First Day of School 2021

Hello.  It's me. Still going through the motions of life because I have kids that need me, kids that thrive on the routines and traditions I've created for them, all the while still grieving the loss of someone that I love whole-heartedly.  Nothing will ever be the same without Pops here.  My entire life he was here, and now he's gone. And the world still has to turn and we still have to do all the things we do, but the ache in my chest is there.  I don't cry as often anymore. But I'm sad and different at the same time. 

But as I said- we are still living and I have 3 little beings that depend on me, so I have to give myself to them and sometimes push the sadness down deep so that I can give them happiness.

Having said that, we made it through the first week of school.

Lucy started 5th grade this year! The 5th graders at school get lockers so that's a big deal. They get lockers because they have different teachers!  Lucy switches classes throughout the day this year.  She has a math teacher, English/reading teacher, Science teacher, History/social studies teacher, and then, art, music and P.E. as well. She's still not the oldest in the school (their school goes until 6th grade) but feels pretty darn important now that she's a big 5th grader.  She even learned how to use a REAL lock and picked out some cute locker decorations to hang. 5th grade seems SO OLD to me.  It's really the year that a lot of things physically and socially change with girls, so pray for me as I navigate through it!

Lucy and I on our 1st days of 5th Grade :)

Piper started 3rd grade this year! 3rd grade for me was the year when I really started making a lot of memories. Before 3rd grade, memories were fleeting. But once I hit 3rd I guess my brain was forming enough to make and keep memories I'd never forget. Piper is with her same teacher as last year, Mrs. Poston, and all of her same classmates so I feel really confident in her having a successful year with familiar faces and people who bring her comfort.  She is a creature of habit and doesn't like change, so for her to loop-up with her friends and teacher was good for her- especially with ANOTHER year that I didn't get to walk them to their classes on the first day of school :'(

Piper and I on our 1st days of 3rd Grade :)

Sullivan started Kindergarten!  Oh. My. Gosh.  All of my kids are in school FULL TIME.  They're all under the same roof, which I LOVE but my BABY started Kindergarten! The night before, I went up to his room to kiss his soft, warm cheek.  I thought about how for the last 5 years he's been with me most of the day.  Yes, he was in school 5 days a week last year, but he started later and ended earlier than the girls (plus, there were SO MANY weeks of homeschooling).  Him and I still had a lot of one-on-one time every single day.  That would never happen again.  Once a phase in life ends, you never get it back.  We'd never get that much time together ever again.  Isn't that sad?? It brought hot tears to my eyes because even though he's moody and the most stubborn boy in the world, even though he's messy and out of control, even though he's loud and hyper, even though he drives me crazy 90% of the time, he's still my baby.  My little guy.  My Sully.  And now I share him with the world.  It happened, but at the same time, it's inconceivable to me. He's really a baby. He seems SO much younger than my girls did when they started school. I felt like Lucy was old when she went to Kindergarten but I feel like Sully is still just a baby. 

His teacher is one of my favorite people in the world, Mrs. Sumler, whom Piper had 2 years in a row. So thank goodness he was with her on his first day because I didn't get to walk him into his class and my heart broke when I sent him on his way.  Last year when we dropped him off, I cried and cried and cried.  Sobbed, really.  I was sending this little child off into the unknown- a big building he wasn't used to, just letting strangers guide him down the halls to his classroom with a stupid mask on his face.  This year was 10000 times better for a few reasons: 1) his sisters were able to walk him to class- all 3 of my babies walking hand in hand inside the school together. 2) his teacher would be his little protector and I knew he'd be safe in her room. 3) They didn't have to wear masks on the first day of school and didn't have to "social distance" And 4) when we drove up to the school, Mrs. Sumler was the one who helped my kids out of carline! The RAN to her with open arms and gave her so many tight hugs and she hugged them right back.  It started their days out perfectly.  They were smiling and brave when they walked into that school knowing there were people inside those walls who loved them- and that made my heart feel better even though I couldn't be there with them to physically walk next to them and kiss them as they started a new year.

