In June 2010 I walked away from my marriage with a little English Pointer named Freckles by my side. Freckles is a shy energetic rambunctious little soul and she was never meant for apartment life. She needed a yard, a place to run, and a 5-year-old boy to chase her around. I knew what Freckles needed, it wasn’t me, so with a heavy heart I brought her back to my ex husband and Nylan.
For the first time in 6 years I was truly alone. I didn’t have a child to look after or three dogs to take for a walk. My apartment was all to quiet and something was missing. I needed a partner with a wet nose, caring eyes, and a wagging tail. Most rescues turned me away telling me “an apartment is not a place for a dog.” I cried myself to sleep most nights and one day it hit me “Contact Whipstaff tell Carrie was happened and maybe, just maybe she will let me adopt another dog.”
With that thought I fired an email off at 4am asking if I could bring another little dog into my life. I anxiously waited for a reply, hours past and before night fall I had an answer. Carrie said “I have the perfect little dog for you, he is just like Freckles, shy, a little broken with a good heart.” She emailed a photo and I instantly fell in love with his big gray nose. I couldn’t wait to bring him home, home to his forever home.
The next day I set out on a 12 hour round trip journey to pick up my new-found friend. I followed Carrie’s directions, she really means it when she says “A GPS will not guide you to the ranch” trust me it won’t. I got to see the ranch first hand, the moment you pull into the driveway you can feel the love that they have for the animals in their care. They take in the unwanted, the un-trainable, the broken, and the lost. They take the cast offs and love them until they are whole again, only to turn around to place them in forever homes.
With a hug and a tearful thank you I headed back to Minneapolis with Cullen. I’ve had Cullen for over three years now and he will turn 4 on September 30th. A good part of his first year on earth was spent in a puppy mill and he was withdrawn and scared of the world around him. Carrie and her Mama rescued Cullen, feed him, loved him, and showed him how life could be for a dog. Because of their love a dog got rescued and that rescue became my best friend. In truth I needed Cullen more than he needed me. I was broken and hurt, when I looked into my dogs eyes the loneliness slipped away and I knew I was going to be ok.
Cullen has been by my side through thick and thin. He faithfully laid next to me on the couch during my bed rest, licked away my tears and has provided me with absurd amounts of laughter. Cullen loved Charlie as much as I did and together we mourned the death of our best friend. He watched over baby Sophia and now he sits by her side as she gives him hundreds of hugs. Cullen is no longer an introvert, he along with me has come out of his shell. He found his bark and his eyes light up like fire each morning.
I can never repay the ladies of Whipstaff for the gift they’ve given me. There are not enough words in the English language to describe how greatful I am that they saw it in their hearts to take in a matted under feed dog that became my best friend. In a recent Facebook post Carrie stated that they were in need of help with the food bill, an that several animal were in need of neutering and spaying. I wanted to help and it hit me “I can share their story on my blog and tell the world about the incredible work they do.” So that is what I did.
I hope that everyone who reads this will find it in their hearts to donate $5.00 to Whipstaff Ranch and Rescue. $5 may not seem like much, however a little adds up and can go along way. To find out more about this awesome nonprofit rescue and to make a donation please visit: http://whipstaff-ranch.com/rescue.html
Charlie left behind a quarter filled jar of sea glass
One night while strolling through one of our favorite boutique shops in Minneapolis, Charlie spotted a glass jar. I politely told him that the jar was meant for a candle and not sea glass. Charlie looked at me with his grin and said “AJ, it says beach on it, a jar that says beach on it, is meant to be filled with sea glass. Duh?” Ok I said and we walked up to the counter to purchase his crazy jar. That was in September of 2011, the jar sat on the island in the kitchen for months.
Upon his return from the beach Charlie religiously deposited a piece of new sea glass into his jar. He would tell me that dark blue was the hardest to find and the most common was clear or green. Charlie has been mesmerized by sea glass since he was a child, often filling multiple jars by summers end. His mother kept all of his jars, each piece represented the mystery of the ocean and his joy of searching the beach. Charlie loved the water and we often spent our weekends on the shores of Lake Superior. I can still picture him on his knees scouring the beach for tiny pieces of treasure. With each piece he found, he safely tucked the glass into his pocket and when his pockets were full, he often turned to me. I would hold his treasure tightly in my hand only to drop it into the jar his mother kept on the back porch.
Charlie would save a few pieces for the jar on the island and often filled it with pieces of glass he found on the beaches around Minneapolis. He bought the jar in September which limited his time to search. Winter came and his jar was only a quarter full, he’d say “I am going to fill our jar this summer.” Summer never came for Charlie, he left before the waves could even break free from the ice and his jar sat half empty waiting for his return. I packed his jar away, my heart was too broken to have the constant reminder sitting out in my home.
