D-Day +2

I hate this day. I wish June 1st never came again. If I had the power to change the calendar, June would start on the 2nd.

 June 1st: Diagnosis Day… This was the day we found out Jen had cancer. and life changed forever. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional. I wouldn’t mention it to the kids. This day would be like any other. On the outside, I keep that promise. On the inside it was a rough day.

 So here I am. It’s 11:30 on a Sunday Night and I have no possibility of falling asleep.

 The day to day stuff feels normal now. We get along in our routines and life goes on. I simply do all the things that need to get done. It’s tiring but as long as I’m “doing” I don’t dwell on anything. I don’t really think about the situation until a conflict comes up and I have to scramble, or I see a good looking woman or a couple together. Then it hits me... I used to be part of something like that. I used to be part of a team like that. It makes me jealous. Petty, I know, but none-the less true.

 Mother’s day was tough for us. I wish their mother was there. They really didn’t celebrate it, and i didn’t push them to. But somehow that didn’t feel right. That somehow if they didn’t celebrate Mother’s day they were forgetting Jen.

 A little while back I had dinner with a friend and co-worker that I’ve known for quite some time. She was in town for the week and asked if I wanted to join up for dinner at her favorite place in town, which just happened to be Jen’s (and my) favorite place in town. I gladly accepted since it was a chance to talk to another single parent. Her circumstances aren’t quite the same, but still, she’s a single parent, and I haven’t really had a chance to see how another single parent copes. We discussed a number of topics but we found an (at least to me) unexpected common ground around loneliness. Not that we need another person there to justify us or what we do, but just to be there. To simply be present. Someone who's there when you turn around. She mentioned that she missed having someone there, at the end of the day, just to say “ it’s going to work out. It’s going to be OK” That hit so close to home I had to shield my eyes for a bit by concentrating on my dinner.

 It hit home because I spend most of my day exactly worrying about how things are going to turn out. For example, I wake up every morning in a panic. It’s as sure as the sun rises in the east. The first thought through my head is “what do I have to get done today?” then "what am I behind on?” to "how the heck am I going to succeed today?” to “I’m so behind” to “here we go again.” to "today's going to be the day it all catches up to me." And that’s the first 10 seconds of my day. The same is true at bedtime where the same questions loom. Jen was always there to ground me, to speak some simple words that stripped away all of the self imposed crap that I managed to load up on throughout the day. It would put my mind at ease, for at least a few moments, and I knew that regardless of what tomorrow brought we'd face it together.

 That’s really where I am right now. It’s not that I need a physical companion, though that WOULD be nice. It’s just to have that someone there who can see past all the crap you’ve got going on in your head. Someone who’s got your back. Someone to hold on to. Someone who doesn’t need to say a word. Someone with whom you just "are". Someone who knows you so thoroughly, and you trust so completely, that there is not a single thing you can’t confide, do, or go through with them. I…, we, had that. That’s the real void right now.

 And then there’s the worry about the girls: How are they doing? Are they making friends? are they growing intellectually, am I getting them in enough activities, am I spending enough time with them, am I spending too much time with them, am I facilitating them getting together with friends, am I building strong capable girls who grow up to be strong capable women?

 The worry. never. stops. period.
I’m going to die an early death because of all this anxiety. The studies prove it…. Great.

 Sydney’s begun to tell me that I need to stop being constantly stressed out and worrying all the time. I certainly agree. She suggested I read some web pages on how to de-stress. Bless her soul. Innocence personified. Sweetie, I’ve read more self help books and websites than anyone. I wish it were that easy. I’ve been stuck in “crisis mode” for so long, its now the base setting. I’ve been trying to de-stress for years. I wish it were that easy.

 I’ve already started to hate the summer that’s coming up. The Girls will go away to Jen’s Father’s family for camping and fishing for an extend period. After that they’ll go to My parent’s place for a week. In total they’ll be away from me for three weeks. I’ll see them on the weekends when I drive up but during the week I’ll be alone. I don’t do well alone. Last year I did some pretty stupid things when the kids were gone. I’m going to try and keep them home the rest of the summer. I do much better when they are here.

 Life is messy. It’s gray, not black and white. And regardless of your best intentions things can, and sometimes do, go horribly wrong. Life shatteringly wrong. I’ve learned that part, and I’m trying to learn the next lesson: You keep on living, keep on trying anyway. We/I haven’t stopped, but it’s not very easy to lay down long term plans when you know that in an instant they can be rendered moot. The very successful people get up over and over again, regardless. I’m trying to get up again.

More things I’ve learned:
Hotles in San Diego in July are expensive.
Frozen Salisbury steak works awesome in a slow cooker, so long as you don’t slice yourself open when trying to chop it into pieces that fit.
A watched pot never boils. Or a watched boil never goes to pot (I forget which)
Sky Vodka doesn’t produce hang overs for me. VERY handy.
The only place I seem to be accumulating fat is my face and my sides… Just perfect for a guy trying to clean up his appearance both inwardly and outwardly.

Super Tuesdays

This is actually an entry into my journal that I wrote as therapy to myself a few weeks ago after one of the worst days on record.  I'm posting it here 

1. To remind myself of the absurdity of my reactions in times like these
2. To share a good laugh with everyone now that we can look back at it
3. To prepare for the next Super Tuesday coming up this week

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
today was an ugly, ugly, day.  One of the worst in a long time.