At the end of the day I brought them their annual end-of-first-day Slushies and they couldn't get the words out fast enough! Telling me about all their friends, their classes, their teachers, lunch time, recess, what the school looked like, and all the things they did. They interrupted each other to try to get their stories heard before the others.  But the general consensus was that their 1st days of school had been PERFECT.  Sully said he had the most awesome day! They were excited, happy, and tired. 

We were able to walk through the school a couple days before the 1st day and see where their classrooms were going to be. But their teachers were not present and we couldn't go INSIDE the classrooms- we could only peek through the windows.  Covid doesn't make sense.... we couldn't have a "meet-the-teacher" because of Covid germs, but we COULD have "tour the school" because we can't get Covid by just doing that?? It's so dumb. Whatever.

I know I didn't mention in any posts earlier, but we all actually had Covid when we got back from Idaho. When I was driving the girls home from our long trip, I started feeling really run-down on Thursday night. We left Idaho Wednesday and went to Montana.  We went to some gift shops that were crowded, we went to an insanely crowded restaurant, and we went to an even MORE crowded Hotel. The hotel was so crowded that we had to park way across the parking lot at the end because every single spot was taken.  I was fine that night. I woke up fine the next day.  But I had 10 hours to drive that day and when we were getting ready for bed that night I just started feeling weak and light headed.  I figured I just needed a good night's sleep and I'd feel better in the morning- this was Thursday night.  The morning came and I was feverish and achy but bought some Day-Quill and it helped but didn't get rid of all the symptoms- thank goodness it was our last day of driving.  By Friday night my body hurt so bad that all I could describe it was every single bone in my body ached.  I felt like I had been beat up and had the worst headache ever.  Shawn drew me a hot bath and I soaked in bubbles and oils, thankful to be home but just feeling so crappy.  The next day was pretty much the same. On Sunday my kids woke up sniffling and tired, so I figured whatever I had, I clearly passed it to them. So I was spraying the spot on the couch I had been sitting in with Lysol when I realized I could not smell it. Not even a little bit. I pressed my nose up to the couch and there was NOTHING. That's when I knew... I had covid. I tried to smell everything! The strongest smelling lotions.  I even put Peppermint oil up to my nose and inhaled deeply- it tingled my nose but there was no scent! The next day my kids all woke up with fevers of 102+.  I went and got tested, still just thinking that maybe it was only the flu since I was partially vaccinated.  But when my kids woke up with high fevers again the next day, were so lethargic they stayed in bed ALL DAY (even Sully!) and I received a positive Covid result, I knew they had it too. Sully had come to my room that second morning and lifted his eyebrows up and said "Mommy, when I do this, my head hurts" (pointing to his forehead). "And when I do this" (move his eyes from side to side) "my eyeballs hurt." They had 3 days of fevers and extreme tiredness.  Day 5 they all woke up free of fevers but still coughing and tired, and then on day 6 they woke up feeling SO much better- fever free, not tired, just a lingering cough, but all was well.  We quarantined for 12 days because they say to quarantine for 10 days from the start of symptoms, and since their symptoms started 2 days after mine, we all stayed home for 12 days together.  During that time, Shawn was perfectly fine.  He didn't feel sick at ALL.  He was good.  Then on day 15 I left for Pop's funeral.  On day 16 (Friday) Shawn said "my back is so sore.  So is my neck. And I'm SO tired." I told him muscle aches were my first sign, and he might have Covid but he said "no- it's just cause I slept on my neck wrong and since I'm home alone with the kids I'm extra tired." The next day he started coughing and felt achy, run-down and sick.  He still didn't believe it was Covid at all because the kids and I all had it and he didn't have any symptoms during our week of misery.  And then his sense of smell and taste went away.... 18 days after I tested positive, Shawn tested positive.  His cough was WAY worse than mine.  Worse than Sully's too.  And this was right after I just lost my dear grandpa to Covid so when Shawn couldn't catch his breath, I would almost cry- I was sick with worry.  He called his doctor and got steroids for his cough and THANK GOODNESS it didn't get worse than that. He felt horrible- we all did- Covid is not fun.  But his Covid didn't linger as long as mine.  I'm a month out and my sense of smell is still almost non-existent.  I can faintly smell really strong things, like oils or bacon.  But regular things I can not detect at all. I can't tell if a room smells bad. I can't smell my shampoo when I shower. I can't smell clean laundry- in fact, I bathed the dogs the other day and couldn't smell them AT ALL. No wet-dog smell was detected even a little while bathing BOTH of them  My brain-fog comes and goes. I have days where I can hardly even think straight still.  Days where I feel like I'm really struggling to just make it through because the brain fog is so heavy I can hardly see straight.  I mix up my words a lot. The 2 weeks after covid was worse with my words- I couldn't form a sentence it felt like, without mixing words up and forgetting what I was saying half-way through. Texting was harder for me and it just felt like I had to try so much harder to process a thought. I still get really confused with what my sentence needs to be a lot.  I have to close my eyes and try really hard to focus on what I need to say.  It's bizarre. I'm also really tired. I have taken dozen of naps since this all started. I can hardly keep my eyes open without needing to rest throughout the day- and I am NOT a napper! I hate it. But my cough was never as bad as it is with some.  In fact, Sully's cough was never as bad as it has been with regular asthma and so I will take brain fog over a ventilator any day! 

