ladder.

I let go of the side bar to ungore myself from the nails and land on the ground. Curling up in a ball, I cover my shins with my hands and rock back and forth. I can stll remember that throbbing. Not like it was a life-threatening injury but at five years old I can tell you.. it freaking HURT.

I didn't cry. Just scrunched my eyes shut and kept my hands clamped over all the blood.

Matt's eyes instantly went saucer-sized and he fell to his knees next to me.

"Are you ok? Let me see how bad it is, Mellie.." He tried coaxing but all I would do is shake my head back and forth.

After a few minutes, he talked me into removing my hands from the wounds. Blood covered my hands and oozed all over my lower legs.

I can still remember his reaction to seeing it. The patience in his voice was gone. "Mellie, we have to get you inside. Come on. NOW."

I repeatedly shook my head and scrunched up my nose. "No.. it'll hurt too much."

"Get up, Melanie.. GET.UP.NOW."

I could see he was worried so I slowly stood to my feet. He scooped me up and carried me the quarter mile to the house. Mind you, I couldn't have been over forty pounds and was a wiry little kid but.. so was Matt. In no way would that have been an easy task for him. I wish I had a video of him carrying me that day and the way he took care of me.
Little did I know how symbolic that incident would become.

The past two years have been filled with so many bad things, but you know what's weird? Slowly, so slowly.. the holy-crap-there's-an-elephant-sitting-on-my-chest feeling has begun to lift and there's this light.. this promising light.. that started so tiny but it's growing.. by leaps and bounds every day.

Hope, hope, hope.. it's crazy how the tiniest bit of it can make you euphoric after being in the dark for so long.

Yep, I woke up one morning from my comfy planned out life to discover I had been teleported to Oz. Everything was different. My brother and many other family members were dead, I'm divorced, my other brother was divorced.. just to name a FEW. Each bit of trauma iginited its own chain of events that made everything go topsy-turvy from the way it was "supposed" to be. It was all so foreign, so different, so.. sad. I hated it. I refused to do anything but curl up in a ball and wish for the past. Nothing would ever be the same, I would never be happy again and you know what? I didn't WANT to be happy again. I wanted misery because I felt like I was committing the ultimate betrayal to Matt for being any kind of happy.

Then I remembered Matt's words from so many years ago, "Get up, Melanie-- GET. UP. NOW."

My eyes filled with tears as I rolled them. Oh SURE, Matt.. how am I supposed to do that exactly? How do I just act like everything is going to be ok when it is NOT going to be ok?!
After stomping my feet and throwing a fit for way too long I realized I had no other choice but to listen to my brother like I'd done so long ago.. I had to stand up. Like it or not. If I didn't I knew my kids would suffer because of it. Fast forward through a lot more eye rolling and five-year-old-like tantrums and I was on my feet, trying to figure out what way to do.

"But just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die.. you've gotta get up and try, try, try.." ~Pink

Then all of a sudden.. things just clicked. School, friends family and of course my kids.. it all just started to fall into sync.  I mean I swear I've had so many days where I was literally dragging my feet because I was just exhausted in every way and so unsure of so many things. What's kinda cool though is that even if you don't know exactly where you're going or you feel like you're not moving at all.. chances are if there's pain involved and you're going through the motions.. you're going to look back one day and see how far you've come. How much progress you've made.

And then things start to get.. good. Again.

"Every storm runs out of a rain, every dark night turns into day.." ~Gary Allan

Your heart will skip a beat when this happens because you'll realize what I did: Life isn't over. It doesn't mean it's not going to be hard.. a LOT of the time.. and it's not that you won't have days where you want to slam your head against the wall and stomp your feet like crazy and you won't miss your brother to the point of standing on the back deck screaming into the starry night sky (sorry, neighbors!).. or standing at his grave whining, "Come on, Matt, ANSWER ME!" or be so heartbroken you can only say his name around a handful of people because it just seems too.. sacred. After a while though, you'll see that although there's been a whole lot of bad.. there's a whole lot of good left too.

You'll see it's worth the fight.

My life is unrecognizable from two years ago. Never, ever will anything make Matt's death any better.. it's truly the only thing in life (as well as the death of other people I love) that has left a mark on my heart. There is this feeling now though.. this undeniable feeling.. that everything is going to be ok. That this new "normal" I've stumbled into might just have a ridiculous amount of happiness in it.

