Finding Comfort in Tradition

My children and I find great comfort in tradition.  We love going out to a restaurant on our birthdays, hosting for a cozy party of 25 on Thanksgiving, sharing dinner with aunts and uncles for Christmas Eve, visiting grandparents on Christmas, and hosting our sixth annual Blueberry Muffin Festival on New Year's Eve. 

For the last occasion, families gather with us to drink root beer, devour blueberry muffins, play the piano and card games, eat popcorn, and make merry in a variety of other ways.  Each year our friends sign our tablecloth, so we can look back at the wonderful people that have gotten to join us for our annual festival.  We also dress up like polar bears and read the books that inspired this party.  Irving and Muktuk: Two Bad Bears, by Jill and Daniel Pinkwater.  We find such great comfort in these traditions. 

Our family is now dreaming of finding other awesome books around which to create parties.  Groundhog's Day or April Fool's Day may be next.  The sky is the limit.  We are celebrating the comfort of creating new traditions.

Holding On and Letting Go

My dear partner was so efficient in running a family business, building a dream home, managing our finances, and caring for his friends and family.  As those who loved him reach out and try to support each other in ways my partner was able, I find myself taking on the continuation of the dream home, managing finances, and loving on our loved ones.

As we gather in a variety of ways, I ask myself often what my partner would be doing in each situation, what questions he would have asked, who he would have reached out to.  I want to hold people in the same way he did, being the friend that asked questions and paid attention to the answers, the considerate one who made sure everyone was greeted and offered a beverage.  I have my own strengths in relationships, though now is my time to pull my partner's strengths into my own, to hold him close in my heart in these ways.

My children and I held onto cable to watch college football, hosting gatherings of my partner's family and high school friends.  As the season winds down, we are saying our goodbyes to traditions, these specific gatherings, and the college sports that have filled our home for the last 18 years. 

In each day we are saying goodbye to what once was and making way for the unknowns that awaits us.  We step boldly into the great unknowns of our lives.  We are trying new things, holding our loved ones closer, growing in new and uncomfortable ways.  Behind every closed door, there is an open window, a silver lining, a shift in perspective.  We are ready.  Blessings.

What is best for us now?

As the surviving parent of our little family for the last eight weeks, I often ask myself what is best for our children.  When I acknowledge thoughts running through my mind of renting out our unused rooms to friends or donating everything or selling our home to backpack around the world, I pause to ask myself if this will benefit my children.  I miss my partner dearly, as do our children.  We are still in the fresh stages of our multifaceted grief.  I have managed to keep our children healthy, our bills paid (knock-on-wood), and our routines stable.  Sitting here in the middle of such holy days of winter, I find myself inwardly asking, what is best for us now?

I wonder at the sea of possibilities in creating our new normal: running farther from home, growing our compassion through travel, nurturing our skills as global citizens, learning to surf amongst unknown waves.  I still hear my partner's words and lessons in my mind, his human opinions ringing clear, emphasizing balance in everything.  What is best for us now?

My children and I continue moving forward to embrace what feels right.  I wake up each new day to make the most of each moment with our beautiful children, to stretch my practices of mindfulness and patience and grace and humor and determination, to be the responsible adult with roots and wings, to give thanks for being alive another day with these extraordinary people, to breathe deeply and step boldly into the great unknown of our lives.  I continue to provide nourishing meals, balance in social and unstructured time, to help my children learn the value of manners and responsibility, to maintain strong academic expectations, to feel the enduring love of their daddy, and to help them stay both safe and full of wonder.  Intentional parenting is a tough job, and now is my time to acclimate to moving forward without a coparent.

What is best for us now?  We go into the next moment, finding the delight in being together, in learning and growing and expanding our compassionate awareness and global citizenship in the ways that feel good.  There are only right answers and ideas.  We follow our hearts together, balancing one another in our needs and desires and practicalities. We continue to connect with one another and those we love.  We will find joy in the moments of our lives.  For now, this is what is best for us.

