I had my first dream about Chris a few nights ago.  I dreamed he was actually alive.  He just walked up to me, on a boat dock.  We discussed what had happened so far, while he was gone, and what we should do now, that he was “back”.  It was so real and intense that I even remember thinking, “Please don’t let this be a dream.”  It had a pretty clear message in the end for me, which I will not share here.  But I will say, to everyone’s relief, I woke up more rested than I had in days.  And so I went on with my day, co-facilitating an 8:00am workshop at a state-wide conference.  You never would have known…

He would have been 35 on Friday, March 31.  I imagine to celebrate, we would have gone to dinner with friends or family.  He would have found some gadget that he wanted for his birthday, and simply saved me the trouble by buying it himself – from Amazon, of course.  Or Best Buy if it was a better deal.  We probably would have watched a movie.  He might have taken the whole day off.  He would spend some time in the yard, rethinking some landscaping or plants, and started his annual “yard improvement project” for the spring.  We would be finalizing plans for our next trip, and discussing whether it was time for Finley to have a playmate…again.

If he were here, I can imagine every detail of what the days around his birthday would be like.  I never imagined that he wouldn’t be here to see his 35th year begin.  There are moments when it’s still surreal – when I still have to remind myself that he’s not here.

And Friday will be difficult, just like most days.

But it’s not worth it to just sit in the difficult moments.  It’s not worth it to simply sit and do nothing with that pain.  For me, that does not help the pain pass.  It does not help the wound heal.  It does not help my mind and emotions and health.

What helps is doing something with that pain – something productive.

So, if you feel so inclined, and want to honor Chris in some way on what would have been his 35th birthday, here are a few ideas to get you started.

1.)  Call a relative, just to talk, and touch base, and see how they’re doing.

2.)  Invite a friend to lunch and pick up the tab.

3.)  Go buy a scratch-off ticket.

4.)  Open up a college fund for a child, nephew, niece, etc.  Contribute to it.

5.)  Enjoy a Diet Mountain Dew.

6.)  Re-evaluate your life insurance.  Ask your financial advisor if you’ve planned enough.

7.)  Have ham sandwiches for dinner.

8.)  Have a movie night with your family in your pajamas.  Get the popcorn with extra butter.  And maybe some Hot Tamales.

9.)  Go on a bike ride down the Neuse River Trail.

10.)  Play tag with your dog around the house.  Don’t worry… the hardwoods can be replaced.

11.)  Grab a glove and play catch with your kids.

12.)  Order something from Amazon Prime Now.  Relish in the to-your-door delivery.

13.)  Call a friend or mentee just to give them a word of encouragement.

14.)  Do a little research on a topic in the news.  Get your facts straight, so that when it’s time to act, vote, etc. you’re informed by facts, rather than media and opinions.

15.)  Ask your spouse’s opinion on something – no matter how trivial.

16.)  Eat at El Senor in Knightdale.

17.)  Grab a snack at Taco Bell.

18.)  Buy a package of Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies.  Bake them that night.  Eat the whole plate in one sitting, while they’re still hot from the oven.

19.)  Lead your family in a prayer, whether to bless dinner or to pray for a specific friend or need.  Or just to give thanks.

20.)  Cut on Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Contemporary Christian radio, Jason Aldean, or old Tim McGraw, and tackle a project around the house before your spouse gets home.

21.)  Do your taxes.

22.)  Cut the grass, and savor the smell.

23.)  Read a great book.  Even better – grab a classic, or a book to build your personal knowledge on a topic of interest.

24.)  Have more patience with someone than others probably would in that same scenario.

25.)  If you’re in debt, create a plan for a “debt snowball”, so that you can tackle and eventually get out of that debt.

26.)  Give someone a really great side-hug.

Please don’t feel limited by this list.  I’m sure there are things that others would think of, too.  These just come to mind for me first, when I think of how Chris lived.

And if you feel so inclined to share what you’re doing Friday, I encourage to share on his Facebook page.  Or just text me, if you feel that’s more appropriate.  I only ask that you not be afraid to talk about him.  To share.  To remember.  To laugh.  Chris was too important to be someone no one speaks of anymore.  Honestly, that’s a good way to NOT honor him, and the role model for all of us he was.  Because if there’s one thing he definitely modeled for us, it was talking.  About everything.  So let’s not be afraid to talk about him, too.

As for me, well, I’ll probably be on the beach Friday.  Watching the waves.  Maybe reading (his favorite hobby, always room for improvement, etc.).  But really…letting the salt air soothe my salty tears.  Because salt heals all wounds…

There will be bigger things in the future.  But for now, shouldn’t we all just learn from his life of love?  Shouldn’t we all just love others a little more, like he did, to the point that they feel loved?  Learn from his life of talking it out?  Won’t that make a bigger difference, in the end?

At the very least, it’s a great way to honor such a wonderful heart of a man…

Happy Birthday, Chris.

I’ll admit this is a little pretentious of me.  Typically, people don’t start laying out their life lessons until they’re at least getting AARP letters.

But it would also be a little ignorant of me to just ignore what I have learned in an overly eventful 34 years.  That’s right, overly eventful.  No, this is not the first trauma in my life.  And it will not be the last.  And I’m sorry to say that I’ve seen more sides to more people, including myself, than many will ever have to endure.