So many times lately I've caught myself in moments where I'm just.. happy. It's so.. disorienting. Sometimes I swear I get a glimpse of what Matt would do and say if he was still alive.. still able to listen to my endless ramblings and little sister ridiculousness. I know he'd want me to be happy.. to do what's best for my kids.. and fight like hell when necessary.
I don't think it's a coincidence that I've seen a ridiculous amount of shooting stars over the past few months. Like it's weird for me to be outside at night and NOT see one. I like to think it's my brother's way of giving me his signature nod of his head and that it's his way of saying I'm going the right way.

The truth is, two and a half years ago my world didn't just stop spinning.. it whipped off its axis and shattered into a million pieces. I fell through the freaking ice hardcore. I had no idea how badly damaged I was by Matt's death. Truthfully, I still am. I always will be. It's part of loss.. part of losing my brother. Looking back at ground zero though.. it's like looking at an entirely different person. I walked away from a lot of people, burned a lot of bridges and clung like hell to those that were close to my brother.

There is no healing. I don't really believe in that "time heals" crap. The grief is just now beginning to be.. contained. It spread like wildfire through every area of my life. Over the past two and a half years, whether I've been aware of it or not, grief has fueled almost all of my decisions. There is so much power behind grief. You can use it to get you through what you never thought you could endure.. or, if you let it it will take you in a downward spiral in a heartbeat and obliterate every area of your life.

Five years ago.. actually, even ONE year ago.. I never would've imagined I'd be here.. so much has changed-- good and bad. I'll be honest with you though.. I kinda love where I am right now. Never in a million years will I miss my brother any less but there's the feeling of clawing my way to the surface and gasping for breath after being trapped under the ice for so long.

Is it the fact that I just happen to have three beautiful, perfect babies? Maybe it's my amazing family and the list of friends I can call on and know without a doubt they'd drop everything to help me? Or the gorgeous guy who's cute and funny enough to make my heart skip like crazy? Or is it that I'm finally going in the direction I want to go and by this time next year I'll be a paramedic?    

Yep, it's definitely all those things.. and it's that I'm just so happy to be able to just be.. me. Again.

I went to coffee with my dad and a buddy of his a couple months ago who asked me what my last name was these days.
I laughed a little, "Tenniswood.. I'm definitely a Tenniswood."
My dad smiled, "She's baaaaaaaaaaaaack."

My dad's words pretty much sum it up.

I'm back. Consider yourself warned. ;)

::the beautiful one::

 

 

Dear Lisa,

Four years. It's unreal how much has changed since then.

I'm angry sometimes.. and frantic.. and it can be hard to put my finger on WHY I feel that way. Grandma's death has triggered a flood of memories and emotions that are filled with you.. and Matt. Crazy how the two of you are two of the only people that really get how sad it is for Grandma to die.. to lose our family icon.. and yet both of you are gone, too! I'm stuck writing a BLOG to you! I MISS YOU AND IT'S MAKING ME A LITTLE CRAZY. Seriously, I have to restrain myself from stomping my feet and acting like a toddler when I think about there being NOTHING I can DO to get you BACK.

Just to be totally clear.. I am not angry with you. I'm so angry that you had to go through what you did. That you had to experience pain beyond what anyone should. It hits me in powerful waves and at the most random times just how much pain you were in to do what you did. I mean I have had some BAD days.. I've experienced extreme loss and heartache.. but while I am aware of what happened to you, I can never fathom the toll it took on you. I can't enter into feeling the searing hot wounds that followed you where ever you went and bled into every facet of your life. If only I could've taken some of that pain from you.. I would have in a heartbeat. So unfair-- the hand you were dealt. You were such an innocent. I have to force myself to stop thinking about it when my mind goes there.. it sends rage boiling up from my toes. If only I could've helped you. I would've done anything. If only, if only..

This sounds totally nuts but there's something I'm dying to tell you.. no one but YOU. You'd totally cover your mouth with your hands and giggle like crazy with me about it.. and I actually picked up the phone to call you. For real. You'd think the denial would fade a bit since it's been years but.. nope.

It's been four years since that horrible phone call. I was in the car.. thankfully NOT the one driving.. and after hearing those words all I could do is grip the dashboard. Total tunnel vision. I swear I could hear gears in my head reversing and screeching trying to process what was being said to me. The real kicker is it's been four YEARS and part of me just straight up refuses to believe it. There's a piece of me that will always just be waiting for you to walk into my house, hug me and laugh that unbelievably contagious laugh.. the one I'd do ANYTHING to hear again.

