Category: advice

26 years gone.. a life/career in the fire service.

theycallmebetty4 Comments

A man once told me with pronounced reverence; make the most of every moment because in the blink of an eye 30 years will be gone and so your career will be as well.

That man was my very first fire chief.

During our Academy graduation in April (or so I vaguely recall) of 1995 our Chief stood before us expounding upon the virtues of becoming what could arguably be the most trusted citizen within our society today.

The firefighter.

We were all proud. Very proud, as if superman’s cape had been bestowed upon us that night and instantaneously we began to carry the troubles surrounding our little world.

Those words of wisdom and others from our chief flowed through us that night. Piled upon the months of training, fire attack equations and medical terminology/practices our newly formed brains were ready for work. We sat in awe as one after another stood and were gifted if only temporarily the prominence associated with our glistening new probationary badges.

My journey, our journeys had only just begun.

Our academy class was a newly formed family. Brothers and sisters in arms, who without hesitation had each other’s backs. We came from everywhere but after four months we were one. Being probationary firefighters we became accustomed to lifting each other up and forming a wall for those who cast shadow upon our existence.  

18 months of trials, tribulations and growth, always growth.

Some of our family would stay, some would go, some would rise to the challenge, and some would fall from grace. After 18 months a smaller group stood tall as our silver dollar sized probationary badges were gleefully replaced by gleaming full sized firefighter’s badges. The honor immense, the ensuing challenges limited by our own imaginations, the future uncertain.

We were young, cocksure, and beside ourselves.

We were firefighters.

I recollect this moment in time today because my personal time in the fire service has come to an end.

Oh not of my own doing mind you.

But the human body can only handle so many stressors before it holds the amazing ability to take oneself offline.  

When I embarked upon this journey my outer shield was thick, strong, like blinders to the plow I could only see directly ahead. A forward motion was all I deemed necessary and nothing would place a chink in my armor.

26 years later I sit before this computer, writing, trying my hardest to forge a new resolve, acquire a sense of purpose, and accept a new vision with gratitude and fervor.

My armor is gone, my cape pilfered from the confines of my locker, passed on to another as if never having been slung upon these now tired, older shoulders.

“Make the most of every moment because in the blink of an eye 30 years will be gone and so your career will be as well.”

I hear it, over and over again…..

I never achieved all that I had wished for. I never was able to get my feet firmly on the ground as the ground continually moved out from under those feet. My mind sees the faces of a thousand souls and hears the cries of a thousand more. The world that we know is not for what we believe. Only a firefighter, police officer or EMS provider knows what that means.

26 years later the chinks in my armor became cracks, the cracks began breaching the inner sanctum eventually rupturing, leaving me no choice but to silently slip into darkness/obscurity.

The time has come for me to pack my bags and go.

Always a man who worked extra hard at separating my off duty life from my on duty life it never dawned on me just how deep my on duty life truly ran.

Never the guy to place anything but an IAFF (International Association of Fire Fighters) sticker on my car, I thought I had done an astounding job of keeping my cape safely at work, stored neatly in its locker. No off duty shirts, no custom license plate telling the whole world what I did to support my family. Not because I wasn’t proud of my occupation mind you but because I always felt in the end, when it was over whether by design or divine intervention. My path would be easier, my inner self pleased, not agitated or disheartened upon departure.

Yet here we are……

On April 1, 2021 I will no longer cease to be a person who has garnered the public’s trust through years of honest deed. I will no longer be a part of a crew, a family of brothers and sisters that reach our hands out in a time of need. I will no longer be a part of the banter and shenanigans that follow a firefighter’s career. Some of the very best times I have ever known were within those four walls.  For you will know no joy like that of a firehouse bursting with laughter. I will no longer be able to mentor the young, feel the adrenaline associated with our profession or quite simply relish in the 2 am silence that follows between calls in a busy firehouse. I will miss the look in a child’s eye when we step off our engine, capes on, ready for battle; the “thank you’s” that follow a job well done and the pride that comes from working with such outstanding human beings. I will miss every moment, every second, and wallow in a strange pride filled sadness each time my fire engine goes by without me. My job was more to me than I ever gave it credit for becoming.

Because of the circumstances surrounding my health and recovery I have already hung up my helmet, folded my last uniform shirt, emptied my strike team bag and neatly pressed my Class A uniform for storage.

I watched with great sadness as my cape was quietly taken away.

I am alive.

I hear that a lot. From friends, from acquaintances, from people who have just recently learned of my story.

I am alive, yes I am.

I always knew this time would come. I always felt it would be at my request, upon finishing what I chose to achieve. But you see that is the thing about life and about unknowingly carrying the weight of so many with no regards to recognizing the weight burdened within you.

It takes a toll.

That toll becomes heavy, and after a while unnoticeable. You become a good almost gifted actor.

Trust me the toll is there, lurking, waiting for the right moment to rise from the ashes of what was, what is and creating what will forever be.

In my particular case I paid with my heart.

One bodily function we truly need to keep us alive. I paid, as many others have paid, some never coming home again to the ones who they so adore and for that I am thankful to be right here, right now.

My problems are now my own; I wake up each day and wonder what’s next? Where do I go from here? What should I be looking forward too?

Upon my final day I am not sure how I will feel. I am hoping excited, filled with optimism, able to accept congratulations from those I cherish. I am hoping it feels just as I had dreamed; as if one door is closing and another is opening.

There are definitely new limitations to my existence. Going from a strong, gung-ho type A fellow to what I am now has been difficult. But not intolerable..

26 years…… Twenty Sixxxx, hmmmm

With my hand placed over my much louder, sometimes irregular beating heart, taking a moment to judge its steady rate, I devour my morning medications to keep it doing just that, running steady and I think……

I think….I may need to find a new cape……..

Scars

theycallmebetty2 Comments

We all have scars, for to live a life it is inevitable. Whether they lay upon your skin for the world to see, or deep underneath where only the devil resides. We have them, they are there and in most cases these scars are hard earned remnants most choose to ignore or forget.

But to me it seems what we do with them ultimately defines us as human beings.

I will show you mine.

I have all kinds of scars to share. Hard earned in the heat of battle, worn like an inner badge of honor. Obtained through circumstance, or byproduct of a life lived teetering towards the edge. Deep painful scars left on my psyche after watching as those you love most cease to exist. Mental scars developed from years of horrific imagery that never heal, growing, straining; leaving behind just enough meat for my eccentric brain to pick.  They thrive and live on, never quite healing, instead evolving in darkness.

I will gladly show you my scars because I feel it’s what we as human beings must do. My scars don’t define me, they never will. My scars don’t enrage me, for how can you remain mad at what was? I survived, learned, and grew, therefor my scars electrify me, making me stronger, hopefully wiser, tempered and kind.

To carry my scars both inner and outer, under wraps, stowed away from the world means I have lived a life for me and me alone. I believe we are supposed to live our lives for others. So we as a collective whole may learn and grow. Knowing there are more; that someone is never alone and they need not stare at their scars wondering why? What if there is one person out there who doesn’t see their inner scar(s)? You know them. They only see what’s pouring from the depths of their soul as an incurable leak. Like blood from an open wound. For them there is no ability to heal, to form a much needed inner scar. An ultimate reminder that what they went through was actually needed although it may not seem like it at the moment. To know they will survive, carry on and experience the life of their choosing.

The choices we make in life dictate our outcome.

My aunt and I (as we always do) had a wonderful conversation about life, death, the job I have done for over 20 years and the experiences associated. My Aunt having worked a suicide hotline and of me being a fireman. We talked about loved ones lost, people near death, and the loss of my dear uncle not more than a day ago.

The key being we talked.

She asked me; after everything, with all I have encountered in life.

Had I ever contemplated suicide?

My answer was, has and will always be; No.

Life, no matter how difficult at times is this amazing gift we have been given. It is ours to do with what we choose. I cherish every single second. I know there is a life is over for me ticket floating out there somewhere, waiting to be punched. But not today man, not today.