I will admit this to you first:  This is NEVER where I anticipated my path going.  This was never in any of my childhood, teenage, or even adult predictions of where I would be at 33.  No one dreams this will happen to them.  Particularly not a girl with such a perfectly happy marriage.

On the other hand, I never anticipated the rest of life’s up’s and down’s either.  I never anticipated meeting a man as saintly as Chris Wall.  I never anticipated being named Teacher of the Year.  I never anticipated seeing so much of the world.  I never anticipated actually wanting to learn to shoot a handgun.  I never anticipated cancer hitting so close to home.  I never anticipated that all of our friends wouldn’t grow old together.  I never anticipated my blended family ever being this close.  I never anticipated liking breadsticks made out of cauliflower.  Never.

So at this unanticipated but can’t-turn-back-now 34th birthday of mine, here is an abbreviated version of what I have learned.  I could add more lessons, but that seems a bit too pretentious.

38 Life Lessons in 34 Years

1.)  Sometimes the f-word is, in fact, the most appropriate word.

2.)  If you’re one of the few people in the world who were taught the value of good manners, you’re privileged.

3.)  It might be more efficient to call or send a text, but a phone call or visit is still infinitely better.  And when it comes to customer service, personal contact can actually save you money.

4.)  People are not projects.

5.)  Last night’s regrets should never last longer than this morning’s hangover.

6.)  You can never call yourself old.  You’re as young as you’ll ever be right now, in this moment.

7.)  Dogs don’t always want to go on walks solely for their own benefit.

8.)  Kissing the Blarney Stone involves being hung upside down from your feet, doing an awkward crunch to put your mouth in the same place as thousands of other mouths have been, and walking away with the exact same amount of luck as you had before.  This is why it’s important to understand the difference between being a tourist and a traveler.

9.)  A lot of problems can be solved by simply setting boundaries, and then communicating them.

10.)  The more you talk, the less you’re heard.

11.)  When your parents give you advice, they’re not telling you from something they read somewhere.  They’re telling you from experience.  And it’s always true in the end.

12.)  It’s okay to cancel plans.  Just don’t cancel on the good people too often.  Eventually, they will stop calling.

13.)  Everyone goes through their own struggles.  Everyone suffers from their own personal poisons.  Everyone has demons.

14.)  Like folding a fitted sheet, there is no right or wrong way to do your life.  The only difference is knowing you have to deal with the wrinkles you make.

15.)  If you’re going to skimp on something at your wedding, never let it be the photographer.

16.)  Jesus saves.  But your day-to-day decisions are all on you.

17.)  I learned very little in my K-12 education that prepared me for college.  I learned very little in my college education that prepared me for life.  I learned the most from experience, and the second most from having good mentors.

18.)  Bad people attract other bad people.  Good people attract other good people.  If you don’t like the people around you, you don’t have a problem with your friends.  You have a problem with you.

19.)  Never hug other women’s husbands front to front.

20.) You have absolutely no control over other adults and their decisions.  No control in the least.  At best, you have influence.  But please see #29 before you start spraying advice around.

21.)  Some people are made to do dirty jobs.  I’m not one of those people.  But they are needed, and under-appreciated.

22.)  Teaching is by far the hardest job I will ever, ever, ever do.

But I sure miss some of the faces I saw in this video.  Yes, I linked it, like a tool.

23.)  No career will ever be more valuable than time with your family.

24.)  The secret to a successful marriage typically boils down to perseverance.

25.)  Laughter really is the best medicine.  But sometimes, crying is too.

26.)  When apologizing, be sure of two things:  (1) be the first to do it, and (2) the best apology is changed behavior.

27.)   If you don’t want phrases like “Keep on truckin'” to be associated with you for all of eternity, then always prepare a speech – no matter how unlikely you are to win the award.

28.)  For Men:  No matter how hard we fight it, a woman will always see herself based on the words you choose.

29.)  Telling someone else how to live their life is a lot like telling someone else how to build their house that you’re never going to live in.

30.)  Life is too short to pay attention to portion size.  But it’s also too fragile not to.  The key is to pay attention to portions more often than you ignore them.

31.)  If you want to be happy, lower your expectations.  Most unhappy people are that way because their expectations are too high…or just unrealistic.

32.)  After drink #2, lock away all electronic devices.  And if your excuse is, “Yes, but if I’m ever on the witness stand for this…”, just go ahead and Uber home now.

33.)  It takes more strength to keep your mouth shut than it does to open it.

34.)  Don’t measure yourself by other people’s yardsticks.

35.)  We put a lot of stock in intelligence.  In reality, emotional intelligence is much more valuable than intellectual intelligence.

36.)  Others are going to judge you for many things, including if you haven’t had kids by the time you’re 33.  That is not your problem.

37.)  Even the people you love the most will disappoint you.  But you have no control over other adults’ decisions (see #20).  Pay more attention to whether you’re disappointing yourself.

38.) You are a combination of the 5 people you spend the most time with.  Choose wisely.

To be upfront, I hate theories.  I think that’s why I perceive my college education with such loathing.  Because college was about theory.  And theory is not application.  A theory is just an idea that maybe something is true, if this, this, and this are true too.  Or maybe this could happen, if all of the variables are all perfectly aligned in a galaxy far, far away.  Ugh.

But I’m going to be a little hypocritical and give you a theory anyway.  Because if you read it correctly, this theory can be applied.  And maybe change your outlook on life.  Like it has on mine.