Dreaming Bigger

I never intended to be the single mother of three young children.  Now that I am in this position, I wouldn't change anything (other than keeping my partner safe from cancer).  Now I get to choose how to shift my perspective in search of the silver lining.  As I rebalance and find ways to make our lives sustainable, I find great joy in creating the reality that feels good for my children and myself.

I talk often of dreaming big about the possibilities within our lives, and then dreaming far bigger than that.  I talk, yet I know I can definitely dream bigger. 

My partner died eight weeks ago.  I have been on my own with my children most of that time.  My children and I have just returned from the trip we created, planned, and packed for together.  In the olden days, the packing team was my partner and me.  Now it takes my two older children and myself to make it happen.  We are rebalancing, exploring the possibilities within our new normal.

Dreaming big.  As I flow through the layers of fresh grief, I find light in the possibilities.  I dream of blue glass light fixtures in my living room.  I dream of painting bedroom walls.  I dream of replacing some of my mother-in-law's golden red décor with blues and greens.  I dream of hosting weekly game nights and holiday parties and book clubs and dance sessions.  I dream of welcoming chickens, ducks, and bees into our family.  Dreaming bigger.  I dream of traveling the world with my children.  I dream of regular community service.  I dream of running a successful home business.  I dream of a fuel-efficient winter-capable vehicle.  I dream of a childcare swap that makes space for a weekly bath, balance with homeschooling, and grocery shopping alone.  I dream of my children sleeping without me at night.  I dream of having two hours alone each evening after my children have gone to bed.

I am thankful for dreaming and recreating my own reality.  I am thankful for intentionally finding the silver lining, for finding what is best for my children and me.  I've asked myself often, "What is best for my children?"  Today is the bath I heard the answer.  The best thing for my children is for me to find my own joy while protecting their spirits.  Imagine being raised by a mother who thrills at all the new things she gets to learn (Learning to fix the dishwasher can be awesome!) and experience and create and dream.  Dream a little dream.  And then dream bigger.  Join me.  Let's get on with living these lives we were meant to love.


 

This Holy Moment of Togethering

I am so thankful for the help and companionship of cousins.  My late partner's big loyal Taiwanese family rocks my world every single day.  They are beyond my wildest dreams.  In ways small and large.

At this moment, my two older children are experiencing a wondrous outdoor adventure with cousins, aunts, and uncles.  There wasn't enough room in their snow-safe car for the rest of us, so I got to stay home to play with our youngest daughter for several hours.  Just the two of us.  As the newly single mother of three young children, time alone with one child is simply awesome.  What are we doing to live large with this gift of time?

We started with a snack, brushing teeth, and then... a nap.  We read lots of children's books together, vacuumed and swept, drank tea, climbed furniture, listened to upbeat music, stomped in the snow.  Our party list continues with drawing, singing, dancing, playing, eating, laughing, cuddling, resting.  Bliss.

I am so blissfully thankful for these holy moments of togethering with my wee one.  This holy time to bond with my babe on Christmas Eve.  What a awesome gift.

Carrying our Past into our Present

The winter holidays are a special challenge for those who have lost someone dear.  My partner died seven weeks ago, allowing me to deeply understand the fine balance of past and present and open wounds many deal with each year.  Thanksgiving presented an obvious absence for our family.  In trying to come to terms with my partner's death and keep his memory with us, his photograph and possessions are prominent in our home.  At home I am reminded of him when I spend time in our prayer room, look outside at snow-topped roofs, pay bills bearing his name, and upon so many other reminders.  We want to hold onto him, his sounds and smells and voice and touch, for as long as we can.  This is a way of tending to a constantly open wound as we move forward into new challenges and adventures.

We have gone on vacation to a new place for the end of December.  We packed no photographs.  We remember and talk about our children's "Papa" often, sharing with each other what he would have said or done or packed that we've forgotten or what he would have eaten for breakfast every morning or that he would have been the one teaching our children to swim. 