So every day I make a choice.

I get up in the morning and I look at my scars.  Several look like bullet holes across my abdomen, there is a 12 inch one that runs the length of my chest. I have scars on my legs, hands and feet. I have scars around my groin. Each representing a moment when I could have said quite simply; why me? Then given up..

I stare in the mirror at this aging 54 year old body. Once in peak shape ready to climb any hill, cut down a tree, drag some slash, pull some hose and spread water on a rapidly advancing fire.

Now, I get dizzy tying my boots. Sometime I lose my balance and just fall. I can no longer run, no longer climb, no longer carry 50 pounds of gear on my back like it’s nothing more than an extra jacket. Hell I can barley raise my right arm over my head! The absurdity at times is unreal. Medications are taken daily to regulate everything, and to keep bad things from happening to me somewhere, somehow, further down the road!

Quite a different world from simply a few years ago.

I stare, and I stare some more. Then I smile, because I am alive. I cheated death. I get to see another sunrise, another sunset, I live in a country where I can fulfill whatever crazy dream I chase no matter the age or restriction. The only thing to hold me back is me, myself and I.

I stare into my eyes.

I stare at my reflection to see the faces of those I have lost. The inner scars begin to show. My first wife Kim (heart failure), my second wife Jacy (Leukemia), an unborn child, my grandparents, my father, several friends, and now my uncle. I think of them all. I wonder what was, what could have been and what if? I thank them for all they brought into my life for I grew as a person from every experience shared with them all.

The outer scars are reminders, the inner scars are pain.

So what do you do? How do handle these emotions, these reminders, these in your face every fucking day reminders?

As I said; every day you make a choice. Every day you decide how you are going to deal with you and your bullshit.

Today, like every day. I choose life, I choose love, I choose forgiveness, I choose a future, I choose to wake up and see the sunrise, I choose to sit on the porch and watch the sunset. I choose to bring a smile to a friend, as well as to a stranger. I choose to never, ever let my scars hold me down.

Every day, every way.

Wake up, put your feet on the floor, stand up and take one step forward.

Only you can, for no one else can do that much, for you.

Learn to love your scars.

Look at them, look and look some more, then look away and ponder what the the day and life holds in store for you.

I promise you will become stronger.

I promise your fears will subside.

I promise your sadness will deepen before you rise above. But YOU WILL RISE ABOVE!!!

I promise you will tap into the aggressive beast that resides within.

I promise you will ONLY be you.

And that alone is worth the scars….

One year ago….

theycallmebetty7 Comments

I really wasn’t prepared…

Oh I thought I had taken all the precautions necessary for a major surgery.

As I stated previously, before the surgery I was quite literally in the best shape of my life! So surgery be damned, I wasn’t changing a thing! I continued eating right, kept myself in excellent shape, and continually tried focusing on the positive as opposed to dredging myself through self-doubt and inner despair.

I believe I even talked a really good game! Like a salesman expounding upon the virtues of a product! Telling those close enough to me to be in the know that the odds were in my favor. Building upon the very statistics I despised while regurgitating knowledge obtained from my surgeon. But let’s face it, at night I was a complete and at times uncontrollable mess.

Often times as I closed my eyes during a moment of peace or reflection; it looked like the end, it smelled like the end, it tasted like the end and that last tasting of my perceived reality was hard to swallow. Many times I’d walked this pathway as a proposed rock, the shoulder, the crutch, carrying the very same sorrows or concerns of my loved ones. Many times I had been told all the facts and how whatever the medical complication was it was a walk in the park. Yet too many times I sat and watched painfully as it all went to shit!

I tried to become prepared, I really did! Sending the two youngest off to their grandparents so they wouldn’t become a part of this hysterical medical machine. Hoping and praying they wouldn’t need to witness the aftermath of another parent in really bad shape post operation. Carefully my will was wrapped into a nice neat little package and distributed accordingly. The house and all the animals were in good hands, taken care of for the next month without worry. My bedroom had been remodeled in anticipation of my return complete with refrigerator, microwave and a lazy-boy recliner which sat you upright through an electric motor.  All of this necessary as I wouldn’t be allowed to come downstairs for two weeks at the earliest. This was due to the physical strain it would place upon my system post operation.

I was reminded constantly just how weak I would become, how hard it was going to be to breathe, how important it was to do respiratory therapy each and every day. The thought of being immobile, in need, a useless weakling that couldn’t care for himself, I could not bear yet I treated jokingly! I really began to believe those who struggled through these operations did so because they were old, out of shape, and didn’t care for their bodies which is what most likely landed them in this position in the first place. I know it was arrogance, but it was a façade I placed upon myself to help me believe I could accomplish this feat.  Nothing no matter how scared I really was could change the fact that I needed to believe, I needed to know I was coming back, and after all I had been through in life, there was no way I was abandoning my family now! I was strong!

Yeah about that….

I stared at the ceiling tiles that morning in the hallway. They rolled me inside one of the operating rooms, I remember the nurse being super nice. In a matter of minutes an I.V. was in place and my hands were strapped down behind me. I don’t even remember if I was told to count backwards. No laughter, no goodbyes or see you in a bit, no God Damn Van Halen! Yeah; no turning back now. Everything, my whole world simply faded quietly into black.

Waking up, well I don’t even remember the first time I woke up. Lyn’s said it was when they removed my intubation tube. (I just realized typing this my heart rate has doubled, maybe I am a little traumatized?)

This is what I remember from my 7 day stay in the hospital.

My chest hurt! Fuck it hurt! It hurt badly, but through modern chemistry and my desire to look tough in front of my girl (I failed miserably) I remember trudging through some pain that I probably shouldn’t have.

My stomach bloated with air continued to do so for several days. My abdomen hurt, it stretched and I went a few days longer than I should have before my intestines decided to awaken and resume operations. It was touch and go for a bit, and I never want to go through that miserable experience again either.

I had to walk during my physical therapy. The first day was next to impossible and I struggled with the fact that a few days prior I was this healthy strong man who could have run a marathon and now I couldn’t make it to the door of my room without wanting to collapse. Dizziness, nausea, the inability to breathe, wanting to vomit and full body weakness is what greeted me whenever I would stand.

On day two of physical therapy I got pissed at the therapist who kept telling me after ten or twelve steps I needed to lean against the wall! Several times I would explain that we didn’t need to stop, yet she would order me to the wall citing it was in my best interest. Fuck that! I walked off on her and did the circle around the whole quad as a giant F-U! She left and I collapsed in bed exhausted having gone far beyond my capabilities. But I did it and it was a win for my mental wellbeing.

A female night nurse who kept calling me “papi” drove me completely bonkers. How you feeling papi? You need pain meds papi? You want me to get you more pain meds papi? Then as if I didn’t have a say, she would dose me up like a stone cold heroin addict! Oh yeah, she dosed me up so bad one night I thought I was going to die. My morning nurse Andrew after talking with Lyns recognized what was happening and saved my ass! He was my favorite of all the nurses who cared for me. Of course Lyn’s figured out the crazy night nurses game and was all up in her shit about her improper patient care! I never wanted to see that woman again.

I wish Andrew could have been my primary nurse the entire duration of my stay. He understood every minute aspect of my condition and adjusted shit accordingly. I felt safe when he was around and more importantly so did Lyn’s. There was also a nurse near the end of my stay named Chelsea. She was amazing and I felt safe when she was around as well. There is something to be said about nurses that know and love their job. They make a difference every single day.

I learned that I am 100% a horrible patient! The very worst! You know the kind that throw it in you face with statements like; I know myself better than you, you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do! Yeah I was that guy! But I think that behavior as far as I am concerned arises from having been a care giver to others. Strange I know, but truthful none the less for you see we as caregivers have a standard set in our heads and expect the very same in return, but quickly you learn that the work world you live in is yours and yours alone. It is not how the rest of the world operates and others standards which may or may not be less, equal or superior to your own are theirs and they surely would believe your level of caregiving was most likely inadequate.

