We all came ready to celebrate the two most exciting minutes in sports.
There were old friends enjoying each others company. There were new friendships formed. Lots of laughter, celebration and happiness were in the air.
There were lovely ladies in dresses, hats and fascinators.
There were dapper men in seersucker suits.
Delicious food was served- bourbon meatballs, pulled pork sliders, mini Kentucky hot browns, mint julep chicken skewers and chicken and waffle skewers. Because we all know that food tastes better when it is served on a stick.
Makers Mark Mint Juleps were consumed in special Bryon McKim souvenir cups. So many Mint Juleps were consumed that the bar ran out of Makers Mark two hours into the party. Bryon would be particularly proud of that.
There was a silent auction full of amazing items that were generously donated from members of our community. The silent auction was accompanied by friendly competition to outbid each other.
The second word is Bittersweet.
We were having a great time but we all knew that this party would not be happening if Bryon was still alive. If Bryon were still alive, we would have been having our annual Kentucky Derby party in our backyard. The backyard party would have been at a smaller scale but just as fun.
Ultimately Bryon had to die to bring us all together to have a good time.
As much fun as I had on Derby Day, I would have given it all back if it meant Bryon would still be here. But I think I am reaching the point in my grieving process where I am beginning to accept Bryon’s death as it is. I have days where I still ask “why” but I know that even if I can figure out the “why,” it doesn’t change anything. Bryon will still be dead. And there is nothing that can change that.
We can’t change the fact that Bryon is gone but instead we chose to take a horrible situation and make the best of it. Many people die without leaving their mark (pun not intended) on this world but Bryon made his mark (okay, pun was intended this time) and we made the choice to keep his memory alive. Derby Day had the potential to be a very sad day but instead, we chose to celebrate Bryon’s favorite day of the year. And we celebrated in true Bryon McKim fashion. I am grateful that I had so many amazing people to celebrate Bryon’s life with. We all remember what a difference he made in this world. He helped so many people when he was alive and we chose to continue his legacy and help others in his memory.
I want to thank the Bryon C. McKim Derby Party Planning Committee: Vince Casale, Lynn Krogh, Danielle Grasso, Joseph Hanson, Jennifer Muthig, Mike Utzig, Nick Wilock, Jennifer Armstrong, Mike and Natalie Kosar, Sara Stein and everyone else who assisted in the planning process. I am awe of your talent and you ran this event like a well oiled machine. You could run a small nation. Bryon would be proud.
I want to thank our sponsors for supporting the event and all the business who generously donated items for our silent auction. My daughter and I are very lucky to be part of such a supportive community who looks after their own.
I want to thank Wolff’s Biergarten for all your hospitality and help putting on this event. You were great to work with and made our experience enjoyable.
And I want to thank everyone who came out to support our event to celebrate Bryon’s life and keep his memory alive. One of the biggest fears that a grieving person has is that their loved one will be forgotten. Thank you for reminding me that while Bryon may be dead, he did live.
I look forward to celebrating with you again in 2018.
Grief if not pretty. Grief is actually quite ugly. Some view me as strong. Some view me as delicate. But the truth is I am neither strong or delicate yet I am both strong and delicate at the same time. I always joke that I am a girl of many contradictions as I am part city girl, part country girl. The analogy fits here as well.
Grief is hard. It’s hard to go to bed alone. It’s hard to deal with the moments of shock where you wonder why all of this had to happen. It’s been 8 months since Bryon died and over a year (13 months) since Bryon got sick and I am still hit with those moments. But one of the hardest parts of grief is all the emotions. Grief makes you feel every emotion there is; sadness, anger, frustration, helplessness, desperation. It is like each emotion is it’s own bright, vibrant color and I am that cup of disgusting water that you dip your paintbrush into. All those bright colors have turned my cup of clear water into a disgusting murky shade of greenish brown.
I have always been someone who has struggled with expressing my negative emotions. I usually say nothing and I let frustration build until it turns into a completely different emotion and then the volcano erupts and it is usually over something minor and stupid. And once that volcano erupts, there is so stopping and tt is not fair to the people that stand in line of that volcano. It’s not fair to take your negative emotions out on people. People shouldn’t have to deal with Mt. McKim.