I have always loved the beach and would search the sandy grave for hidden treasures. As a child I would collect clam shells, sparkly rocks, and pieces of glass. My father’s pockets proved to be the safest spot for my treasures, he would empty my bounty when we reached the car. I stored my shells, rocks, and glass in a bucket. Over time it got lost, yet my desire to walk the shores remained.
Earlier this summer I decided to finish filling Charlie’s jar. When I visit my parents we go to the beach, my Dad helps me search the shores for Charlie’s treasure. Each time I place a handful of glass and shells into his beloved jar, a part of me heals. I am at a point in the process where I am ok with Charlie being gone and have become open to letting someone else in. As we walk the beach my Dad tells me “No one will ever replace Charlie or fill the void you have, but you have to move on. There is someone out there for you.” My Dad is right, I will never be able to replace Charlie, he will always be a part of who I am. Charlie taught me that its ok to let go and to live life outside of the lines.
Just like Charlie, the sea glass that captured his sense of wonder will always be apart of who I am. For I am just a girl who collects sea glass to fill the empty jar that the man she loved left behind. Filling the jar is my way of saying goodbye. With each piece added I am letting go of the past and healing my beautifully broken heart.
I drive a Prius, buy local, and try to eat as much organic food as possible, my goal is to leave a tiny carbon footprint when I leave this world. However when it comes to my apartment and the décor, I wasn’t being so green. If I got tired of something I bought new and gifted away the old or simply tossed it in the dumpster. Hey one woman’s trash is another man’s treasure, right? Or so I thought. Now that I’ve got the work life balance thing down pat, I had time to get crafty. I decided to turn my cast offs into something that I would love again.
Its amazing what one can do with a $3 can of spray paint and 30 minutes of free time. When I first moved into my apartment I bought some silver plastic butterflies. I was still coming off a color drought aka the ex husband and thought they went perfectly with my light blue coffee tables. I love the butterflies and over time my love of the silver color dwindled. With a little help from my dad I picked out the perfect shade of berry. I used Rust-Oleum’s 2X cover Spray paint and they went from drab silver to a glorious pop of color.
After I painted the butterflies I was feeling pretty capable and thought what else can I paint? After some contemplation I grabbed a can of Rust-Oleum in apple green and set out to paint my lamp bases. One can pick up black lamp bases from IKEA for about $4 a piece and they were easy to paint. Again I loved the lamp shades I had, but was a little sour on the black base, it didn’t mesh with my theme. I smile when I walk into my bedroom and see my apple green lamps with light gray shades, how could you not smile at apple green.
Lamps and butterflies were something I could handle on my own. For my big projects I turned to my Dad. Over the spring I redid my living room. Long gone are the light colors that once filled my days. One light blue side table remained, I wanted to replace it, but I never found the table I wanted. So instead of tossing it my Dad told me we could paint it. I still had a full can of berry left and thought “this would be an awesome color for a table.” With a steady hand my Dad painted the table a beautiful hue of berry, it now matches my beloved butterflies. The table is now a cheery little hello hanging out in the corner with a bird-cage on top.
A couple of months ago HGTV magazine had an article about how you could turn an old coffee tale into a padded topped bench. Knowing full well that I still had two boring light blue side tables left, I thought “I could do that!” My Dad formulated a plan, provided the saw, and a lot of patience. I drove around and bought the supplies for said padded tops. My Dad painted the tables with Rust-Oleum’s 2x cover in lemon grass. I picked up fabric at IKEA, yes IKEA sells fabric by the yard and got a lesson in upholstery foam at Joann Fabrics. Our first upholstery job turned out pretty darn good. I absolutely love my new benches and now I have extra seating for when friends come over.
It turns out that one woman’s trash is her treasure if she looks at it through a different light.
* I was not compensated by HGTV or Rust-Oleum, thoughts are my own*
The Color run is touted to be the “Happiest 5K On The Planet.” It been a while since I’ve attempted a 5K, because of my damaged lung I am no longer able to run. Lucky for me my sister can’t run, well she can run, its just she kicks herself in the ass when she run. (Its a pretty funny sight) My sister had an extra race packet sitting on her kitchen table, when I inquired about it she proceeded to talk me into doing said run with her.
What can I say I was tired and just fresh from reading Sophia her bedtime stories, so I said yes. I said yes to this crazy run that took place at the state fair grounds. Our start time was at 8:30 and I was told to be there by 7:30am. Turns out I am early where ever I go, so I had to wait for the slow people that took forever and a day to get to the fair grounds. (A little planning goes a long way folks) Plus if you are meeting me for the first time you should be early, otherwise I will think you are a poor planner for the rest of my life.