I learned the importance of letting new people inside my life. Lyn’s was there for me from day one. She never wavered, she took time off work to care for me, she took it upon herself to ensure my care was top notch all the time and she never left the hospital! Not once, not one moment, not one second, anytime I looked to my right, she was always there with a tired, worn out sleepy smile. If I moved she was at my side seeing if I needed anything. She cheered me on when I struggled and cheered for me even louder when I succeeded. She celebrated my stubbornness and never let me forget the reasons I was still alive. I will forever be grateful for the love and compassion she showed me along the way.  She taught me a term that we use between us to this day.

Every day, every way..

I also learned that true friends are just that, true. Those that learned of my operation later on weren’t offended for me keeping it to a tight nit group. Those who knew, kept the lid quiet and my recovery was peaceful. It was a time of renewal for me and my inner circle, a time of growth as people became closer and new people entered my life. It was a time to stop and see things differently. No longer always on the go as fast as I could helping, caring and worrying about others. No longer hearing alarms several times in the middle of the night, running calls at midnight, 1, 2, 2:30 and 4 am. Barley getting sleep some nights while getting 3-4 hours another. It was time to stop and be thankful I was in fact still alive.

No matter the pain, no matter how hard it was to do simple things, I always reflected, learned and did my best to thankful. Like walking from the recliner I slept in for two months to the bathroom. I hated sleeping there, but the reality was I couldn’t lay flat, I was lucky to have it, and I could have been in the hospital but I wasn’t, I was home. Or needing to breathe into a stupid fucking tube for respiratory therapy! God I hated that stupid fucking tube, but the reality was I needed to for my lungs to get stronger, to help keep pneumonia away and the sooner I reached certain goals the sooner I would begin to grow stronger. To simply being able to eat more than a spoonful of food. That was indeed a hard one, but I did, even when I didn’t want too and after depleting myself to a gaunt 158 pounds it didn’t take long to return to 205. Staring at the wall, not moving much, watching movies and healing was my new pastime. It was boring, I don’t do well sitting still, but I did it and was thankful to still be alive.

It has been a long hard road over this last year and Sunday the 28th was my one year mark, my new birthday. I still am nowhere near 100%! Oh like I stated, the weight is back on and I am much stronger, but my heart still jumps to 120 bpm for no reason at times, and I still have episodes of A-fib when startled. I can only do a challenging task for a little while and then I need a couple hour break, I also can no longer take the heat. If it hits the 90’s and up I get a little nauseous.  I can sit in it, I have done a little fishing on hotter days, but for the most part I get really tired and it feels hard to breathe.

But all of that aside, I am here still. One year later. Still breathing, still kicking, still ornery and still able to witness my children’s lives. I don’t know what the future holds. I miss my station, I miss my crew, and yes even though it was beginning to wear thin, I miss the calls, the excitement, and the ability to help another human being during the toughest moment of their lives.

I’m still scared.

There are so many variables with this operation in my case. I could be back on the table in a year or five or ten? Nobody knows. But the one thing they all know is that it will happen eventually and I will need to go through this all over again. The key to my life right now is no stress. Stress places a greater chance the valve will be replaced sooner than it needs too.

Have they not met me???? I am nothing but a ball of stress!!!!!! All the God Damn Fucking Time!!!!!!

Phew… Deep breath… Good air in, bad air out…….

The aneurysm repair so far shows it was done flawlessly! That brings great peace of mind. But that damn valve repair will haunt me forever. I am on baby aspirin every day to prevent clotting right now. Terrified to go on blood thinners, yet it is a very real possibility that I need to live with.

So we move forward. Like I always say; get up in the morning, put both feet on the floor, stand up, and always take that all important step forward. Don’t sit back down, don’t cry over your bullshit, just square up those shoulders and move.

Life is to short and regardless of what you are bombarded with daily on television, or Facebook or from some of your weaker minded friends, to damn beautiful to do anything else but enjoy.

If you don’t believe me, do like I do and get up at 5:30 am to watch the sunrise. I promise, you’ll be thankful you are still here as well.

Coming to Terms…This ones for you Jim Wilson.

theycallmebetty11 Comments

“If I ever needed to know how he was doing, I would simply read his blog….”

So are the words of a man I hold in high regard.

To Jim, this one’s for you.

Coming to terms with a traumatic event in your life can at times become very difficult. You and you alone will ultimately decide how, where and when you face whatever collateral damage that event may have inflicted upon your mind, body and soul.

I do not believe there is any one answer. For those that believe there is a dedicated path to recovery, I have no words. That every human being is so cookie cutter perfect, a simple pathway of textbook answers by those in the know is exactly how each person will perfectly handle grief, suffering, stress, emptiness, loneness, mental isolation, adversity and a host of other emotions is absurd.

Now don’t get me wrong, the help afforded through networks of well-meaning individuals with countless hour of education is definitely needed, wanted and effectively utilized.

My problem is this; those preaching the loudest are not the ones in the know. They are not the ones who have suffered and been helped. They are not the ones with hundreds of hours of education within the process. To me, when I look around the ones preaching the loudest are those who are arrogant and the closest to you. With little regard to how you feel, or the knowledge you have obtained along the way, believing they know more about you under the guise of caring for you because they are close to you and you appear to be struggling. Yet their motive most times is very clear. They wish to be the ones to say at the end of the day, they were there, and it was because of them and them alone that you are making it. In the end it is about them and not you. Most don’t even know they are behaving in this irrational manor, a smaller handful do and enjoy it.

There is no substitute for experience and even though I am speaking for myself, I wish those experiences on no one but wear mine like a badge of honor. I have earned this shit! Good bad or otherwise, I have earned my way through surviving each and every single devastating thing I have witnessed or been party too these 53 years of life. The ones speaking the loudest have witnessed little in my opinion and although everyone’s tolerance or idea of what a tragedy may or may not be is differing, I am sure I will be chastised at some point for my view being wrong or delusional.

I don’t know why I felt the need to get that off my chest but I did. All part of the process I guess.

I digress; I said this one’s for you my friend so here we go.

I have not comes to terms..

I still haven’t comes to terms with the passing of my first wife Kim. She was an amazingly beautiful human being, the mother of my first two sons and quite simply the kindest person I ever met.

If she did something to upset you, the minute she knew there was nothing that would stop her from correcting that wrong. In ten years we fought once. Once and it lasted a whole 20 minutes or so. She gave me two of the greatest gifts I had ever received. One is currently a CHP officer and the other works construction hoping to one day be a fireman like his old man. She never saw them grow up, she never saw them off to school, helped with their classes, went to camp with them, or guided them into adulthood. She missed it all. All of it.

I know she is gone, I know she will never walk through the door again, I know this is part of life and I know I carried on the way she would have wanted me too. I wish I could say goodbye, but I never have been able too. My heart hurts when I think about her, she was taken way too soon. I would have given it all up, walked away, allowed her life to be with someone else, somewhere else if it meant she wouldn’t have been taken.

I had not dealt with a lot of death at that point in my life. It was strange to see her after she had passed. Serene, peacefully in eternal slumber. It always stuck with me, if I close my eyes I can see her now. My job had not jaded me yet, life hadn’t begun to punish me. Little did I know.

I am also incredibly thankful for our time together. She made me a better person, she built up my confidence, supported my decisions and always stood by my side through the consequences. And believe me there were many. To deal with the younger me, love me and stand by my side on a daily basis took a saint.

There is a picture of her on our wall. She will forever be 34. To be so lucky.

I have still not come to terms with the death of my father.

A man I revered early on in childhood, who through failure and disgust with what I can only assume was himself, became an angry, grumpy and at times violent man. As a young boy I looked up to him, idolized him, loved standing in his shadow and believe me when I say my dad cast a large shadow! I learned much from him. It is because of him I have always believed in doing what’s right, even when no one is looking. Speaking for those who cannot or do not have the power to speak regardless of the consequences and never faltering on a true friend. EVER!