Lisa.. Lisa.. Lisa. Your name has a sparkly magic to it.

My children will never know one of the most fundamental parts of my childhood-- you. I so wish you knew them. They'd totally crack you up. Patrick was three when you died. He claims he remembers you.. knowing him and his elephant-like memory, I have to assume he really does. Anna was only eleven months old.. she and Ella will never have any memories of you. I named Ella after you. I just wish I could call you and tell you about them. What I'd give to see you throw your head back and laugh at the ridiculous amount of mischief in Ella's eyes. Or hear you tell me how Anna is the spitting image of me. Or listen to a conversation between you and Patrick.

I'll be getting another tattoo soon.. just for you. Your name with two ladybugs. Just like we always said we'd get. I like to think that while I'm getting mine.. my name with two ladybugs will appear on your foot too.

My Lisa. My beautiful Lisa. My best friend. No one can compare to you, no one can take your place.

Your death changed the chemistry of my mind. It altered the way I look at.. everything.

I used to be so afraid of dying. Since you and Matt died, I have no fear of it. When it happens.. it happens. First thing I'm going to do is run like crazy to both of you and hug you for a very, very long time. Then let's eat Oreo shakes and raspberries and laugh until we go into silent laugh mode about nonsensical things no one but us would understand, ok? ;) Man, I MISS you!

Everyone always called us twins.. but we were so different. How could we get along so well and be so totally opposite?? You just GOT me. There aren't many people that really understand me the way you do.. that get my impusiveness, my restlessness, my extreme-dreamer side.
So opposite we were-- Our hair, eyes, skin, personalities. Day & night. Light & dark. Angel &.. not so much an angel, haha. :) (I won't call myself a DEMON but let's be honest.. we both know good and well I tend to wander towards that end of the spectrum rather than the 'angel' side.) What was it you used to call me? Your "rebel with a heart of gold?" Haha, I always appreciated you trying to sugarcoat my nature. You always saw me as so much more than a hellion, you always believed in me.

I came across a picture of us the other day. We were eighteen with our faces pressed together and arms wrapped around each other with huge grins on our faces-- me with my middle fingers proudly displayed and you with eyes twinkling from laughing so hard. It's just so.. us. When you were with me, I could've cared less about hanging out with anyone else. We were in our own little world. Everyone and everything took a backseat when I was with you.

Remember how when we were little kids I was forever handing you short stories I'd written to have you critique them? I remember us being around thirteen and you laughing SO hard at a funny story I'd written and telling me, "I wish I could write like you.. you're so funny." Remember what I said to you? I told you I wished I could be like you.. because you were the beautiful one.

Ever since we were little I watched how careful you were with every person in your life. You were so sensitive.. always cautious about not wanting to hurt anyone. You were beautiful-- inside & out. You had.. and have.. such a beautiful soul.

I love you and miss you like crazy.. and just so you know, my twin cousin--

You will always be.. the beautiful one.

 

{pay it forward}

So.. lately I've been fighting a lot of demons that hiss at me constantly about past mistakes I've made and try to drag me down and tell me to give up. They are particularly fond of reminding me of things I can't begin to correct and tell me I'm a bad person because of them.

Driving home the other night, my focus was on these demons and how exhausting it is to fight them when the gas light went on so I stopped at the gas station. After I pumped the gas I realized I had locked myself out of the car-- even my phone was inside.
Awesome, Mel.. juuuuuust awesome.
After a few moments of going back and forth between contemplating punching the window in (it was one of THOSE days) and trying to unlock the doors Matilda-style by staring super hard at the locks, I went inside to use the phone.
Minutes later, a guy from a towing company showed up to help. He was an older man who told me he had five kids and we swapped funny kid stories while he worked his magic to break into the car. He unlocked the door and as it popped open (and I could swear angels were singing), I reached for my wallet to ask how much I owed him.
He looked at me with a smile and said, "Nothing.. call it a 'good deed'.. and maybe pass it on."

After thanking him a million times and trying in vain to get him to take money anyway, I got to thinking about the movie Pay It Forward as I drove home. I've seen it several times.. and highly recommend it.. but I've never thought about putting something like it to practice in my own life.

