A Christmas gift

Our second Christmas without Ian (2 down, maybe 20-30 to go?) and we made our trek to the Ballard cemetary to place fresh flowers at Ian's grave, like we have done so many times over the past 18 months but this time was different.  This time, there was a gift waiting for us.  Ian had a visitor, who we dubbed 'Oliver'.  When we drove up to Ian's grave (gosh, that sounds so wrong to say....Ian's grave) there was this beautiful, calico cat just sitting up on top of his headstone like he owned the place.  In all our time out here at Ballard, we'd never seen a cat.  We walked up to him, expecting him to run away but it was obvious, he meant to stay around and just wanted to be petted.  In fact, Eric had a hard time getting him to get off the headstone so he could clean it. He stayed around the whole time we were there and he was the friendliest cat. Amy named him Oliver and we seriously thought of taking him home; he was friendly and beautiful and was there at just the right moment.  He was also obviously clean and well fed and therefore probably belonged to someone who loved him.  But we toyed with the idea that he was a sign; maybe he was a sweeter version of Emmett (who's ashes we had secretly (until now) buried next to Ian, maybe he was a Christmas present????).

We asked him if he wanted to come home with us and he said yes (we are fluent in meow) so I went in search of the groundskeepers to see if they had a 'cemetery cat'.  Unfortunately, for us, he did have a home with the neighbors living next door.  The groundskeeper said he comes back and forth but usually stays in a certain area of the cemetery - today, for whatever reason, he ventured into our area.  So he wasn't a sign - he was a gift and for a brief moment, he was ours & Ians'
.

Udon noodles = laughter

The one thing that penetrates through this grief into my soul is worship.  We sang the song, "Overcome", a few weeks ago at church.  My first thought when we would sing this song used to be that God didn't overcome Ian's cancer, He could have, but He didn't.  This time I thought He finally had, in the end, overcame Ian's disbelief, his doubts.  In Ian's final moments of consciousness, when we had to stop him from trying to get off the bed and he couldn't believe the wonder of what he was seeing and had to go find Michael, who was showing him all these wondrous things, he SAW what waited for him.  God overcame all the questions that Ian had then, in that moment.  I suddenly missed him so terribly I couldn't stop the tears.  But I could feel him, I could hear him reassuring me that God had overcome.

One of the things that haunts me is one of the last things Ian wrote in his journal - that God couldn't plan His way out of a paper bag.  That arose because of the final prayer request Eric wrote after we found out Ian was terminal. Eric included the phrase 'perfect plan'. That morning in church, it was as if I could hear Ian reassuring me that Eric choice of wording had been correct.  That taking him when He did was the perfect plan and now, Ian saw it too.

It doesn't make me miss him less, but it helps.

The holidays have been hard this year.  I think last year we were still in shock - we missed him, terribly, but the shock acted as a kind of buffer.  I don't know if it's possible, but I think I miss him even more this year.  We did Thanksgiving out of town this year which made it different and perhaps easier.  We're trying to do more of Christmas than we have the last two years; our hearts aren't in it but we push ahead knowing that it's what we need to do.  It just takes incredibly long to decorate when you only do one box at a time (I've accumulated a lot of  Christmas boxes over the past 24 years).  Tonight was 'ornament' night.  Our tradition has been to purchase an ornament for each of the kids and our family every year to commemorate whatever was significant in our lives that year.  The plan had always been that the kids would take their ornaments with them when they moved out and on their own (I didn't want their trees to be empty those first few years).  Amy has all hers but we still have Alex's & Ian's.  Eric & I were doing ok putting them all on the tree until we got to an ornament we had both forgotten about ~ it's a memorial ornament with Ian's picture on it.  Around his picture it says "God saw him getting tired, a cure not meant to be so He wrapped His arms around him and whispered 'Come with Me'."  That was our undoing, I think it was the shock of seeing it - we knew about the others we would be seeing but this one we forgot about. 

I had just made the comment that decorating the tree isn't fun any more when Eric started laughing - he had just opened the next ornament ~ another of Ian's .....his bowl of Udon noodles. Ian loved Udon noodles.  We both instantly knew that we were given the gift of laughter to help us finish our tree full of memories.

2%

It's true what they say about time healing wounds.....with time the pain of losing you lessens a little bit. 
The down side is that along with less pain, the memories start to dim just a little - maybe about 2%, more or less.  The memories aren't quite as sharp, I have to concentrate to remember you walking into the kitchen, arms outstretched saying, 'mama' or sitting next to each other on the couch watching TV, or talking about  a show we've just watched, or reading those college art history books or you telling me the things you want to do with your life. I feel like you're slipping away from me and I am desperately trying to hang on to any part of you I can.  I've already lost so much of you, two percent is more than I'm willing to pay for less pain.  I would rather have the pain.

Catching up.........