The sliver lining to all of this is that my kids are armed with anti-bodies as we head into this school year. They got it in the Summer when we could stay home and not miss school and sports and they have what they need inside themselves to ward off Covid for the next few months at least.  It's raging over here again but they are protected for the next little while.  That is a HUGE blessing.

When I say we have the BEST bus driver, I mean the BEST. Every single morning it is the happiest, most cheerful “good morning munchkins!” with a huge smile on her face and high-fives all around. In our neighborhood, lots of new houses are being built around the bus stop and she doesn’t ever want my girls to walk past the construction workers alone so she drops them off as close to our house as she can get. Same with rainy days. She always buys stuff they are fundraising for. She brings candy for them on Fridays and regales them with fun trivia each morning as she drives. I ALWAYS feel safe with her as their bus driver. Well the other day the school told her she had been given a new route. She said she’s never ever cried on the job, but that morning she just couldn’t stop crying when she saw all the kids she wasn’t going to be picking up anymore. (You all know how emotional I’ve been lately so I don’t even have to tell you how hard I cried when I got the news).

Anyway. Our doorbell rang and guess who was at our door, coming to give hugs and say goodbye to my kiddos. Ms. Pam. She cried in our entryway and even hugged me SO hard. This might sound silly to some that I was that emotional over this, but not having to worry about my kids getting to and from school for the last few years has been a HUGE blessing. She’s one of the good ones. We went about our week, dreading the day we'd have a new bus driver, when lo-and-behold our old bus #4 pulled up for us and Ms. Pam said she got her kids back and MAN was she happy!! As excited as I am for this, there is also so much over-crowding right now that this could very well be temporary. And if it is, I'll cry again. But on Sully's 1st day of riding the bus, she is his driver. And I feel safe and content knowing that all 3 of my precious children's lives are in the hands of someone as awesome as Ms. Pam.

For the 1st time since August 2016, when I left the bus stop today, I didn’t have another child (or 2) coming back home with me- I walked home alone. Every little milestone is important to me.Even the first time they ride a bus.

Now I sit in the silence of my home- soaking up the stillness I've been gifted with.  Cleaning room by room and basking in the fact that these rooms will stay immaculate until at LEAST 3:30pm.  I don't miss the kids like I usually do; hear me out.  It's not that I'm happy they're gone, but I don't ache to have them home.  I'm tired. I'm sad. I'm just plain exhausted.  I need some down time, some alone time, to really let my body and my heart and my mind catch up with each other.  I need some silence to let myself grieve.  I need to rest.  I need to just be still for a bit.  Life feels different now, and I'm just coping the best way I can.  I love my kids. I'm sad that they're growing and I do feel melancholy for the changing of the seasons again. But at least for a little while, I'm sitting in this stillness and embracing it. 