I started out like any other tuesday: Sydney out the door at 7:06am to her bus and the rest of us off to kids club at Southwood glen. Switch from parent to?: Governance and compliance guy. Because of all the construction on the road and the sidewalks around JCI I arrive a few minutes late for an important 8:00am meeting. nice.  starting off on the wrong foot.

I got very little done at work.  I was nervous, anxious, and uncomfortable in my chair the entire time.  I'm feeling increasingly depressed, fat, heavy, and angry about it.  So I said, ok I’m getting little done in the first place, why not just take some time to calm down and relax.  I couldn’t.  Flat out couldn’t.  It was uncomfortable to sit still, uncomfortable to try to clear my mind, uncomfortable to try to relax.  I felt jittery and nauseous.  So I took  moment to try and find some guided relaxation or meditation apps for the phone to help me _just relax_.  I found one but it only lead to later complications (more on that in a moment).  Fast forward to the end of the workday, too quick in fact, for me to feel like I provided any value and it's time to switch from Governance and compliance guy to?: logistics expert and chauffeur.

It was a “super tuesday” which meant that Sydney had outdoor club, Natalie had Girl scouts AND Gymnastics.  This requires me to leave work at an earlier time so that I can 
1) pick up Natalie at scouts
2) drive home to pick up Kristin
3) quickly drive to the Middle school to pick up Sydney at a later than normal time because her group had an outing
4) get to the YMCA in time to get to Natalie’s gymnastics class

…in the span of 50 minutes.

Now please don’t get me wrong, by letting the kids into these activities I signed up for the complexity.  I know that, and I’m not complaining.  And normally, I enjoy the fact that I'm able, organized, and blessed enough to accomplish all this.  But today was a whole new level of frustration and anger that broke me.

Left work at a decent time to get to Natalie.  With my mental state there was no chance for me to fall asleep at the wheel.  So on the way I was listening to the relaxation app I downloaded previously.  On it there were various ambient noises that you could add together and listen to and decompress.  I selected the "woodland rain” and “bullfrogs” noises.  As a kid, I loved listening to the bullfrogs at my Grandparents place on the channel, and to me, there isn’t anything more soothing than the sound of rain in the woods.  No problem, right?  Sounds like bliss. I click both of those and press play....hmm very soothing, I could really enjoy this...., WHAM!  My mind flew to a moment that Jen and I shared in the 90's.  It was before my in-laws had built their place on Kolpack lake and we were camping there.  It was a hot, rainy summer evening, and the bullfrogs were out in full force.  We went for a walk, and we were soaking wet, but we didn’t care.  Remembering that moment hit me like a cattle prod.  So much for relaxing, now I'm back to where I was AND depressed.

It’s amazing, and frightening, to realize that over a year after Jen's passing, things can hit you like that.  You come out of it scared.  You go back on guard looking out for the next thing that could send you back into an emotional fit.  You go back shutting things out.  Trying not to feel what you're doing at the moment in the belief that if you let yourself feel it’ll just trigger more grief.  And you’re simply tired of grieving.  You're tired of constantly looking out for what's going to set you off that emotional cliff.

So I get to Natalie on time, and we head to the house. We're on time.  Get to the house to pick up Kristin.  Throw some venison sticks, tortilla chips, and hummus down the gullet as a snack.  Why? It was the closest thing to the front of the fridge, required no prep, and can't spill in the car.  ....off to pickup Sydney.

We actually get to the middle school a minute early.  hey! a WIN!  Sydney, hops in and were off to the YMCA.  About 3 minutes in, Sydney indicates she's lost her iPod.  WHAT?!  Decision time. Go back, maybe find the iPod and make Natalie late for gymnastics (which she looks forward to all week), or drive on, fore go the iPod (which was mine before being given to Sydney) and get Natalie to gymnastics on time.

CRAP!  I flip the car into the round-about like a Formula one racer rather than the 3-ton Rhino she is.  The kids eyes get as big as the round-about, due to the ferocity in which I turned the car around.  I yell back to Sydney "You have to be more responsible!"  She breaks into tears, starts frantically going through her backpack desperately trying to find it.  Desperately trying to keep from disappointing me and feeling bad about herself.  About 15 seconds later she finds it.  I turn the car into a subdivision and again violently flip it into a 180  degree power-slide ( not easy OR recommended with an AWD car) to get back in the right direction.  The kids are now throughly cowed.  They realize "Asshole Dad" came home tonight.  Nice going Chris.  Well played, asshole.

During the whole drive I'm trying to figure out how to handle a particularly messy dues matter with the Homeowners association.  I'm the president, so I'm the focus for the memberships' angst.  There's a call with the treasurer tonight.

We get to the YMCA, and I realize I'm right there on the edge of blowing my stack.  I try not to interact with anyone because I'm trying to avoid triggers.  Natalie heads to her class and the three of us grab a table.  I dive into a TIME article about how vets with PTSD get sent to prison for how they react to stressors back in the states, and never receive any sort of treatment once incarcerated.  How living 'on point' for so long resets your default anxiety level to 11 and breaks off the knob so you can't turn it back down.