So, let's catch up.....I've been offline for a while.  In September I attending a Women of Faith conference for the first time.  I went primarily because Rick Warren from Saddleback Church was one of the speakers - in him I was not disappointed.  I went to hear Rick Warren because he lost a son earlier this year and I wanted, I needed to know how another Christian grieving parent was walking through this journey.  The rest of the Conference was ok; not horrible, not great but ok.

Being the eternal rebel, my friend Dorothy (my fellow rebel) and I stayed an extra night with plans to attend The Grove (a Saddleback satellite church) the next day.  I knew Pastor Warren was speaking on working through your pain, so I was anxious to hear what he had to say.  His sermon did not disappoint - in fact it made the trip down to LA worth it.  This was the last in his series since returning to the pulpit following the death of his son.  It was the first time in a long time, I left church with some hope that there is a way out of the valley I have been wondering through.  At least a glimmer of hope.

Rick talked about how he was walking through the grief.  He buried himself in the word of God and in God's presence - I didn't do that.  I was too wounded, too caught up in my pain to let God comfort me.  Too caught up in the 'whys' and 'why nots'.  Too lost in my sorrow.  Let me tell you what Pastor Warren shared that helped me start to see light at the end of this tunnel, this valley of death.  My pain can be used for a good purpose: I can use it to draw closer to God, to draw closer to others, to help others and to witness to the world.  "Have you gone through all of this for nothing? Is it all really for nothing?" Galatians 3:4  Please don't let all this pain be for nothing.  

Rick Warren is great at one-liners:  "You can handle the pain if you see the purpose"  Boy, is this true.  If I knew the purpose this would be so much easier!  Not knowing the purpose, not seeing the reason or the 'silver lining' around this dark cloud has made it so much harder.  And yes, I hear those of you who will say, 'God knows the purpose, just trust Him'.  Easier said than done.  When the eternal author has become the author of your pain, trusting is hard. 

"God didn't spare Jesus from pain - why would he spare you?"  That hit home.  I am not the first person to suffer pain.  My pain has been predominantly emotional, Jesus suffered both physical & spiritual pain when he was separated from God. My pain is nothing compared to his.   In this, I can follow Ian's example; his response to being diagnosed with cancer was 'Why not me?'

"Your deepest life message will come out of your deepest pain."  This will be true if I don't waste my pain.

Pastor Warren has a sermon series entitled "How to Get Through What You're Going Through" .  If you are going through any kind of trauma or loss, listen to this series!!  He talks about the 5 stages following a trauma or loss: Shock, Sorrow, Suffering, Surrender and Service (these make a whole lot more sense the the 'stages of grief' that you hear about).  I'll be honest (like that's a new concept in my blogs), I'm stuck in Suffering.  I haven't surrendered this pain, the loss of Ian yet.  I'll get there but I'm not there yet.

We've been busy with the first fundraiser for our foundation, the Ian M Hassett Foundation and it went really well and it served the purpose of keeping me busy.  We just wanted it to be a lovely evening and not go in the red on the budget.  I think we achieved our goal.  The venue was full, folks seem to enjoy themselves and we raised almost $2300 for art scholarships.

This last Thursday was Ian's 21st birthday.  I took the day off from work, knowing that I wouldn't want to be at work that day - I wanted to spend the day remembering Ian.  I was asked if maybe it wouldn't be better to keep busy at work to distract myself but that wasn't my goal.  My goal was not to forget about Ian but to spend time celebrating him.  Eric & I had breakfast at IHOP (one of Ian's favorite places) then went to the cemetery to put new flowers on his grave before Eric had to go to work.  We talked a lot about Ian, the day he was born, funny things he did or said; we remembered the good days.  We got to the end of the day and we felt like we had missed something, we had nobody to celebrate his birthday with.  If Ian had been alive, he would have been away at school (he dreamed of going to Rhode Island School of Design, so for us, that's where he would have been because he could accomplish anything he put his mind to) and we wouldn't have been able to celebrate with him.  We probably would have called him but he would have been too busy to answer, so we would have left a message.  Then he would have been busy celebrating with his friends so we probably wouldn't have talked to him on his birthday, kinda like it was this year.  We would have sent him some money or a care package, cuz that's what parents do.  So, we thought, if we can't send Ian something, why don't we pick somebody else and send them something?  A new tradition was born - every year we will pick somebody and send them something in honor of Ian.  In a sense, we're paying forward Ian's birthday.  This year we picked one of Ian's friends who's away at college, I like to think he would have approved.

I dreamt of you...

I dreamt of you last night.  It doesn't happen very often, not nearly as often as I would like it to.  This is only the 3rd or 4th time it's happened since you died.

You were younger in this dream, maybe 2 or 3.  I don't remember much about it except that I was happy.  You always made me smile when you were little, I was amazed at the things you would say or do.  In the dream we were playing, talking, I was holding you.  At the end I remember trying to hold onto you but you were struggling to get down; I was desperate to hold on to you.