Pops

Oh Pops…. This blog post is the hardest I’ve ever had to write in my entire life and I don't want to write it. Not one little bit. But I know if I don't write it now, while all the emotions are fresh and the pain is throbbing, some of the small details will fade. But man... this hurts so bad. Because I lost someone so dear to my heart. I have lost people I’ve loved in my life before. But I have never lost someone I’ve known my entire life; someone I’ve loved my entire life. And yet… here I am. Mourning the loss of my dear grandpa who died from complications of Covid-19 on Tuesday, August 3rd at 2:12 am. 

He contracted Covid shortly after the 4th of July weekend. His symptoms were mild at first. In fact, I saw him in the middle of his quarantine (July 13th) and he was fine! Truly- he was blowing up our tubes so that we could go float the Star River and borrow his tubes to do so.  When we were done floating the river he brought out frozen chocolate candy and fudge bars out of his freezer and set them down in the garage so that we could go in and pick out a treat to leave his house with (I must note that that is Sully's most vivid memory of him. When I told Sully Pops died, he asked if it was the Pops who brought him chocolate. And then he cried and cried when he asked "when he goes to Heaven, can he come back home?" and I had to say "no.")  He coughed some but he was doing great. On July 18th him and my grandma were both having a harder time breathing so they went to the ER. The ER staff was unbelievably rude to Pops; rude enough that he said that he wouldn’t be seen by them because they had zero respect for him…. We thought he didn’t want to be seen because he felt ok but it was actually that he didn’t want to be treated by someone who treated him so poorly… Anyway. Nana had x-rays done and she was cleared to leave, even though they both were still feeling bad. They went home and she started getting better but he started getting worse. On July 21st he woke up and couldn’t form a sentence because his breathing was too shallow and he was confused about where he was.  He was clammy and felt very sick so Nana took him to their doctor. The doctor said he needed to go to the hospital NOW so Nana then rushed him to the hospital.  He was admitted and she had no idea that she would not see him again for 12 days.  What they found out then was that he had suffered a mini-heart attack, had extremely low oxygen levels, and was experiencing kidney failure- on TOP of having Covid.  She was not allowed to be with him because they brought him into the Covid ward.  We all prayed hard and the next day they said his kidneys were starting to work again and his heart was doing much better.  So we all rejoiced, even though they said his oxygen was still too low. But it’s Pops.  He’s strong. He’s stronger than most men who are even younger than him. He will come out of this- NO DOUBT IN MY MIND. I worried that “WHEN” he came out of this, his heart might be a little weaker. But he would be fine. Days went by and the hospital still refused to let Nana in. They also wouldn’t call her and give her updates regularly or let him call her- he was too weak to dial her himself and even though my uncle Tom smuggled his phone into him, no one would plug it in regularly for him so it was dead and he had no way to reach her. She began driving to the hospital daily to get updates since no one was calling her. Eventually, some kind Chaplain set up a tablet for her while at the hospital, and gave one to Pops as well, so that they could speak through those. She did that 2 days in a row- both times she cried and told us how sad and sick he looked. He had no one with him and was losing his will to fight. He was suffering all alone and his oxygen levels were DANGEROUSLY low at this point. The 3rd time she went there to talk to him, they said she could no longer do that- they weren’t letting ANYONE into the hospital who wasn’t a COVID patient so she couldn’t even speak to him from a different section of the building. They made her leave. She had no updates on him.  On day 10 they told her that he was dying. Can you imagine getting that news after so many sporadic updates? Because it was all so sporadic, getting a phone call saying he is dying with no recent previous updates on his deteriorating health before that, absolutely SHOCKED us all.  But then Pops called her! A MIRACLE! He called her on his own from his room and said he still wanted to fight! She spoke to him and told him how many thousands of people were praying for him. Literally- thousands. When he heard that, he knew he could not give up. He wanted to live. We were all SO excited- tears of joy! With a will to live, he would make it! But then… later that night, he had a turn for the worse.  His oxygen was so low that the hospital staff said there was one more machine they could try to get his oxygen levels up. If this machine worked, he might live.  If it didn’t, he would die.  We all fasted and prayed. We pleaded with God- please don’t take him. Not now. Not yet. Nana needs him; we all need him. Don’t take him in this way where his last 2 weeks of life was being spent in utter isolation. We prayed and prayed and prayed. And the next morning it was determined that the machine did not work; his lungs had hardened  and couldn’t receive oxygen and he was dying. He would not live another 24 hours. Only then did they let my Nana in.  They said only her; but his kids were all there and they said “that’s our Dad- please let us all in to say goodbye.” They said no but they would let one of the kids in.  Since Lori is the oldest they let it be her.  While in there, Pops said we could all FaceTime him.  (We, as in his grandchildren).  We all waited our turns but we did all get the chance to FaceTime him, even though we only got about 1 minute each.  He touched the screen for each of us and we touched back.  For me, that would be my final “touch” with him.  It was over a spotty cellphone FaceTime but I still needed that. He told me he was so sad that he didn't get to hug me when I stood on his driveway. I told him I was so sad about it too, but I was so happy he was getting to go see David. We both told each other we loved each other- I kept repeating it over and over.... And then, in his final words to me through labored breaths, he said “Stay good. Stay Pure. So we can be together forever.”  If you’re reading this, you know how my heart felt. I don’t even have the words to describe the pain so I won’t try to….