Grief is exhausting. I joke with my friends that grief has turned me into an emotionally stunted preteen girl. While I like to think I have more wisdom than the average preteen girl, there is still some level of truth to that statement. Emotionally, I can only deal with what is in front of me and that in turn has made me self-absorbed. I talk about myself too much. I wonder when enough time has gone by that I don’t feel the need to talk about myself and my grief so much. When do I begin to act normal again?
Grief is overwhelming. Not only are we dealing with the absence of our loved one, we have to deal with the secondary losses. Loss of security, loss of income, loss of future plans. We have to rebuild and that is overwhelming. Many widows don’t know how to rebuild. I know I am relearning skills that I haven’t had to think about in over 6 years. I know where I want to be but I don’t know how to get there. I am like the underpants gnomes except I am not collecting underpants.
I had been working on removing toxicity from my life and I still find that I have too much to deal with emotionally. It dawns on me that it isn’t enough to remove toxic people, you need to remove toxic thoughts too. I need to learn how to redirect that energy to something more positive.
I also want to make a point that just because one is widowed does not mean that they are obligated to accept friendship from a person who tears you down. Just because you are at a low point in your life does not mean that you deserve to be bullied or talked to in a way that is demeaning. Surround yourself with supportive people.
Grief also can make you anxious and paranoid. So much bad stuff happened to me this past year and I am constantly worried about what tragedy is coming next. It’s like I can’t just accept that this storm has passed and I need to enjoy the sunshine until the next storm happens. (Because widowhood doesn’t give you any immunity from bad things happening. But let’s hope I don’t have to sit in another ICU room for 5 months watching someone else I care about suffer and die) In addition to watching my husband die, many people that should have been supportive of my daughter and me were not. Those people were selfish and self serving. I was hurt by those people but I need to stop anticipating that I am going to be hurt by the people who have been there for me over and over again. My friends have proven that they have been there for me and I need to trust that they will continue to be there for me.
Grief is ugly. I am not looking for pity. People who are grieving generally don’t want pity. Or advice unless we specifically ask for it. We want empathy, love and support. People who are grieving don’t want to be spoken at or preached at. We just want to be listened to. And whatever you do, don’t tell the grieving how to grieve or try to educate them on their own experience. Trust me, you don’t know. Even if you think you do, you don’t.
Why am I sharing this? Most people try to portray themselves in the best light possible, not share their ugly side. There are many reasons. The most important is that I believe in being honest and I want to give an honest account of grief, not just the noble parts. I am not always that strong and stoic widow that many people believe I am. The second reason is accountability. I don’t want to act like this but I need to own it when I do. I have been hurt by too many people who don’t take accountability for their actions. I think we all know those people, the people that never apologize for anything. They just blame everyone else . And as always, I am writing this because I know I can’t be the only grieving person that feels like a hot mess sometimes. Maybe someone that relates will read this and will get some relief for not being alone.
I have had a rough week. I tend to write about what’s on my mind and there have been four posts this week. I think that is a record. That’s a lot of stuff on my mind. I want to put this week behind me. I have a nearly dead palm tree and a nearly dead oak tree in my kitchen. They have not looked good for months. I was convinced I had neglected those poor trees to the point of no return. Well today I see signs of recovery. If those trees can recover, there is no reason I can not. We all can regardless of what pain we are moving forward from. It’s time to put the negativity behind me and enjoy the two birthday parties I am attending this weekend.
I started this blog as an outlet for my feelings and I have decided that I have been writing about too much depressing stuff lately. My life isn’t all depressing so I decided to share some of my fun moments. I mean, my life won’t always be this depressing, right? My daughter and I had a busy weekend so I thought I would share that.
On Friday evening I had plans to meet some good friends for Mexican food at El Loco. I had gotten a baby sitter for my daughter and I braved the drive to downtown Albany and even found a parking spot. It was great to catch up with my friends.