Wow.  I'm nowhere near  combat,  and my situation is nowhere near the danger level our soldiers face.  But holy crap, the fact that I have tried to solve everything, and stay alert for every problem, and apporached every issue as critical and HAS TO BE solved over the last three years has taken its toll.  Regardless of the different reasons for getting to this state I can't help but relate to the people in the article.

Sydney's forgotten a pencil to do her homework.  I almost blow it, but I keep my cool.  I calmly go down to the desk and borrow one.  Problem solved.  Sydney later needs Kristin to hand over my phone so she can use the calculator, Kristin continues to play a game. Almost blow it, but I keep my cool and firmly tell Kristin to hand it over.

We decide that since it's now 7:30 and none of us have had dinner or been home since 7am this morning that we'll head home and make some pizza in the oven.  The ride home is uneventful except for the fact that Girls each ask how they can help me.  They believe that they're part of the problem. Wow, reality check.  Your kids blame themselves for how screwed up you are.  Way to go Chris.  How the hell did you let them put this on themselves? I assure them that they aren't the problem and that they can't "fix" me, and that i've got to make some changes in order to get better.

We get home, I preheat the oven for the pizza, and get on the homeowners association call.  The call goes well but the answer requires me to speak with the attorneys in the near future.  Great, lawyers.  SO looking forward to that.  During the call I hear the oven beep, so supposedly it's preheated.  I put the pizzas in and set the timer for 13 minutes.  I announce "dinner in 13 minutes!" to great applause.  I go back to taking notes on my laptop.  The timer goes off, I open the oven and... the pizzas are no wher near done, and the overn is cool enough to stick my hand in it.  "Hmmm, OK I was distracted.  That happens.  I didn't do something right and the pizzas need more time.  I set the timer for 10 minutes and announce "dinner in 10 minutes!" to slightly less applause. I realize that, at this point I REALLY need to stop, close the eyes and relax.  I lay down on the living room floor and wait for the timer to beep... BEEP. grrrrr. The ten minutes are over.  

To Myself: "OK it sucks to be having dinner at 9:15 but at least I didn't feed my kids fast foo...WTF! the pizzas are colder than they were 10 minutes ago! And the oven is warm but certainly NOT at the 425 I set it at.  OK there has to be something wrong with the oven. Door closed? check. Power? check.  Any gas smell? nope, check, anything somehow on the bottom of the oven to impede the burners? nope, check.  OK you SOB, I'm shutting you down and setting you for 525.  Let's see how you like THAT.  Oh an since I've still got pizzas in you I'll set the timer for 5 minutes.  JUST IN CASE you decide to work." 

I go to lie down again, wait for the timer to beep, BEEP. grrrrr.  5 minutes over.  Sydney, sensing my highly elevated frustration level, goes to open the oven.  Whoosh!  a cloud of smoke billows out of the oven along with a with a blast of hot air.  Super, not only did the oven decide to wake up, it's managed to burn my piz...BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! the smoke alarm triggers.  And since they're all wired together they ALL trigger. grrrr.  

Stop the smoke: I grab the Pizza pans and instruct one of the minions to open the patio door. I walk out and fling the pizza pans into the backyard with the force of a day's worth of frustration.  

Stop the smoke alarms: grab a chair and one by one hit the 'off' buttons.  So for a minute, I'm continually getting close enough to each skull splitting alarm to turn it off.  The last one on the journey happens to be in my bedroom so I pull the chair in there and step up... CRAP!  That $%*&%^*'ing tray ceiling in the master bedroom means i can ONLY reach it with the step ladder in the garage.  At this point I'm beaten.  Didn't matter that alarms were going off, the pizzas were ruined, the kids hadn't eaten, I hadn't accomplished a thing all day, I couldn't relax, I was late for meetings.. I was done.  I shut down the emotions, went to the garage and got the step ladder, lugged it upstairs and turned off the alarm. I instructed the kids that if they were hungry they should make some peanut butter sandwiches.  I went up to my bedroom, closed the door, literally flopped onto the bed in the same clothes I had on since 7 this morning, and ended the day.  

The Girls, to their credit, managed to get themselves to bed.  When? I have no clue.  I woke up at 3am still wearing my work badge.

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

FYI the pizza crusts are still in the back yard.

A Year Since You Passed

Jennifer Engel
January 26th, 1973 - January 18th, 2013

I miss you Jen.

One year ago, I held you through that last night, until I could tell that you weren’t with me anymore. 

I wish I could hold you again, just for a moment.  Just a single moment. I’d give everything just for a single moment.

But a year later I've learned you’re still here, somehow.  There have been too many coincidences, too many chance happenings to explain any other way.  Two years ago I would have laughed at someone making that statement. But now, I know.  I know with certainty, you are still here. 

I hope you’re proud of your girls: how Sydney is growing into a young lady; how Kristin is still the kindest, sweetest heart; how Natalie is blossoming academically; and how we’ve gotten stronger through the adversity.  I hope you see I’m doing the best I can bringing them up the way we would have together.

They’re so much like you.  I can see you in their eyes, their smile, or something they do every day.  And it breaks my heart, because I know where it came from.

They miss their Mom. I miss my Wife.  