It is also because of him that I have spent a lifetime struggling with an explosive temper. Fighting the urge to fight at the drop of a hat or hit my kids as a form of punishment! I wrestle with it daily, but I do it because it is what’s right. I hated him for the times he beat me, I despised him as a teenager for those years and knew I would eventually become bigger and stronger than he would ever become. I did eventually become bigger and stronger, it didn’t help.

As he grew older he became harder to be around. I became softer in my stance but the damage was done. Our years of butting heads made it where I had a hard time loving him, seeing him as anything but a bully. My parents moved onto my property so we could keep an eye on them as they aged. In my naïve thought process I thought it would bring us closer but it pushed us farther apart. Both of us stubborn, both set in our ways I found myself purposely avoiding him.

When he passed away in our driveway, all I wanted to do was turn back time and say I was sorry.

Sorry for being a troublesome child.

Sorry for fighting/rebelling against him all the time.

Sorry for never living up to his standard.

Sorry for not being the son I am sure he wanted as I was adopted.

Sorry for so many damn things I could write an entire book.

I carried, and still do; all the guilt.

I just needed to be eight again, when he was my dad. Really my dad! The man who held me, kissed me, hugged me, let me sit next to him during a Niner’s game. I will never truly know what happened or why. But that was all I needed and as I parent my kids feeling as though I am failing at every moment, I pray when I am gone, I did a good enough job and they won’t feel this way. It sucks…

I have not come to terms with my second wife’s death.

How do you say goodbye twice? How do you even fathom believing you can not only lose one wife but two! Seriously!! What the hell is wrong with life that this can happen again! How can two amazing women walk into my life, stay for a while and then be gone like the wind. Ten years the first time felt like a dream, this (16 years) felt like the blink of an eye. An alternate universe, a black whole.

Kim went fairly quickly; her heart failing, it was painful, scary but she only suffered for a short period of time. But Jacy, poor Jacy struggled and fought, and struggled some more. She lived with incredible pain every single day, while trying her very best to show a consistent positivity that one could only hope our society strives for, yet really; who deserves that much pain and struggle? Who?

Jacy was a people person and not one person I knew thought otherwise. She had the incredibly rare ability to make a friend from anyone. She could morph herself into any situation and always be loved by all. It was her gift. Anywhere anytime, it didn’t matter. The back of the school yard as a teacher or the far reaches of Haiti. People flocked to her, people loved her.

She willingly and gleefully raised, loved and cared for my first two sons, we added another son together and adopted our daughter. She always placed the kids first and did her best to keep them on their toes, created fun lasting moments in their lives. I still don’t understand how life can take away two moms from one set of boys and the only mother three of them ever knew. Leukemia is a bastard.

I am unable to clear my head from the vision of her taking her last breath. It is with me most days. I look at those I love and pray to never see them die the way I saw her pass away. When my children are sleeping, I stare at them to see that little movement. The rise and fall of the chest. I am permanently scarred. Always looking to see if you are alive. I have witnessed the passing of so many human beings, it wears on you over time. Death staring you in the face. It makes it hard to appreciate life sometimes. While others may hear a clock ticking in the background, I hear a life clock clacking loudly, harshly, reminding me it (death) can be at any moment.

I have not come to terms with my own mortality.             

Three important people in my life gone. People I never knew beyond the few seconds I attended to them in the course of my job, gone. Faces, feelings, the most awful things one could ever have seen done to the human body, emotional disconnect, doubt, all run through my thoughts every single day.

Spending my entire adult life hiding behind a wall of false security. Being a firefighter, we train, learn and work our best at protecting you while needing to feel invincible. It is the only way we could do our jobs. Nothing can touch you, nothing can hurt you, and your good deed bank is overflowing so how can anything bad ever happen to you?

Three gone and I feel wounded. Then I learn that I have an aortic aneurysm and a failing heart valve a mere 8 months after losing my wife. Where is the justice? Why do bad things keep happening? Is there any sunlight left in this world? Why does the darkness always fall upon me or the ones who surround me?

My oldest is a newly christened CHP officer. He has wanted this since he was 8 years old. I am beyond proud of this man for chasing his dreams. Success always follows hard work. Yet, I don’t sleep at night sometimes worrying about him, on his own, with back up 45 minutes away. Especially in today’s climate! He is a public servant, raised in a public service family. All people are to be treated with kindness and respect until proven otherwise. No one person is any better than the other. Yet all some see is the badge which incites hate. Never mind the person or the fact that even though you hate him for what he represents he will gladly protect you, while upholding the law. Praying daily I am the one carrying all the bad luck for the entire family. It all stops with me.

I have a girlfriend. She is amazing. But what is she in for by being with me? Is she destined to perish to soon as well? Will some other medical bullshit mow her down in the prime of life? Would she lead or live a better life by never being with me? Am I cursed? Will her family be cursing me if something does happen? How many people do you know who lost everything twice and are still sane? Still looking for the sunshine on daily basis? How many?

You know, funny tidbit, things come in threes! Are we truly fucked in the end?

Friends have come and many have gone over the last almost two years. Faces and attitudes changed. Some telling me what I should be doing and not supporting me when I didn’t agree. Others openly accepting changes in my life because they understood. Missing a few who kept quiet but just disappeared. Relearning people all over again.

Coming to terms means: To begin to or make an effort to understand, accept, and deal with a difficult or problematic person, thing or situation.

I don’t know if I will ever truly come to terms with some or any of what I have just described. But I do know this, because unlike many humans I have encountered. I know, like and love myself, regardless of any doubt, struggle or pain. I can look in the mirror and say yes; I would hang out with myself if we ever met.

In the end, there is this;

I will always, wake up each morning, put my feet on the floor and take one step forward. Life is so incredibly beautiful if you take a moment each day to look around. It is also too short to think otherwise. Move forward, every single day, breathe and know what will be, will be.

And this.

If you ever want to know how I am doing? Just read my blog.

Thank you for being you Jim Wilson..

30 days..

theycallmebetty4 Comments

Over the next month, I met with doctors, health professionals, and people from work. Every person I met I felt as though I was saying goodbye. I hugged, I smiled, I behaved as though nothing was wrong. Then once alone I would cry.

 My girlfriend was amazing! We did get the very best doctor there was for this procedure due to her efforts. We were told we had a very favorable outcome according to those in the know. After one appointment in particular it was explained that I had the arteries of a 20 year old! All positive things!

Lyn’s helped me finish the will. With my son Cody as the executor and my three best friends all holding certain positions within, I knew the children, ranch and animals were well cared for. Signing it, having it notarized, watching friends sign it, was incredibly sobering.

There were a few fun moments.

At my angiogram the nurse and I were talking and he asked what I would like to listen too as I drifted off to sleep. I responded, can we play some Van Halen please?

As I rolled into the room Sammy was screaming on the overhead speakers. That gentle, gracious kindness to a scared 52 year old man I will never forget. My eyes are wet thinking about how much the gentlemen from that room calmed me down, and let me drift off on my own terms. I am forever grateful.

Lyn’s asked me to list all the things I wanted to do in life but never could. When I asked why? She simply stated, because you have more than earned them!

The reality; it was something else to look forward too. To think about living for beyond the operation date. Something other than worrying about my family, my children, my very small circle of friends, all for whom I have no desire to leave. It was a new tomorrow, sunlight at the end of the tunnel, an umbrella from the rain. She was shielding me while providing mental warmth.

Daily I would melt down, daily she would ask me:

Where am I?

I would respond: right here…

Where am I going?

I would respond: nowhere

Then (not ashamed to say) I would cry again..

She would look me in the eye and say, I expect the same from you. You are not going anywhere, this all will be fine, you have the best surgeon, you are in great shape and healthy. This will all be over soon and you will be back to being you.