Then there was this deep, sudden, searing pain because I realized I would never hear your voice again.  It woke me up and I was back in the days right after you had died; that deep stabbing pain of loss.  I was crying again but I didn't want to wake Eric.  I just kept thinking "I miss your voice". 
I miss you......

A place of fear

I was listening to a pastor talking about Christians who either come from a place of fear or a place of love in their relationship to God.  I started thinking, what am I afraid of?  It turns out, a lot!

What do I fear:
     I fear never feeling joy again (there's a difference between being 'happy' and having 'joy'.  Joy is
         deep-seated, it reaches to your soul; 'happiness' can easily be only surface deep)
     I fear disappointing God
     I fear disappointing the people around me
     I fear losing my other kids (God's taken one, He could take them all)
     I fear never trusting Him again
     I fear becoming bitter
     I fear my marriage falling apart (don't read anything into that, Eric & I are good, it's just hard 
         grieving a child)
     I fear not loving God enough
     I fear forgetting Ian - the sound of his voice, the warmth of his hugs, the roll of his eyes
     I fear going deep and finding there's nothing there
     I fear the questions I have and the answers I might find
     I fear the future

I think I can safely say, I'm coming from a place of fear.  I'm stuck in a rut and part of me wants to be here.  Letting go of the sadness correlates to letting go of Ian and I'm not ready to do that.   Even wanting joy in my life feels like a betrayal of him, like his impact on my life was small and insignificant.  When the reality is that being a mom to my children has been everything to me and Ian deserves to be mourned and missed because he was significant - he mattered.

But this rut, this chasm I find myself in, has the consequence of making it very easy to become bitter.  Bitterness is the easy road and it's a daily choice not to go there. It takes a real effort to not chose bitterness.  It's hard work to try and see how this can make me better; and it's exhausting!  And some days, I don't have the energy to fight it but I realize that bitter is not the woman I want to be.

Yes, cancer sucks!

Let me start by stating the obvious - cancer sucks!  A few weeks ago I lost another friend to cancer.  Not the first person I cared about that this disease took and probably not the last.  Like most things, once something has affected you personally, you see it around you everywhere.  Remember ladies, when you were pregnant and suddenly you were surrounded by pregnant women - they were everywhere.  Now it seems cancer is everywhere.  Parents who have lost their children are everywhere now too - I see them around every corner.

When I heard the news that my friend Angie had lost her battle with cancer I was understandable upset.  Someone, meaning well, said "she's in heaven now and at least she's not hurting anymore."  I didn't think about my reaction, I just said what came to mind, "that doesn't help" and I walked away.  Later, the two of us had a chance to have a conversation about this - she was genuinely perplexed as to why those words wouldn't help.  Why those words wouldn't be a soothing balm and magically make everything better.  I'll tell you what I told her - they bring some comfort; knowing that I will see my friend again (and Ian) but it doesn't diminish the pain.  And there is such a long period of time to live through between now and then.  There are decades to go through full of missing them, thinking about them - those words don't take all that away.

It's funny...right after Ian died people would say things like that and I would nod my head and agree - Yes, I'll see him again....Yes, he's not in pain anymore but I was numb and the pain hadn't set in yet.  It wasn't until later that I realized how little those words really helped.  I can be thankful that I'll see Ian again and that he's in a much better place than here with us but they still don't diminish the pain of separation.  Only time does that.  Time doesn't make it 'better' but it makes it bearable, it makes it do-able.  Then, of course, there's always the 'sneak grief' attack that surprises you.  You start to think you're doing better, you're not crying every day anymore, it's safe to wear mascara again, you begin to feel proud of yourself for getting through the day without ruining your makeup, then it hits.  Some random thought, some memory and I look at Ian's picture and think, "how could one of my children be dead?"  How is that possible, but it is.  And I put the mascara away again for a little while. You reach a point where you realize, "this is my life now".  Nothing is going to change the fact that Ian is gone, I just have to learn to live with it and slowly, I am doing that.

It was a red robin kind of day

Well, the wedding is over......we've reached a new milestone,
we're 'in-laws'. 

Our daughter, Amy, married her long-time boyfriend, Bradford yesterday.  It was a lovely day, she was a beautiful bride (of course!) and they both looked very happy. 
Amy had been very thoughtful in remembering Ian on her special day.  She walked down the aisle to a recording of him playing the piano, the lemon wedding favors were a nod to him that included his favorite lemonade recipe and she had a memorial table that also included members of Bradford's family that they have also loved and lost.

