Time

Time is an interesting thing. We measure it in numerous and different ways.

To a child waiting to spring from their seat and go out for a recess, a minute feels like an hour.
To a child having the time of their life at a sleepover, an hour feels like a minute.
To a college freshman frantically trying to finish their exam, a minute slips through their fingers like water.
To a college freshman anxiously awaiting the arrival of their family, a minute feels like ages.
To an adult who is mourning a loved one, a year feels like the blink of an eye and yet also the length of a decade.

We all measure time in different ways and our concept of time changes depending on what we are doing, working towards or hoping for. How can time be something so concretely fluid?

Is there a way to stop time and soak up the love we feel? Or is there a way to speed up time in moments of immense heartbreak and loneliness?

Today, my students and I were reading a Time For Kids and exploring the greatest inventions of 2016. We were looking at and discussing the Tiangong 2 space station and a student raised their hand high into the sky. You know, the kind of hand raise that looks like they are going to take off from their seat? I was sure his comment would not be at all connected to our discussion, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"Ms. Green! Do you think they'll invent a time machine? Because I know how to travel through time!"

While this comment made me giggle a little bit (inside) ... it got me thinking about what I would do with a time machine. With a machine that would allow us to literally bend the constraints of time... When would I go? Who would I go see? And how would my arrival change our future?

I'm sure we all can name a definitive moment in our history that we would love to "replay" or "redo" or "remove" from our history ... but at what cost? Would it be worth it to see a loved one again, even if it might cause greater heartache?

I don't have the answers ... I can't even share my opinion. But the concept of time is definitely an interesting one.

When would you go? Who would you see? 

Tomorrow and Other Thoughts

Tomorrow marks one year. It marks one year from our world imploding. It marks one year from feeling the world being spun on its axis and finding it impossible to find your footing. Tomorrow marks one year.

February 16. It is a day that most people won't bat an eyelash at. It is just a day, mid-February. Just a day in the shortest month of the year that always feels like the longest. But for us? For the Green family, it marks one year from the date that we got the worst news. It marks the date that we found out our beloved dad, husband, friend, brother, and son had terminal cancer. A disease that had no end in his body and that had no treatment and certainly no cure.

Tomorrow, a year ago, started like any other day. I went to work and I made plans with my love and a friend of ours. We had plans to double date that night, it was a Tuesday and we had planned to go to Wine Guyz for date night. Even as I sat at home, anxiously awaiting Erek's arrival so that we could meet our friends for dinner, I didn't realize anything was amiss. I didn't feel the slight shift in my universe that would soon come crashing down.

It wasn't until my eldest sister sent me a text asking if I could go out to my parents with her that night that anything seemed wrong. You see, this wasn't something that we did. We didn't just drop by my parents house because it was 30 minutes away, in the middle of the country. People didn't just drop by their house.  You always called or texted or facebook messaged to make sure they would be there after driving the distance. When I explained I had plans and she insisted I come with, I knew immediately that it was going to be bad. Denial set in and I couldn't bring myself to face the facts. Denial set in as I refused to listen to the bubbling terror that started in my toes as it shoved the word 'cancer' to the forefront of my mind no matter how many shields my hear threw in its way. I lived in that state of denial until Erek walked in.

Once he walked in, I crumbled. I crumbled to the floor and felt all semblance of hope going with it. With him by my side I could face the truth no matter how much I didn't want to. I sobbed. And I cried. And I wailed. I'm sure I looked like a crazy person as I explained the few facts that I knew and asked him to drive me to my sister's house so that we could go out and deliver the bad news. He was so supportive in that moment and the far too few weeks to come.

525,600 minutes. That is the amount of time that will have passed since our world exploded. While I can't believe it has been that long even though it feels infinitely longer ... I think to myself about the changes that have occurred in that time ...

Kindness has been spread. He preached the importance of kindness and helping others. His vision has spread and people he didn't even meet are committing acts of kindness in his honor.