I chose during this time to silence myself from social media, and from this blog. To keep this procedure to myself. Some would (actually some did) say it was selfish, I should have asked for help from those who cared. But to me, after all I went through after my first wife Kim passed away, and after running through the gauntlet with Jacy’s battle, I simply wanted to fall away. If the operation went south, if they failed to save my valve or botched the aorta transplant, to me nothing would have been more beautiful than to simply draw myself into darkness. Fade to black. No one needed to know.

I had done things right for once, the kids were to be well taken care of, and my friends are my friends because they would understand. The only things that bothered me most was the loneliness the kids would have for eternity because they had lost so much! Between losing both their moms and now their dad; what a fucking mental train wreck for all of them.

Speaking of mental train wrecks! I ended up telling the kids after my first appointment with the cardiologist. Jake and Cody both were home and I asked them all to please sit down on the couch for a family meeting. The looks on their faces, my god I will never forget the looks on their faces. It took a while for it all to settle in and when it did, there were a few questions. I did my best to answer everything honestly. It was so very hard to look them in the eye. I was ashamed I could not be their strength any longer. I am their father, dad, and the foundation for this family yet here I am, just as vulnerable as both their moms. Not the man they thought or I believed they knew me to be.  

And then there was Lyn’s, this whole surgery thing bothered me for Lyn’s as well. Sure we were a fairly new couple, but simply put; I knew that pain all too well. One day someone you love or care for is there and then they aren’t. It’s mortifying, draining, scary, and leaves you always wondering what if.

What if they had lived a full life? What would they or we have become? What would the world have held in store for them/us? Questions that would never be answered.

A whole month, from diagnosis to operation. One trip to the ER because of some strange chest pains in the middle. A whole, long messy, shitty, emotional month. I was scared to move, to breathe, to cough, to lift, to ride my horse, to sit on my motorcycle, I was terrified of every single ache and pain that moved through my chest, I was afraid to live, in reality I was mentally living to die. My entire mindset was just that, counting down the days until surgery, counting down the days until I die, counting down the seconds until I said my final goodbye.

June 27th 2019

Lyn’s and I head to Mercy hospital. I am having my body shaved today by some stranger in a small room while they poke and prod, take samples of blood and prepare me for tomorrow’s grand finale! Uncomfortable is the word to describe how I feel yet strangely to this day it doesn’t even come close to how I felt.

Clean as a whistle we head out for one last meal. We laugh, we joke, and we have a very good time. Heading home the rest of the evening is spent with kids, family. I still feel like I am saying goodbye. Like a death row inmate having the proverbial last meal.

That evening, I don’t sleep very well.

June 28th 2019

Lying in a cold hallway, staring upwards at the tile ceiling I am waiting my turn.

Time

theycallmebetty2 Comments

What is there to say about time?

“Don’t waste your time with explanations, people only hear what theywant to hear” ~ Paulo Cohelo

“It has been spoken that time heals all wounds. I do not agree, I believe that time distorts the remembrance of pain teaching us how to survive, to move forward as we begin to live again” ~ Betty

“The past is gone, the future is yours and yet we are collectively mired in the moment. It is yours to grab a hold of and thrive or cower and fold” ~ Betty

“Time is the longest distance between two places” ~ Tennessee Williams

“There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you’d better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you’ll never understand what it is saying” ~Sarah Dessen

I chose in December to not allow time, or the perception of-time to dictate my future. To not allow those mired in their own perception of pain and loss to coerce or change my direction. I am a man of great conviction, faith, perseverance and inner confidence. I was raised that way, by a man who I didn’t always see eye to eye with, yet marveled in his ability to consistently reinvent himself, his family and his life. My father never gave up. Ever.

In the end he was tired, worn out and felt at times a failure. I learned from that too. My father taught me so much and he never knew I was watching. Watching his every move, the way he reacted, plotted, planned and did his very best to succeed.

It is why I strive to be a good man in front of my children all the time, not just some of the time. Because I know in time, they too will be faced with adversity, struggle and hardship. They too will need to draw upon a mental reservoir filled to the brim with lessons never taught but learned through observation. Life is filled with so many lessons and people to help teach them to us. I believe with all my heart people come into our lives for a reason and when they are gone their job is done. Just as I believe when I am gone hopefully I helped many and my job will be done as well. We just need to learn to listen to that voice guiding us constantly. I believe there are souls or energy that travel through space and time, allowing us the ability to find each other again and again hopefully creating a more perfect being assenting towards heaven.

I hated dad’s lessons that were heart to heart, always choosing instead to do things my way, the hard way, alone. I have one of three sons that is following in his father’s footsteps in that regard. He is in for a long uphill battle this I know but in the end he will be strong and wise, hopefully casting a larger shadow than his father did for him. Always helping those who need it through actions not words.

By watching and learning from my father I refuse to let life bring me down, to hold me back. There is a world to see and I plan on doing so.There are people to meet, to love, to keep close and there are those that will fade away. But I will have done my best to be a mentor, friend, and a man who loves with his heart and mind.

So what does time mean to me?

I don’t want to miss a second of time. If anything has hit me harder than a brick after losing not one, but two wives is that we only have so much time on this earth and none of it is guaranteed. Time with my kids, time with my family, time with friends and people I choose to love. Not one second or opportunity will I miss.  

Every day I wake up, put my feet on the floor and take a step forward. Every day I look for the good in everything and everyone. Everyday I pray at work I won’t see another human perish. I know that’s an impossibility but it’s nice to want and wish.  Every single day I willingly choose to make it better than the day before, to lead the way.

Jacy made me promise to live my life, to not mope around or feel despair, to fully recognize that her suffering was over and so was the 5 year struggle within our family. She made me promise to take care of our children and do what’s best for me. She knew she would die young and that her time or work here on this earth was done as well. She was one of the wisest, kindest people to those around her and those for whom she never knew I will have ever known. I learned from her, much like my father from simply watching.

The time is now. I cannot wait for what my life, our life, our families life has in store. Time is never a given and I feel as though our seasons of life are changing, there is no more bad luck and it is definitely time…

2019 I’m ready; so lets aspire to inspire shall we?

theycallmebetty1 Comment

Sitting quietly in a dark room, a flickering of light emanating from the television playing off in the distance dances across the somber mood in our living room. The Ball is about to drop ringing in a new year while saying goodbye to 2018.

I am pondering.

Life is a funny thing. Earlier in the evening I went to a friend’s house for a few hours to reconnect, feel a part of life’s tapestry and try my best to remember what life is like when lived. It worked, which is not what I expected. I laughed, hugged, lived and thought to myself on the way home about how much I missed this portion of my extended family. How many things we (Jacy and I) missed while she was sick and fighting for her life over the last five long dreadful years. And how terribly sad it was that she was not there with her million dollar smile, laughing, making new friends while smothering the old friends with love.

I came home early to be with my son.

Parker and I watched the ball drop together. We kind of chuckled at the horrendous attempt at entertainment the entire New Year’s Eve televised show had become. It was bad, really, really bad and to me showed what little value us as a society place upon ourselves or what we expect from others; but that is my opinion and for another conversation.

As expected at midnight the ball dropped, Parker stood up and said: well that was fun (sarcasm), hope 2019 is much better than 2018 for us dad!

I wanted to say; well it couldn’t get any worse!

But then I would be summoning the black cloud that seems to live over the top of us to rumble, crack and prove me wrong once again! Parker then announced he was taking shower; that he loved me and off to bed he strode.

I eventually went to bed, alone, sad, and wondering why? I knew why I was sad and alone, but why I should bother giving a shit was all I had left.

This morning while making coffee and wanting to write, I decided to look back at previous New Year’s offerings to see just what my advice or observations were for the coming years. Maybe that would help me to understand the why.

2012/13- it was all about resolutions. That’s right, I dug deep (sarcasm again) for that one and really hit it out of the park! Of course I had no idea what was instore for our family a mere 10 months later.