I was very cognizant that this was Amy's day, she deserved this moment in her life and for it to be about her.  I tried to take my cues from her, letting her do as much, or as little as she felt was needed in the days leading up to the wedding and the day itself.  The day before the wedding she wanted to "visit Ian" so we all went to Ballard and left a smaller version of her bridal bouquet at his grave. We also left a QR code below his name for those who may wonder by and want to know "who was this young man who died so young?"
I was surprised by how emotional it was for me.  The loss of Ian for this major event in our family was profound.  I had a good cry then it was time to focus on Amy.  Moments would come the next two days and I would try to imagine what Ian's reactions would have been.  Would he have been bored at the rehearsal dinner?  Would he have loved to dress up in his infamous grey shoes?  Would he have needled his sister and tried to annoy her?  I think he would have loved to sit and visit with his cousins, so many of them are artistic and he seldom got to see them.  I'm sorry he had to miss all this.

We did get some gifts that made the day very special.  Eric said he saw a red robin at our house (for the significance of this see my first blog entry- Our Red Robin).  The bird let him get close and just stared at him for the longest time.  Later, at the wedding venue I saw a red robin hopping around the gazebo.
  But what was really special was when it was discovered that there was a robin nest in the trees right over the Sweetheart Table where Bradford & Amy were sitting - that was a moment. That was a gift.

I can recognize these gifts and thank God for them because I believe they come from Him.  I haven't yet learned how to thank him for the pain since that also must come from Him.   Someone pointed out to me recently that when we look at stories in the Bible about people's responses to suffering we often forget that their recognition of God's grace in those circumstances took time - sometimes many years.  It wasn't immediate.  We live in such an 'instant' society that we sometimes expect resolution immediately.  We forget that healing takes time.  Perhaps some can give thanks for the pain immediately, I'm not one of those people.  Forgive me if this wound, which feels so wide and so deep, takes more time to heal.

A year ago I wrote down some "do's & don'ts" on what someone can do to help a parent who has lost a child.  Now that we've reached the one year mark, I think it's time to update that list.

• DON'T ask Eric & I if we're over Ian's death, that's insulting.  We didn't lose a pet, we lost our son.  We will never be over it.  We will learn to live with it, but we will never be over it.

• DO understand that the one year mark is not some magic number that makes everything ok.  We are just beginning our journey, not finishing it.

• DON'T be surprised if I don't open up when you ask me how I'm doing.  I do appreciate you asking but depending on the day, I may not feel like talking.  I usually have three responses - OK, Fine or Good.  I will translate those answers for you:  

          Good - I'm feeling pretty darn good, bordering on happy.
          Fine - It hasn't been a good day but it hasn't been the worst day of my life either.  I'm   
                    functioning.
          OK - I got up this morning and showered but I'm missing Ian more than you can imagine;
                   that's as good as it's going to get today.

• DON'T compare our journey with someone else's.  Our way of handling this is not better or worse than some other couple, our journey is just that - ours.  We are doing the best we can.  We don't need your pity, just your understanding.

I've been reading a book by Philip Yancey called Where is God When It Hurts? and I wanted to share some things that have made an impression of this grief-stricken, 4 brain-celled mind:
"God wants us to choose to love him freely, even when that choice involves pain, because we are committed to him, not to our own good feelings and rewards."
"The modern emphasis on miraculous healing has the frequent side effect of causing unhealed ones to feel as though God has passed them by."
"In the end, it was God's presence that filled the void."
"God doesn't reveal his grand design.  He reveals himself."
"Rejoice, not in the fact that we are suffering, but in our confidence that the pain can be transformed."
"The value lies not in the pain itself, but in what we can make of it."
"...unless we learn dependence we will never experience grace."
and my personal favorite......
"Faith means believing in advance what will only make sense in reverse."

Really? Crying over a paper bag?

We have reached the last of our 'firsts' - yesterday had been a year since we buried Ian and one year ago today we held his memorial service.  This was also the weekend for our local Relay 4 Life which we participated in last year.  Last year's race was very moving for us; we were just returning from a small get-away with Amy & Alex to San Francisco and went early Sunday morning for one hour of walking.  In that short time we ran into one of the nurses who helped take care of Ian and saw that he had three luminaries made in his memory......it was a really sweet time for us.  This year, not so much.  We were more involved this year than last and spent more time at the track.  Ian just had one luminary this year and we didn't run into anybody we knew.  I returned this morning to collect the luminaries we had made for Ian, Alex and the son of a friend of ours who died 13 years ago from cancer.  I arrived just as they were walking, what looked like, a final group lap.  I waited till the lap was finished then noticed folks were starting to pick up the luminaries.  I walked out onto the track, panicking a little - people were collecting them to throw them away.  I reached the area where Alex's bag was first, but his was already gone.  I looked around to see if anybody was holding his but I didn't see it.  I wanted to start questioning folks, "do you have a bag for Alex Hassett?" but I thought they would think I was some looney women (which wouldn't have been exactly wrong).  Then I looked across the track where Ian's had been and they were all gone - my heart sank.  I'm very much a 'memento' person and my mementos of this weekend were lost.  I could feel myself starting to cry so I turned to leave the track when I saw a woman collecting the bags, crumpled together in her hand......and I lost it.  I just kept picturing someone crumpling Ian's picture on his paper bag, tossing him away like he didn't matter.  I got out of there as fast I could and yes, I was crying over a paper  bag.  I know it's silly, I know I wasn't really crying over a paper bag. I was crying over the fact that we were the only ones who remembered Ian with a luminary.  I was crying over not having the opportunity to cry with someone over Ian.  I was crying over the loss of impact his life was having on people.  I was crying over the loss of remembrance.  The only visible remembrance of Ian this year was the luminary we made for him.  I know that's the way it has to be but Ian's loss is still new for us.  I don't mean to say that others don't remember him or miss him, but to us it's still fresh.  Their lives are moving on and  that's the way it's supposed to be but seeing that and realizing it in such a tangible way hurts.  It's one more step down a road without him.

