50 Shades of Red

Posted on February 13, 2015 by curibe2014

A few weeks ago middle son informed us that he was “going away” for Valentine’s weekend with his girlfriend of more than a year. As a consummate planner, I appreciated the heads up so that I could get him his traditional valentine’s gift before he left. Last week, I dropped in on SEES’ candy between errands and bought my boys the traditional small box of candies, a tiny gesture of my affection that I hope is obvious to them every day of the year.

In truth, I don’t like Valentine’s Day, it implies a certain kind of giddy, silly love I don’t particularly care for. Love to me is serious, profound, and always life altering. Notice that the color of love is red, its shape a heart, its flower a red rose. Red is also the color of stop signs, blood and fire; the heart is the singular most important organ in our body and the rose is as prickly as it is beautiful. Love to me is present in the smallest actions; in the cheerful manner we greet each day, the gratitude with which we do our jobs, the enthusiasm with which we listen to each other’s stories, the attention we give to each other and the space that surrounds us. Words and gifts to me are meaningless if not accompanied by the daily actions that make the sentiment irrefutable. The “intention” to love is not enough, there is no lasting evidence of “intent” but the smallest daily action will stamp love all over your heart and soul forever.

Gus was in the habit of leaving notes for us everywhere. I love you dad is scribbled on an orange metal bucket he had in his room and on a piece of foil that was once used for now indeterminate purposes. Sometimes, when we came to bed, we’d find a note on our pillow filled with his love and gratitude for all we did. Upon arriving from work daily, he’d ask me how my day had been and then sit with me while I made dinner. He attached himself to his brothers as though he was another appendage, draping a leg over each of them as he sat between them in the car or on the couch. Gus’ ten years were packed with so many little gestures that spoke of a love so strong we can all still feel it even in his absence.

I did not buy my boys (men) cards this year because when my office moved to another floor late last year I remembered seeing Valentine’s Cards that I had bought one year as I was likely planning for the next. It broke my heart to pull them out yesterday as I prepared to write the notes that would accompany their candy, I discovered that I had bought them when I still had three boys living not just two.

My notes and candies were left on the hutch yesterday so that middle son could take it on his trip, just in case we did not see older son over the weekend and for my husband just to be fair. I don’t wonder if I will receive anything in return because evidence of their love for me is everywhere. Older son dusted the family room the other day, middle son did the dishes and husband works tirelessly never forgetting to squeeze my hand when he finally ambles into bed long after I’ve been nestled in. I don’t need 50 Shades of Grey when I have 50 shades of Red.

Grateful for happiness?

Posted on December 5, 2014 by curibe2014

Thanksgiving Table

Thanksgiving was at our house this year and in a sense it was the most relaxing one yet. This is the first year I wasn’t stressed about making the turkey since taking over that duty from my mom, more than a decade ago. My sister and I have tried to make it a bunch of different ways but slathering a mixture of butter and herbs de Provence between the skin and the meat makes the juiciest most delicious turkey so we stick with that recipe. My broccoli gratin was made in advance and the rest was potluck so while twenty-eight of us would gather around the table this year, I spent the day taking a walk, watching football and generally just waiting for the turkey to be done.

Thanksgiving day was warm, sunny and stunningly beautiful. My California sycamore seemed to glisten in the sun even as the leaves dropped gently to the ground. It was the kind of day Gus would have been running around the yard, kicking at leaves, agonizing over how long much longer he’d have to wait to dive into the turkey. I imagined his legs, which would have been by longer now, draped over the end of the couch as we watched the football games or episodes of Twilight Zone. I imagined I would have been trying to capture the family Christmas card picture while none of the boys cooperated. I willed myself not to cry.

Each year, before sitting for dinner, we go around the room taking turns expressing something for which we are most grateful for that year. Over the years, this tradition has taken on a life of its own as I imagine all traditions do and going around the room has been taking longer and longer because everyone seems to want to make a speech. I decided I would limit everyone to a single word this year. To make sure we were all listening to each other, I would ask that each person first say the word just said by the person next to them before adding their own and that we try not to repeat any sentiment or object of our gratitude already expressed. It would be a wonderful exercise in listening and being concise.

As the time neared for me to start off our expressions of gratitude I wondered what feeling or thing I would choose and if I could mean it. Grief can be unpredictable and devious and so while I thought I had somehow learned to co-exist with it, it has turned around and poked at me with much more ferocity than I expected this year. I have been missing Gus terribly this holiday season. I feel constantly sad and on the verge of tears most days. Another holiday without him, another year gone by. I reminded myself that Gus would not want me to be sad or make others sad and so when it was time, I slapped a smile across my face and gathered everyone around the table. After thanking everyone for joining us again, I said I was grateful for happiness and I began to mean it.