12 months
or 365 days 
or 8,760 hours
or 525,600 minutes
or 31,536,000 seconds
or too many moments to count

I've counted the passage of time by each of these at some point in the last 12 months.  Sometimes I told myself I just needed to make it through the day.  Other times I simply tried to make it to the next moment without breaking down.  I’ve managed to make it through them one by one to get here, even if a great many of those moments have been in tears.

One of the things I used to say to myself in those horrible first few weeks after you passed was, "In a year, you'll be fine.  You'll have adapted and healed gotten to a point where you aren't such an emotional and mental wreck."  Well, to a certain extent that's true.  But I had no idea the route back to happiness and "normalcy" would be this long.  In a year, I've healed but there is so much more left to go.  I’m still an emotional wreck and have to hide every now and then, lest people see how raw things still are.  Because, even a year later, there are times when the sorrow just takes over.

The say you never really get over the loss of your spouse, you just learn to navigate around it.

The sorrow is still a fixture in my waking hours. It's always there, it's a tangible presence that I can feel. I can step into it anytime I want to. And I do step into it, on purpose, on occasion. I do it because on a certain level I feel I have to. That by doing so I somehow validate the love that you and I had for each other. If I don't then it almost feels like I'm discounting you and our relationship. 
  
In those last days I was struggling to find the courage to face, at least what I believed, to be inevitable.  There were no more options left, and it was time to stop running.  In a quiet moment with no one else in the room You turned to me, and with all your effort just to speak said,  "I can't do this anymore." It was the saddest moment of my life.  We didn't know it, but we only had 14 hours left at that point.  Even now, 12 months later, remembering that moment brings me to my knees. 

I still feel guilty sometimes about agreeing with you so quickly. That maybe if I protested or showed more strength then you would have changed your mind.  But I've come to realize that thought is selfish. You clearly were at the end of your endurance and it was your courage that allowed you to say it was time.  Any more time that you struggled and endured would have been purely for the Girls and I.  No, it was time.  And you called it.  I can only hope that when my time comes I can face it with half the courage and strength you did.

In the bottom of an old pond lived some grubs who could not understand why none of their group ever came back after crawling up the stems of the lilies to the top of the water.  They promised each other that the next one who was called to make the upward climb would return and tell what happened to him.  Soon, one of them felt an urgent impulse to seek the surface; he rested himself on top of the lily pad and went through a glorious transformation which made him a dragonfly with beautiful wings.  In vain he tried to keep his promise.  Flying back and forth over the pond, he peered down at his friends below.  Then he realized that even if they could see him they would not recognize such a radiant creature as one of their number.

The fact that we cannot see our loved ones or communicate with them after the transformation, which we call death, is no proof they cease to exist.    

Goodnight sweetheart.  I love you, and we’ll see each other again, sometime.  I’m sure of it.

How we're making it through

This time of the year marks the 1st holidays we’ve gone through without Jen.   Thanksgiving, Christmas, Our anniversary, New Years, Jen’s Passing, and Jen’s birthday all fall within a two month window.  Yes, it’s been tough.  Very tough.  And In the next weeks, I’ll post how we’ve done and what we’ve been going through. 

However, recently I was asked by some very good friends how I've been able to keep it all going (LLFF classes, gymnastics, scouts, dinners, etc).  The answer is I don't have it all together, no single parent does.  But, there are a few key things, mental and physical, that provide the framework for how we operate as a family.  After I related all of these things, they thought that others might find it useful.  So In that vein I’ll post them here.  Maybe it will help out some single parents out there.  I absolutely don’t want to make it seem like I’ve got it all figured out.  But here’s some of the structure that allows us to make it through:

Putting my Kids ahead of work
It’s the old cliche, “I put my family ahead of my work.”  I’ve always said that, but my actions didn’t always reflect it.  Now, I mean it.  Truth is that a lot of appointments, consultations, and childcare issues have to be addressed during business hours.  This is in direct conflict with my role at work, and it’s one of the biggest adjustments I’ve needed to make.  I’m the only parent now.  That’s the stark reality.  If I don’t take care of things, if I don’t get the girls to these appointments, then who will?  I’ve made a conscious decision to default towards my family.

Is it easy? Nope.  I want to get ahead.  I want to prove that I can and do execute every day.  I want to make it to those after hour team bonding events.  Stopping at 4:30 everyday so that I can get home and start my other job, doesn’t make that easy.  But it’s what I decided to do.  When I see how much the girls like a healthy dinner, or how much they enjoy the activities we do, or I get those hugs… I know I’ve made the right choice.  Have I limited my career? Maybe.  But as much as I like my employer, and feel honored to work for them, it’s my family who will be there in those final days.  

Constant reminders
I’ve made it a point to put a scheduled hard stop in my public work schedule at 4:30 every day.  I don’t miss it.  I don’t question it.  Sure, I’ve gotten caught in a pediconference on my way out the door now and then, but I make it a point to get out the door at that time every day.  When people see that hard stop in my schedule, they usually respect it.  

Allowing myself to fail once in a while.
I am harder on myself that anyone else.  Extremely hard.  And I don’t like making mistakes.  But one of the biggest things I’ve had to come to grips with the fact the I can’t do it all perfectly.  Sometimes I can’t do something as well as I wanted.  Yes, to most people that is such a truism, that you probably chuckled.  But in those first few months, I thought that I was somehow called to be a hero.  Somehow I was to handle all this, work and family, in stride and without issue.  To drop the ball on anything was to fall short.  That absolute thinking caused me a lot of pain.  Since then I’ve become gentler on myself.  I’ve come to realize that I can’t possibly do it all without mistakes now and then.  I get stressed out.  I miss something now and then. But now I don’t beat myself up over it.  It’s taken quite a bit of soul searching and counseling to get to this point. 