Yesterday & forever

I don't know how it's possible for it to feel like forever and yesterday at the same time, but that's what yesterday felt like.  It seems you've been gone forever but I can remember every detail of the day you died like it was yesterday.  At any given moment of the day, I could tell you what I was doing, how I was feeling. 

But we lived through the day; it, like your death, didn't kill us.  I miss you every minute of every day.

A year has gone by and I have no more answers now than I did then.  Have things gotten easier?  A little.  Doing things that give your life significance helps. Planning Amy's wedding gives us joy and empties our pockets at the same time, but it's worth every cent.  Doing all the legal work of  forming the "Ian M Hassett Foundation" helps, so does planning our first fundraiser in October ~ I hope you'll think that's an appropriate way to honor your birthday.

Friends tell me to 'lean of Jesus' but I don't know how to do that.  How do I lean on someone who is the author of all this pain?  There is a wall of pain between God & I that I don't have the energy to climb or breakdown.  I can recognize small bits of mercy every once in a while but they aren't enough to diminish the loss of Ian.  I wish I could say things are fine, that I have peace about Ian's passing but maybe it's too soon for those things.  My hope is that one day peace will come.

If I could just stop thinking

I can't stop thinking....it's been exactly one year since I heard your voice......I miss you Ian.

Not just a year of 'firsts'

Winners: Ubi Kim & Abby Kuhlman

We hit another milestone.....we awarded the first (actually, the first two) $1,000 Ian Hassett Memorial Art Scholarship on Thursday night at Senior Awards Night at Righetti High School.  We had a total of six very talented students apply for the scholarship and it was just too hard to pick just one winner so we picked TWO!  We can't do this every year but we were feeling generous and just happy that we had applicants to chose from.  It was a nice evening and I think we were the only presenters (those present to give out their scholarship), along with a small group of parents,  to stick it out for the entire ceremony.  When, did we as a community, start leaving ceremonies just because our kid had gotten their award?  I guess I've reached the age where that seems rude to me.  Don't the kids who have to wait till the bitter end to pick up their award/scholarship deserve just as much encouragement and praise as those that get theirs at the beginning of the ceremony?  I hated the idea of a student, going up to the stage to receive the scholarship that they worked hard for, and looking out to a room full of empty chairs, so we stayed.

Eric & I were not alone in honoring a child that we had lost; there were several memorial scholarships presented at Righetti that night.  There was a dad who lost his son a decade ago - his wife and young daughter were there so you could imagine how his life had gone on and progressed.  He gave out multiple smaller scholarships and part of his remembrance included a dinner that all the winners were invited to at a later date......I wonder how many go?  Another was presented by the friend of a man who graduated in the 1980's and died last year.  It gave me hope that some of Ian's friends will remember him years and perhaps even decades from now.  The last was a very elderly couple who has been giving out a scholarship for their daughter for decades. They were so cute.  They come every year, faithfully....will that be Eric & I?

This has also left us with a slight feeling of......."now what?".   But maybe the timing is good as we begin the mental countdown for our next big milestone - the first anniversary of Ian's death.  I've been told, by those you know, that the days leading up to that day will be tougher than the actual day......so far, that is proving to be true. It's hard not to remember what was happening a year ago on any given day or moment.  These days are full of 'lasts', the last hug, the last 'I love you', the last time I heard his voice.  There is a yearning to gather up all these 'lasts' together, to surround myself with all things Ian - his art, his pictures, his clothes and my memories of him.....all of them, good or bad.  I want to remember all those 'lasts' but the moments surrounding them were painful and heartbreaking.  A year ago today our friend Sandy came into Ian's hospital room and quietly pulled me aside and mentioned that she had gone over the results of Ian's latest scan.  She made a comment that Eric & I might want to go down to Radiology and take a look at them; I could tell by the look on her face it was more than just a passing comment.  Eric & I accompanied Sandy down to Radiology and she was with us as Dr. Sonnabend went over the scans.  The scans were meant to take a look at the mass in Ian's lungs but also gave the doctors a look at his liver - that was the shocking part.  His liver was scattered with small masses of cancer.  At first I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing but then the tears started to flow as the doctor explained that what we were seeing was cancer......everywhere in his liver.  We withheld that information from Ian until Dr. DiCarlo had a chance to look at the scans and talk to us all tomorrow - together as a family.  That was the last night we would have before we prepared to say good-bye to Ian.
So it's not just a year of 'firsts' but 'lasts' as well.