Allowing happiness to enter into our midst has been as difficult as the loss itself. Being happy seems wrong somehow as though it is an act of betrayal or a sign that we are “over it”. There is no getting over your losses, I still miss my grandmother now deceased thirty years, I miss my grandfather, my mother-in-law and I can’t imagine ever not missing Gus but I have to make a choice. I can either to wallow in the sadness or bask in the sunlight of happiness. I choose happiness because that is the best way to honor my baby boy who was always happy even when he was sick. The truth is there is much to be happy about, lots of “upsides”. I have great friends, an awesome family, a wonderful husband and two amazing, talented, funny older boys. I have lost weight and feel great about myself. I have extraordinary parking karma, finding a spot near where I need to go even when the lot is full. I have a job a like and I am taking a shot at doing what I always wanted to do – write. I am finally in a book club through which I was introduced to incredible books and authors. We have been fortunate to have had many opportunities to travel this year. We skied in Utah, visited my sister in New York, cruised through the Panama Canal, partied in Vegas a couple of times and next week we will head to Seattle to watch the Seahawks take on the 49niners. We must be happy because everywhere we go, Gus is with us. Our most recent and obvious encounter with him was when we stopped in Cabo San Lucas at end of our family cruise. Of all the places we could have chosen to stop for breakfast we just happen to pick the one restaurant that is permeated by the image of a figure with outstretched hands in a sign of victory much like Gus’ memorial picture. Thank you Gus for giving us happiness by your life on earth and from above in heaven.

Gus’ memorial picture

Gus image on chairs

Gus image on base of sinks

Gus image on the window outside. Gus with his brothers again.

Knocking on Heaven’s Door – Part Four

Posted on September 4, 2014 by curibe2014

Always smiling

I have no doubt that many readers will find a million ways our meeting with AJ Barrera was a complete farce. We are after all grieving parents eager for evidence that our son is not really lost to us. Even I can point to the many times we offered up unsolicited information. However, there is no way AJ could have known about the collie, the location of Gus’ memorial shelves in our house, the memorial plaque at his school (see below), that Gus would poke fun at his relationship with his oldest brother (see below) or that he would take credit for the music that fills his other brother’s life now (see below), not to mention accurately describing the personalities of all the other relatives that made an “appearance”. But the reading was even more than that, hitting nearly every aspect of the difficulties and questions we had not even had the heart to talk to each other about. For example, until the reading, my husband had been incapable of venturing into the backyard, especially where the wagon was hiding directly across from the swing set. It was there, at the bottom of the slide, that he and Gus had last spoken, having a heart to heart about life as Gus enjoyed the sun warming his bald head. For my part, I was wondering if he’d woken up on the other side disappointed that he was no longer with us. I could almost hear him say, “Aw Man, I’m dead…”. I worried that it was my fault for not giving him the stem cells sooner, that I had missed something that would have kept him alive. It gave me great peace to know there was nothing I could do to prevent it and that he had been in control of his leaving and was ready for his transition. We left the reading with the knowledge that Gus is not just in our hearts and memories but that his spirit is actually still with us – we only have to be open to the signs. Like our walk in Spain, our reading with AJ was trans-formative. Since then, Gus is as present in our lives as ever and we are practicing living each moment with more presence and openness. Life can be truly magic.

Final reading segment:

AJ: I might misinterpret this….is there….I actually want to drop it down younger. So I want to drop it down to your younger energy and I rather be wrong on it, but is there actually like a mural or either some sort of engraving or some sort of writing that you had done in honor of your son that I have to bring up here?

Us: Yeah..

AJ: Where is this if you don’t mind me asking?

Us: It’s a memorial plaque at his school.

Memorial Plaque at Gus’ school.

AJ: He wants to let you know…” thank you for honoring him and thank you for doing this” because there is a part of it that is written and it’s engraved and there is a part of it that he wants to let you know, it’s his way of waking up and being a legend because he is a legend on the other side because he is known on this side, there is like a superhero type of energy, that he is still strong and not fighting this but still the main guy on this side. Is there a reference to him like just being like honestly a character?

Us: Yeah..

AJ: Because part of it like he is making me feel like “I am not sick, look, I’m not sick”, part of it like I’m alive, I’m happy, I’m having a good time and his energy for me is about kind of making you guys happy and making you guys laugh because I feel like his energy, when it was here physically was kind of to make you guys happy and make sure mom and dad were ok, it wasn’t for you guys to make him up, you know what I mean? I feel like his duty was to assist you and help you guys out as well, he’s also bringing up for me, do you actually…and this will sound very unique, you don’t have his jacket with you do you?

Us: Not with us for today, no.

AJ: Do you carry his jacket around? Why would he bring up his jacket?

Us: His sweatshirt is hanging inside his room and I grab onto it every day.