It’s my theory of why people die.

Brace yourself.

What if…

we die

when we have

loved others enough?

Now I don’t mean over time, or loving a certain number of people.  That’s silly.  As soon as we have enough little “love tallies”, it’s our time?  Right.  If that were the case, some of us would just continue being our normal, stubborn, crotchety selves …just out of spite.  Just to see how long we could keep our tickers tickin’.

Instead, what if we each have a personal “love mission”?  And once our individual mission is complete, our lives end soonafter.

I imagine each of our missions are different.  For some of us, it may be to show love and compassion towards everyone at work.  Or everyone in our family.  Or everyone within our small group.  Others of us, it may simply be to love and be compassionate to one particular person.  For some of us, it may be how we love:  with our time, our hands, our words, etc.  For some it may be to love in one particular way.  For others it may be to love in all possible ways.  So we can’t compare our mission to anyone else’s.  It’s individual to us and us alone.

And here is where the theory really gets sticky:  What if our mission is to love in the exact way that it hurts us the most?  Like…give hugs in lieu of eye rolls.  To love a sibling in their love language, instead of our own.  To sit 7 hours with a grandparent so they can teach us that one thing we don’t want to learn but they want to teach.  The love mission that feels the most impossible.  And until we do that, sincerely, our mission is left incomplete, and our ticker keeps ticking.  Until we’ve accomplished our mission.

Chris was so much better at loving others that I sometimes wondered if I had a different Maker.  Like maybe I was somehow made with a few robot parts.  Or if I was partially Grinch.

“Oh, you went and visited that lady’s mother at the hospital?  Did you even know the mother?  How did that idea even occur to you?  Seems to me it would have been more efficient to just send a ‘Get Well’ text…”

See what I mean?  I was not born with the same understanding of loving others.

For him, I don’t know what his personal mission was.  But I do know he loved others something fierce.  He understood people, and love, and how to make people feel loved.  It was a gift he always had, for as long as I knew him.  He loved with his time, with his words, with his advice, with his texts, with his pep talks, with his monetary resources, with his laughter, and with his understanding.  He loved so well and with such sacrifice that he accomplished his mission by 34.  And so, his time was up.

Me…mmmm…love is tough.  If sassy comebacks and brutal honesty were a love language, I would be the Ethan Hunt of impossible love missions.  But they’re not.  Although my sass and snark seem to be lovable qualities for some, they are not necessarily a language of love towards others.

No, my mission is to have more compassion towards those who are different from me.  My mission is to have the patience to spend time where it matters.  With my phone put away.  My mission of love is to love others to the point I feel the sacrifice on my end.  To the point that it’s uncomfortable, and that it hurts.  To the point that I have handed over more of myself to someone who can never return the favor, than I have handed myself a favor with a tangible reward.

So, yeah.  I’ll be here a while.  I don’t even like to let people merge in front of me.  Or to stop for pedestrians.  Sometimes I don’t even greet people.  And I’m a Southerner!

I have a lot of loving left to learn.  And to show.

Now, I actually cannot tell you for sure that this is my mission.  But I’m pretty sure.  I mean, kind of sure.  Sort of.  I have evidence.  Okay, not evidence, so much as a feeling.  A nagging, depths of my soul, constant voice in my head, feeling.

The feeling is this:  loving others to the point of sacrifice is something I always know I should do.  “Katie, go take dinner to…”  “Katie, see that lady struggling with groceries?  Go help her.”  “Katie, go spend the weekend with…”  “Katie, give to this cause…”  And they are sacrifices because I am selfish.  With my time, my resources, my time.

But I hear the voice.  The little annoying “angel” on one of my shoulders.  Loud and clear.  And then I don’t do it.  I avoid the thing.  I avoid the act of love.  I make an excuse to myself, or I treat it like a fleeting thought, or I put it off to the point that it never happens.  It’s what I do.  It becomes the impossible mission.  Any other time, I am action-oriented, typically moving at the speed of a Porsche on the Autobahn.  But when it’s a sacrificial act of love, I shift gears into something resembling a glacier sliding through cement.

And the fact that it’s always on my mind, and always the thing I avoid, convinces me that this is it.  That it will be my life mountain.  My seemingly impossible love mission.  My Everest.

So that’s my theory.  I could be wrong.  I’m wrong more than I like to admit, anyway.

On the other hand, it does give it all a little more meaning, doesn’t it?  It does answer a few nagging questions I have for God about, “Why now?”,  “Why him?”.  All those questions I try so hard not to ask, but that can’t be erased from my mind completely, like that dust bunny way under the bookshelf that refuses to be swept up.

And when I think about it that way – using my theory of why as my rose-colored sunglasses – it gives me a little more purpose.  And gives me a little peace.

Maybe it does for you too.

Ladies, I feel the need to clarify some things.  There’s so few of us on this particular path.  And as I’m apparently the leader on it (yes, I cringed just typing that), I think I need to be explicit on a few points.  Because there is a code amongst us girls.  That we tell each other when we have toilet paper on our shoe.  That we warn a sister if that hot guy at the bar is actually married.  That we signal each other when we need to take our attitude down a notch.  It’s just…the code.  So, I’m continuing to follow the code.  Because I heart my girls. Y’all are the glue keeping me together.  And I need us to be real with each other.  Because y’all are real with me.  You hold me accountable.  You call me on my crazy.  And you’re there for me when I need you.