A few miracles later, the hospital said he could go home- he didn’t think he would be able to.  He wanted to be home when he passed away more than anything; he was ready. They warned Nana that he might not make it to the house. They told her that the oxygen he was hooked up to was ONLY allowed to be administered in the ICU- when he got on the ambulance he would only be receiving small amounts of oxygen and might not make it. But it was a risk he was willing to take.  They rushed him home to a room in their house that Hospice had rushed to set up for him. He was purple when he got there but as soon as he was in his house they hooked him back up to oxygen. It was still not the amount he needed but it was something. It was enough to give him a few more hours.  All 8 of his living children (and David for sure) were there with him in his final hours. They sang to him, they all touched him and prayed with him; they fed him. They stroked his face and arms and head. They fed him homemade sourdough bread and tomato soup because that was something he said “he would miss” when he died. They all had their own messages to give him and they all had the time to do it. Not a lot of it- but time that was priceless and sacred. And of course, they gave Nana some much needed alone time with him.  I can not imagine the good-bye she had for him.  His sweetheart of 60 years, and suddenly she has to say goodbye. Nana later told me that she thought when he got home, he’d pass in a few days. She said she could even picture him slowly walking around the house a couple more times. She didn’t know that he would leave them SO soon. But he did. And it was beyond shocking and beyond sad, but there is no greater blessing for his darling wife and children that they were with him until his final breath. Thank you Heavenly Father, for giving them that.

 

When Nana opened this gift, she started crying. After a long while she touched his face and touched his hand and said "I can FEEL him right now. I FEEL him when I look at this." She told me how his hands were her favorite part of him; and his hand around her shoulders made this her favorite picture. Because he was such a hard worker and his hands had done so many amazing things throughout his life- she wanted a picture of him just like this where she could always see his hands.

   

This is the last picture real picture I ever took with my Pops. It’s not super clear but it was taken July 13th at 3:18pm.  Him and my Nana were standing behind us because they had Covid and didn’t want to spread it. But if I had known… I would have hugged him.  I would have hugged him hard, despite him being sick because exactly 3 weeks later he was gone. He seemed fine when we visited him this day, despite just a little cough.  He was his energetic, heathy self. I thought “man, I hate that I can’t spend time with him on this trip but I’ll see him next time I’m in town.” I had NO doubt about it.  He was healthy! He was so much younger than his age- truly.  