Last night my partner's cousins began to text about how they were honoring our beloved on this seventh week of his death.  There was a picture shared of his photograph and the sacred meal placed before it.  My sister-in-law set up this space to honor her brother and told us of dreams she has had of him.  I have dreams that amplify his absence, showing me others cannot take his place in our family, acknowledging our greatest loss.  Even in dreams I cannot see him yet.  I hope to.

In our winter adventures away from home, I focus less often upon my beloved partner.  Seeing his face through his sister's text pulled me back into the devastating grief, opening the wound that had closed a little by staying focused on the present moments.  I understand why some people remove their lost loved one's photographs from their lives.  We can hide our pain from ourselves in some way by hiding evidence of the life we've all lost.  After reading the texts, I looked around at our cousins and their loving Taiwanese grandparents, the lively conversations in Mandarin, a home full of laughing climbing children, the evening my partner would have loved to share with us.  I shared my sister-in-law's words and photographs with those at dinner.  We talked about our grief, how nobody could negotiate in business on the level of my partner, the words he would have said, how he would have prepared for this trip, how he helped many people visit this vacation destination yet never came here himself.

We will again return home to bills and photographs and the holes left behind by death.  We will continue to deeply grieve our loss.  For now, in this moment, I again return to my gratitude.  I am so thankful for this life I got to create with my partner, how I get to still be alive and joyful with our children, how I rise to the occasion of single parenting with patience and grace, how I get to type here in a room full of slumbering children, how I get to rise alone and be quiet for a few minutes today, how we get to be someplace new with people we love, how my children and I have many adventures awaiting us in this day, that we get to create new memories together by living in the moment.  What blessed lives we lead.  I am so grateful for our gathering together, our togethering.

New Family Determination

When parenting with my partner, I had someone to back me up, to help me stay balanced, to make way for my alone time, to push me to be a better example for our children.  Now that I get to parent these beautiful children alone, I pull upon my own determination to push me to stay healthy for my children, to find ways to shower alone (instead of with all four of us), to creatively make time to be with other adults, to get my responsibilities completed while parenting, and to find personal balance while with children around the clock.  I am thankful my children are nine, six, and one year old.  My older two are somewhat independent and helpful with their younger sister.  Now we move as a team.

My partner used to plan wonderful vacations for our family, do much of the packing and shopping, and all the driving.  I prepared all details of food and children.  He brought luggage into the hotel room, I washed dishes unloaded food, he put clothes and books into their places.  We managed these trips together.  Yesterday my children and I left home to a yet-unexplored-place to find adventure on our own, as a family of four once again.  We have never taken a trip or even an overnighter without their daddy.  For this journey, my two older children made piles of their clothes and supplies with the help of a list.  I checked and packed the piles.  It took me two days to pack everything.  I stayed up until 3:00am the night before our departure to pack everything, in part because of our wonderfully full social time.  Each older child packed snacks and entertainment to share with their little sister.  They worked as a team to meet each other's needs so I got to focus mainly on driving.  Upon arrival, we worked together to unload and unpack.  Yes, they've been rewarded for their vast efforts and good attitudes with Cheetos, screen time, and a very grateful mama.  My children have more responsibility than most children their age in our culture.  I trust these new skills and determination will help them to care for themselves and others for the rest of their lives. 

Every time I mow our lawn (with a baby on my back or entertained nearby by older siblings), I feel such gratitude for my father making me mow the lawn as a child.  I say out loud each time, "Thank you, Dad, for making me mow the lawn."  He now laughs when I tell him this, but I know this is one of many ways he was teaching me I could manage simple-yet-overwhelming tasks on my own.  I am so thankful for being responsible for household tasks at an early age that benefitted my family.  I mowed the lawn so my dad had time to repair and maintain our household while my mom tackled laundry and shopping.  My family worked hard to support each other.  It was not fun.  It was hard work.  Lucky me, now I get to carry that determination and ability to work hard with me.  I get to share it with my children.  They get to see now that their hard work and cooperation make it possible for our family to take trips.  It wouldn't happen otherwise.  I am so grateful for my children accepting the responsibility in these challenges and their determination to support each other.  What a gift.

Working and playing together