Headed to the finish line!
Anyways everyone finally arrived and we joined the starting line. My sisters friends took off running while we power walked our way into the crowd. It wasn’t long before we met our first dose of color, we held our breath and let our selves get sprayed with blue, followed by orange, yellow and lastly pink. With the finish line in sight we trudged on and as we crossed the line I ripped open my color packet and threw a bunch of pink in my sister’s face. It was glorious and for once in her life, she didn’t yell at me, success!
This morning while sipping my coffee I glanced at my iPhone and saw that today was June 8th. It took a few moments before I realized that I had let Charlie’s birthday pass me by without a tear. On Sunday June 2nd, Charlie would have been 42. I still find myself looking up and asking “Why?” Why, did you have to leave the stage in the middle of your song.” Did God know something that we didn’t, did he need an angel with one wing in the fire. My Mother tells me that our fate is determined before we are even born. Some of us grow old and weary, others die before their time. Then there are those who knock on deaths door and walk away to live another day. Fate is written in the stars, only God knows what’s ahead and we must keep on fighting the good fight until our names are called.
Death, is the only guarantee in life, everything else is up in the air. It’s simple really we start dying the moment we are born. We spend our lives climbing the mountain and searching the every day for salvation. Church teaches us that there is a here after and that if we live a Christian life we can walk through the gates of heaven. I believe that a life without sin is a life wasted. Those who never sin, are like dreamers without dreams. Heaven knows that I’m not perfect, like Charlie I too have raised a little cain and I plan on raising a whole lot more before they lay my body down. When someone has lived a good life Indian people will say “He lived a good fight.” Each day is a struggle and each of us must find the strength to see it through.
No one said life would be easy nor will it ever be perfect. The moment you think fate has smiled on you God will pitch a curve ball and throw a wrench into your plans. I have seen more balls and wrenches than I care to count. I have fallen in love only to fall out, I carried a child that God called home before he set foot on this earth, and I fell in love with a man that died before I could even say I do. For some reason I was allowed to walk away from deaths door only to find myself taking a seat at a friends funeral. Honestly I have been to more funerals than I have weddings and baptisms. It seems that I keep on fighting the war while my friends lose the battle. This leaves me mystified. One day I am certain it will all make sense.
Sixteen months ago I felt like my life had ended, my heart was broken, and I was tired. I was tired of saying goodbye and watching my dreams crash upon the shores. Everyone else’s boat was reaching the safety of the harbor, while my dingy kept crashing into the sandbar. I wanted the safety of the harbor. I wanted to feel the comfort of the navigational beacons as I sailed through the channel. Safe harbor is what I wanted, but the sandbar is what I needed. The sandbar taught me to breath and to let go. I faced the horizon and swam towards the shore. My memories are what carried me, I said goodbye to the land of what if and hello to the land of the living.
There are moments where I look back and wonder if Charlie knew that he was going to die before his time. He lived his life outside of the lines and loved with all of his heart. He would tell me “AJ, God is the only thing standing between us and the sandman, only he knows if we will rise in the morning light.” I thank God for each day I wake to face the sun. With each new day comes promise, a chance to write a new page, and to raise a little cain. Life is best lived outside of the lines. I rather party with the riffraff than waltz with the straight and narrow. I rather hold the hand of a sinner than the hand of a man who never dared to live. I am in no hurry and the cold ground will have to wait another day to claim this sinners heart. For I’ve greeted the sun and I’ve got a little more cain to raise.
This Friday would have been my fifth wedding anniversary. I said I do on May 31st, 2008 and I had one incredible wedding. Looking back that is still one of the best days of my life. I can honestly say I had my dream wedding and loved every moment of it. I have no regrets, in that moment I was incredibly in love with Scott and proud to be his wife. I honestly never thought I would get married and there I was in my Waters by Waters gown walking down the isle on my Daddy’s arm to the tune of “Bless the Broken Road” by Rascal Flatts. I was in tears before I even hit the altar. Scott and I were surrounded by our family and friends. Still to this day people tell me that our ceremony was the most emotional wedding they have ever been too. On that day I just wasn’t marrying Scott, I was accepting Nylan as my son. Scott and Nylan were a package deal or as I would say, when I met Scott, I got a two for one special.
It was important for me to make this day special for Nylan, as this was the day that Nannie marring his Dad. The minister said a special passage about family. Terri talked about how some women come into this world knowing that they will have the capacity to love another woman’s child as her own. We made a vow to honor and cherish Nylan for the rest of our lives. Instead of a unity candle we had a sand ceremony. Three vessels of sand represented our individual lives and once poured into a single vessel the grains can never be separated again. We were a beautifully blended family.