The more I thought about that movie and the guy that had helped me.. the more I realized how necessary it was implement this into not just mine but my kids' lives. I decided that every day, every single day, no matter what.. I'd do one random act of kindness. Just like he had done for me.

See, the thing is.. I've made a lot of mistakes. I'm not even kinda going to sit here and pretend like I haven't. I'm not a devil (well, haha, opinions may vary depending on who you talk to :D), I'm not an angel, I'm just.. human. It is a constant struggle to do the right thing.. for everyone. You can sit there and be as self-righteous as you want.. you can love me or hate me for the things I have or haven't done, but the truth is-- we all mess up. It's the human condition. As a disclaimer, I'm not trying to justify any of my own mistakes or say we can all run around doing literally whatever we want without consequences as long as we own up to doing crappy things. Not at all.
Our purpose, however, isn't to judge other people for what they've done.. it's to do our best to pay good things forward to family, friends, neighbors.. even total strangers. One totally random act of kindness can ignite endless amounts of goodness to be passed from person to person. On the flip side,
once you let the demons win-- it will spread like wildfire too. To family, friends, neighbors, total strangers.. everyone. It's important to remember that whatever you do-- even the smallest act-- it will create a domino effect capable of tremendous results-- for good or bad.

Like I've said before.. I'd be lying if I tried to say I've never messed up majorly. The great thing though, is that you can start over anytime you want. You can begin today.. RIGHT NOW.. with the intent to be accountable for any badness you've inflicted. My way of looking at it is that God made us.. He KNOWS we're going to screw up.. but he also knows the greatness we're capable of. Someday.. every single one of us is going to be accountable for the bad things we've done.. as well as the good. So if you're a saint, I guess you've got nothing to worry about. ;) However, if you fall into the 'sinner' category like I do-- that thought may make you cringe a bit.

As far as 'random acts of kindness' goes.. they don't have to be HUGE. It can be something as simple as putting an elderly neighbor's paper on her porch so she doesn't have to trudge down to the mailbox on a cold morning.. or making brownies for someone who is generally pretty grouchy.. or sending a little anonymous gift to a sibling.. or look up your favorite elementary school teacher and send her a box of chocolate.. or writing a handwritten letter to an awesome old friend from crazy teenager years, reliving hilarious memories of times you had together.
It doesn't have to cost a lot of money.. or ANY. Sometimes, what people REALLY need.. is for you to ask how they're doing and actually take time to LISTEN, not just ask the words. You'd be surprised how many people are just lonely.. and need someone to talk to. I know everyone's schedules are insane, particularly this time of year, but if you can't take the time to really talk with someone and LISTEN to them and be able to connect with them.. well, you're kinda missing out on the point of this whole 'living' thing.

The other morning, the kids and I randomly chose a house to leave flowers on the doorstep. As we drove away, Anna's eyebrows scrunched together and she stared intently out the window.
I asked her what she was thinking about and she said, "Shouldn't we wait to see how much they like the flowers?"
I explained to her the whole point of 'random acts of kindness' is to sometimes choose people who we've never met.. to get outside our little circle of friends and family and reach out to someone who is a stranger in hopes that they'll do the same thing. By paying it forward they say 'thank you,' just like I'm doing to that man that helped break into my car.. not to mention countless other times people have helped me when they didn't have to.

I want to teach my children that when you do good things.. you shouldn't be doing it for yourself. For instance, isn't it awesome to give a gift to a friend? You see the smile on their face and how thankful they are-- you know their happiness is a direct result of something you've done.. and it makes you feel good. (Not to say you shouldn't do fabulous things for your friends and family whenever you can.. you definitely should. Personally, they're my favorite kind of 'good deeds.') The most significant kind of good deed though, in my opinion, is when they're done anonymously. To do good and not expect a 'thank you' or not being there to see the smile cross someone' face and be able to take credit for it-- that's what the 'pay it forward' idea is all about. It's not about YOU, it's about sending GOOD into the world.

I LOVE what this idea teaches my kids. I don't want to expose a lot of the things we've done because it takes away from the idea but it's amazing to see it through Patrick, Anna and Ella's eyes. Sending a gingerbread house kit to a kid who I know has a less-than-great home life.. putting together little jars of cocoa powder topped with marshmallows, tied up with bows and left on the porch of a family who needs cheering up.. sending a gift card to someone that can use help buying Christmas presents for their family-- they're all little things.. but they have the power to change someone's frame of mind and remind them that while there's a lot of bad in the world, there's a lot more good. And you, my pretties, are capable of sending all kinds of goodness into the world.

