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.
Through work and every day life people ask me if I have children. To save myself from sharing my story I quietly say no and change the conversation. Deep down I know that I have a child, he was born silent and didn’t get the chance to set foot into this world. On May 11th, 2010 an ultra sound revealed that my son no longer had a heart beat. He was no longer alive and there was nothing they could do to bring him back. Genetically he was perfect, he had all of his chromosomes, it’s just his little heart stopped. That day his Mama’s heart broke and she had to learn how to live on this earth without her son.
In the days following family and friends gathered around me and tried their best to make sense out of the situation. Aloucious’ God Mother Lisa told me “You will always be a Mother. God saw that you were special so he made you a Mama to a baby in heaven, you are a Mom, and no one can ever tak that away from you.” Those words brought me comfort and got me through the darkest days I know that I will see my son one day.
There are days where I let my mind wander to the land of “what if” and I wonder what he would be like today. Would he be a wild child like his Mama or be a nerd like his Dad. Would he dare to jump without fear or sit quietly on the sidelines and watch the world go by. I wonder what Aloucious would look like, would he have blue eyes and curly hair or would he look more like Scott.
People often ask where the name Aloucious Gregory came from. Scott picked his first name, the name Aloucious comes from the book Colors of Chaos. Aloucious was the main character Nylan’s sidekick and they build a civilization out of ruin. On the pages they conquered evil and fought for a better world. Scott’s first son is named Nylan, so in his mind it was only fitting to name his second son Aloucious. Gregory is my Father’s name, I chose it because I wanted my son to have the strength of my Father. I wanted him to know that the blood of warriors ran through his veins and that he was destined for greatness. We referred to our son as little bear and his nickname was to be Lucia. I had no doubt that my child was going to change the world, I was the proudest and happiest pregnant woman on the planet.
Little did I know that Aloucious would change my world in more ways than one. Aloucious gave me the strength I needed to take back my own dreams and the strength I needed to walk out of a loveless marriage. He is the reason I fight so hard for those around me and to bring a little justice to those covered in darkness. I would like to believe that Aloucious is looking down on this earth and saying to his friends “Hey look right there, that woman with the passionate heart, that’s my Mom!”
I want Aloucious to know that he was wanted and he was sent off to heaven with more love than one soul could ever hold. Aloucious will never be forgotten. I have a tattoo on the top of my right foot. It is four tiny bear prints, it is a reminder that my son is in heaven and that no matter where I go he will always be with me. My son is most likely the only child I will ever carry and that is all right by me. When the time is right I am certain God will send another child my way, until that comes I am going to live life with passion and be the most incredible Aunt Sophia could ever have. One day when she is older I will sit under the birch tree and tell her about her cousin in heaven.
If you are like me and you no longer have your child in this world, then my heart goes out to you. For we are and we will aways be Mothers to children in heaven. Our hearts are heavy, yet we love fiercely and handle this card with grace, for we know that one day we will see our children again.
Washington, D.C., April 9, 2013 – More than 300 American Heart Association volunteers came to Washington, D.C. today to urge Congress to restore federal funding for the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and to support a Million Hearts campaign to attack the growing problem of high blood pressure – public health enemy No. 2 behind tobacco.
Heart disease and stroke survivors, researchers, and healthcare professionals from around the country met with their congressional representatives and asked them to allocate $32 billion for the NIH for 2014, to restore funding cut by the sequester and get NIH back on track.
The association volunteers also joined forces with representatives from more than 200 other non-profit organizations in a “Rally for Medical Research” on April 8, where they called on Congress to make research funding a national priority.
The March 1 sequester slashed nearly $1.5 billion, or 5 percent, of the NIH budget. A cut of this magnitude will reduce the number of planned research grants by about 2,300, cost more than 20,000 jobs nationwide and shrink new economic activity by nearly $3 billion. A typical NIH grant supports about seven full-time or part-time jobs, most of them high-tech. Every dollar that the NIH distributes through grants returns more than $2 in goods and services annually to a local community.
“If the NIH cuts remain in place, they will damage our fragile economy and threaten our nation’s position as the global leader in medical research,” said American Heart Association President Donna Arnett, Ph.D., MSPH. “More importantly, medical research is vital to discovering new treatments and even cures for generations to come. We must not give up the fight to increase federal support for the NIH.”
Advocates also asked Congress to fund a $35 million Million Hearts Initiative to tackle one of the nation’s most significant public health problems, high blood pressure. More than one in three adults in the United States have high blood pressure, but less than half have their condition under control. High blood pressure is one of the leading risk factors for heart attack or stroke.
MN Delegation: (from left to right) Mark Olson, Vicki Rivkin, Robert “Bobby Z” Rivkin, Dr. John Wheeler, AmandaJean B.
Information provided by the Amercan Heart Association
I find comfort in a delicately plotted plan. In college I made vision boards that plotted my success from point A to Z. I had a grand plan of attending law school and becoming a kick ass attorney. Plans of traveling the world, building a Frank Lloyd Wright inspired home, and when I felt I was successful I would adopt a child. A child that I would raise alone. I never planned on falling in love or getting married. It was going to be me against the world and if love happened, it happened. I wasn’t going to count my eggs before they hatched, instead I plotted them neatly in my head. I was focused, I had vision, and nothing could veer me from my future.
Nothing that is until a dark-haired brown-eyed boy walked across the parking lot of my dorm and swept me off my feet. In him I found comfort like I had never felt before. I would do anything for him and his son. We date long distance, he didn’t come to my graduation nor did he seem to care that I got my degree. I talked about going away for law school. He told me “I won’t wait for you to finish.” With those words spoken, I put hat dream a side and moved in, by Thanks Giving we were engaged. He told me “when one dream ends, another begins.” Over the next 3 years that became my motto. I set out on creating a new plan, a plan that never quieted my desire for more. I loved Nylan with all of my heart, being a mom was one of my greatest joys, I gave everything I had to my husband, and kept our home polished. Yet, something was missing, it never felt right, and I wanted something more. Durring my marriage I never put myself first. My dreams and desires were not worth keeping, they sank slowly to the bottom as my husband whispered “this is your dream now.”