The first few months of our marriage were fine. Scott had his vices and I was just the woman who took care of his child. The threads slowly started to unravel. Scott would tell me he loved me, yet his actions spoke louder and told me otherwise. Soon he grew distant and I was seen as a chore. I was someone he lived with and not the person he couldn’t live without. We fought hard and it always resulted in me apologizing to Scott for the mistakes I made. In his eyes, I was always the problem, I was the reason our marriage was failing. Yet I loved that man with all of my heart, I gave him everything I had and then some. I put up with his vices and things that a woman should never have to face. I did things I never thought I would do in an attempt to make him happy. It was never enough and I was never good enough.
I was always there when Scott needed me and would drop everything to be at his side. On October 22, 2009 I needed my husband. I needed him to tell me it was going to be all right when my world was spinning out of control. He slept through the numerous calls from the hospital and when he did respond he was more concerned about missing work than rushing to his wife’s side. The ER staff told him it wasn’t good and he should get there ASAP. I will never forget the look on Scott’s face when he walked into the ER bay. He turned white, tears filled his eyes, and in that moment I knew he loved me. He felt terrible for ignoring the calls and as the doctor explained the trouble I was in tears fell down his face. He squeezed my hand and said “you can’t leave me now, its Bear and Mr. forever.”
For a while Scott gave up his vices and actually acted like a husband. Scott came home at a decent hour and for the first time in a long time spent time with me. Scott was still the same, yet I had changed. I was not the same and I was angry about it. He listened to my frustrations, quietly picked up the multiple coffee cups, and stood by me as I tried to cling to my old self. Sadly this wouldn’t last, as I got stronger Scott returned to his old ways and soon I was sitting at the bottom. I was no longer important to him and everyone else came before me. By February he quickly forgot that his wife almost died four months prior. He reverted to a world filled with WOW, whores, and Magic the Gathering. I never fit into the WOW Magic Whore equation, I was simply the woman he called “wife” and nothing more.
The final thread let go on the day I found out that the baby I was carrying no longer had a heartbeat. I knew my marriage was over the moment he refused to get on a plane and come home. In that moment Las Vegas mattered more to him than standing by his wife’s side. It was easier to hang with the guys, than to come home to the woman who was carrying his dead child. Scott, even admits that he regrets his decision to stay in Vegas and not being there as I went into surgery. He said “I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to say so I stayed in Vegas, it was my way of avoiding it. I was selfish.” That he was.
Scott and I saw our two-year anniversary, it was a bit awkward. Again Scott was still the same and I was not. Not only was I a pulmonary embolism and stroke survivor, I was now the mama to a baby in Heaven. In away I felt like I was paying for the shitty things Scott did. Like Karma was kicking my ass instead of his. A wise yet slightly unstable attorney gave me some advice that ended up changing my life. He said “It all comes down to a judgment call, there are no winners, there are no losers in divorce, it’s just someone has to make the call and call it quits fist.” Those words seeped into my head and I was ready. On June 27th, 2010 I made the call, I threw in the towel, and walked away from a broken marriage. In my heart I knew there wasn’t enough crazy glue in the world to put us back together.
If I had never said I do, I would have missed out on the storm that was our marriage. I do not regret anything. Honesty I cannot count the father of my children as a regret. Together Scott and I traveled the world, watched Nylan grow up, and became parents to a baby in heaven. We had our moments in the sun, but found ourselves standing in the rain. In the end Scott and I were two souls destined to collide in a beautifully broken disaster.
On February 7th Charlie was packing for what would be his last business trip to New York. He kept telling me “AJ are you going to be able to handle having me in the same town for all day, every day.” Yes, I said. He looked up with his famous grin and said I can’t wait to start our life together, you know be a normal couple with a dog living in a condo by the river.” I just laughed and walked into the kitchen. In truth I was delighted that he was giving up the fast paced New York life for a slow-paced midwestern life. The Valet brought my car up first. Charlie waved eagerly and said seven more days babe. Seven more days and we will be together all day every day. I love you he shouted and he caught the kiss I blew. With those words I was off to work.
Thoughts of our pending wedding raced through my head and mostly I was pretty darn excited to have someone to come home to at night. To have someone who understood how far I’ve come and where I was headed. Charlie knew me better than I knew myself and would tell the bartender “The lady will have a crown and coke, light on the ice with a twist of lime.” When a man knows your drink of choice, he’s a keeper. Most of my problems were solved over connect four and whiskey. Charlie trusted me with reviewing his memos and briefs. He would tell me “AJ this is going to change the world, please review it and check my spelling.” Charlie was a damn good legal writer however his spelling skills needed polishing. Together Charlie and I made the perfect team. He was a successful litigator and I was one hell of a paralegal. Together we created the life that dreams are made of.