2013/14- I didn’t write a thing! You know why? Because I was knee deep in learning about Leukemia, treatments and how we as a family were going to tackle things head on! No mercy! It is the way this family has always handled adversity!

2014/15- New Year/New Fear. Living with the after effects of treatment, chemotherapy, and learning to live again for my wife. Understanding what it means to be in remission. It was a year filled with scares, and adventure. Jacy ran at it full bore because as I found out later, she knew deep inside but didn’t want to say it out loud that she felt Leukemia would come back.

2015/16- We focused on new beginnings, not letting this journey weigh us down, making the most of every moment because the truth is, nothing is guaranteed.  

2016/17- Handling ourselves appropriately. This journey was no longer about us, but how we could help as many people as possible by continuing forward. Both through my writings and her never saying no to any treatments. Finding joy in all the little things. Whether it be a week with some energy and no sickness to simply sitting in the sun with your children. My wife was an amazing human being and she continued to show her super powers during this dreadful year.

2017/18- This one was a little harder. I copied a portion of this former posting because I couldn’t accurately summarize my feelings.

Am I excited by the prospect of 2018 and what it has to offer?

No!!!!!

No I am fucking terrified of another year with more unexpected disappointment! Or maybe after all this time disappointment, disaster, despair should simply be expected and that’s why I am so tense! Wondering day and night as to whether or not there is more tragedy waiting for us just around the corner! I am constantly worrying about our future, her future, our children’s future and all the emotional toil our lives hold on a daily basis! I wonder if I can take on more. Is it humanly possible for me to handle another loss, another failure, another misfortune! Is there room for me to place more emotional unrest inside my soul?

I found myself mumbling; Fuck you 2018 every time I read someone’s cheery uplifting post today! I would start grinding my teeth the moment someone, anyone spoke of this dreaded New Year and it hasn’t even started yet!! That is just not me!!!

I want so badly to embrace this upcoming year, to feel hopeful, promise and opportunity! To know our future looks bright for all involved. But even as I am writing this my chest hurts, it’s hard to breath and the anxiety associated with wishing such selfish thoughts when I know there are thousands suffering in this world tonight. Struggling much harder than I. It is more than I can take right now. What the HOLY HELL!!!

Somewhere I learned the valuable lesson of keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

2018 you are not my friend, you are my enemy.

And there it is. It is like I knew or my negativity proved to be my downfall. I have had to read through the last five years while working on my book and it has been extremely hard. From 2012-2018 Heaven gained my horse Tank, Jakes Horse Twooey, Jacy’s Grandmother, and Uncle, my dad, a few friends and eventually Jacy herself.   

So what does all this mean for our family after looking through the past?

It means I am taking my own advice. Put up or shut up!!!

2019 you are not my friend, you are my enemy and the difference in regards to your arrival shall be that my tactics are changing.

I look forward to the upcoming challenges you present, my life will not be lived in sorrow or misery, it is not what my wife would have wanted for me and I know this because she made sure I understood the importance before she passed. She also knew it would take a while for me to come to terms with her passing, but she had faith I would or could carry on. She always had faith in me and that is something I cherish so very much.

After spending the evening a few weeks back with new friends, the holidays with our beloved family, and last night with old ride or die friends, it has come to my attention that now is the time. Her father sent me a video yesterday from his YouTube channel that really hit me hard. It was wise and insightful and I believe he needs to see I, his son in law, the man who loved his daughter more than I can ever show him, is taking it to heart. No more whining about her being gone. Oh that doesn’t mean I won’t miss her, or occasionally complain about it, or have terrible days for I know all too well they will come, when I least expect it, and it is 100% ok to let those emotions envelop me. Besides I don’t care who you are or think you are, a good cry now and again is good for the soul. But this family needs to look past all that and begin to live life again. We cannot besmirch her memory, her name, and her beliefs about family, life and love by wallowing in a wasted sea of tears.

Jacy Mirelle Franceschi showed me the meaning of love. She also showed me the meaning of life, living life, experiencing everything around you without slipping into the background. She showed how to make a new friend, to laugh or help someone to laugh when it’s needed, even if that means sacrificing your own dignity. She showed me the meaning of family. If you knew my wife, you knew exactly how important it was for her to have a family to call her own. She did, we loved her, and are forever grateful.

So, no, there will be no New Year’s resolutions, no pointless lists of things that couldn’t possibly be accomplished. Instead our family, my family, the family she loved and created are going to face this year head on! Not afraid of challenges, not afraid to explore, no expectations other than to walk out the door every day and live this thing called life to the fullest!

As I have said before, a mantra I have always lived by will surely be followed.

Every day you can get up, put both feet on the floor and take a step forward is a good day, a day to aspire to inspire.

So here goes.

Travel whenever you can, we will be.

Make a new friend at every opportunity, life is way too short not too!

Laugh, hard at everything, including yourself. Often!

Love with meaning, passion, and faith. To love is to be loved and I have been loved by the very best. For that I am both extremely lucky and eternally grateful. I still have so much love to share and so do you. Never forget that, ever!

Never take yourself or life to seriously. It just isn’t worth it.

Take time for yourself. Live, breathe and appreciate all this world has to offer.

And always take time for your friends and family. They are the most people in your life. Trust me after all of this, I know.

So come on 2019! Let’s do this! I am ready for whatever you have to offer. And if I am ever in question I will simply ask myself; what would Jacy do?

Wake up, put both feet on the floor and take a step forward.

theycallmebetty5 Comments

The sun has risen, the sun has set, over and over and over again. For 4.543 billion years the sun has risen, the sun has set. Under its warmth or hidden in the shadows of the earths darkness lies the stories of roughly 105 billion people.

My story is no different from millions of others, I loved then lost, then loved and lost again. My heart aches as did the hearts of somany others. We all shared or carry the darkness that comes with such grief. I am not special, I am not different; I simply am.

So why can’t my brain accept this fate of mine? Why do I feel so much pain and anger inside? Why can I not understand this outcome, accept this outcome, and realize that no amount of anything is going to change this outcome; bringing her back?

Why do the people I love die? Why have they died for so many before me and continue to perish all around us or so it seems. We all know death is our fate, we as a society choose to look the other way, to ignore its significance when it comes to ourselves claiming it will never happen to me or standing by the adage of when it’s your time, it’s your time.

She (Jacy) always knew she would die young. She always knew.I hate that, because I don’t know what the hell to eat in the morning and cannot fathom knowing, I mean hand on the bible knowing that I was going to die young. It is unconscionable to me, so how does that affect your life, your meaning of life, your belief system?

Every day I do what I have always done for my whole life, I am not happy about it, some days go better than others, but during my childhood I was never good enough, at anything and was reminded of that fact regularly; yet I still do the same thing I taught myself early on, over and over again.

I get up, I put my feet on the floor, and I always take one step forward.

The pain will always be there, the loss is very real, I absolutely hate walking into my house, her house, the house we built together, for there is no warm echo of her voice, only cold walls and pictures to remind me of what was, and what never will be again.

But I move forward.

I believe you need to keep moving to lessen the impact. To understand what that person meant to you, not by staying home curled up in a ball but by trying your hardest to laugh, have a good time and remind yourself that you don’t know you’re going to die. That you don’t have even the slightest inkling what your last day on this planet may be. So keep moving, keep your head up and keep striving for that next big finish line, covering ground, climbing not sinking further into a hole of despair.

Again the pain is still there, oh it’s still there, and it hurts badly, so very bad, yet in the morning I put both feet on the floor, and took another step forward.

I said goodbye to Jacy’s car the other day. It took me two hours to clean it out. We purchased it new in 2007 to support the adoption of our daughter. We traveled all over in that car, as a family, singing 80’s rock, watching movies, laughing, so much laughing. It was a part of our family as silly as that may sound. But at 220,000 miles, a computer that was bleeding off power, one power door that no longer worked and another that only opened manually, a front transaxle that needed replacement and an owner who was no longer alive, unable to ever drive it again, I felt that maybe it had to go.