There are so many of my girls not pictured above.  Just because you don’t see your fabulous face doesn’t mean I’m not talking to you, too.  I just couldn’t get my hands on a picture of us.  If we’ve ever shared a connection, this is just as much for you…

Here is what I desperately need my girls to know.

To my sassy, single girl friends:

So how about that single life, eh?  It’s like its own little Pandora’s box of wonderful surprises and awkward conversations.  To be honest, I probably would have had very different words than the following before I walked in these shoes myself.  But now, I have a better appreciation for life on the single road.  So here it is:

1.)  Love yourself.

Love everything about yourself.  Make your life exactly as you picture it.  If that includes a relationship, so be it.  But if not, live and love yourself as you are.  But be sure that loving yourself includes loving on others too.  Single life seems like an absolute island.  But it’s not.  We’re impacting others every day, even in the tiniest ways, even when we don’t think we are.  So love yourself something fierce.  Then find ways to love others too.

2.)  If a relationship makes you complete, make it with someone that makes you better.

I have a unique opportunity to reflect back on the love I had, as I observe the rest of the love stories and relationships around me.  It is torturous and enlightening.  All I ask is that you don’t settle.  Find a love that brings more life to your life than you can bring yourself.  Find a love that empowers you.  Find a love that reminds you what it means to be a human being.  Love someone enough to compromise, so that you both can be better because of it.  Find a love that makes you want to grow old with someone.  Don’t settle.  But don’t be annoyingly nit-picky either.  Either you’ve found someone that you’re willing to overlook the necessary faults with, or you haven’t.  Because they’ll have to overlook your faults too.

Find someone who makes the faults worth it.

To my marvelous, married girl friends:

To be honest, I miss Chris more than I miss being married.  That’s not a knock on marriage.  I just miss Chris that much more.  So, if we were to sit down over coffee (wine) and you were to ask me what I desperately needed you to know, here is what I would say.

1.)  Once you bury your husband, you can do anything.

I know that’s tough to read.  But believe me, it’s tougher to live it.  It is the toughest thing one can ever do.  It is heart-wrenching everyday to know that this is your path.  No matter how put together and strong I look, it is horribly painful every single day.  Sometimes it even hurts to breathe.  Sometimes it takes me 10 minutes just to remember to grab my keys.

But knowing that I’ve done this, and that I’m still standing, and still surviving, is empowering in itself. I lived the nightmare.  And I’m standing up after.  It makes me want to shout at the world, “Come at me, bro!   Bring it!”  Because what can possibly scare me now?  Lightning?  Pffft.  Sickness?  Ha!  Scammers?  Whatev.  I walked through the nightmare that every wife fears.  You can’t scare me.

Sidenote:  A glimpse of dating in my 30’s comes in a close second to the worst things I could experience.  So there’s that.

Ladies, it breaks my heart to say this next thing to you.  Because again, I would never wish this on anyone.  Even though I’ve lived it, I still cannot dream of this happening to you.  I cannot imagine any one of my girls going through this.  And although you would never admit it to me, I know some are even thinking, “I’m glad it’s not me.”  Because if I were in your shoes, that’s what I would be thinking.

So if I’m the first person to break this news to you, I am truly, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, so so sorry.  Because I don’t want to tell you this.  I don’t want you to ever feel the pain I’m going through.  But…

2.)  It’s likely going to happen to you.

If you are married, your marriage will end in one of two ways.  If it does not end via the d-word, there’s only one other way that it can.  And statistically – because you know how much I love statistics – the men typically go first.  So ladies, my dear, sweet, wonderful girlfriends, this is more than likely going to happen to you.

It may not happen in the same way.  And it may be years or decades down the road.  But it also may be tomorrow.  I know that seems unlikely – that multiple people within the same circles could lose their husbands so young.  But keep in mind that both of the sisters of my step-sister and her husband lost their husbands in their 30’s, both without kids.  This is something you have no control over.  It could happen anytime.  At the most absurd time.  But it is probably going to happen, sometime.

Please know, friends, I feel so much pain to break that news to you.

And last, but of the utmost importance, to both single and married…

3.)  Your grief process will look different from mine.

I recently attended a “Grief Share” class with my church.  Of the 20 or so people in the room, no two people were experiencing grief in the same way.  Of the people I’ve met on this journey, even those that have lost their spouses, no one’s process has been the same as mine, nor anyone else’s.  Everyone experiences grief in a different way.

Some of you read my blogs with a silent expectation that my reactions and thoughts and feelings could be your reactions and thoughts and feelings if/when the inevitable happens.  And in some cases, some of that might be true.  But it won’t be the same.

You might travel through stages faster or slower.  You might sit in one stage of grief for years.  You might grieve with more or less wine.  You might spend more or less days in bed, refusing to leave the comfort of your sheets to face the day.  You might sell your house and move entirely.  You might decide it’s time to go sky-diving.  You might spend more or less time sitting in your spouse’s old t-shirts.  You might spend more or less time with other widows, and with support groups.  You might spend more time crying.  You might spend more time laughing.  You might burn every memory you ever had, or you might create a scrapbook of your every year together.  You might dye your hair fifty shades of grey and take up erotic painting.  Who knows?!