I was supposed to run the Fly Creek Cider Run 10k this weekend but I dropped a metal trashcan on my toe on Easter. That doesn’t sound like a big deal but my big toenail is blue and I had to wear flip flops all week because it hurt too much to wear regular shoes. By Friday I could wearing shoes was bearable but I decided that it wasn’t the best idea to run the 10k or 5k. I was disappointed because I really was looking forward to this race. I was signed up to run it last year but missed it due to Bryon’s illness. Maybe the third time will be the charm.
There was a rugby tournament at Albany Law School so my daughter and I went for a little bit. My daughter wasn’t that interested but we did walk around the track and even did a little running.
Saturday afternoon was the birthday party of the son of Bryon’s best friend. He is turning 3. They did an amazing job with the Mickey and the Roadster Racers theme. There was also a bounce house and wagon rides.
Reminders that life continues on. It feels good that that we are making happy memories that my daughter and my friends children will grow up with. But, like everything else, it is bittersweet because Bryon isn’t here for those memories.
Sunday was the monthly brunch with my girls. This is turning into my most favorite day of the month. We alternate houses and we each bring something. We had an amazing brunch with Blueberry and Strawberry French Toast Casserole, Goat Cheese and Sundried Tomato Quiche, Vanilla Bread, Sausage, Fruit, cookies, Mimosas and great conversation.
I couldn’t have asked for a better weekend or better company.
You are probably wondering “Who is Malcolm Stephens?’’
I was asking myself that very question the other night.
I was looking at my Facebook newsfeed and there was a post from Malcolm Stephens. It was actually written by his wife and it was stating that he had passed away unexpectedly and that the funeral service will be Saturday. This immediately grabs my attention because widowhood gives you a sick fascination with death.
He was a Facebook friend of mine and yet I had no idea who he was. The fact that I didn’t know how I knew him didn’t concern me. I have a lot of Facebook friends I don’t really know. A lot of people had sent me friend requests when Bryon got sick and I assumed he was a friend of Bryon’s.
I clicked on Rev. Stephen’s facebook profile looking for clues as to how Bryon knew him. Our mutual friends would reveal how he knew Bryon. I would learn if they were connected through politics, or college, or law school, or the Masons based on mutual friends. But Bryon was our only mutual friend. I could see that Rev. Stephens was the minister of an African Methodist Episcopal church and that he lived in Atlanta, GA. We are Catholic from New York so I have no idea how their paths crossed.
I message my daughter’s Godmother to tell her about this. She could not place Rev. Stephens name and she knows a lot of people too. We both discussed how Bryon knew so many people. We pondered a few possibilities but we were still stumped.
Now it was starting to bother me. How did Bryon know Malcolm Stephens? Did they meet on an on cruise or on an internet cruise forum? Did they meet on a train? At a conference? I looked through Bryon’s Facebook for clues. Looked at the “see friendship” option and there were only brief but sincere messages of friendship between the two. I still couldn’t figure it out.
Then I investigate Rev. Stephen’s on my own Facebook. We had become friends when Bryon got sick. Turned out he messaged me twice and I never responded to either. First was in April and in that message he explained to me that he was Bryon’s manager when he worked at Disney. That explained it. The second message was in August when Bryon was in NYC. Rev. Stephens told me that his sister who lived in NYC would like to stop in and pray with him. And for whatever reason, I never responded. I know I was overwhelmed, but was I that overwhelmed?
I cried. I cried for his wife, his family and his community. This man was clearly a caring man and he had touched many lives.
I cried because I started thinking about how this past spring he was worried about his friend and all he really had was my facebook status updates. I was too overwhelmed to answer texts and facebook messages. Among our close friends, they had created their own hierarchy of information. His best friend would communicate with his college friends, another friend communicated with his political contacts. But unfortunately I did not delegate anyone to be a contact for people Bryon knew that did not fit into one of this many groups.
I cried because I thought about all the lives that Bryon had touched. So many that even I, his other half and best friend did not know to what extent that Bryon’s touched people.
I cried because I thought that even if they hadn’t seen each other in ten years, they probably had already met up, two old friends in Heaven.