Soon the weekend was upon me and I was rushing around getting ready for Charlie’s return. Shopping lists were completed, the Ivy Staff came over and cleaned. Cullen was set and I had started looking for someone to take over the lease on my uptown apartment. My IKEA filled apartment was to be packed up and stored. Each morning I awoke to the voicemail light blinking on my phone. Charlie always left me voice mails when he was out-of-town. On Valentine’s day he left me a long one. The words are forever etched into my memory. “Hey babes, its 3AM my time, 2AM your time, which means you are fast a sleep plotting your world domination. I just wanted to let you know I am all packed and ready to come home. In you I found my home. My world doesn’t make sense unless you are in it. You baby are the reason I breathe, you are the reason my life makes sense. I love you. Happy Valentine’s day love.”
In that moment I knew Charlie loved me more than anything in this world. He called me through out the day to tell me that he was being delayed and hat he was going to take the red-eye. Our last conversation was around 4PM, he was driving back to the city. We talked about his day, how the trial went and if he thought he had won. Charlie asked me how I was, about Cullen, and my day at work. I told him that I was ready for him to come home. Home, never sounded so good he said. I could tell that he was smiling. We said I love you and hung up. I went about my evening and drifted off to sleep around 10:30pm. In my heart I knew Charlie would be boarding the plane and coming home. Home. That Minneapolis would truly be our home. Little did I know, that Charlie would not be coming home.
At 6:05PM east coast time Charlie became the fifth car in a multi vehicle crash. He was air lifted to a nearby hospital and under went emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain and spine. He was unconscious. His mother got the call from the state patrol around 8PM and she rushed to the hospital to be by his side. The Doctors said it wasn’t good and she knew she had to call me. Minah couldn’t bring herself to do it, Charlie’s brother called me and broke the news. I fell to the floor and prayed that he would be all right. The earliest flight they could get me on was the late night red-eye.
On February 15th I went to work and acted like nothing had happened. I was dying inside, yet I knew in my heart that nothing I did would change the fact that Charlie was dying. Bad weather would delay my flight till the morning. At 2:55AM on February 16th my phone rang, in my heart I knew what it was. Minah could only whisper “I am sorry.” In that moment I knew he was gone. Charlie died while in surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain. At 3:15AM his heart gave out.
If only I had known that February 7th was the last day I would see Charlie alive. Maybe I would have chatted a bit longer, gave him an extra hug, and played that morning round of connect four. Then again I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Because I know he died knowing that I loved him with all of my heart. I can die knowing that Charlie died loving me. Love never dies, it is the legacy we leave behind. I may not be able to see Charlie or hear his voice, yet I know he is always with me. He is the voice that whispers “you can do it” on cloudy days, Charlie is pushing me along as he knows a woman like me deserves to be in love and happy. One day Charlie will see to it that I bring a child into this world and he will smile down on a little girl named Charlotte Rae, his namesake.
It has almost been a year since Charlie died and I finally have the strength to let go. To let go of what could have been and to say hello to my present. Losing someone isn’t as hard as the letting go. Letting go was the hardest part of my journey. To me letting go felt like I was turning my back on Charlie and the life we had. It meant saying goodbye one last time and waking up from the land of what if. I had to let go of the past so I could let someone new walk into my life and fall in love all over again. Charlie would want me to move on and to be happy again. Charlie would want me to live life to the fullest and to love with all of my heart. An because of that I am able to finally let go. To let go of a beautiful broken dream.
That is what makes life beautiful, beautiful because we do not know what tomorrow will bring. Each day is uncertain, it is up to each one of us to live it like its our last. To love with our entire heart and to do whatever we can to make this world a better place.
Friday February 1st, 2013 is National wear Red Day.
For the past ten years I donned red on National Wear Red Day. I wore it in honor of my cousin Emma and for my Father. I wore red as a reminder that heart disease knows no age nor gender. Red was my color and I wore it proudly. To me I was making a difference by sharing my Father’s and Emma’s heart stories. To me I was giving back for the second chance that my Father was granted.
My Father’s name is Gregory James. He is the son of an Irish woman and a Ojibway Indian. He is one of 13 children who grew up on a farm outside of Lake City Minnesota. His childhood was far from perfect, his Father was always to drunk to care and well his Mama, they only love he knew was the back of her hand. If you ask him about his childhood he will tell you “I survived by staying one step ahead of my Ma.” He never sugar-coated his life for my sister and I. You see my father was diagnosed with ADHD in the late 50’s. My Daddy was considered a throw away and no one ever thought he’d amount too much.