My point is this, friends:

You will likely go through this.  You will experience it differently than I have, and that is absolutely okay.  There is no expectation.  There is no benchmark.  There is only YOU and how YOU deal.  But most importantly, you will make it to the other side.

And when you need a hug, a glass of wine, an ear, or someone to stare off into space with… you know I’m your girl.

Love you, girls!  Every single one of you!  Hugs to the moon and back!

Am I the only one crying?

Dear Chris,

I imagine you’ve spent your first 8 months in heaven a little differently than I’ve spent my time here on Earth.  You and your Opa and your brother, Adam, have probably spent most of the time catching up, laughing about old times.  And your world must feel a little more complete now that Oma and Opa are back together.  I’m sure you’ve chatted up Jimmy V about this year’s team, and life, and death.  Maybe caught a round of golf with Abe Lincoln.  I imagine you’ve spent a lot of time enjoying pain-free fishing; probably one of the only reasons you weren’t angrier with God for taking you so soon.  And although you would never admit it, I’m sure you cried when you met Him.  If there’s anyone He could embrace with sincere joy for their work on Earth, it would be you.

But I think the best way to end 2016 is to catch you up on what’s happened back here.  Because I’m sure, as you look back down on me through the clouds, you feel like you’ve left a kid alone in the mall.  Or the park.  Or a very large industrial plant that makes something very dangerous, like explosive legos.  I actually feel the same.  I feel like I’ve been left alone without adult supervision.  Or like I’m only a moment away from something exploding in my face.  Thank goodness you left me with so many security guards.

Now, I know I haven’t done everything your way.  You’ve been very clear about that, based on the “divine intervention” you’ve provided.  I know that wasn’t God – God wouldn’t use lightning that strategically.

And I notice you haven’t lost your sense of humor, based on the most recent mishap in the movie theater.  Thanks for that mortifying call to Ryan.

But did you see that both cars are staying almost perfectly maintained?  The basics, at least – oil changes, new tires when needed, inspections, etc.

And the bills are staying paid, and on time.  I’m even keeping costs down.  Did you see that thermostat setting?  That’s dedication, right there.

And I know you saw me clean that hot tub all by myself.  Every single square inch.  Like a boss.

I even recognized that the house needed to be power-washed, and did something about it.  And I had the cherry blossom replaced with a Japanese maple, just like you always wanted.  See?  I do listen.  And not surprisingly, you were right, it does look much better.

But…the security guards.  You really left a lot of them.  Mike has taken the role of “surrogate husband” to a new level, as I’m sure you would have done the same.  Matt has kept the yard immaculate- still the best looking lawn around.  Michael has made it his personal mission to fix those walkway lights.  And my place setting at their dinner table is just short of permanent.  I still can’t believe how patient Ryan is with me and my incompetence with our entertainment system.  Jeremey continues to reach out – impressive with those toddler twins.  Your entire men’s group seems like they’re on-call 24 hours a day.  And the Edward Jones region has really taken your slogan of “Here to Serve” to heart.  I swear, everytime I even have a notion of making a big decision, I get a call from Mark.  Or Donna.  Or Megan.  Or Barbara.  It’s like they all have a 6th sense just for me.

Not that it’s a competition, but I think Brad misses you the most.  Or maybe everyone else is just keeping it to themselves…

I imagine you’ve talked God’s ear off for the Barretts.  If you were here, you would have driven straight over as soon as you heard about Rhett, and maybe cried a little, sitting with Mike.  But up there, you’re probably using those astounding persuasive powers of your’s, haggling with God for a full recovery.  You always did love a challenge in negotiations.

I do wonder how it works, being a guardian angel and all.  Do you split your time between all of us?  Do you just reach out when we need it?  Because as much havoc as we’re causing down here, you must be working non-stop.  Maybe instead of overtime, you get extra ham sandwiches.  That would be heaven for you.

And I continue to be reminded how well you served your clients, based on how often they try to return the favor to me.  You really attracted some good souls.

Your family sure misses you and Oma.  But as always, they’re persevering.

I know I’m not reaching out to people as much as you’d like.  I can feel it.  Everytime I tell myself that I need to make a call, send a text, or make a visit to a friend or family member, I know that’s really you nudging me.  I don’t always follow-through.  But you have to admit that I’m soooo much better than I was.  Even still, I’m sure I’m not meeting your high expectations.  Keep nudging, and I’ll keep working on it.

And Finley has accepted me as her supplemental best friend.   She still prefers to ride shotgun.  And I can see her pout every time we drive right past Bojangles’.  “No people food” must have just been my rule, huh?

I get the feeling that although you’re not crazy about some of my purchases, you’ve accepted them.  Surely, if you’d really had an issue, you would have “divinely” halted them.  But you always knew how much I loved Wilmington.  And you had to know how much I hated that couch.

And you certainly would have stepped in with that one thing if you had concerns.  But I can feel you’ve accepted it.  Sometimes I tell myself you had a hand in it, but that could just be wishful thinking.

So, it has been a “Record Year” down here, slowly planning my survival.  I’ve had a lot of firsts.  A lot of learning.  Even more wine.  And only me and these walls know how many times I’ve played that song, still singing over my speakers on ten.

But I’ve had more successes than failures.  To the best of my ability, I’ve tried to make informed decisions.  I’ve sought wise counsel from the same people you would have sought out.  In short, I’ve done my best.