I am beginning to think that Bryon touched so many lives that there was no way that the average person could process all his friendships. Whenever I take those psychology tests online, my results are either introvert or ambivert (which means I fall exactly in the middle of the introvert-extrovert scale). I like the company of others but it does wear me out. If I seem like I am outgoing, it is because I worked hard to develop those social skills. Being outgoing doesn’t come naturally to me. Bryon, as we know, was an extreme extrovert and I still am amazed at how many friends he had. I have no idea how he managed to keep all these friendships alive because he spent so much time with my daughter and me and he was always focused on us. I never felt cheated or like I was second place. He also got a full nights sleep every night. I truly have no idea how he did it. It was like he had a superpower.
Rest in Peace, Rev Malcolm Stephens. I am sorry I didn’t know you but if you were friend of Bryon’s, you must have been a good person.
I always thought I had a strong sense of who I was. And I never questioned my own authenticity. Yes, on the outside I am from a small Maine town but many people don’t realize that I spent the first 14 years of my life in the Boston area. I spent a semester abroad in England when I was 21. Besides Boston, I have spent time in London, Paris, Chicago, New York, Washington, D.C., Miami, Houston, New Orleans, Vegas and many other cities. I am fairly educated and worldly. I just try not to be pretentious about it.
I have always been a rule follower whether it was my Catholic religion or sitting in school. I was not a kid who got in (much) trouble. I did get caught daydreaming a lot but there was a whole world outside whatever window I was looking out of. I can’t say I never broke the rules in high school but I pretty much did as I was told. I did not drink in high school or go to gravel pit parties. I rarely stayed out past curfew (though my parents were pretty lenient as long as I called) though sometimes I stayed the night at my best friends house because she did not have a curfew. This created a kind of late night loophole that I would take advantage of. (Sorry Mom and Dad!)
I stretched my wings a little bit when I was in college. A few weeks into my freshman year I decided to get an eyebrow ring. It was 1997 and it was before they became popular. It actually looked good on me though I don’t think any picture exists. I didn’t think it through because I was heading home the following week and figured I would just take it out when I was around my parents. My parents never saw it (though my brother saw it and he kept threatening to tell them). I realized that I was never going to have the guts to wear it in front of my parents and I couldn’t handle the pressure of living a double life so the eyebrow ring didn’t last.
And of course, there was the road trip my friends and I took to St. Stephen, New Brunswick just so we could go to the bars when we were 19. I remember walking along the Saint Croix River, pointing to the Maine side and laughing because we “couldn’t drink over there but we can drink over here.” I always think of that trip every time I hear “One Week” by the Barenaked Ladies. I wasn’t a saint but I kept myself out of trouble.
I was a very hyper and annoying kid and somewhere along the way, I figured that I had to bottle up my true self to fit in with people. I would just sit quietly because I didn’t want to become hyper and weird and annoying. I chose to only open up to a few. I liked to participate in structured activities so I only had to discuss the topics on hand.
After college, I started dating the guy who would later become my ex-boyfriend. I think of him as kind of an anti-Bryon because he was the exact opposite of Bryon. One could argue that Bryon was the over correction of this guy. I could probably write a whole post on him and what I learned from that relationship. In very general terms Bryon was a Catholic, Republican, manly-man who loved sports while the anti-Bryon was a Protestant, Democrat, non-manly man who preferred science fiction to sports. Another big difference was that Bryon actually liked me while the anti-Bryon did not. I think I was someone who paid for dates for two and a half years. He never embraced me for who I was and I spent two and a half years trying to be the woman he wanted.
After I broke up with the anti-Bryon, I got absorbed into the world of politics and most notably, the Young Republicans. I embraced the lifestyle of Republican politics and I wore suits, heels, pearls and the Sarah Palin hairstyle. I loved politics because it was like I was an actress playing a role. I didn’t have to worry that I was shy and awkward. Politics gave me a way to relate to people. It was also during my time in politics that I learned conversation skills and poise.