The Betrayal Barrier

I dreamed of Ian last night for the first time since he died.  He was about 10 and in his 'chubby' phase.  I looked like Pam Dawber (which isn't a bad thing) but it was me.  I don't remember exactly what the dream was about but I know it wasn't sad and I was with Ian and I woke up thankful.

I also saw two red robins one day this week.....I haven't seen one since a few weeks after Ian died.  I've never seen two together - I don't what, if any, significance that has but it made me smile.

I've done quite a bit of reading.  I've always been a reader, I love the escape it provides but lately I'm looking for hope, for answers, for some kind of direction on how to navigate this thing called 'grief'.  I've read books by other christian parents who have lost a child, hoping they can help me figure out how to do this. But so far, most of them have just pissed me off.  They say things like "we released our son to heaven", "we rejoiced knowing that our son/daughter is in heaven" (don't get me wrong, it brings me great comfort believing that Ian is in heaven and I will one day see him again, but I don't know how to rejoice in that).  They seem so accepting of losing their child; I let Ian go kicking and screaming - I hated losing him.  They seem to be chastising parents who ask 'why', they advise you to immediately let go of your pain ("Let go and let God"), that it's wrong/sinful to be angry.  I know they think they are helping but they are actually making the process worse.  They make me wonder if I am somehow totally screwing this up, if I am completely flunking this trial that God has placed in our path.  And maybe I am, maybe I'm a failure because I have done all those things. I start to wonder if I am the only christian asking these questions, wondering why losing my son is seemingly so much harder for me than for these other parents.  I don't want to fail, I don't want to disappoint my friends, my family but mostly I don't want to disappoint God.  But I also want to be honest about this process.  I want other parents who have to endure this to know that it's OK to question, it's okay to dissect everything you believe, it's OK to feel more pain than you know what to do with and God is strong enough, big enough to handle all those emotions. I want to know all the nitty-gritty details on how to navigate this and I think they're only telling me the end result.....I want to know how to get there.

I ask for answers knowing that I will probably never know 'why' this side of heaven, I have even gotten angry at God.  I thought I could avoid the anger, I thought I could suppress it, avoid it but I couldn't.  I have questioned God's role in this - I've wondered why save Alex over and over and over again yet not save Ian?  Why give us a life that prepared us to lose Alex then suddenly and surprising take Ian?  To my simple mind, these things don't make sense.  Do I still believe that there is a bigger picture that I can't see - absolutely.  Do I believe that this is still, somehow, the best plan for our lives; not just for me or my family but also for Ian - yes.  Does that mean I don't still wonder why?  Of course I do and I believe God is big enough to handle those questions.

I'm also seeing the role that guilt plays in grief.  Guilt caused by laughing, feeling happy, enjoying a weekend away with my husband......you name it, I feel guilty about it.  It seems somehow disloyal to Ian to go on with my life; my life should stop just like his did but it doesn't, does it?

James Dobson, in his book, "When God Doesn't Make Sense" talks about the "betrayal barrier."  The betrayal barrier begins with extreme disappointment after we have relied on God to look after us.  We feel that God has betrayed us; even if we know He hasn't, the disappointment can be overwhelming. This is what R.T. Kendell wrote in the Forward of this book about Abraham in talking about God's instruction to sacrifice Isaac, "Sometimes God does not bring us to our greatest testing until we are advanced in years. One might think that Abraham, well over one hundred years old," (believe me, some days I feel that old), " had paid his dues and would surely be spared further suffering and challenges.  But God has still more for Abraham to inherit.  On God's agenda was an invitation for Abraham to break the betrayal barrier.  There came to Abraham what would apparently be the most unfair, unjust, and unreasonable command God ever gave to a believer......those who persist in faith are those who break the betrayal barrier and inherit richness so wonderful that words cannot describe it."  This resonated with me.  I often joked that our family had been through enough with all of Alex's life and death issues and we surely deserved a break but I was wrong.  My goal now is to break through this 'betrayal barrier'.  I don't know how exactly to do that or how long it will take but the only thing I know to do, is to persist.

Wow, that was overwhelming.

What a night......not what we were expecting.  Tonight was the Santa Maria Arts Council Grants Showcase, the award that Ian won in 2011.  Eric & I had bought tickets weeks ago just because we wanted to see the artist's work that won this years awards.  Over the course of the last several weeks, we were asked to donate a reproduction of one of Ian's pieces for the Arts Council silent auction (that was a no-brainer, we were thrilled).  Then the whole process of coming under their umbrella and establishing the Ian Hassett Memorial Arts Grant evolved and they wanted to mention the formation of the Grant for next year's award show so we were told they may just mention us quickly and ask us to stand for a moment.