With only a 10th grade education he set out to conquer the world. He got a job in Minneapolis, lived in the YMCA, and learned that life was tough. Somewhere between Minneapolis and meeting my Mama he earned the nick name “Animal.” I’ve heard stories, but my Father has yet to deny or confirm the tales. Since he was barely making it in the City he returned to the tiny river town. As fate would have it he would fancy a female dump truck driver named Sharon. My grandfather played match maker and before long they were married.
My father is a laborer. He knows nothing but factories and nursery fields.Yet he was gentil and kind. Always lending an ear, a helping hand and playing with my sister and I. My Father was sort of like a stay at home Dad. Often my Mama would work double shifts which left my Dad with two tired and hungry daughters. Our dinners consisted of steak, baked potatoes, and watered down Koolaide. He would also get us up and ready for school in the morning.
Fast forward about 18 years. My father was the proudest man in town. One daughter had just finished college and the other was just starting. This is when the bottom fell out. I knew the day my parents dropped me off at college that it would most likely be the last day I saw him alive. He had fallen on ill-health and with no insurance he did not go to a doctor. One can tell when the soul is slipping away. On February 8th my father was admitted to the hospital, in March 2002 he was taken to St. Mary’s hospital in Rochester by ambulance. He arrived barely clinging to life. This, this killed me because I was away at college. My Father aways told us “When all else fails pray.” I just fell to my knees and prayed. I asked God to take me instead to give my father one more chance at life. The odds were not in our favor. However each day he got better and better. We soon learned that he had suffered Ventricular fibrillation which lead to cardiogenic shock.
My Father had survived. At 50 he became a survivor and we were blessed with his life. The past eleven years have not been easy. As a family we have had our ups and downs. My Father is not the same man I grew up with. His memory has faded, he is no longer able to work, and a good day is when he does not repeat himself 300 times. Those days are hard to come by,yet we don’t complain. Each day we have him around is a blessing. His first granddaughter turned one on the 27th and he was so proud. Seeing them together makes my heart happy. Yet, I am reminded that there are thousands of Granddaughters who never got to meet their Grandpas. An that breaks my heart.
What breaks my heart even more is knowing that there are children who never got the chance to meet their Aunt. Heat Disease, Strokes, and Heart Attacks are robbing children of their Aunties. To me my Stroke is nothing compared to my Father’s courageous battle against Heart disease. Because of my Father my life was saved. If I had never volunteered with the heart association I would not have been aware of the symptoms of a stroke. Through my dedication to my Father my life was saved. We are living proof that research can and does save lives.
My Sister, My Mama, and I urge you to wear Red this Friday in honor of someone you love. Sophia would also like you to wear Red because she loves her Grandpa and Auntie very much. If that is not reason enough please wear red in honor of My Father’s niece Emma. Wear red in her memory and for the tomorrows she never got to see.
2012 was filled with promise. As the clock turned to midnight Doctors were closer to coming up with a cocktail that would put my kidney disease into remission and I was finally starting to feel better. I was no longer taking up residence on the couch, instead I was out and about. Charlie was happy that his AJ was getting better. So glad that he proposed to me while I was a sleep. He totally took advantage of my ability to hold conversations while sleeping. Lucky for me he proposed to me again, this time I was awake. Wedding magazines slowly piled on top of his Play Boys and he was enjoying every minute of my drooling over Vera Wang. I had decided on a simple lace gown with a gecko green sash that tied into a bow on the side. Pie, I wanted pie and Muddy Paws Cheesecake instead of cake. Charlie wanted to pick out the venue and he had chosen the Chateau St. Croix winery. He wanted to hang lanterns from the 100-year-old oak tree and thought it was best to say I do at sunset.
Wedding plan lead to talks of babies. Charlie wanted to be a father, well with a catch. He was a Helion as a child and did not want a boy. He would tell me “If we have a boy I am going to FedEx him back to God. There will only be girls in this family.” I almost died laughing. You can’t blame the man, he grew up with three brothers. Charlie wanted to name our first-born girl Charlotte Rae. I giggled because well he’d say “We can call her Charlie for short.” Yup, he was going to name our daughter after himself, selfish I know. In truth I loved the name Charlotte Rae and couldn’t wait to start a family with him.