Politics led me to the best years of my life. My years with Bryon. The years where I became a wife and mother. And like everything else, being a wife and mother provided me with a role that I was more than happy to assume. Bryon did love me for me but relationships are always filled with give and take. Bryon had the successful career and I pretty much was content to live in his shadow. It might have caused some contention between us at times but I don’t regret it. Especially since he apparently wasn’t meant to be here as long as the rest of us.
I have heard that during widowhood, you begin to question everything you once believed. I thought I had myself and the world all figured out. While I learned that I am much, much stronger than I ever gave myself credit for, I also learned just how much Bryon overcompensated for my weaknesses. I don’t have him to cover for me anymore. I have learned that I can count on my family and I have also learned which of my friends are actually my family. I have learned who I can’t count on (some were surprising) and which friends really weren’t friends. I learned that you can’t put all your faith into the healthcare system and that the healthcare system can fail you. And I learned that God doesn’t care if you did your best to be a good Catholic girl for over 30 years.
All those years of trying to fit into roles and groups has left me with a repressed free spirit. I have always had a free spirit that gets antsy and wants to see the world. It used to drive Bryon nuts when I wanted to day trip to anywhere, as long as it was out of Albany. He usually indulged me. I also have a creative side. I am still in the process of trying to let those parts of me out. I have been running. I have been travelling. I have been cooking new recipes and putting together furniture from IKEA. I have been reading about Buddhism to try to stay Zen. I have been in the process of changing over to natural cleaning and beauty products. I plan to have a garden this summer and learn how to can vegetables. I tried to dye my hair blonde but that didn’t work. And don’t be fooled if you ever see all the books on my nightstand. You might see titles that consist of history, religion, politics, business, memoirs, parenting and grief/self help but the last two books I read consisted of one by the Long Island Medium and the other was Jodie Sweetin’s memoir. Candace Cameron Bure’s memoir isn’t proving to be nearly as exciting as Jodie Sweetin’s memoir.
I realize that I was just afraid. I have been afraid of success and I have been afraid of failure. I have been afraid to let people see the real me. I had a clearly defined past and I have been afraid to stray from the expectation of who I am supposed to be. I have been afraid that if I tried something different or learned about something different that it might change how I think. And if I continue to be afraid, I will never fully live and I must fully live to be an example for my daughter. So my daughter can grow into the woman she is supposed to be.
A few weeks ago I went to brunch with a few friends. The food was delicious and we had a great time. There was lots of laughter and stories and a few mimosas. Both of them were talking about their dating adventures (or misadventures) which I enjoyed hearing about them.
But on the ride home I became really sad. I had one grandmother who lived to be 90 and my other grandmother is 95. I genetically have the potential to be stuck on this planet for another 60ish years and that is a long time to be alone. But I got sad thinking that someday I might have to date again. I started crying and the tears kept coming. I did not ask for this. I was happily married. I don’t want to be alone for 60 more years but I also don’t want to date. Why does life have to be so cruel? Why did my happily ever after have to get ripped away from me when so many other people get to be happy? Why does everyone else get to be happy and not me?
So I get home. I post a sad status on my Facebook because I feel the need to vent and some brave people comment and try to make me feel better and while I appreciate their intent, it never makes me feel better. Maybe I just need to stop sharing my feelings on Facebook. I blast my sad songs list on Spotify (doesn’t everyone have one of those?) and eat some ice cream. I blast Tears in Heaven and listen to it on repeat. Then I do what I do when I am feeling incredibly sad. I put on Sleepless in Seattle which lives on my DVR because I needed to hear Tom Hanks say “Move on. Fine. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll just grow a new heart…I know. But it just doesn’t happen twice.” Tears in Heaven, ice cream and Sleepless in Seattle, are like, my trifecta of grief.
One of my best friends must have seen that status because she messages me asking if I am okay. She is one of the few friends that I don’t feel like I have to answer with “I’m okay. Everything is okay.” I told her I was sad and I was listening to sad songs and eating ice cream. I did not tell her I was watching Sleepless in Seattle because I was nervous that she would have gotten into her car, drive over and delete Sleepless in Seattle off of my DVR and I can’t live without that coping mechanism.