AJ: He wants to let you know that “I’m there with you when you do that”, “I’m there with you”, because he is making me feel like I need to acknowledge the jacket or the sweatshirt he is identifying with you and he wants to let you know I am still there for that event, I am still part of your life, because his energy, again, he is alive, like spiritually, he’s like right here, my hair is just rising, he’s a vibrant energy for you guys again, it’s not about the medium it is truly about you guys of understanding of why he wants to come across to you guys, it’s about making sure that mom and dad are ok. They are also bringing up for me like when this energy….. did you say your mom passed on the fourteenth?

Us: Uh –hugh.

AJ: Then there must be another reference to this, because flag day is like June 15^th, so is there another significance to a governmental holiday, that I need to bring up for you guys?

Us: This morning, the cub scouts go put flags on all the graves for Memorial day.

AJ: Are you guys doing an event?

Us: I haven’t done it the last two years, today and last year but we did every year since he was born with him as a guy in a stroller, or as a cub scout.

AJ: Have a party for him, he is going to be at those events so if you are placing the flags, he wants to acknowledge that I will be there with you guys, so enjoy the moment, enjoy the time with him and even though spiritually he is around you guys even though physically he is not, there is part that he wants to let you know I am still a part of your life today as well, because when I look into you guy’s energy, he is making me feel like, you guys are a team, you are a whole, you guys are a backbone, so I don’t feel like one is weaker than the other I definitely feel like you guys balance each other where you guys are at, but his energy is like I just want to step forward and be this true energy for you guys as well. Why? Is there a weird reference…..do you guys have ties to Orlando? Like Florida?

Us: We took him to Disneyworld. I have some relatives there. We went there twice with him.

AJ: It’s something one step further. I don’t think it’s just Disney. Or two I need to call him by a different name. So would he go by like Dopey, Sleepy, Goofy or something like that? Is there a name that I am actually supposed to bring up here? To acknowledge him, or to acknowledge one of you guys? I feel like it’s a funny, haha, reference that he wants to acknowledge because I don’t think it’s just making the trip to Disneyland because I’d actually see like Anaheim but I feel like if you have ties to Orlando, then I feel like in some sense I need to acknowledge Disneyworld or maybe the name of something. There is something they want to bring up here, like it’s a name.

Us: We used to call his brother Grumpy.

AJ: That makes sense, his brother?

Us: Yeah.

AJ: Your brother?

Us: No, his older brother.

AJ: Still call him Grumpy. Let him know he is still Grumpy from the other side, because I feel like I need to acknowledge him, and need to acknowledge like the name the character, and was he close to his brother if you don’t mind my asking?

Us: Yes.

AJ: Because I need to acknowledge him in a joking way, like bust his chops and let him know that I still want to feel like the brother energy. But he is making me feel like he’s the better half though. So kind of like tease him with that, so he makes like he was known for that and even though parents don’t have like a favorite child, there is a part of him like he is the better one. So I feel like it’s his way of teasing him in a unique way because he’s making me feel like “I still have all the attention” regardless. So I feel like it’s that type of energy of how he wants to step forward for both of you guys, you know what I mean? And I feel like the energy of him is just to be funny. It is truly just to be funny and remember him how he was like today as well. Now is there a separate energy, like on you guy’s level that is like a male that is passed over? When I say your level I mean, brother, cousin, friend.

Us: No – we don’t think so.

AJ: If not then I might be switching over……. AJ does switch over after all this time to another person in the group but Gus was not done. After speaking to another woman for about twenty minutes, AJ turns back over and says…. Why is your son bringing up music? Was he a musician or why is he bringing up music?

Us: No. Our middle son is really into music all of a sudden.

AJ: Your son is bringing up music. Like he wants to let you know… like I am seeing musical notes. Like when I am talking to her, he just threw music at me. So I feel like it’s almost like he is not done, you know what I mean? So I feel like he wants to jump in so I feel like of how they want to jump in just to acknowledge the energy. They often do that just to get like the little messages across but I feel when your dad steps forward I need to acknowledge the signs and signals, so I feel like he is going to be inspired, like your son is inspiring your son now as sending the music across to him.

The Great Purge

Posted on March 31, 2014 by curibe2014

Two weeks after the worst day in my life, I went back to work. That first day I hid in my cubicle for eight hours holding back tears, pushing papers from one side of the desk to the other and tried to remember what I did for a living. I found myself staring at the clock dreading for “three” to roll around. With our older boys in their twenties and Gus gone, it would be the first time in twenty years that I would not have to rush out to pick up a child from school, race to a practice or a play date, do homework, or in Gus’ case dash from doctor’s appointment to doctor’s appointment. I stayed until four that day and then went home hoping I’d let enough time pass. I hadn’t. With nothing better to do I ambled around the house impatient and sad. At the corner of the family room was Gus’ bookshelf still crammed with his school supplies, books and toys. I decided it would make a great place for a permanent memorial. Right there in the corner of where we ate and watched tv so that he was still in our midst.