Cleaning it out, I discovered Jacy had surrounded herself with the most precious of commodities; pictures. She had pictures from all years ofevery one of her children hidden in easily accessible places.  They were everywhere and it made me cry. She loved them all, so very much to the very end. To the very bitter end….

But I cleaned it out, with tears in my eyes, a wet sleeve from drying my eyes and patience for what she left behind. When I left the car at the dealership I took one last picture. I don’t know why, it was just a car, it was Jacy’s car.

I put both feet on the floor, and took another step forward.

I felt guilty driving my new/used car. It is nice, it has 60,000 miles on it, I will be paying for it for five years, and it will start anew chapter in our lives for child transportation. But I can’t help but think how much she would have enjoyed the ride. How her ribs wouldn’t have hurt so badly going from the house to Stanford, or her dads. How I should have thrown caution into the wind and just hoped we could have paid for it so she wouldn’t have suffered so badly. I cried most of the way home carrying so much guilt asI didn’t feel I deserved such a nice ride. I gazed at the empty seat wishing she was there, singing badly at 80’s songs, butchering the words and laughing between tears of pain.

The next morning I put both feet on the floor and took another step forward.

We celebrated Christmas. We did this by going to mass on Christmas Eve. It was the first time I had been to our church since she died. It was one of her favorite places. We gathered and prayed, we sang and prayed and I prayed she was there with me. I kept my eyes closed so tightly and tried sovery hard to feel her presence, to hear her voice when we sang, I wanted so badly to know she was with us, to feel her hand slide gently into mine. But it didn’thappen. I couldn’t feel her. I tried so very hard, so very hard it hurt. I kept it together, we took a family picture by the tree. We as a family went todinner after then home. I didn’t go to bed until 2am. I couldn’t sleep becauseI was so upset that I couldn’t feel her there with me! I was sad, angry and devastated.

The next morning I put both feet on the floor and took another step forward.

We gathered in the morning. Cody made a splendid breakfast and gifts were exchanged. Very quickly we noticed mom’s absence. All the goofy gifts she would order online for each of us. Well thought out with some form of funny undertone. There was a giant hole in the morning festivities, and after allwas said and done I found myself alone for the afternoon cooking dinner for just us. It was lonely and sad and well, strange. I closed my eyes and prayed for her to talk to me, I waited, I tired and nothing happened. The house was cold inside and to me there was no warmth of Christmas. But I tried, the kids didn’t seem to notice and all of them had smiles on their faces. They all enjoyed agood Christmas dinner, there was hugs and laughter, but it just wasn’t the same.

The next morning I put both feet on the floor and took another step forward.

Jacy’s dad’s house was the place to be. It was warm, it was festivious and it was filled with love. Everyone was happy and had a good time.I see her everywhere there, and her step mom does too. It is not easy. I walked out to the cabin where Jacy stayed when she needed to be close to Stanford.Just a short 24 months ago she would have been laying there, happy to see me, smile on her face and love in her heart. 24 months, 730 days, 17,520 hours ago,she was here in this spot. 4 months, 122 days, 2,928 hours ago she was asleepon the very couch I sat on today. 2 months, 67 days, 1,608 hours ago she told me she loved me for the last time.

It’s hard to be happy, when you carry so much guilt for things you could have done better. It’s hard to be happy when the center ofyour universe is gone. It’s hard to be happy when you sit on the end of the bedat night hitting yourself in the head because you don’t know who YOU are or howto find out. It’s hard to be happy when the only person on this earth who loved you unconditionally, who you could tell everything to is no longer there to hear you, to hug you, to give you the love you so desperately need. It is sovery hard to find inspiration.

But you know what?

Tomorrow, I will get up in the morning, put my feet on the floor and take another step forward.

Not for Jacy or because it is what she would want me to do.But because this is who I am. It is who I have always been. I don’t have tolike it, I only need to learn from it, to show the way for my children, and tohopefully help just one person who doesn’t think anyone knows, or understands this pain.

My only goal in life is to aspire to inspire. It is all Ihave left, it can’t be changed by time, it cannot die and leave me, and longafter I am gone if I have affected the lives of just one person then it was all worth it.

I love you Jacy Franceschi. I miss you terribly….

Choices

theycallmebetty5 Comments

You know the funny thing about being a living breathing human being?

You and you alone have a choice. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, believe it or not you have a choice in everything you do, say, the way you react or don’t react to life.

Choice is powerful, we have the freedom of choice and how we wield that choice. I am thankful for that because it means as a human being I am allowed to choose which direction I go in any situation, including the precarious emotional moments I am currently living.

Right now, I have chosen sadness as my course. You heard me right, I have chosen to allow sadness into my life. To not meet the male dominated pre-requisite that we all understand to be a norm but is instead a gigantic falsehood of life; and that is to swallow it down, hiding from the sting of losing quite possibly the one person on this earth who will ever love me for who I am, who I was and who she always thought I could become. That statement alone as its read, and I recall all the times she looked me in the eyes, told me she loved me or was proud of who I had become, creates a surge of sadness that forms deep in my chest and moves like a wave towards my outer being. Who will do that? Who will be proud of me? Who will I champion for in the future, who has my back and loves me unconditionally? Who? And don’t say my children because;

1-that’s a given and

2-that is not what I am referencing here. It’s about the relationship built between you and your spouse..

My son texted me the other day, he wanted to know what I was doing, how I was feeling and our texting conversation ended with; I am feeling down. When prompted as to what was happening he replied; I just need to talk to mom. I replied: is there anything I can do? His response: No I just want to talk to mom about shit….. (in his vernacular “shit” means life)

Yeah; let that sit for a moment. Pardon my bluntness but you’re an asshole if that doesn’t tear you up inside just a little. Anyone who was close to their mom and has lost that person knows exactly how my son is feeling. Sad, alone, the boy inside of him simply needed his mommy. To hear her voice, to laugh together at stupid stuff, to hear I love you son at the end of the conversation. Fuck you Leukemia, fuck you GvHD, I hate you all to hell!

But even though those moments come and go, and even though each day that void widens I choose to keep going, to move forward, and to act in a manner that is respectful to both myself and my family. To set an example for our children. Our lives still need to be lived, there is so much out there to accomplish when it comes to our lives and the lives of others. We still have a choice.

Jacy has none of those choices. She didn’t choose this as her destiny. She can no longer choose an alternate outcome or make decisions based upon her feelings. She can no longer do anything from the confines of the handmade box sitting behind me on the table with her picture hovering over the top.

On the flip side though, Jacy did choose as a living, breathing human being exactly how she would exit this earth. She made it very clear what her expectations where and how we as the ones she loved and cherished most would handle that task. She did not want to go, even though her faith was strong, she wasn’t ready, she screamed she wasn’t ready, she felt as though there was so much left for her to do! In the end she was mad at God for stripping her of her family, something she had always wanted, but knew it was time and was welcoming the thought of heaven.

I am trying my hardest to honor her requests, and I will continue to do so until my very last breath. Why? Because I loved her unconditionally the same way she loved me. Because I made a promise to her 17 years ago, 5 years ago and two months ago! I always keep my promises. She was the center of my universe and even though she is gone I will cherish every single moment we spent together in memory over all those years.

I have no doubt as time rolls forward, our lives will change, priorities will change, and the look of our family will change. But her name, her memory and what she hoped for will not change as I will carry that forward with her in my heart and right by my side in spirit. It was and is my choice.

So what exactly is my point?

When the time comes and darkness hits your family, who are you going to become?  There is no reason to face it alone, because you don’t have too. As I have stated many times over the last five years, I started sharing our story because I didn’t want other spouses, partners or family members to feel alone. Like it was them against the world. I really wanted them to have a voice, a place to speak out, to read, understand and reach forward to someone such as myself who was open and accepting while painfully walking that walk.