Evernote,  iCal, and technology  (aka my external brain)
I admit, my short term memory is shot.  Utterly useless.  I'm not sure if that's a function of my stress, the depression, or the shear amount of stuff I have to stay on top of.  How do I keep track of it?  How do I know exactly what oil filter I need for my lawn tractor, then while waiting at the counter for that filter, scan ahead for open schedule, and then book an oil change for the car at the dealership? Easy.  That's just an Evernote, iCal, Autostar combo.  The amount of stuff I can do simultaneously is not only getting larger, it’s required.  So in order to accomplish this, in order to do all we do, I have to use technology.  (Most of) My relatives laugh and scratch their heads, believing it all to be a house of cards that they wouldn't trust.  Your parents said the same thing to computers.  Welcome to the ever changing world. 

Evernote:
I store everything in here. EVERYTHING .  Your birthday is in here.  What I'm getting you for Christmas next year is in here.  All the girls scouting info, school info, sizes, hobbies .etc.  It's in here.  My screenplay ideas, my to do list, my posts, my recipies, the makes and models of all my appliances and home systems. it's in here.   And I can recall it in seconds, on my phone, BOOM.  I had non-tech ask me "SO what happens when you lose that phone?" thinking that they had me.  I answered "As soon as I have a new phone I'll load up the evernote app, log in and recall anything in seconds.”   welcome to the cloud.

iCal and iCloud
"If I can see it, we can make it."  You've probably heard me say that.   I have 4 calendars in iCloud: 

1. a central Engel calendar which has all of our individual events, prefixed with S K N or C (for Sydney, Kristin, Natalie, or Chris)
2. a finance calendar that reminds me of certain financial in or outs that I must deal with regularly
3. a meal planning calendar that I plan out the meals for the next week.
4. an archery shoots calendar that has all of the archery events I want to make it to in the future

All of these are made public with a corresponding URL.  That way I can overlay my family schedule on my work schedule at work (in Outlook).  At a glance I can see everything.  People have asked "You've made these public?  Aren’t you afraid that someone else will see that?”  Hmmmm.  There was a moment there where I was afraid that someone would see that we had spaghetti two weeks in a row, but then I thought "Who cares".  Seriously, it would be an honor to have someone think that this was important enough stuff to follow.  

Planning meals
I'm a working single father, and I don't like having my Girls eat fast food.  Two very competing circumstances.  So, if we're going to eat at home, we can't wait until I get home and figure out what we're having.  Most days, dinner has started in the slow cooker just before we leave the house.  The main dish is ready when I walk through the door.  Heat up some rolls or bread, steam some veggies, and in 15 minutes, we're eating.  Which is good because, usually, in 20 minutes we're leaving for somewhere.  

A Slow Cooker (and a rice cooker)
Yes, it's that thing your grandmother used to make the horrible smelling roast every get together.  And no, it doesn't produce elegant food. I get all that.  But seriously, the only way I'm going to have a home cooked meal ready in time for our schedule every day, short of hiring a good looking maid (hmmmm...?), is to use a slow cooker.  Embrace it. Master it. Celebrate it. I've probably got 300 hand picked slow cooker recipes in my  Evernote notebooks. Who cares if every one of them turns out looking the same?  We're not gourmands.  As long as it tastes good and is (somewhat) healthy, it's better and cheaper than punting and going out for fast food.  

Major grocery shopping once a week.
Once you've planned your meals for the week, you know what you need.  If you know what you need you can get in and out of the grocery store quicker and cheaper.  This is huge for all you single dads out there.  The grocery store can be intimidating.  Make the list, review it, then stick to it.  Trust the planning you did before you got in the store.  Sure, you can call an audible now and then and switch up a meal here or there once you've got the experience (think Payton Manning).  But until then, stick with the designed plays you drew up before your stepped on the field or you’re going to made bad decisions (think Geno Smith).    

In full disclosure, I do stop at the grocery store a few times a week to pick up milk.  In order to keep it a little fresher, I only buy one gallon at a time.
Oh and you WILL get chuckles and eye rolling from women who think you're clueless in "their territory".  When that happens in the checkout line, make their day by whipping out your fistful of coupons AT THE VERY LAST SECOND before you pay.  (I love this one)

A concerted effort to be spontaneous 
You've gotten to this point and you said "Oh my GOD, how in the WORLD could this dude be spontaneous?"  Truth is, you're right.  And I acknowledge that.  It's just not in my nature to be spontaneous.  I have a tendency to view it all as logistics and a problem to be planned and solved.  In the business world that's a plus.  In real life it's a true barrier to happiness.  So, before we set out somewhere, I mentally say to myself, "this is an adventure, we can go wherever we want to go."  It helps me overcome that default "that isn't what I had planned" reaction to opportunities when we're out.  As a result, I've surprised my kids (and myself) a number of times with where we've gone and what we've done.  Make the effort to say yes to an opportunity when every fiber in your body says no.  You'll be happier.  And you'll have some stories to prove it.