Things have changed in the past month or two. I am starting to come out of the widow fog but the grief certainly has not subsided. I am still incredibly sad. I am still trying to make sense of Bryon’s death. Some days I begin to think that I am used to Bryon being gone while other days I still sit in shock and disbelief that he is actually gone.
When Bryon first died, I tried to come up with a timeline for grief. I have always been a goal oriented person so it made sense that I would set goals for the grief process. But it hasn’t worked that way. The months have just been bouncing by and I have been unable to attain any of these goals. I am still wearing my rings. A lot of our bills are still in Bryon’s name, his stuff is still taking up space in our house and I still haven’t shut off his phone. My friend asked me if the fact that we talk about Bryon so much is holding me back and I said no because most of my thoughts are still consumed by him and his death. I am afraid to stop talking about him because then he really will die. Yes he is physically dead but his story remind me that he actually did live and I am not ready to let go of that yet.
Have I been moving forward? I don’t think so. I think I have been surviving and keeping myself busy by traveling and doing activities with my daughter but I don’t really think I am moving forward. I am distracting myself. I am waiting for time and grief to pass before I start living again. I spend time with my friends and my daughter and I work, usually until the early hours of the morning as I put off bedtime every night because lying in an empty bed is just too painful. I need to stop searching for happiness because I am just not going to find it. I am just getting used to being sad and I need to embrace that because that is my life right now. This is my normal and since I can’t set my own timeline for healing, I need to embrace that I am going to feel sad until the indeterminate time comes when I no longer feel sad.
So for the time being, I will continue to feel sad. I will continue to cry when I think about what I have lost. I will still continue to distract myself. I will continue to go on adventures with my daughter. I will still continue to spend time with those I am close to. I will continue to try to check items off of my widow “to-do” list. I will continue to try to find myself as an individual. I will continue to do all of these things until eventually my grief subsides and all of this just becomes part of me and my story.
Last weekend I took my daughter on our second big adventure since Bryon passed away. My best friend from Maine, who had been living in Florida with her fiance, just relocated to Ann Arbor, Michigan. I looked at google maps and saw that it was about a nine hour drive. I ascertained that it would be long, but it was doable. The drive to my parents house in Maine is usually about 8 hours so this would only be a little longer. I decided to make this into a “runcation” (which I will write about in another race recap post.) To make an exciting weekend even better, my other best friend from Chicago decided to drive up with her daughter. In case you forgot, she was the one who consoled me as I sat on the floor in a Las Vegas casino crying a month ago.
I couldn’t seem to get my act together all week so I was packing on Friday morning and got a later start than I had wanted. I kept feeling like I was forgetting something. I had to remind myself that there were Targets in Michigan and if I forgot anything, I could just get it at Target, along with other stuff I don’t really need but I will decide I can’t live without. We finally got on the road around 9 am.
Our trip was pretty uneventful, though we ran into some snow but it was sunny by the time we were in Western, NY. Before we knew it, we were at Niagara Falls. My gas tank was just below a half of a tank but I stopped to fill my tank before entering Canada. Anyone who travels to Canada knows, gas is very expensive and it is wise to fill up on the United States side of the Border.
I was nervous crossing the border without Bryon because I had read on the internet that Canada was careful about children crossing the border without both parents. If you are a single parent traveling with a minor, you need a notarized letter from the other parents stating it’s okay. Well, Bryon wasn’t here to notarize any sort of letter. So I brought my daughters birth certificate along with a copy of Bryon’s death certificate. (We also have NEXUS cards) I was chatting with the Canadian Border agent who was very nice and she said it really was a concern when parents don’t bring any ID and it was clear I was my daughter’s mother. She did look at our NEXUS cards and my daughter’s birth certificate. The border agent said she didn’t need to look at Bryon’s death certificate but told me that it was a good idea to have it on me just in case.
My daughter finally fell asleep in Canada. The drive was long and uneventful with lots of farmland. Bryon and I had never traveled further than the Niagara region so Southern Ontario was all new territory. I found myself wishing he was on the trip with us. For starters, he would have been doing the driving. Second, we drove by so many places that would have excited him, like the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame. I imagine the conversation would have gone something like this:
Bryon: Let’s stop! It’s the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame!