I'm not telling you about this for some kind of pat on the back, I'm doing it in hopes that YOU will do the same thing. The kids and I bought little tiny stockings to to send along with our 'good deeds' containing notes that promote the 'pay it forward' idea so maybe.. just maybe.. those who receive them will do the same thing.

How cool is it that you have the power to totally turn someone's day around?

What's that quote from the Lorax? (I know it by heart thanks to Ella watching it 857 times!)
"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing's going to get better. It's not."

Yikes, this blog is turning into a book :D So Happy Holidays.. pay it forward.. because in case you haven't noticed-- we live in a world that needs it!

Muah! xoxo.

{Dear Matt}

The fourteenth of October was the second anniversary of the day Matt died.. so I sat down and wrote him a letter. Simply because.. sometimes writing is the only way of dealing with missing him.



Dear Matt,

Two years-- it seems like an ETERNITY since we last drank coffee and talked. On the other hand, I can recall our last conversation in a heartbeat. I've said it so many times but.. you wouldn't believe the lengths I would go to talk with you just once more.

It's hard to believe everything that's happened and changed since you died.

On the way home from class a couple weeks ago, I zoned out and suddenly found myself parked in front of your old house. The FOR SALE sign glaring at me from the front lawn, it had been a couple of months since I'd been there. Whether it was too surreal or too real to be there I can't be sure. All it took was stepping onto the driveway to flashback to the night you died.
Clear as day I could hear, "Ma'am? Are you a relative?" The crunching of the leaves echoed hauntingly in my memory and the October wind swirled around me as I clawed at the air, fighting the paramedic who restrained me from running to your body. The image of Dad and Mom's faces surfaced, filled with a devastation I'd never seen before. The dread of knowing Mike would be there in minutes and feel the same crushing heartbreak I was feeling was excruciating.
"He's gone, Mel, he's gone," Dad repeated as his voice trembled. Looking back, I think he was saying it to himself as well as myself, struggling to wrap his mind around the horrific blow that had been delivered.
Next were flashes of sitting in the ambulance, shivering and vomiting. Oh, the vomiting. I thought it would never end.

The flashback was interrupted by a voice behind me, "Can I help you?"
I turned to see a real estate agent standing, paperwork in hand, with a warm smile on her face.
Before I could answer she asked, "Are you interested in taking a look inside the house?"
Pain wriggled through me as I hesitantly replied, "Yeah, I am."
I could've told her then my brother had passed away and this was his house but I just wanted to walk through it without having her eyes locked on me in pity the entire time.
She walked toward the garage and opened the door. Stepping through the doorway, I felt my heart skip.
"As you can see, this is the garage.." and I'm sure she said some other things too but my own thoughts were too loud to listen to her.
I know this is the garage, lady, my brother died in here, I wanted to snap at her. I bit my tongue and nodded.
She led me through the house and, by the end of the tour, I'm quite sure she thought I was nuts. I couldn't help but stare into each room and reminisce and just try to feel your presence there again.

No matter where I go, I run into people that knew you or knew of you.

So often I find myself delving into the past and reliving memories of you. Just for the record.. whoever said this would get easier is a total idiot. It doesn't.. it gets WORSE.

It's so hard to believe that Grandma will be gone soon. She'll be.. with you. I'm going to miss her so much. During the last conversation I had with her she said she couldn't wait to see you again.. and Tommy.. and Lisa.. and Grandpa. She'll get to meet Anne Marie's little baby Tina.. and my Harper & Paxton. A pang of jealousy shot through me as I told her to give you all hugs and kisses. I would LOVE to be able to see you give her a hug when she gets to Heaven.
She squeezed my hand and said, "Don't worry.. before you know it we'll all be together again." I, of course, lost it at that point and started bawling. Is it weird I wish we could fast forward to that day?! To when we can all be in one place.. with no more tears, no more goodbyes.. just lots of love and laughter. (You'll know me-- I'll be the one that won't stop hugging you. Remember how I used to hang onto you and never leave your side when we were little? You can look forward to that all over again! :P)

How crazy is it that you've held two of my babies before I've even met them? Knowing you would be up there, rocking them and taking care of them.. was the only thing that consoled me after losing them. Given their DNA, I'm sure 'double trouble' doesn't begin to cover them, does it? :) I doubt they ever go very far from you. Thank you for taking care of them until I get there.