Thoughts of weddings jumped in my head as I started my new position at the firm in the burbs. Leaving the team at Faegre was hard, they had become like family. For once in my life I got to be a part of the ripple that was creating a better day. An that ripple will always be with me, because never again will I get to work on a case that big. I was excited to get started at the new firm and lucky for me I hit it off right away with the new Attorneys. While working away and learning the ropes I was counting down the hours to Valentines day. Charlie would be returning to Minneapolis permanently on Valentines day and I was excited to start building our life together.
Valentines day didn’t bring me love, instead it brough a wave of tears. The bottom fell out. I received the late night call that everyone dreads. Charlie’s brother said to me “AJ, sweetie I’m sorry to call so late. Choking back tears he said Honey, there’s been an accident and Charlie was hurt pretty bad.” The air left my lungs and I crumbled into the floor. I couldn’t find the strength to speak or to even cry. I muttered an OK. Two days later on February 16th, I got the call I had been dreading. Charlie’s Mom said to me “Sweetie, I’m sorry.” In that moment I knew he was gone. The man I loved with every fiber of my being was dead.
Charlie never got to say I do and we never got to plan the perfect wedding. Instead I got to plan a funeral, write a eulogy, and place connect four into his casket. I got to say Goodbye to my best friend. Charlie loved the song Cowboys and Angles, the chorus reads: “She lives for me, and I’d die for her.” I can die knowing that Charlie loved me until his last moment on this earth and that he would have died for me. So I must live for him. As the grave side service ended I was given a final moment to say goodbye. The funeral directors stood guard and looked toward the crowd as I placed my hands on his casket. Tears fell onto the cobalt blue lid and I promised Charlie: “Charlie, I will not let this one moment define me, I promise you with all of my heart that I will pick up the pieces and find my new normal. I will not lose my way and I will not lose my sense of wonder. I will always love you.” I also promised Charlie that when I start a family of my own I am going to honor him by naming my first-born daughter “Charlotte Rae.”
With those words whispered into the wind I walked into my future and began to heal. I will never understand why the man thought he was fit to drive after one to many drinks at a Happy Hour. That one drunk driver took the lives of five people on a NY state Hwy that day. Five families will never be the same and our lives will be forever impacted by the moment he turned the key and put his car into drive. I no longer ponder the why or the how. I am at peace with what happened and know that Charlie’s life was not a waste. Charlie’s life was full and he is now resting on the clouds of heaven looking down on all of us.
Charlie was looking forward to meeting Sophia and he couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms. Sadly Charlie never got to meet his niece. Having my niece helped me cope with the pain of losing my best friend. Sophia’s sweet smile and tiny laugh make me smile. When I look into her eyes I see hope, hope for a better world. I have no doubt that Sophia will create change and impact this world in a big way. The world is at her finger tips all she has to do is reach up and grab it. For now she settles on puffs, yogurt melts, and grabbing her Auntie’s hand. She has grown so fast. It seems just yesterday that I was holding her in my arms and now she comes crawling when she hears my voice. I love that little girl more than anything. Charlie would have loved her too. He couldn’t wait until she was old enough to play board games and to learn how to snow shoe. We had big plans to take her to Paris when she turns five. Now I will be taking her by myself and capturing the moments of her standing in the Streets of Paris. Charlie often viewed the world through child like wonder, I pray to God that Sophia does the same and that she will never lose her way.
While Sophia rested in the safety of her home, I was packing up mine. The Ivy no longer felt like home. The condo that we shared was no longer filled with laughter, drafting sessions, and board games. It was like someone came by and sucked the hope right out of the air. It was gloomy and stale. Minah and I cataloged and packed up Charlie’s things. Durring this processes I realized: “It doesn’t matter what we do in life, because all of us end up in boxes.” Tears where shed as I packed away his board games, wrapped art work, and God his clothes still smelled like his cologne. The muppet was sad to lose his friend and would walk around the condo looking for him. Soon the cars were loaded on a flat-bed, the last box was loaded into the semi, and I stood in an empty condo looking out at the Minneapolis skyline. I said my good byes and headed back to uptown.
Before I knew it spring had arrived in uptown and I was slowly finding my balance. One thing Charlie’s death taught me was to spend time with the ones you love. Because you never know when there last day on this earth will be. An I did just that. I no longer worked 70 hours a week and felt like I was cheating when I left the office at 5. Man it felt good to have a life again. I reconnected with Sherri, that girl deserves an award for being a saint. Her friendship means the world to me and I thank God every day that she is back in my life. Cocktails were had on the sidewalk, laughter filled the air, and I was smiling again. I took the time to actually listen to my Father when he called me, had lunch dates with my Mama, and babysat Sophia. Work is no longer a priority, it is no longer my life, and I am thankful that I was able to find the balance. It feels amazing to have a social life and friends again.