Kerry: You don’t even like going to the American Baseball Hall of Fame. You think it’s lame.
Bryon: But Kerry…It’s the CANADIAN Baseball Hall of Fame.
Kerry: But…you aren’t that into baseball and a visit will take up a lot of time and we want to get to Michigan before it get’s dark.
Bryon: You are a Miss No-Fun.
I also thought fondly of Bryon as I drove by London, Ontario and saw the sign for the Labatt Brewery. He loved Labatt.
I was bored with the radio in the car and ended up listening to the CBC news. I decided that would be my cultural activity of the day since I would not be stopping at Tim Hortons, or the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame or the Labatt Brewery. I drove by a really large wind farm that went on for 45 minutes. Then I was finally in Windsor, Ontario and then I was crossing the Ambassador Bridge into Detroit. The Bridge was beautiful and I couldn’t take a picture because I was driving. There was a very large American flag. I don’t know if it is because I am generally a patriotic person or if it was because I was glad that my long drive was almost over but I started to belt out “America the Beautiful” when I saw that flag. My daughter was not impressed. I can’t blame her as I am not exactly a good singer. Actually my singing is not even tolerable. Poor girl.
We made it to Ann Arbor around 7:15 after google maps took us on an interesting drive in Detroit. I was so excited to see both of my best friends. Since I don’t use people’s names in this blog, I am going to refer to my friends as “my Maine best friend” and “my Chicago best friend”. And I will refer to my Maine best friend’s fiance as “the Scientist” because, well, he’s a scientist. We sat down and ate some Domino’s Pizza (which I learned is headquartered in Ann Arbor) and drank some Aldi wine (not too bad). My daughter was excited to see my Chicago best friends daughter and they wore princess dresses and chased each other until it was time for bed.
Good Night, MichiganAll tuckered out
I woke up early Saturday morning to make my run to Target to buy the items I forgot, along with those other items that I didn’t really need but decided I can’t live without. My Chicago best friend came with me and we decided to do the “divide and conquer” approach and I think we were out of there within 20 minutes. It was quite impressive.
After we returned to the house, we packed up to take the bus downtown. My daughter really enjoyed riding on the bus.
Who knew the bus could be so much fun?
The plan was to take the girls to the Natural History Museum at the University of Michigan. They had a great time running around and looking at the artifacts but they began to get tired and hungry. We had made it through the first two floors and the Scientist went up to check the third floor and said there wasn’t as much there so we decided to leave.
Natural History Museum at University of MichiganNatural History Museum at University of MichiganNatural History Museum at University of MichiganNatural History Museum at University of MichiganNatural History Museum at University of MichiganNatural History Museum at University of Michigan
I wanted to do some shopping so we stopped at The Den to buy my daughter and myself an article of clothing that said “Michigan” on it.
We then had lunch at Hopcat which was delicious and very reasonably priced. I had the tacos which were delicious. And I don’t know what the seasoning was on the crack fries, but they were amazing. My daughter learned the hard way that the hot sauce was not ketchup. There were some tears but I still think she handled better than some adults would have. The hot sauce was really hot.
Hopcat- Ann Arbor
Hopcat- Ann ArborThe attitude ❤
When we returned, I put my daughter down for a nap and my Chicago best friend stayed with the girls while my Maine best friend and I went to the race Expo which I will write about in another post. After we went to the Expo, we needed coffee so we went to a Meijer that also had a Starbucks. In 2007, I lived in Indiana for three months and I forgot how awesome Meijer was. It’s like, one of the seven wonders of the Midwest. Anyway we were in desperate need of caffeine and I also had to get the Starbucks You Are Here mugs. It’s my latest obsession. Anyone else into those mugs?
I was here.
After the girls woke up from their nap, we made plans to go to a Mexican restaurant, Los Amigos. The food was really good and I am a Mexican food snob. I was excited to see Chilaquiles on the menu because I think the only place I can get them locally is at El Mexicano in Saratoga. I was excited that they had a train. It was like Governor’s except it was a Mexican restaurant and we were in Michigan, not Maine.