Deep down, I’m just hoping I’ve given you a few opportunities to lean over to God, and proudly whisper, “That’s my girl.”

Of course, when I get there, I’ll still have a lot of explaining to do to God.  I can imagine Him standing there, arms crossed, foot-a-tapping, just waiting for my full explanations. You’ll be right behind Him with the same stance.  But God will have to wait.  Because when I get there, I’m making a bee line for you, and your arms.  And although you’ll glare at me with that infamous look of discernment, we both know it will melt away as soon as you hear my giggle and my, “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…”.  You’ll still have all of eternity to heckle me.  And make me explain.  And lecture me about how YOU would have done it.

So our love story will continue anyway, just differently than we planned.  I’ll keep living things out here on Earth, while you watch over us all from up there.  We’re all really hoping we never have a year more challenging than this one.  But at this point, we’ve also learned better than to tell God our plans.   If you negotiate anything, can you just negotiate for 2017 to be a little easier on us?

Until I see you again…

I love you.  Always.

~Katie

Alright, I know, that title is a little harsh.  Forgive me.  But bare with me and see if maybe you don’t agree on a few of my points…

A lot of people have commented recently on how hard they know the holidays will be on me.  I tend to get defensive when people tell me how I will or won’t feel in certain situations.  But in this case, I have to admit they’re right.

Chris absolutely loved Christmas.  It was his favorite time of year.  And every decoration, Christmas carole, and unfortunate radio repeat of “The Christmas Shoes” reminds me of his joy and love of the season.  And I do miss him, and our Christmas traditions…painfully so.

But by the time Christmas was over, Chris always felt a little…disenchanted.  Sometimes even disappointed.  Because there was so much stuff and doing and bustle, he never felt we had time to just enjoy the season.  His absolute favorite part of Christmas was spending time with family.  And yet, he never felt like we were able to do enough of it.  It weighed on him.  And sometimes even drained him a little.  Because the stuff and the doing and the bustle took away from what he loved most about the most wonderful time of the year.  And made it less wonderful.  To him, it was like that first box of Christmas tree cakes:  you look so forward to it all year, eat the whole box in one sitting, and then are left feeling less satisfied and more…dispirited.  Like we somehow missed the magic of the moment.

The reality is that we all love something different about the holidays.  We all have different perceptions of what it should (and shouldn’t) look like.  And when the holidays don’t fit the picture we painted in our heads, we all wake up December 26 feeling like the kid who was left with the half-eaten sugar cookie.

I anticipate some will be less than thrilled with my perspective.  That’s okay.  That’s really the point… that we all get to have an opinion.  This is just my perspective, from enjoying 10 happily married Christmases with Chris, and my take-aways from it.

1.)  You don’t have to go to every event and party.

Some people really do enjoy the hustle and bustle of Christmas.  That’s awesome – cheers to you!  But others just…don’t.  And if we’re not careful, we could book every single evening from Thanksgiving to New Year’s with a different event, party, or outing.  Friends, that is exhausting.   Bustle and hustle is not Christmas to everyone.  If it doesn’t add to the Christmas spirit for you, or if you’re going out of guilt, reconsider.  The best moments of the holidays are sometimes the quiet ones at home, smelling the remnants of a burnt cinnamon cookie and getting the stickiness from a candy cane stuck in awkward places on your face…again.

2.)  Don’t focus on the stuff.

Unfiltered Katie here:  I get a lot of joy out of surprising someone with the perfect, unexpected gift.  But these days, I’m just not sure that happens all that often.  I’ve gotten to the point I’d rather just give people a pack of gum or a gift card to the gas station.  Because I know it is both wanted and will be used.  Gift-giving is hard.  For some, gifts are their love language:  both giving and receiving.  And for them, gifts are the best part of Christmas.  But there’s a large portion of our friends and family that don’t see gifts as an act of love, but rather an obligation of the season.  Doesn’t that stink?  Doesn’t that just kill everyone’s Christmas spirit?   Don’t let it ruin it for everyone.  Just recognize that everyone doesn’t love the gift part.  And if you’re a lover of gifting, keep the focus on giving with purpose, rather than adding to someone’s collection of stuff.

Chris always kept charitable giving a priority throughout the year, but particularly during the holidays.  Most people don’t know this, but last year, Chris made a goal of giving in a bigger way than we ever had.  Instead of giving to just our church and to our normal charities for the season, he gave a sum of money to every single church in the town of Knightdale.  Giving with purpose.  He was amazing like that.

3.)  Know what kindles your holiday spirit, then make that your priority.

It is such a horrible feeling to get to the end of the year and feel like you missed Christmas yet again.  Because you now have to wait another year to do it better the next time around.  It’s disappointing, disenchanting, and just kind of … gloomy.

For Chris, he loved spending time with family and friends most.  So he made sure that was our priority.  In fact, one of our favorite things to do was to visit some of his clients.  We spent a day or two just before Christmas Eve visiting and spending a few minutes with some of his clients at their homes.  Chatting, eating homemade cookies, laughing, and just enjoying the company.  It was absolutely wonderful.  I enjoyed it so much, I’m continuing the tradition this year, on my own.  And that’s what Chris would want.