I began by clearing off the shelves and collecting anything that Gus had ever used, slightly touched or even glanced at. I planned to organize it all and put it in his room which is kept closed and nearly like he left it – probably until I die. Since keeping all of his pencils, crayons or games would be ridiculous, I resolved to keep only the “special” ones -the ones he used the most. As I sunk deeper into my task I came across boxes of other things that with him gone we’d no longer need. The assortment of paints for the pinewood derby cars (apparently we’d bought more and more of them each year), boxes and boxes of crayons, paint brushes, coloring books, bottles of glue and stacks of long-forgotten games. As I tossed or boxed the many items that I thought were Gus’, I realized that many more were mine. Soon, I was organizing not just his shelves, but the immediately adjacent closet, then the cabinet across the room, the pantry next to it, the laundry room, the linen closet, the other linen closet, the outdoor tent, the garden shed and finally the two holiday decoration sheds. And so the great purge began.

I blame William-Sonoma for convincing me that I absolutely needed that express rice cooker I was always too afraid to use and a multitude of “specialized” kitchen gadgets like a mandolin (I might have used that thing once). I blame Pottery Barn for the collections of nick-knacks appropriately “grouped” and displayed throughout the house and for filling my linen closet with “seasonal” sheets and comforters. I blame Martha Stewart for the all the ridiculous “matching” holiday collections and decorations like the “mummy in a web” for Halloween and the Santa Clauses, Easter rabbits and wreaths that contributed to that special “a Holiday just threw up all over the house look”. I mostly blame myself for believing that I ever needed any of it to heighten our family experience. That my perfect family was somehow more complete in a expertly staged photo-ready setting. Over the year I made at least ten trips to the local shelter with the car filled to the brim (trunk, back seats and passenger seat) with neatly arranged boxes of the useless and irrelevant stuff that once crammed rooms, got piled on shelves and clogged up closets. At one point I was even asked if I was moving. At the time I blushed and muttered that it was a long story. The truth is though that I am moving – from the perfect family Gus era to the nearly perfect family “after” Gus era.

In this new era, it is not the setting that will take center stage but the memory of the experiences we had and the ones we are yet to have. The less “stuff” I have, the more room I make to bask in the glory of our family love (Gus’s love) and the love of the people that are still in our future. I expect the great purge to continue.

Grief – an upside?

Posted on March 13, 2014 by curibe2014

It has been a one year, eight months, twelve days and nine and a half hours since we lost of youngest son, Gus, to his second battle with a neuroblastoma in his short but well lived ten years – but who is counting. I should state at the outset that we were lucky? blessed? fortunate? (no word seems right) that neither of his two battles with cancer were terrible as weird as that sounds. Both times, the first when he was two years of age and the second eight years later, he did “well” with all of his treatments – chemo, radiation, and stem cell transplants. Yes, he lost his hair and he lost tons of weight but he was always in good spirits, happy, calm, above it all in a manner that was truly beyond his age. He seemed to have an understanding that there was a distance between body and his soul so much so that one day as he was being pumped with whatever was required that day he’d said to me “I’m sorry Mom, but this body is no good.” As we watched our brave little boy with great awe, admiration and helplessness endure his treatments I asked God for two favors – the first of course that he be cured and the second that if it was not to be to never make me tell him he was going to die and then to make it quick and painless. God granted me the second.

Just before he died, early Sunday June 24, 2012, after a second five-day round of intense chemo for the second relapse in less than nine months, August Deppe raced his dad from the cancer center to the car -beating him as usual -for the last time. He woke up the next day with a stomach ache, the beginning of septicemia, which would take him from us in less than twenty-four hours. More than fifty people visited him that day and about thirty stayed with him, taking turns massaging his feet and holding his hand until he took his last breath. The ICU doctor said he’d never seen so many people for such a small child and speculated that he must have been very special. He was. Kind, happy, hopeful, spirited, generous, thoughtful, courageous, brave, amazing – even death could not rob him of his inner light – on his face a final peace and on his lips a little smirk that suggested he’d taken a great secret with him.

I have always been a happy, optimistic – find the silver-lining kind of person but that day I wondered if I would ever stop crying. Gus was the heart of our little community, his class and our family. While a mother is never supposed to have a favorite, there was no way for me to help it. Everyday he’d ask “How was your day Mom?” and I’d answer “better now that I am with you” and we’d hug each other and tell each other how much we loved each other – he was just that kid. With his passing, the silence in the house was deafening and the busyness that had kept us swirling around him abruptly stopped. We had difficulty looking forward to the next hour let alone the next day, month, holiday or year. We’d had so many plans but all of them had included Gus.

This blog is about the diversions, distractions and motivations (the upsides) that are helping us live each day for and in honor of our son Gus.