In July I went on vacation with my Mama and my sister for the first time in years. My Mama learned that one must keep their mouth closed when going down a water slide. She drank slide water. No one likes slide water. All it took was one weekend to remind me why I love my Mama and my sister. My sister is always there for me. We may fight hard, but we love even harder. August brought Pete and I to the river road winery tour. Connecting with my Father is important to me and well wine makes it fun. By summers end I was ready to put on my dating shoes and make an attempt at a personal life.
On one August night a Chump walked into my life and well as they say “One moment can change everything.” For now the Chump is a keeper. He thinks I am goofy and well he just gets me. It’s not easy to date a complicated stroke survivor. He truly deserves a trophy for taking on such an endeavor.
I said goodbye to my twenties and hello to my thirties in Chicago. I am so glad to be 30, my thirties have to go a lot better than my twenties. Then again I of all people know that nothing goes as planned. So far we are off to a good start.
2012 is the year of construction. Fate tore my life apart and I put it back together. When the bottom falls out you must use everything you have to patch the bucket and move on. Living in the land of what if does nothing for the soul. It only steals your fire and brings you down a dark road. I traveled that road when my son died. Charlie was the light I needed and he helped me over come a bad marriage and made me believe in love again. I have no doubt that he was there pushing me along the path and cheering me on once I found my way. Sometimes we just need one person to throw us a rope, other times it takes a village to help someone out of a dark place. What matters is that you get out. No one is ever to proud to ask for help. Help can come in many forms. For me my Family, Faith, and Muppet like dog got me through the darkest days. I know that Charlie is resting beyond the stars watching over me and cheering me on to my highest potential. I can go to the grave knowing that he died loving me and I will love him until my final breath. Until that day comes, I am going to live the life dreams are made of. Knock down a few walls, take down a few names, and leave this world a little better than I found it. Charlie would want me to do that.
My bucket is patched and I am ready to move on. I am ready to take 2013 head on with all cylinders burning. Love the life you live and live a life full of love. When you do that, you can never go wrong.
A toast: May 2013 be filled with love, prosperity, hope, and more laughter than one soul can handle. May the wind always be to your back and may you always wake up fighting the good fight.
My Dad just celebrated his 61st Birthday and his tenth borrowed year on this earth. On February 8, 2002, my Dad died. He went into congestive heart failure. His heart was just fluttering and they did everything they could to bring him back to us. The man we got back wasn’t the man who raised me. He had aged and his mind wasn’t the same. Since I was at college when all of this went down, he didn’t remember who I was. He would call me by my Mother’s and Sister’s names. I had decided to call him Pete, Pete stuck. My dad aka Pete, knows who I am now and his memory thou sketchy at times, has returned.
In January I got to watch Pete meet his first granddaughter. Tears filled his eyes as he touched Sophia’s tiny hand. My heart melted into the NICU floor as I listened to him whisper “You are a fighter, welcome to the world little one”. In that moment I thought of all the Fathers who never got to meet their granddaughters, instead they watch them grow from heaven. Sophia is one lucky little lady, she is born into a family of fighters and survivors. She proved her worth during her fist weeks of life as she fought of Strep B, like a ninja.
This December we will celebrate with Sophia and our hearts we will be with all of those who are missing a love one. Our family knows first hand what its like to say goodbye to a little girl. Our Hearts are with My Uncle Jeffrey and his children. It will be 16 years on December 29th, since Emma left this world. Emma will always be in our hearts, she is the reason we started advocating for the American Heart Association. Because of her, our lives were saved. Every life lost is not a waste. Every life lost becomes a learning Moment for Doctors and from that life they learn how to treat the next patient. It is my family’s hope that one day there will no longer be a need for research. Why, because we dream of a day where there is a cure. Where families will not have to go through what we did.
It is my dream that one day Sophia will not have to worry about her birth control ending or harming her life. That she will grow up in a world where heart disease is a distant memory. Until that day comes we will teach her how lucky she is. Because not many little girls have a Grandfather and Auntie who beat the widow maker. Not many little girls can say “My Grandpa is a congestive heart failure survivor and my Auntie is a stroke survivor.” She is lucky because many little girls stand by the grave side confused and wondering what happened. Instead our Sophia will one day pound the halls of congress advocating for heart health and a cure, because she comes from a family of survivors.
In June 2010 I walked away from my marriage with a little English Pointer named Freckles by my side. Freckles is a shy energetic rambunctious little soul and she was never meant for apartment life. She needed a yard, a place to run, and a 5-year-old boy to chase her around. I knew what Freckles needed, it wasn’t me, so with a heavy heart I brought her back to my ex husband and Nylan. 
Have Bear Will Travel 