Ian's college teacher, Marti, took the stage, we stood as directed, then she went on to speak so eloquently and lovingly about Ian - we couldn't help but cry (and I put on full eye makeup for this thing too - dang it).  It was overwhelming.  Then they drew the winning ticket for Ian's drawing and the lady was thrilled.  She told me later that she was standing next to Marti at the table looking at all the auction items and when she saw Ian's it "took her breath away".  When she saw the title for the piece was 'Breath', she put all her tickets into his bag because she just knew she would be going home with his art.  She just happened to be the founder for Hats for Hope which raises money for women undergoing cancer treatments - so it came full circle.

So, we are now a part of the Santa Maria Arts Council and what a lovely group of people.  I feel Ian nudging us into a direction we wouldn't have expected and one I don't mind at all.

Busyness helps

It's been a while since I last posted anything, almost a month. We've been busy....busy is good, busy is a distraction, busy is therapy, busy keeps your mind off the pain, busy gives you purpose.  Part of that 'busyness' has been preparing for Ian's one-man art show at the local community college that is open for most of the month of May.  We've also been busy with other trials that have come our way....life is messy and never smooth it seems.  I've written down lots of thoughts, notes, a letter to God (not that He needed a letter but I needed to write it)....but for now they are tucked away in my computer waiting for my mind, my soul to sort them all out.

Last night was the reception for Ian's art show and it was a really good night.  Eric & I talked about it afterwards and we were both happy the entire evening.....it was like a wonderful vacation and we didn't want it to end.  Between 200-300 people came to the reception to see the opening of Ian's show; a lot of familiar faces and some we had never seen before.  We didn't get a chance to greet everyone but I hope they felt how glad we were to have them join us to celebrate Ian's work.  We think the reception matched Ian's personality - he loved to be with his friends and just visit, hang out, talk about

stuff and that's what last night felt like....hanging out with friends, talking about stuff (mostly Ian and his art obviously - duh!) but it was a happy place to be and that's what we wanted.  We didn't want it to be sad or morose; we wanted to celebrate Ian's talent.  I was surprised at how long some people stayed - I saw them enter and walk around the exhibit then 30 minutes later I would see them walking around again...looking at something they had missed the first time...it was awesome.  I got to hear other artists talking about Ian's technique and how he shaded this or feathered that and the depth of his drawing (I have almost no idea what they're talking about but they do and I love to listen to them).  We don't want cancer to be Ian's life story.....he was so much more than the cancer that killed him.

We got to see Ian's friends again, which we loved....he had such wonderful friends!  I told Eric that I feel better about Ian's legacy because I believe that after I am gone, his close friends will still remember him.  They will remember the impact he had on their lives and somehow that helps in the healing.

Today, Eric & I met with Ian's therapist, Dr. Lussier.  She told us that her way of remembering Ian was every Friday at 1pm she has her phone set to play harp music.....that too, helps in the healing.  She shared with us that Ian had told her how he felt he had grown closer to us during his cancer, how he relied on us and knew how much we loved him.......that was priceless.

We've also been busy planning Amy's wedding; the day she goes from being a Hassett to a Smith.  Next week almost the entire family will travel down to Orange County to watch her graduate, with honors...what a wonderful, thoughtful, funny young woman she has grown into.

Ian's scholarship fund and upcoming fundraiser have also kept us busy.  We've viewed all the scholarship applications, marveled at the talent of these students and finally decided on a winner of the $1,000 which will be announced on May 30th at the Righetti Senior Awards Night.  It's happened quickly and unexpectedly, but we've also expanded and established the Ian Hassett Memorial Art Grant under the umbrella of the Santa Maria Arts Council.  That will allow us to expand our base of applicants and continue to encourage young adults outside of high school to pursue a career in the arts.  His fundraiser is also starting to take shape.  We've decided on an October date; that seemed an appropriate way to celebrate his birthday every year.....it's won't be a birthday party, but it will be a party.

All this busyness is good.  It's helps me slowly digest the questions that still linger, the anger that is ebbing, the sadness that is still very much present.  Busyness helps.

Two more stages

Another milestone.....Ian's headstone was installed on Friday....... and it's perfect.  Understated, classic, simple and we think Ian would have approved. 

I don't speak for Eric, partly because it's not my place; everyone's grief is personal and uniquely theirs but we both feel Ian's loss so strongly lately, especially the last few weeks.  I'm not sure why missing him as become so intense; maybe because we're creeping up on one year since he died or maybe because on some level, we are subconsciously thinking back to where we were one year ago.  It wasn't a pretty place and now we know the outcome.  There are still questions with no answers. Trials continue to come with no relief; those who know us well, know that God has not given us a divine reprieve from the pain of life so we can lick our wounds and try to heal.