At 26 I became a survivor and little by little I started putting myself first. I was determined and created a new plan. A plan that would never ring true. I found out I was pregnant in the spring of 2010, I was filled with joy and began to plan for this new life. I spent hours debating paint colors and nursery themes. I read pregnancy books and looked into pregnancy yoga. I was happy. Happy because 6 months earlier I was on the brink of death and here I was six months later carrying a baby. This was my calm after the storm. It was decided that I would have a c-section and that I would take blood thinners during the pregnancy. I didn’t have a say in this and I wasn’t looking forward to twice daily injections for 9 months. However I knew that in the end the reward would be worth it. All of my planning went out the window the day I found out my son no longer had a heart beat. I was devastated and overwhelmed. This was never part of the plan. At that point in my life I knew something had to change. I had to find my way and figure out who I was. I only knew AmandaJean the college student and AmanadaJean the wife. I no longer knew who I was or what I wanted. The death of my son was the turning point in my beautifully broken plan.
Divorce, I never planned on it, yet it became a part of my history. I realize now that my PE and the death of my son were to prepare me for the hardest journey I’d ever take, the journey to find myself. The day I left my ex husband was the day I decided to live an uncharted life. I was terrified of failing, mostly I was terrified that I wouldn’t find myself. Terrified of falling down and that when I did no one would be there to help me up. I trip a lot and lord knows I’ve had my share of face plants. Since my divorce I have fallen more times that I can count. The City of Minneapolis is littered with potholes.
In January I unexpectedly found myself unemployed and without a plan. I was terrified I had never been unemployed in my life and I felt like a failure. I started to question my skills. Tears were heard in my voice and friends, they rushed to my side. Attorneys I had worked for in the past reminded me of how my work helped them and why I love my line of work. Lucky for me I was not unemployed for long. Within a week I was hired on as a temporary editor at a publishing company in the cities. That job ended in early April and I am not worried.
A few years ago I would have been a tearful puddle on my couch and desperately grabbing at tiny shreds of a plan. That was then and this is now, now I find joy in living an uncharted life. I can take this time to find the job I really want and take some time to just be me. Nothing in this life is set in stone. Each day we are above ground is a mystery and filled with wonderous exceptions. I’ve learned that a life lived on a vision board, is not a life lived at all. I have come to believe that fate loves to mess with a perfect plan. Maybe its fates way of giving us a slap in the face and saying “hey, while your planning you are missing out on the good stuff. You my dear are missing out on your own life. So stop the planning, throw the vision board out and just go with the flow and expect a few pot holes along the way.” That is exactly what I am doing. I am finding comfort in the beauty and meaning in the potholes.
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.
“Heaven knows that I ain’t perfect I’ve raised a little cain and I plan to raise a whole lot more.”
October 22, 2009 I was taught a tough lesson. Fate taught me that you can either face a problem head on or you can just deal with it. The difference between surviving and dealing is strength. It takes strength to fight back. I could have taken the woe is me route, but that’s not my style. I took the fight tooth and nail route. Survival was my only goal and I dealt with my PE and stroke head on with all cylinders burning. Failing meant life or death. I chose to live that day. I chose to not only survive but to thrive. If I had chosen to deal instead of survive my story might be different.
I like you, have my good and bad days. On bad days I ask myself “Are you having a stroke? No? Then this is not the worst day of your life.” Those words give me perspective, if I am not lying in ICU fighting for my life, than hell I am doing all right. My now former coworker once asked me “Do you ever have a bad day? You are always so positive and cheery?” Truth: I rarely have a bad day. Each day I wake up and grudgingly turn my alarm off is a blessing. Each day that I am standing above ground is a gift. I am living on borrowed time and I am not going to waste it on petty small things. This is my third chance at life and I’ll be damned if I spend it crabby. The fore mentioned is the difference between dealing and surviving. People who deal don’t realize how precious time is and they spend their days wasting away. Survivors thrive because they live each day like its their last and live until their heart bursts wide open. An that is why I never had a bad day. I can’t change the past and my future is best left up to fate.
I have to believe that my stroke and PE are part of some grand plan. I am a firm believer that the good Lord never gives us more than we can handle. I’ll never know why it happened or what my life would be like without it. There are days I wish for my pre PE and stroke life back. Then I think about all of the things I have done, places I’ve traveled, and all of the people I have met. Without the PE my story would be different. My PE and Stroke gave me the strength I needed to mourn the death of my son and it was the final whisper that got me to walk out of my loveless marriage. It allowed me to realize that I had the strength to handle anything and as long as I believed in myself I could never go wrong.
PE and Stroke will not define me. They are only a part of my story and they will not control my life. As a thriving survivor I can rewrite the story and bring a new definition of PE & Stroke survivor to the world. I can bust down stereotypes and help people realize that they affect more than just the elderly. I can stand up and fight for all of those who lost their lives so I could live mine.
Through out February there will be Heart events around the twin cities. When you see a young woman sitting at the American Heart Association table or someone with Survivor on their name tag ask her “What’s your story.” Do this and you will be pleasantly surprised by her fighting spirit and her desire to prevent other women from experiencing her fate. That is the difference between a dealer and a survivor. A dealer curls up and hides in hopes that tomorrow will be normal. A survivor stands up because she knows “No woman deserves to fight alone.”
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.
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.
Have Bear Will Travel 