When you read or hear a date, get it on the calendar, immediately.
The moment you hear or read a date that impacts your schedule, get it on your schedule.  You’re going to be off and running with the next crisis or task in a matter of moments.  You won’t remember it a couple hours from now.  So whether you use the phone or the computer, get it on the schedule, or verify its already there, NOW.

A white board so everyone knows the plan
My Girls are pretty savvy.  But they don’t have smartphones they carry with them 24/7.  So, every weekend I map out the coming week on a big 4’x4’ whiteboard.  I list every event, meal, and obligation we have.  Everyone sees it, and everyone knows the game plan.

Chores
Yep chores.  They don’t always get done, but everyone knows they are part of the team.  They know Dad can’t do it all (despite his attempts) and allowances are based on the completion of chores.  The Girls roll dice to determine what they have for the week.  They go up on the whiteboard. The List:

• Garbage and recycling
• Dishwasher unload
• Living room patrol
• Dinner table
• Vacuum and sweep
• plants and fish
• mail and newspaper

The Kids Themselves
Lastly, but certainly not the least, is the Girls themselves.  I cannot discount how difficult this has been on them, but we have come together as a much tighter and structured crew.  They have stepped up to the plate and taken on more responsibility when they’ve needed to.  They are a blessing, and how far we have come is based, in no small part, on them.

More things I've learned:

• Most waiters & waitresses, when they see a young father with three girls out to dinner they think 1) It's Mom's night out; and 2) Dad can't cook...  Sorry, but you're wrong on both counts
• Sometimes you can be surprised in a good way.
• Some people like Christmas shopping and wrapping gifts...They're freaks. Truly, Freaks.
• DO NOT accidentally use dishsoap in the dishwasher.  In a word ...WOW.
• Slow cooker dinners don't receive high marks for appearance or plating.  Regardless of their taste.
• Legos hurt when you step on them barefoot.  Even more so late at night when you're trying to be quiet. 
• Give yourself a break now and then.  
• Find physical or mental places where you can drop all the mechanisms and defenses you've built to try to manage everything all the time.  And when you get there. DROP THEM
• Your thermostat can, and will, poop out on you unexpectedly.
• I hate updating my resume.  Looking at what little is on the page versus all I wanted to have accomplished by now, I always feel like I'm falling short.
• Jagermeister comes in a 1.75l platoon size... AND it still fits on the same shelf in my pantry. Awesome!

A common end to an uncommon summer

We ended the summer the way we always do: at the Shawano county fair. In some respects, today was like any of the previous Labor Days. The girls rode rides, we looked at the big tractors, and watched the demolition derby. The rest of the weekend was filled with swimming in the Red river and walking the woods. Looking at us you probably wouldn't have guessed that anything was wrong. The girls seemed happy and I didn't have any breakdowns.

But this summer was very different since Jen's no longer here with us. It was a season of pain and change.  It was anything but normal for 99% of it.  The girls were gone for several weeks at a time.

There were stretches where I had no idea what to do with myself. Or more exactly: I had plenty of plans but when the time came I drifted like a boat without a keel or rudder.  I would come home from work, say “I’m too tired to start _x_” and flop down on the couch.  The next thing I know it’s 2:00am and the alarm is going to go off in 4 hours. There was no one there to call out the bad behavior or to say “snap out of it!”  So I did nothing other than feed (poorly) and bathe myself, and get to work.

Looking back on this summer, I'm amazed we got through it. I vividly remember not being able to sleep for days straight because I didn't know how I was going to have someone watching the kids all summer. I was so anxious, and I didn't know how we were going to make it through all the events and festivals as a family without losing the “traditions” we had established.

Keeping these “traditions” is probably the single greatest source of my anxiety.  If you haven’t noticed, I’m completely a creature of habit and forecasting.  My very nature sees a void, creates a structure, and determines milestones.  The fact that I've lost my wife and life is fundamentally changed doesn't seem to make a difference.  There’s still a part of me that wants to keep everything the same.  Something that, above all, wants to keep it all the same for the kids… Stupid really… now that I sit an examine it.

So here I am, 1am the morning of day 1 of the school year, and I can’t sleep.  A big, fat, plump school year sits before us.  Full of potential.  Full of potential issues.  What happens? Who knows?  Will we make it thought? Of course we will.  I just need to approach it like the unscripted adventure it is.

D (Diagnosis) Day

Saturday June 1st was the 1 year anniversary of Jen's Stage 4b lung Cancer diagnosis.  Like I've said before, it was on this day that Jen and I knew the totality of it all.  That Friday was like any other, except that Jen finally had a doctor's appointment for that nagging cough.  It turned into the second most difficult day of my life.

Everyone reading this please slow down and really read these next sentences.
Take the time, right now, to be with the someone you love.  Invest the time, right now.   Tell them you love them, right now.  Don't wait until tomorrow or for a perfect moment.  Do it now.

You never know when June 1st is going to come.

There's been an event that keeps coming back to me over and over again over the last few weeks.
On one particular occasion at Froedtert hospital, I had headed down to the non denominational chapel to pray, and to try and call in every last favor I possibly could to extend Jen's life. In the chapel was a man, who I'm assuming was Muslim, on a mat praying. It was an interesting moment.  I didn't interrupt him. He didn't interrupt me. We were both in this space praying to the diety we were taught to. In other parts of the world our religions are vehemietly opposed to each other. But here we were both united in our suffering and need for help.