In my grief I feel sorrow and anger.  Anger at the hospital staff for not letting his sweet wife of 60 years in to see him, even when she had been cleared of Covid.  Angry that the last 2 weeks of his life he was so lonely- isolated in a hospital where NO ONE could visit him. They wouldn’t let anyone in so he suffered alone with strangers until his last day- only then, when they knew he had a few hours left did they let his wife and kids in to be with him. I know God has a plan, and I guess He needed my Pops sooner than we could have ever expected.  But Thursday, as I flew home to go to his funeral, all I was, was sad. Deep down in my soul. This is TRULY the best man I know.  The best man anyone who has met him knows.  He had thousands of people praying for him! But maybe his son on the other side needed his Daddy back- he hadn’t seen him since he passed away at 8 years old.  Maybe God has work for him to do. I don’t have the answers.  But I do know that I’ll love him forever. And I wish my last hug with him wasn’t back on Thanksgiving.  And gosh this hurts.  I’ll get through the anger eventually, and hopefully someday all I will feel is happiness at this sweet, sweet memories.  But Pops, I love you. Be with us often. Because we need you.  I can’t wait to see you again someday. 

Right when I landed on Thursday, I went straight to my Nana’s house, threw myself into her arms and for a long while we just cried together. After that, we sat on the couch together, just her and I, held hands and talked for a long time. About Pops, about how she was doing, about the future and the past. There were a lot of expected tears, but there was also a lot of UNEXPECTED laughter- if you know my Nana, you know that she is quite possibly the silliest woman on the planet. I had not smiled in days, but this sweet woman brought out my smile, even in the depths of our grief. With sadness in her eyes she said that Pops would not want us to be so depressed. So what she wanted at his funeral was for everyone to not only mourn his passing, but to fully celebrate his life. She knew there would be the deepest sadness felt among her and the family, but she also wanted us to smile and enjoy the day spending time with each other remembering the great man he was. She wanted all of his grandchildren and great grandchildren to pick out stickers that made us think of him and place them on his casket (I applied my kid’s stickers that they picked out for him since they could not be there). She wanted a big dinner together at the end where we could just BE together as a huge, happy family. So we did. There were THE most tender moments I’ve ever witnessed in my life, the most sad moments, the most spiritual moments, moments/pictures that are way too personal to share and talk about on social media, but also moments that buoyed me up and filled my heart with pure unexpected joy. We laughed, we cried, we cried some more, and we hugged all day long. This weekend was therapeutic to me in more ways than one. I will never stop being sad that my dear Pops is not with us anymore. But saying goodbye to him and praying with him one last time was something my soul needed, and I got that. It was the most heavy, yet most beautiful weekend ever. #FamilyIsEverything

P.S. My Nana wore her most fancy dress she owned in his honor- paired with sparkly heels; she was in her Sunday best for her sweet man’s day. She is just the cutest.

One last picture from the day of the funeral (which, by the way was on August 6th at 3pm. Viewing at 1:30, family prayer at 2:45....) 12 years ago at this exact burial ground, a 22 year old me swung a Olivia 2 year old Olivia around.  Fast forward 12 years and a 14 year old Olivia is swinging around a 2 year old Coco. Isn't that so special??

One silver lining to being back in Boise for Pop's funeral was that all 5 of my Mom's kids were in town together. We haven't all been together for 3 years now. Sometimes it’s hard to even remember life before our spouses and children; before we moved out and left the house we shared together. But when we all get together and reminisce about the past, laughing about memories we’ve long forgotten, it brings me back to those days long ago, when it was just us 5 (and our parents) and it makes me so, SO happy! Plus, leaning on my brother and sisters and Mom and Dad during one of the hardest weekends of our lives was truly just what we ALL needed.

They danced together for just over 60 years. They will dance together again someday, but for now, this sweet and tender grandpa of mine gets to go to his Heavenly home where his son has been waiting to see his Daddy for 43 years. What an amazing reunion that will be. Pops…. I love you. Give David a big hug for me.