The boys have been faring better than me, but they are young. Their grasp of the “big picture” is not the same as mine. That said, their process of grieving is not nearly as complex and emotionally charged as mine. They have found solace in the company of their friends. Becoming immersed in the fun of summer break is their key to moving forward. For me, it’s been much more involved. I have bills to pay. I have legal issues to resolve. I have insurance papers to file. I have my work. I have the house to keep up. This is all before I have even had the opportunity to sit down, have a cold one and think about what has just transpired in my life.

This summer has just been a blur. I feel like a lost soul in the middle of a busy city street corner at the peak of rush hour. As people whiz by going about their daily routines, I’m stuck in a funk trying to find the energy (and desire) to move that first foot forward. Every day has been like that. At some point I feel that I will be ready to put that first foot forward, but for now, I kind of need this pause in life to contemplate just what direction to go first. I have so many options. Yet, I also want to make the correct one. It’s all on me now and frankly, it sucks.

Honestly, I make it through each day attempting to make small gains. In a way it’s a two-steps-forward one-step-back progression. Some days, though, it’s the opposite.

The boys and I ventured down to the Outer Banks for the last week of July. That final week of July is our traditional “beach week.” While the boys were able to effectively shake their heartbreak for the week, I simply couldn’t relax until late in the week. Don’t get me wrong, I love the beach. It really is our second home. But for me, every place that we went or everything that we did brought back memories of Monica. It was a rollercoaster of emotion and at times I just wanted the ride to stop so that I could get off.

As we crossed over the Wright Bridge that first day, I felt a rush of emotion. “I’m back.” I thought to myself as a broad smile crossed my face. Within seconds though, I snapped into a new reality, “Yes, but I’m also alone.” As a tear streamed down my face, Joey looked at me from the front passenger seat where Monica usually sat. He didn’t say a word. He knew exactly what was running through my mind. With the wisdom of an adult, he looked at me, just smiled and turned to look forward again. He knew that words couldn’t make what I felt go away.

As beach week wore on, the feeling that she was near finally calmed my senses. It took a solitary walk on a moonlit beach to bring me home to center. I acknowledged the fact that things will never be the same. But I also acknowledged the fact that she will always be with me.

That Thursday evening, I took the boys away from the noise of the beach house to spread some of Monica’s ashes on the beach. The moonlit night was perfect. As I gave each boy a small handful of Monica’s remains, I told them, “Place these ashes where you will remember her most.” As each of my boys went their own direction, I stared at the moonlit surf, then closed my eyes and pictured her ankle deep in the surf with her camera hanging from her neck. It is how I will always remember her. With tears building up in my eyes, I opened them and gently tossed my handful of ashes into the waves that came up to kiss my feet.

The boys returned after their respective sortie and we stood together in silence.

After a few moments, Joey looked up to me and said, “Dad, I put her where I will remember her...in the wind” Jamie chimed in with “Me too.” Then Joey said, “Com’on dad, let’s go back.” Jamie nodded in agreement. It was time to go. Our mission was complete.

It’s moments like these that give me faith that my kids will never forget their mom. And it’s moments like this that will remind me that she is with me….wherever I go.

In the two weeks since our beach trip, the boys have resumed doing their normal summer kid stuff. I shipped both of them off for a week of adventure mid month. The idea was to give them some place cool to go and something cool to do in the waning weeks of summer. I sent Jamie off to Adventure Camp out in the Shenandoah Valley and I sent Joey out to Huntington Beach, California for a week with Monica’s mom.

Their time away gave me a chance to begin facing the silence alone - yet another part of the process. I enjoyed the peace, but as with all peace it comes with a cost. Being alone finally gave me the chance to begin the real process of grieving. I haven’t been able to really do it while the kids were home - and it’s been further delayed with dad’s illness. There is always so much going on. Camp Cooper is in full swing. I have anywhere from four to eight kids in my house at any given time during the day…and night.