But along with that, I have a lot of decisions to make this year.  How to spend my time, how to decorate, and how to learn to enjoy the season…without Chris.  And that means I have to make some sacrifices.  Because I too have multiple invitations awaiting my rsvp.  And sadly, I cannot say yes to them all.  I love cookies, and tacky Christmas sweater parties, and Christmas parades, and sometimes even gift exchanges.  But I can’t do it all. Please don’t be offended I don’t choose you.  Right now, I have to choose me.

4.)  Don’t forget about those that are alone.

Let me preface by saying that, yes, I do have plans for the holidays.  Lots and lots and lots of plans.  I know that sounds like I’m not following my own Rule #1 above, but at the moment, I need to have lots of plans for the tough times.  So I’m taking the initiative to do all the things I want to do.  This year.  But there’s a lot of years ahead.  So…

Don’t forget about those that are alone.  Don’t assume they all have plans with a good neighbor or with family.  Don’t assume anything, including assuming that you know how they feel.  Reach out to say hi, that you’re thinking of them, invite them over.  Just don’t forget about them.  One of the most heartbreaking things I read and realized quickly to be true of widowhood is this:

It’s not the fear of being alone.  It’s the fear of being forgotten.

Doesn’t that tear you up like it does to me?  It’s painful to fathom.  And I can tell you… it is horribly, painfully, true.

So, Katie, does that mean we should still send you a Christmas card?

Yes!  Yes!  A thousand times, YES!!!  I still want you to send me Christmas cards.  Because it means I’m still loved and thought of, and you want to share how your family is doing.  Yes, keep me on the Christmas card list.  I know some of you think that seeing other people’s happiness is too painful.  But, (1) that is an assumption on your part, and (2) the small amount of pain of seeing another’s happiness is tiny compared to the pain of being forgotten.

Consider anyone you know that’s living alone this Christmas, including older relatives, friends, neighbors, co-workers, and even acquaintances.  Don’t let them feel forgotten.

5.)  Stop trying to make every moment perfect, and focus on simply being with those you love.

Anything that involves sugar and Scotch tape and family members and cooking large birds and fireworks and the truth about Santa and strands of blinking lights…will never turn out perfect.  If you’ve managed some year to have a perfect holiday season – no feelings hurt, no casseroles burned, no bow unraveled, and no ornament broken – I’d like to politely ask you to go away.  You are not my friend.

Christmas was not meant to be a season of perfection.  It was meant to be a season about love, and birth, and forgiveness.  Remember Jesus?  The lovely gentleman who died so that all of our bad decisions could be forgiven?  In the spirit of Christmas, I’ll forgive those with no mishaps during the holidays.  But for the rest of us…I’ll take my mishaps that turned into the best holiday memories.

Like the year I was so proud that I’d found Chris the perfect gift of an NC State watch, only to be heckled after, because he already had a watch that he loved.  And the year our best friends really did buy a Griswold-esque Christmas tree that took over their entire living room.  And the year we got stuck at Applebee’s for 4 hours on our way to the mountains, waiting for a replacement vehicle.  And the year we had Christmas for our family at our house, and made Christmas spaghetti instead of a giant bird.  And the year we dropped a styrofoam ball from our balcony with our friend’s 4-year-old, so that she could (repeatedly) count down, yell “Happy New Year”, and celebrate New Year’s with us.  And the numerous holiday events Chris and I declined, just so we could stay in and make it through the entire Harry Potter series before Christmas Day.

Those are the memories that stick with me, the memories I cherish.  My ornaments are well-placed, but that’s not what matters most.  I do take unfortunate amounts of pride in my bows, but that’s not what matters most.  My butterscotch cookies are delectable, but that’s not what matters most.

What matters is who we’re with, and how we love them.  What matters is that we spend time cherishing those we love.  What matters is that we spend time in the moments, rather than absorbed by the stuff.  What matters is that we reach out to others and love others.  Without guilt, without obligation, but purely, simply, without reservation…love.  An afternoon with those you love is more precious than any amount of parades or parties.  Because the holidays can be magical.  And when you look back on all of your Christmases and Thanksgivings and Hanukkahs and New Years’, you’ll remember the love more than the stuff.  You’ll remember the people more than the places.  And you’ll always remember how you felt.

Spend the time where it matters.  And maybe we’ll get through this holiday season feeling like the kid who scored a whole plate of fresh from the oven sugar cookies…and then took the time to savor it.

I hate being sad.  Really and truly loathe it.  I despise being around sad people.  My empathy is zilch.  When I see others who are sad or struggling, I politely tell them I’ll pray for them, maybe give them a hug, and quickly escape to another part of the room.  I used to think sadness and depression were like the plague.  If I just stay away, think happy thoughts, I’d build up a good enough emotional immune system that I wouldn’t catch it.  Because I am a sincerely happy, giggly, bubbly person.  And happy, giggly, bubbly people don’t get depressed.  It’s a life rule.

And for my naivety, God is laughing at me.

I felt the darkness.  It started one afternoon a few weeks after.  I hadn’t accomplished much that day, but I felt very, very tired.  Then I felt heavy, like the air around me had suddenly become a tangible cloud, pushing in on me.  I sat, then I laid down.  I was exhausted.  I had lists of things to do.  But I couldn’t do them if someone had an ice cream cone and a million dollar shopping spree to entice me to get up.  I felt hopeless, unmotivated, and apathetic.  I felt like the world was a fog, weighing in on me, preventing me from moving, paralyzing me from motion.  Why bother?  What’s the use?  For the first time in my life, I felt debilitated.  A friend was on the way to fix me dinner, and all I could think was, “Please don’t come.  I just want to lay here.  And sleep.  And never see the world again.”  I’m not sure I could even answer the door.