 

You'd be so proud of Mike. You wouldn't BELIEVE what he's had to overcome these past two years. Gina, Isabel and Julia are so big. Gina is ten.. TEN!!! Doesn't it seem like she was a tiny baby like five minutes ago?! Mike is so good with them.. but that's nothing new.

You saw firsthand what he endured through the years. It's an absolute miracle he has emerged from that situation being good-hearted and without bitterness. He's happy now.. but he misses you a lot. He and I have never been closer than we are now. I know I could never take the place in his heart reserved for you, nor would I ever try. It kills me though, to see how deep his grief for you goes.. and there's nothing I can do about it.

He wrote me a note when we were in church a couple weeks ago that made me cry like a baby. There was a little space between the two of us and his note said, "Matt is sitting in between us, Mellie. Isn't that good to think about?" He thinks about you constantly. I worry about him because he's gotten so good at being tough.

Dad and Mom are doing pretty good. They have good and bad days of course. You are always, always on their minds. I can see it in their eyes. Even when we're not talking about you.. we are missing you. The grief hangs in the air. Some days we cope better than others but it's always just.. there.

Patrick, Anna and Ella are getting so big! Hard to believe Ella was only six months old when you died. She talks about you EVERY day though. She'll walk up to a picture of you and just talk and talk.. like you guys are having a conversation or something. Anna has vowed to learn to play the guitar "just like Uncle Matt" and Patrick wants to hear stories about when we were little every night when I tuck him in. They love you lots!

Since your death-- Dad, Mom, Mike and I-- we are so much stronger. We're already bound together as a family but the grief and love for you has made us all so much closer. I really believe your parting gift to us was to ignite a fire in each of us to love each other no matter what, to stick up for each other through thick and thin.

I'm taking EMT classes now. I've never told anyone this but.. since the night you died, I have a panic attack every time I hear a ambulance siren. So I forced myself to take these classes. I literally find myself grabbing onto the table in front of me when the instructor talks about asthma and airway emergencies. Hits too close to home. I can't wait to be a paramedic though.. I think you'd be proud of me.

I fell in love with your best friend. I'm sure that makes you chuckle.. you know how difficult and stubborn I am. He can put up a pretty good fight too though. :) He makes me laugh SO hard. Long before he and I were what we are now.. he was the one that was there for me and helped me through the impossible. One thing I love about him is how loyal he is to you-- in life and death. We have been through some NONSENSE together (by 'nonsense' I am doing some hardcore censoring).. and I'm really looking forward to the future.

I've learned so much the past couple of years. Sometimes I get so sad wishing I could talk things over with you and you'd be here to reassure me things will be ok. I swear sometimes I can actually feel you with me and there is a moment of total peace. I just have to realize you ARE here with us.. but in a different way now.

I love you to the moon & back!

--Mellie

p.s. Thanks for the rainbow at the race! :)

 

 

 

smoke and mirrors

We've all got demons. They take shape in different forms and present themselves in different ways.

My most ferocious demon wasn't drugs or drinking.. but it proved to be as heartbreakingly methodical as those addictions are.
I truly believe God allows us to live through  horrible experiences --of all kinds-- so that afterwards we can help others that are going through the same thing. It's one thing to escape a demon.. it's quite another to get yourself together enough to talk about it honestly. I've found much of the time it's only when you open up and help someone else dealing with the same issues that you can get past them yourself. If I could help one person.. just ONE.. claw their way out of what I went through.. it would make it all worthwhile.

Of course worrying about what other people think is a huge hurdle to get past but you have to look beyond yourself and see the bigger picture. One where you can help others that are struggling. After all, our ability to help one another is part of what makes us human and it's silly to get caught up with what other people think.

So here goes... this is the intro of the book I'm writing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She is my oldest and darkest nemesis.

I could feel her presence rising up from where she had lay dormant for so long. The precautions I had taken so many years ago to keep her from finding me failed miserably against the stress that triggered her return. With the sensation of total chaos choking me, her dead embers flickered to life once again.
Like a freight train screaming in the distance, I heard her speeding towards me. No where to run, no place to hide, it was only a matter of time until she found me.