While we were there, a part of me wondered, are we praying to the same god? Or different ones? Are we both right, is one of us right, or have we both been delusioned into believing that there's something or someone listening to our pleas?  In the days since, I've revisited that encounter and wondered about who he may have been praying for. Did they make it? If so was it because he was praying to the right god, and I was wrong? Crazy talk, I know, but such are the ponderings of a young widower.

D Day.  I'm not sure anyone knew how torn up inside I was on Friday and Saturday.

The last week has been a reminder that this is still a difficult journey.
The house needs to have a thorough cleaning.  It isn't a complete disaster, but it doesn't smell fresh. Makes me wonder what I'm not doing that's causing it.
And because of my scatteredness one morning this week I forgot my badge which keep me from getting into the parking garage and made me wait at the front desk.

I haven't had any real breakdowns recently but that changed this week too.  Two things happened which, in succession, broke me down.
First, I re-listened to the voice recording of me telling the kids that Jen had cancer.  In the background I hear Jen coughing and it brought back all the memories of her being with us but knowing she had cancer. The agony of those first weeks, dealing with the enormity, the uncertainty, and how to break it to everybody. It all came back.
Then...
I was going back in my Evernote application. I have an email from Jen talking about how excited she was to go to the JCI Christmas party and wondering if we were going to meet our friends the Saucedas and Arths there.  Looking at the date of the email she had about 5 weeks left to live when she wrote it.  She so looked forward to that night.  We didn't say it to each other or anyone else, but I think we both knew that it was going to be the last "night out" we would have.

After I read that email I was a wreck.  I felt sunk.  Like the tasks I was doing at work were so meaningless, so pointless, why the hell am I doing any of this?
And then the very basic questions with no possible answers started coming back....
Why can't I be with my wife?  Why can't I go home to her right now?  Why did this have to happen like this?  Why does ....just .... WHY!?

I keep these things because they are my tangible connections to Jen. I'm truly afraid that as shot as my memory is I'll forget her, and I'll have to rely on these things to remember how she sounded, how she laughed.  So I don't dare get rid of them.  But it's a double edged sword.  They certainly bring back the memories of Jen but they bring back the hurt too.

On Wednesday night something new and very depressing happened...
I drempt that Jen was still alive.  We weren't doing anything special, it was a vivid dream of everyday activities in the house, but she was there.  "Oh my God, she's here!"  It was, as far as I could tell in the moment, real.  For a few moments my mind was fooled into thinking she was still here.  Part of my mind questioned it and thought "we must be dreaming", but the heart simply leapt for joy.

And then I woke up...
And reality returned...
It's was 2:23am.  and there was nobody else in the room with me.
I didn't get back to sleep that night.

Life is just plain lonely now after the kids go to bed.

I know what it's like to get a little sideways on a weeknight. To say "the kids are in bed and I don't have to log into work".  There's no one else to bounce stupid ideas or call out your bad behavior, So you say, "fuck it" and you get hammered. Trying to forget about getting ahead in my career, the bills, the home owners association commitments. whatever.  You sit down with a beer and the playstation controller and stick the brain in neutral for a while.  You know it's not the best thing to do, but, what the hell. Who does it hurt?

Being a single father is an absolutely noble cause, and I get it, but there are times when I just want to punch out. To step outside this story for a while.  Because when I sit and think about it, it's very painful.  And at the end of the day, very lonely.

But, even with all of the emotional hardship involve, I've come to the realization that all things concidered, we're doing pretty well.  I've got kids who've really stepped up and moved forward. I've got a great job and employer that understands whats going on. We're not in debt. Other than the fact that I'm a single parent in his early 40s, trying to raise 3 capable, strong girls alone, I'm doing damn good.   I don't want to paint this picture of " woe is me" " life is horrible". It's not. Except for the fact I lost he love of my life, things are great.

That might be part of the problem. Jen and I made these choices to put us here.   We were... comfortable.  On our way... We never thought we " had it made" but we sure were happy with where we had positioned our lives and the family. We actually told each other as much.

And then cancer had to come into it.

I miss you Jen. I wish you were here to share this with me.

T+2 Months

So it's been 2 months now since Jen's passing. I've had time to process the last few months of the journey, and gotten up the courage to start posting again.  There have been numerous people asking when I was going to "get back into it" so here goes...

Jen's Diagnosis
When Jen got the diagnosis, it wasn't a case of maybe we got it early enough, maybe we can fix this.  No.  The gravity of her diagnosis was complete.  Stage 4b.  It would have taken the very definition of a miracle to stop the inevitable outcome.  It was that day, June 1st 2012, that I knew.  My wife, my love, my friend, would die in front of me, soon.  She would pass and leave us forever.   At that point, the world was broken, and me with it.

Looking back on it now I feel guilty.  Did my unspoken negativity lead or aide her passing?  Did my dark thoughts keep the miracle from happening?