Another friend happened to text me, to check in.  She seems to have a direct line with God, as every time she prays, the prayer seems to be answered.  So I told her I was struggling, that I felt the depression setting in.  She agreed to pray.  And knowing her, she probably stopped everything, gathered her two young girls, and prayed right there with them.  Because she actually has empathy.  And she’s a do-er.

A moment later, my dog decided it was time to go outside, frantically getting in my face for me to grab her leash and go.  For the past few weeks, she had been relatively subdued, calm, and ready to go when I was, rather than the other way around.  Not today.  She was not buying into my whole “I can’t move” stance, and climbed on top of me in persistence.   With her furry 60 pounds and untrimmed nails digging in on me, I finally relented.

I had no energy to bother with shoes, even neglected to grab the leash.  I followed her outside, feeling like Eeyore’s sadder little sister, staring into the abyss.  For a moment, I was sure I may never feel happy again.  But as my bare feet walked through the grass, I started to feel the coolness and aliveness of the newly trimmed bermuda.  Then I felt the sunshine on my face.   And somehow, slowly, I felt the energy and the light return.

But I felt the darkness.  It is real.  It cannot simply be kept away with positive thinking and avoidance of others’ sadness.  There is no “mental sanitizer” to prevent the spreading of the “depression germs”.  It is a thing.  And it is horrible.  And it can happen to the happiest of us.  And you can’t just “think happy thoughts” to get out of it.  I was lucky enough to have a prayer warrior reach out at just the right moment.  But that doesn’t happen to everyone. For some the depression sits, stays, uninvited but overstaying its welcome anyway; taking up space in an otherwise happy life.  It prevents movement, action, and progress.  It is there, like an invisible wall, blocking the way for any productivity, any happiness, any peace, any light to break through.

It is there.  It can happen to the happy people.  It can happen to anyone.

I hate feeling like I’m being judged.  I hate wondering if someone out there thinks I’m laughing too much, going out with friends too much, taking action too soon.  I admitted to a friend recently that it could all be in my head–that there’s no one actually judging me at all.  Maybe it comes from being a Southerner, and knowing that there’s always someone watching, analyzing, and discussing your life as their gossip dujour.

Did you know that everyone goes through at least one truly traumatic experience in their life?  Everyone gets knocked down at least one good time.  I learn this more and more, as people share their stories with me, admit their background to me, even confide in me.  Because now we know we’re going through something horrible together.  Now, friends feel safe telling me the things that they were afraid I’d judge them for before.  Because I’m going through something horrible too.  And judgement is something I obviously have no time for.  Did you know this is actually my 3rd – maybe even 4th – time getting knocked down in life?  You wouldn’t.  Like you, I don’t share those things if I don’t have to.  Until now.  Until it happens with the whole world watching.

So here I am anyway.  I’m the girl that stood back up.  I’m the girl that got knocked down, brushed herself off, and got back on her feet.  I’m the girl who is making “survival” look more like living.

Did you know that’s what Chris wanted?  He knew me when he married me.  He knew I was strong-willed, direct, and driven.  Just like him.  It’s what we loved about each other.  Our ambition and drive acted as fuel for the other one.  But we were also best friends.  We knew each other inside and out.  And I still know exactly what he would say, no matter what I say and do.  I can hear his voice in my head, heckling me, advising me, “Katie!”-ing me.  Not one action I’ve taken would surprise him.  Most, I can almost guarantee, he probably would have even predicted.

And here’s what you need to know.  The reason I need the judgers to step back.  The reason I stood back up.

I have a plan.  

I’ve known exactly what I needed to do for quite a while.  I have a clear-as-day vision of the path I need to take.  In both the short-term and the long-term.  It’s not even a question.  It’s more of a commitment.  A conviction to live out a legacy.  To be sure this isn’t the unfortunate ending to my perfect fairy tale, but rather an unanticipated Part 2.

Don’t bother asking me what it is.  I love you all, especially the supporters and those that love me unconditionally.  But my business is my business until I determine otherwise.  I know that feels like a tease, and for that I do apologize.  But I want you to know I’m not just sashaying through this without a purpose.

I’m not merely surviving.  I am living.

I’m not merely making it.  I’m making it matter.

I’m not just doing what I want.  I’m doing what I know I need to do.

I’m not looking back at memories to dwell on what I’ve lost.  I’m looking to learn, and plan for where I am now.  And for what’s ahead.

I am the girl who stood back up because I know where I need to go.  I know exactly what I need to do.  I will not let this be the end of the story.  I will not just let this be about loss, and grief, and what might have been.  I will make this matter.  I will make us matter.  And I will make sure my husband’s legacy is not a dream I never tackled, but a vision I make a reality.  I will not be knocked down forever.  I will continue building the life and the legacy.  I will stand back up if for no other reason than to honor Chris.

The Band Perry just released a song called “Comeback Kid”.  All the words don’t fit perfectly.  I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like I’m “better” because of this.  And I certainly don’t think that I’ve been “given more” by losing Chris.  But when the bridge and chorus hits…I turn those speakers back up to 10.

“Comeback Kid”, The Band Perry