Hands in my pockets, eyes welling with tears, I bit my lip as hard as I could to keep from crying. I could not show her how scared I was. Fear had been building for too long, dreading she would find me. In a very twisted way, a rush of relief ran through me knowing she had, in fact, found me.. the chase was over. Now I had no choice but to confront my worst nightmare.
I slowly turned around, heart thudding in my chest. It wasn't a question of whether she'd be standing there, I knew she would be. After years of being haunted by her there was no mistaking her presence. My terror arose from not knowing if I would be strong enough to resist her throwing me head first down the rabbit hole.. again.

She had seen me at my weakest and I had experienced first-hand her extreme power.

There she was.. in all her glory. Like a long lost love, I could feel the old spark between us pulling at my heart. Time hadn't touched her glittering beauty, she was flawless. It wasn't hard to remember the initial comfort that accompanied the first time I curled up in her arms. The sense of control and power she handed me was unforgettable.

Do not be fooled.. it's an illusion. It's nothing but smoke and mirrors.

She is black ice that will send you reeling into twisted madness.

You see, what she will neglect to tell you is that this power will be all in your head. In reality, she will strip  you of all control and meaning, turning you into a statistic. Don't kid yourself into letting her tell you you're invincible with her by your side. You will be the epitome of fragile.

Once she casts her spell and leaves you entangled in her web, hopelessly in love with a lie, she will begin to unveil her true identity. Her charm will decay rapidly and in her place will be the most diabolical, wicked demon you could imagine (think-- Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty on steroids, multiplied by a million).

She isn't a drug but if she were.. she'd be heroin. My heroin. She is nothing but a crutch.. a way of thinking to propel you through times of extreme stress. Once you've been bitten, it's hard to not fall back into her ways time and time again, no matter how badly you want out.. like slipping into an old familiar shoe.

All at once, like a tsunami slamming against the coast, I heard her melodic voice rippling through me.
"I'm back," her haunting whisper echoed in my ears as her blood red lips twisted upward in a wicked grin.
My blood turned ice cold and fear ricocheted through me like a pinball.

After being so terrified for so long that this moment would come, here it was. She was back.

Then something miraculous happened. I felt.. anger. Hot, seething rage boiled up from my toes as I recalled the years she had overshadowed and the pain I had endured because of her. Looking at her now, I did not only see her dazzling beauty but also the suffering she caused.. and would cause if I couldn't defeat her.
No longer was I the wide-eyed innocent that was lured into her trap so many years ago.
There would be no game playing this time around. No sweet, seductive promises. She was going right for the jugular, knowing all of my weaknesses and insecurities.

I am so thankful for that fury I felt towards her. In the end, it helped save me.

Anger isn't always a bad thing. It can ignite a fire in you that you never knew existed. One of my favorite sayings is, "The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire."
Anger can give you the strength to stand up against demons that would otherwise crush you.

This time around I had an arsenal of weapons she hadn't taken into account. She wasn't attacking a defenseless and impressionable teenager this time. I was stronger now. The past years had hardened me and slapped me around enough to be able to look her dead in the eye and decide to fight.
This time around, I was a mother. her seductive lies and incredible power over me were no match for the love and instinct in me to protect my children. She would never, never have any influence over their lives.

The first time I became a mom, I remember looking at my son and sobbing because I had finally found an emotion-- a love --that could trump anything. In that moment I knew he had saved me and gave me a reason to fight should she return.

The battle I was going into wouldn't be fought for me. It would be fought for my kids.. and when I was thrown into the arena with her again, I swore to myself I would go in fighting with everything I had. There would be no "learning to live with her" or evading her. I knew I would have to destroy her.. once and for all.

She didn't consider the guardian angel I had whispering in my ear. My memory of Matt's voice has always been gentle and calm but when I stood there, gazing at her and the beautiful insanity that swirled around her, his voice flashed into my mind, harshly, "Don't you dare even think about it." I took a step back.

She wants to be kept a secret. So it's just you and her.. because if she can keep you quiet, she can continue to torture you. She will instill a self-hatred in you that will turn your world upside-down. Trust me, there's nothing she enjoys more than to watch you suffer. She wants you to rely on her completely, tells you she will be your crutch and you will need no one else.  She will be your dirty little secret and in return, she will promise you limitless power.
Her worst fear is for you to show her for what she is.. and possibly keep someone from falling prey to her insanity in the process. I knew I had to bring her to light to destroy her for good.

This is the story of how I fought the smoke and mirrors.. and won.