While I love to presence of young life in my home, it doesn’t give me much real peace. It’s OK though. The young voices that fill the rooms of my house remind me of when she was still here. She loved having the kids around. For her it was more the better. She knew where they were and it gave her energy (her life force).

As time goes by, I realize more and more that peace will eventually embrace our home. For now, I let the children of summer fill the air with their silly banter and laughs. I need that as much as I need the peace. It’s that silly thing called conflict that haunts me to this day.

It’s going to get better, but it’s not going to be nearly as easy as I thought.

Conflict

According to the online American Heritage Dictionary, the word conflict is defined accordingly:

con-flict

Noun

1. A state of open, often prolonged fighting; a battle or war.
2. A state of disharmony between incompatible or antithetical persons, ideas, or interests; a clash.
3. Psychology A psychic struggle, often unconscious, resulting from the opposition or simultaneous functioning of mutually exclusive impulses, desires, or tendencies.
4. Opposition between characters or forces in a work of drama or fiction, especially opposition that motivates or shapes the action of the plot.

From what I am learning, the grieving process is consumed with conflict. They don’t tell you that in any book. OK, I’ll toss you all a little humor grenade here... After single handedly attempting to restore Target’s sales figures for the quarter, Monica would typically start out one of her shopping justification arguments with the words “Part of me wanted to buy […], while the other part of me wanted to buy […] so I bought both.” (Here was me…”Part of me wants you to take it back while the other part of me wants to drive.”).

Ok, that was mean… but you get the point.

The conflicts that rage in my mind today are based firmly upon the desire to move forward without leaving behind what I once had.

I want to move on, yet I just know how to do it.

I had 23 years with Monica. On September 12, I will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary alone. Don’t be surprised if you see me leave the country on that day!

The thoughts that have raced through my mind are exactly what make up that damned third definition.

I’ve come to respect Sage’s words of wisdom...unfortunately it is now those same words that I can no longer stand to hear. “It will take time.” The words ring true, but they burn like fire.

The conflicts rage on.

What's New?

Pop’s situation continues to be the backdrop to the Cooper boy’s life journey. He is still under “hospice light” care. He has stabilized, but we all know that in the some time in the coming weeks things will likely take a turn for the worse. His left lung is once again filling with fluid. We have been told that they can tap his lung one more time, but the options available after that are limited at best. It’s all a waiting game.

Next week, the boys start school. Joey starts his high school years at Oakton High School in Vienna, while Jamie starts his middle school years at Rachel Carson Middle School in Herndon. I honestly think that they are ready to begin the new school year. They will never say it in public, but they, like me, need to take the next step to regaining some sort of normalcy.

As of last week, Jamie is back to playing football for the Chantilly Youth Association's 85lb A team. He is the team’s official placekicker. He’s off to a roaring start. In the teams’ first scrimmage, he hit 3 out of 4 extra points (the final one was blocked). He joined the team late after we agreed to a ride sharing deal with other families. The clincher for letting him play again: he told me, “Dad, mom wanted me to play again.” He was right.

Joey on the other hand is intending to follow in my footsteps once school starts. He has chosen Sports Medicine as his elective. We just may have two trainers in the family soon enough… hmmmmm, can you say: family business?!?!

On the creative side of things, I am in the process of kicking off another web site. Right now, this one is a sub-site to my primary business site and the work that I have done here really deserves a place of its own. The plan is to create the new site, move all of this stuff to that new site and kick off some new features.

The technical effort to create the new site is trivial. The ultimate design of the new site is what I am still pondering. One of my aims is to get you to participate more. I am unable to count how many people have sent me email over the course of the past few weeks starting the exact same phrase… “I am still unable to come up with the words…” then strangely enough the words magically flow from the screen as though an angel has stepped in to help you to write the most compassionate words that I have ever read.

Folks: when I put up this site, it was my goal to help ME to keep YOU up-to-date. It was also intended to HELP OTHERS in a similar predicament. If you choose to become a part of this new site, perhaps you will find a new way to deal with your own grief. Certainly, someone else will benefit. I am more than happy to provide that capability. Stay tuned.