Many of you have heard of the 5 Stages of Grief, which, by the way, didn't start out pertaining to grief.   They were developed by Elsabeth Kubler-Ross in 1969 for terminally ill people and the process they go through upon learning that they would soon die - so really, these stages were for someone like Ian.  Just thought I'd throw that in.
I have discovered two additional stages.  There's the 'Idiot Stage' and the 'Cruisin' Stage'.  I'm an overachiever and am currently busy in both stages.  I found it amazing the physical effects grief has on your brain - more damaging physiologically than withdrawing from heroin, which has left me with approximately 4 brain cells.  So if I forget something, if I seem scattered, if I can't add 2 + 2; have patience; those 4 cells are exhausted and they are regenerating slowly.

The Cruisin' Stage is a state of mind more than a feeling; you do what you need to do to get through the day, there are no real highs or lows, your life is just on "cruise control".  It's an odd place to be. You want to be happy about things and some days you come so close, but it's never complete.... it's never 'joy' .

I've felt this tremendous need lately to talk to the counselor that met with Ian the last couple of months of his life.  She had a very calm air about her and Ian enjoyed his time with her.  I don't know what I want to happen from seeing her again.  I think I just want to talk to someone who knew Ian.  I want to know if there's anything she can tell me about my son that I don't know.  I think it's the loss of not seeing him grow as a person that I miss so much -  I'll never see his reaction to new situations, or hear his thoughts on some new book or show or piece of art.  I guess I'm looking for some way to keep 'discovering' him.  Maybe it's time to make a phone call.

It's no red robin, but I'll take it.

As we get ready to give out the first $1,000 Ian Hassett Memorial Art Scholarship, I was looking for some notes I had made about what we wanted to say at the awards ceremony on my computer when I came across a document called "Ian".  Of course, I opened it but it wasn't what I was expecting. What I found was dated March 2007 and it was a very detailed itinerary that Ian had created for a trip to Rome and Greece -

ITINERARY

 DAY 1:           March 25, 2007

Depart LAX at 8:30am/arrive Rome on March 26, 2007 at 11:10am

                                                Cost:                   $1,178.35 USD(round trip)

                                                Budget Balance:  $2,821.65 USD

 

DAY 2:           March 26, 2007

                        AFTERNOON

                        Check into hotel (Cancelli Russi Hotel)

                        Eat Lunch                               Cost:                      $5.00 USD

                        Coliseum Tour                         Cost:                      $13.27 USD

                        Fountain of Trevi                    Cost:                      FREE

                       

                        EVENING

                        Dinner (Alfredo alla Scrofa)   Cost:                      $33.00 USD

                        Walk around Trastevere

                        Purchase Bus Pass                   Cost:                      $3.00 USD

                         

DAY 3:           March 27, 2007

                        MORNING

                        Eat Breakfast                          Cost:                      FREE at hotel

                        Purchase Bus Pass                   Cost:                      $3.00 USD

                        Visit Vatican Museum            Cost:                      $72.77 USD

                       

                        AFTERNOON

                        Eat lunch                                 Cost:                      $5.00 USD

                        Visit the Forum                       Cost:                      $83.00 USD

                       

                        EVENING

                        Eat Dinner (Acqua e Farna)    Cost:                      $16.84 USD

                        Walk around Trastevere          Cost:                      $28.52 USD

                                                                        Budget Balance:   $1,924.26 USD

DAY 4:           March 28, 2007

                        MORNING

                        Eat Breakfast                          Cost:                      FREE at hotel

                        Tour of the Pantheon              Cost:                      $15.17 USD

                       

                        AFTERNOON

                        Eat lunch                                 Cost:                      $5.00 USD

                        Visit Piazza Navona and

                           Capitoline Hill                      Cost:                      FREE

                       

                        EVENING

                        Dinner (Re Café)                    Cost:                      $14.38 USD

                        Visit Fountain of Trevi           Cost:                      FREE

                                                                        Budget Balance:    $1,886.71 USD

DAY 5:           March 29, 2007

                        MORNING

                        Eat Breakfast                          Cost:                      FREE at hotel

                        Check out of Hotel                 Cost:                      $584.00 USD (4 Nights)

                        Depart Rome Airport at 9:05pm

                        for Athens, Greece and arrive at 12:05 pm          

                                                                        Cost:                      $138.00 USD (round trip)

Maybe this was a class project or maybe his dream trip, I'll probably never know but this is why this is special....Eric & I have made plans to celebrate our 25th anniversary next year with a European river cruise along with some friends, Debbie & Erle, who will be celebrating their 30th.  Since we don't know when we'll ever get to Europe again, we decided to extend our trip and visit Rome.  We just happen to have some friends, Angie & Chris, who
are stationed in Rome and graciously invited us to stay with them and see the sites - how could we refuse? 
Now we'll be going for Ian as well; he wanted to travel and see the world - we'll see it for him and I think he'll
be there with us.  We'll try and see as many of the things on his list as we can manage.

Maybe Greece will come later......wherever we go, Ian will always be with us.