Now our journey has ended and I am beginning a new journey forward, as one instead of two. It is scary as hell, I am worried for the future of this family, and the one person who understood me is no longer here to help guide me. But I am not alone.

You don’t ever need to be alone either! You know why?

Because you have a choice.

The sounds of silence and where do I go from here?

theycallmebetty4 Comments

Sitting at her desk this morning trying my hardest to focus on the 6 millionth start to a book I have already written, something comes to mind. It is lonely. So very lonely and it’s not a lonely that can be filled by friends or family, a phone call or a letter, facetime or actual conversation with well simply anyone.

It is the lonely that comes from silence.

You never realize how noisy your marriage is until it’s over. All the little things like you hustling trying to get kids out the door, her making lunches or singing in the kitchen to a song on Pandora using made up words because well it is the morning and she knows it bugs the crap out everyone so they move a little faster while she smiles with glee. It is hearing her use the damn coffee pot you hate because you own a Keurig and she simply likes the cheapness associated with a standard coffee pot. Her humming I love you as you walk out the door reminding her you’ll be home in an hour. She says she knows but you never know what can happen and she just wants you to know how much you mean to her.

It really is all the little things. The little things that make up the white noise of a relationship.

I woke up this morning and my dog had climbed onto the bed. He was asleep with his back up against mine and in the haziness of first awaking for a second, one split second I thought it was all a bad dream. 5 years a bad dream! It wasn’t, I was still alone, Jacy is still dead. In reality we hadn’t slept together for almost a year. She needed to be downstairs and with her being up all hours of the night depending on where she was with her meds and her constant need for sound (something she had before she got sick only more intense as time went on) the only way I could achieve even a few hours of sleep a night was to retire upstairs. I regret that decision now. I guess in a way it was preparing me for the future. None the less I have fully determined I hate sleeping alone. Oh well, guess I will have to get over it.

The white noise is everywhere.

I will never come home to the joyous sounds of her playing the piano again. She was never taught how, she played the flute, but her understanding of music made it easy for her to adapt to just about any instrument she picked up. I hate looking at that fucking piano.

Walking through the door in the afternoon to smell and hear all about some god awful concoctions she was creating. Foods or flavors that should never and mean ever be associated with each other, but there wasn’t anything left in the fridge so out to the garden she went and viola we have dinner! The funny thing is with only a few minor exceptions, even her craziest of Top Chef mismatched masterpieces all tasted great! I really am missing that right now on a cool fall morning.

The sounds of her painting or creating leather work. She was blind, but would sit at this very desk and create pieces of art out of whatever she touched. I made her a board from scratch to adjust and hold her leather while she stamped it or painted it slowly with one eye squinted shut and the other double focused on her work. The board is sitting here, never to be used again. I hate that fucking board.

Listening to her ask about the kids days when they got home, remind them of chores, reprimand them when they were jerks to her or smother them in love when they apologized. This whole thing has been so hard on the kids and I know they feel sad about each and every time they brushed her off as she was bedridden still trying her best to run the household. She loved them all so much and that love came out every day. The sounds of love bouncing from these walls, it has certain ring, a specific note when it comes from a mother’s perspective. It is quiet now; that sucks hard.

The permanency of it all is so overwhelming.

I know, everyone keeps telling me she can hear me, her love is all around us, it is in our children and the home we made. I know I simply need to talk with her, or I guess to her because she really can’t talk back. I stare endlessly into this room I created, I hear the oxygen machine still running or the lack of it, I am not sure. I wish I was still bleach mopping the floor while she incessantly apologized for all I needed to do to take care of her. That always bugged me, I would snap at her and say to knock it off! I would tell her I loved more than anything on this earth and there is no place I would rather be! I would kiss her on the forehead, then make her lunch, sit in the chair at the end of her bed and stare at her. Worried this day was coming.

In reality there was some other place I would rather have been.

Back in Alaska on the cruise with her! In Mexico, on the beach with her! In the mountains, hiking with her! In our own backyard riding horses with her!

I would have gone anywhere or done anything with her! Even if I didn’t want to. She just had a way of always convincing me to go and really, if you knew my wife or spent any time with her you just knew what ever her exploits were it was going to be one hell of a good time!

Besides that woman could convince a police officer to rob a bank, a hooker into becoming a nun, or the wealthiest person in the world into giving away every last dime. It just is who she was. I seriously am going to miss that I think the most.

So yeah, the silence is killing me, crushing me, it is hard to breathe most days. I am trying so very hard and it really is so nice how strong everyone believes that I am, but I don’t feel strong, I feel, I feel, I think I feel cursed. I feel as though there is some kind of vendetta against me. I feel like a permanent black cloud. I feel like loneliness is my calling. I hate being alone.

Jacy would tell me that God has a plan for us all and this was his plan. I remember her telling me through tears not more than 6 weeks ago that she wasn’t ready! She wasn’t ready to leave this earth, that she felt there was still so much work to do, so many kids to help!!! I held her while she cried and promised her if her time did come I would carry that work on for her.

I have always been a man of my word.

I am starting a scholarship fund in Jacy’s name for high school kids here in Dixon. It will benefit Ag kids because that is what she believed. We were able to secure a little over $700 on Saturday at her memorial by selling left over tri-tip. So we are up and running.

I am also looking into starting a foundation using Jacys Army as the name. It will hopefully grow and secure enough funding to become perpetual. The objective will be to assist families that do not have the assistance or support we were lucky enough to have while going through Leukemia treatment. This one was my idea and something my wife backed 100% as we talked discussed in detail the lack of assistance for families less fortunate as ourselves as we went through the process.

I also promised her I would continue on, that I would be ok, alone. I lied to her a lot on that one. Starting with day trips, new places and taking lots of pictures of my alone adventures. But I never wanted her to worry about me more than she already did, so I kept doing it even though I wanted nothing more than to be by her side. Ultimately it created a man who was quiet and walked a lot with his head down. She called them rest breaks or time away from caring for her. It was time needed there is no argument there, I put on a super brave face and sold it like a used car salesman, but it is coming back to haunt me now as I long for all those moments I missed with my wife. I hate myself for not being there, for distancing myself from family. But it is what it is I guess, no changing it now.

So instead of rambling on like an A-hole; I guess what all of this is leading to is this;

If you love someone, I mean really love someone!

Make every moment count. Even the little ones. Life is short, it can be taken away at a moment’s notice. I am blessed because we knew it would eventually come. But there are so many that walk out the door in the morning never to return again. Is that how you want to leave it?

Never stay mad at your spouse, no matter what. You have the ability to talk just about anything out and come to a resolution. I promise! I could make that woman spit hot lead, and she could make me flip a truck at times, yet we always forgave each other in our own ways. And yes, sometimes you need to recognize that not all forgiveness comes with an apology. Anyone who has been married long enough who reads this knows exactly what I am talking about.

Remember daily why you love them. Why you married them or are with them. Never forget that, they are special to you for a reason. Honor that reason and cherish it.

Never go to bed mad. Seriously it sounds dumb but it’s true. Every day truly is a new day! We are only given so many of those days so don’t waste them! Besides the snoring is enough on its own, so don’t find something else.

Enjoy every single little thing, from burnt meals, dirty clothes, dishes not done, to bad singing and even watching shows you cannot stand. The thing is you’re spending time together and that’s what’s important. You can never get that lost time back.

When the going gets tough, don’t even think for a moment about running away. If that’s what you’re thinking then in my humble opinion you never truly loved each other. Sorry but as my wife would say; the truth can be painful but in the end, it is still the truth.

Love is amazing, it makes us do crazy things. But the reality is love isn’t all the glorious movie tag lines or clichés we’ve grown up with or are led to believe. No my friends, love is all the messy and yes sometimes painful stuff in the middle. The rest is just the icing on loves cake.

Thanks for letting me vent all this out. I actually feel a little better. I am sorry if I hurt your feelings or made you cry. It was never my intention.