Life has continued despite our best attempts to freeze time. I got engaged, my brother remodeled his house, we bought and completely remodeled my moms house, puppies were adopted, children grew and we all became a year older. Tears have been shed, laughter has emerged, and memories have been cherished. Loved ones have married and babies were conceived. The youngest grandchildren happily look at his picture and exclaim, "Bumpa!"

While I know he would have given anything to be here for all the happiness, he would have lost some faith in humanity due to our recent election and with that the state of the Union. The very fact that our government is working to break down the protections we have for our natural world would have hurt him deeply. The very fact that we have to have an "Alternative National Parks" page would have caused great dismay. The very fact that our nation is discussing building a wall to keep those who need our help out, would have depressed him. I am glad that he does not know of this heartbreak.

A lot has happened ... and as we head into tomorrow and and the memories that will most certainly flood our memories and knock us all on our assess in the coming weeks .... I ask that you continue to spread seeds of kindness in his honor. Remember the happy times and work to support those around you who need our help. 

2016

So, it has been awhile since I posted last and for that I apologize. Writer's block and all that. But today, as it is the last day of the year I thought I'd share some measured musing.

2016 ... you've been a bitch. In this past year I've learned a lot, discovered a lot and cried a lot.

I learned what it felt like to experience an earth-shattering loss. The loss of my dad this year was not something I expected to experience in my 29th year of life. I thought I would experience that in my 50 or 60th year of life. I wasn't prepared. Though I don't know that anyone can actually be ready for this type of situation. His illness was a shit storm of bad news that we could never actually process or accept in those short 5 1/2 weeks. After his death, I learned what it was like to create a new normal when you still felt the Gary Green sized hole in your heart. His absence is massive and we will never stop feeling that.

Throughout the grieving process, I learned what people should not say to someone who is grieving. I learned this through what people said to me and even through the head tilt, and now I can hope to know what to say to others as they experience loss within their own lives.

I learned what an impact my dad had on others. It is incredible to continue to discover how he touched so many others.

I learned that your family is your most important circle. Keep them close. Love them. Support them. And thank your lucky stars that you have them. Even though you may not always get along, they are the ones that will go to war for you.

I cried. A lot. I cried at times when I couldn't even identify what made me cry. I cried in loss. I cried in frustration. I even cried in happiness. When my best friend proposed to me I cried out of happiness (after the shock wore off at least). I couldn't believe that this was happening to me, in fact I looked at him and asked, "Are you kidding me right now?" before saying yes! I cried out of immense happiness.

I discovered that I fear for our future after our presidential election. I worry about a future with a president who does not have a filter and clearly does not support women, public schools or minorities. I worry about those that voted for him because I don't understand.

I discovered that people are wrong. They like to say that in times of distress you learn who your true friends are. I call their bluff. Yes, it is INCREDIBLE the number of people who come out of the walls to help you when you are struggling. And that is truly amazing and I am so grateful for those who did. But I think that you discover who your true friends are after the loss has occurred and everyone returns to their daily routines. Your true friends are those who continue to ask how you are doing and want to spend time with you even though your time of distress was months ago.

I learned that I need to not care so much about what others say or think about me. I am me, and if you don't like it then suck it up buttercup. Obviously, I can't make that a resolution or anything because I will never stop taking it personally. But I should. I shouldn't let other's opinions of me affect my mood and self-esteem. I shouldn't, but I do.

2016 was a rough year for many. Many people experienced loss of a loved one far too soon. Many people experienced heart ache. Many people experienced frustrations, trials, tribulations and hard times. But if I have learned anything in 2016 it is to spread kindness and hold onto the good things.