The Oncology Team at Froedtert
I had some bloodwork done in March at Froedtert so I stopped in the cancer center to thank them.  I wasn't sure how I was going to feel or react but I knew I had to thank them. Taking an extremely long route through the various wings of the hospital to get to the Cancer Center, there was a familiarity with the hallways and colors, but I was uneasy.  Very, uneasy.  I kept thinking that I needed to get back to Jen.  As if she was sleeping up in her room and I had snuck out for a coffee but needed to be back before she woke up.  I found myself trying to remember what labs or appointments Jen had on the schedule for the day.  But that was followed, of course, by the stark realization that there were no appointments today, no tests to take.  I sat down on one of the benches and just let that wash over me for a while.

After I composed myself I headed over to the Courage clinic and checked in to see if Dr. Santana was available.  He was immediately, and we walked back into one of the conference rooms.  I hadn't rehearsed what I was going to say, so I started with "Thank You".  We talked back and fourth for a few minutes when his pager buzzed and he asked if he could step out for a second.  He came back in with Nurse Kay and other members of the team.  So I delivered the message to the whole team.  I thanked them for putting up with me during the appointments and phone calls.   "What you do is important.  Your optimistic approach and enthusiasm is greatly appreciated by your patients.  You must continue that way.  I thank you and I know Jen Thanks you."  Once again not a dry eye in the house, including mine.

Dr. Santana and Livestrong have stated the same thing.  The term cancer survivor doesn't apply only to the people who have been diagnosed with it.  It applies to the caregiver and those who carry on after the cancer claims a loved one.

Things I've learned:

The Good:

• I can mentally survive the death of my wife. Yes, this is still an ongoing process, but I didn't completely fall apart and become non-functional like I feared. They say the death of a spouse is one, if not the most, stressful event a person can go through. check. done.
• On the whole, I can handle the single parent logistics thing. It sucks most of the time, but I can handle.
• The Girls seem to be doing OK. They are not withdrawn, they're not morose, they're not violent or mean-spirited. In fact they've proven very resilient. If anything, this has made us a tighter crew.
• Parental decision to be made? It's mine, all mine! muuhahhaahaha!
• I've internalized the new role as my new calling. A shepard charged with protecting and leading the flock. While others gave up petty stuff for lent, I gave up myself and the plans Jen and I had.
• There are people out there who will do unimaginably generous things to help you out when you need it.
• Even after the toughest of heartbreaks, I can still be grateful for the good things in my life.
• I can bake (yes BAKE!)
• I can feel good after buying a car.
• I actually feel like I deserve a vacation, for once.

The Bad:

• There are some simple facts and dates that I repeatedly get wrong. To my great frustration and embarrassment. Regardless of how careful I am or how many times I proofread, it's as if there's something consistently rewriting bad data to my brain.
• Parental decision to be made? It's all mine to make regardless of how uncomfortable or ill prepared.  Sometimes, I'm making it up as I go along.
• I can waffle on an easy decision at the most inopportune times. (seemingly, without rhyme or reason)
• I never know when a song, a sign, or something someone says, will start an uncontrollable chain reaction of thoughts that ends with me teary eyed and embarrassed that my emotions got away from me...again.
• My Short term memory is shot. Utterly useless. Unless I've written it down, I can't tell you anything we discussed this week. This makes work a VERY stressful place trying to keep all the bases covered when you can't remember.
• When I'm depressed I eat and drink... a lot.
• I'm in the worst physical shape I've been in 15 years (see above. correlation? nah.)
• Not that I ask for slack, but some folks just "get" my situation and understand the impact it may have. Others? They see this as something you take care of over the weekend and come back to work without any impact. 
• I wake up every morning determined that "today's going to be different. I'm going to reengage, kick some ass, and deliver." And, invariably, I go to bed disappointed with the lack of progress and say to myself "tomorrow, I HAVE to make a change".
• I have a long list of creative ideas, but I never start any of them. It just seems like another task, regardless of how relaxing or fulfilling it might prove. So I never start.
• I'm paranoid of a lot of things, some valid, most not. (this is NOT new but the list has changed)
• When I was reading the "grief" and bereavement stuff while Jen was in the hospital, people talked about how grief affects every facet of your life. I thought "these people are just undisciplined unstructured folks who can't apply systems and logic to solve problems. If you put an emotionless process or system in place you can shelve the emotions and follow the plan you built". Now? I count myself amongst them. There's something about my mental state right now that makes everything difficult to think through to the end.  Ever had one of those moments where you tripped and for five or six awkward steps you were trying to gain your balance and not fall flat on your face?  That's my day, mentally.
• I have no tolerance for difficulty. If something takes effort, any effort, it seems like yet another insurmountable task requiring focus and energy. It will probably get dropped... quickly.
• When I'm rested I can walk through hell with a smile. But I can (and unfortunately, have) blown up over some very minor issues. All of these meltdowns came when I was tired or very sick or beyond frustrated with something else. Regardless, afterwards I feel like the worst parent on the face of the earth, undeserving of the immense Love I receive from my kids.
• Unless you're going to hire a maid (hmm.. that'd be nice), or the kids are going to do it, you're it... Lucky You
• It has changed from the "Mother - Daughter Talk" to the "Father - Daughter Talk" YEAH! SO looking forward to that in the near future.  No subject can be unapproachable. As a single dad, you can't be squeamish. There is no boy stuff vs girl stuff, there's only stuff that has to be discussed.
• Vanilla cupcakes and chocolate cupcakes have different baking times... Someone should fix this.