So, as we move into 2017 let's all focus on a bright new year. Hold your loved ones close, be kind to one another even if they aren't like you and you don't understand their lifestyle, help those who need help, and focus on the positive.

xoxo

A Birthday Request

On the eve of what would be my dad's 62nd birthday, I find myself sitting on the couch watching a home video from December 1986. I would've been 3 months old at the time and my twin and I are being passed around the table from person to person. My sisters and cousin are playing with the game SIMON trying to remember the increasingly complicated patterns. My mom is in and out of the kitchen in her baggy shirt and large 80s glasses. My dad sits at the table with a big, bushy mustache and a full mop of hair atop his head. Grandma (Aunt) Marge is proudly showing off her "Grandma Marge" sweatshirt happily explain that all of the grandkids names are on it with "Andy's being somewhere up here." All of this being filmed with a video camera the size of a 10 pound baby.

It is the picture of happiness. The family is all there and everyone is happy and together. Political strife hasn't driven its wedge between opposing parties within the family and all the people I love are there. These were the good old days (even if I only remember them from videos).

I completely realize that I am a glutton for punishment by watching these videos, especially today. Today when I miss my daddy dearly and yearn for what should have been. I also realize that I am *really* lucky to have these videos so that I can still hear his voice, however painful that is.

Fast forward a few minutes in this sadly blurry video and I hear my dad behind the camera calling. "Carolyn! Caro-lynne-poo! Kevie! Kev Kev Kev Kevie! Carolyn! Caro-lynee-poo!" As he tries to get us to look at the camera.  Something he will never do with my children.

Fast forward a bit more to a scene when mom is feeding me with her right hand while shaking a container of wipes with the other to keep my attention. She is speaking to Grandma Marge and lamenting the fact that if she told Caitlin and Kristen to nap they wouldn't, but if Gary did they would go right up and go to sleep. All of this in the midst of a conversation about Dynasty and the magazine "National Star".

My dad was a good great man . He was a man that was taken too God-damned soon from all of us, but he was a great man. He was a man who was focused on helping others even if it meant massive frustration on his part. He wanted to change things for the better and help everyone he possibly could. He was involved in organizations whose sole focus was to help bring those into nature would couldn't go on their own. He wanted to help others and spread kindness until the very end. He led a life filled with acts of kindness.

Ultimately, I don't know who reads this blog ... but my mom has put out a request and I am requesting the same ... tomorrow, in honor of his birthday let's spread those seeds of kindness far and wide. Do something nice for someone else. Give someone a hug who needs it. Do a random act of kindness for which you receive nothing except the satisfaction of knowing you did good. It is the little things that often have the largest impact. Not sure what to do? Look here for some ideas. So if you are reading, spread those seeds and be kind to one another.

Imagination and Reality

It has been almost 5 months since my dad was taken from us by the hands of the super bitch, Cancer. I don't think anyone would argue with us that his death was awful and unnecessary (though people still say stupid shit like, it is so much easier for you that he died after only 5 weeks - add that to the list of things you should never say to someone who is grieving). Despite that, and time having continued to pass, we are still grieving.

This week I am house and dog sitting for my mom so she can take a much needed trip to Connecticut to see her best friend. However, this isn't my usual stint in house and dog sitting because I am in her new house. A house that she moved into a month or so ago. A house that is filled with all of her belongings. A house that feels a little bit like her home. A house that her dogs run and bark around.

And yet, something is off. I don't feel him here.

I look around this home and I see his caribou, an ever present fixture. I look around this home and I see our family pictures. I look around this home and see his chair where he often was found on a cold winter's evening. I look around this house and I see his collection of native american artifacts that he acquired on his trips to the southwest.

But I don't feel him.

I think that is the benefit and downfall of moving after a death. My mom needed to move. It was too hard for her, and really all of us, to be at the old house. We could see him everywhere and his belongings were still scattered around the house. It was his space and his house and his dream. This is a two edged sword though. It is too painful to see him everywhere we looked at the old house, but it is too painful to not see him everywhere we look at the new house.

It almost feels like we are all just playing pretend. We are living an imaginary scenario and pretending that everything is okay and pretending that he will be home soon. The reality is, obviously, the extreme opposite of that. I don't think that any of us are still in denial over his death ... but we pretend to be. It is easier that way.