Los Amigos- Ann ArborMy Maine Best Friends Sampler. I think it took her three days to eat all of it.Chilaquiles- Los Amigos, Ann Arbor
We were all exhausted Saturday night and didn’t stay up late.
Sunday was race morning which, again, I will write a separate race recap.
After the race, my Chicago best friend and her daughter left. My Maine best friend, my daughter and I drove 45 minutes to Dearborn to go to The Henry Ford. It was pricey but I felt like it was something you need to do in area. We were starving so we had lunch at a diner in the Museum. It was an actual diner car from 1946. Jut don’t expect to get a diet soda because when my Maine best friend tried to order one, the waiter informed her that there was no diet soda in 1946. However, the prices were not reflective of 1946 and they did accept credit cards.
The Henry FordThe Henry FordThe Henry Ford
My daughter took a cat nap on the car ride and was tired and was beginning to lose it after the cars, trains and planes so we decided to call it a trip. I didn’t feel too bad because my Maine best friend decided to buy the membership because she figured out that a membership would pay for itself in two trips. She also figured that this would be the place that out of town guests would want to go so a membership made sense.
The Henry FordThe Henry FordIt’s a Maine thingThe Henry Ford
We had a relaxing Sunday night. We ordered Chinese food for dinner and just hung out and went to bed early.
My daughter and I were on the road by 7am. We had a morning stop planned in Windsor, Ontario. When Bryon and I got engaged, I went on theknot.com and was active in the September 2012 board. Theknot.com was glitchy so we moved our group over the Facebook and we are still an active group. There have been so many milestones, babies, new jobs, new houses as well as divorces, illness and now death. I am the first widow of the group (though one of the ladies of the group was a widow who married her second love in Sept 2012) Anyway, one of the ladies on the board lives just out of Windsor (she blogs here) so my daughter and I met her at a Tim Hortons. I have known her online for over 5 years and it was exciting to finally meet her in person.
Friends and Tim Hortons in Windsor, Ontario
After our visit, we had a long car ride back. My daughter slept for about half of the Canada portion and none of the New York portion. We stopped for lunch at a rest stop just outside of Buffalo. The drive was long and uneventful and we made it home around 6 o’clock.
This adventure was still bittersweet. I didn’t miss Bryon as much as I did when I went to Vegas. Maybe that was because Vegas was the first adventure since Bryon passed. Maybe it was because both of my best friends were there which provided twice the distraction. But even though travelling without Bryon may have been easier, I still got sad when we passed the University of Michigan stadium because Bryon was such a sports fan and I knew he would have been excited. I guess I just have to have faith that he comes along with us in his way but I just wish he was physically still here to go on these adventures with us. I miss him so much but I must carry on for him, for my daughter and for myself. But it does make me feel good that I am still fulfilling the promise I made to him in the final hours of his life.
My weekend was a lot like other weekends. There were social engagements. There were errands that were done as well as errands that didn’t get done. I got some cleaning done and there was even more cleaning that didn’t get done. I wanted to take a nap but that didn’t happen. On Saturday evening, I was rushing around getting my daughter ready for her sitter and getting myself ready for a birthday dinner. Embracing a night where I wouldn’t need to be carrying a diaper bag, I grabbed a small clutch purse that I hadn’t used in a long time. I opened it and inside there was a shiny green toy baby. I looked at it for a second and then I remember that it was from our trip to New Orleans in 2014. I was nine weeks pregnant and we were going on a cruise (this was before Zika was a thing) and we spent a few days in New Orleans before the cruise. We had had dinner at Emeril’s restaurant NOLA. I don’t remember what Bryon ate but I remember that I had the fried chicken because my stomach couldn’t handle much else. For dessert I had iced cream and Bryon had King cake and this little toy baby was in the King Cake. Being the sentimental packrat I am, I saved it and forgot about it. There even is some frosting still dried onto it.
Now it is three years later. Our nine week old fetus is now an active two and a half year old girl and Bryon is dead. I don’t think this toy baby is a sign from heaven but it was a nice memory I had forgotten about. I thanked Bryon for that memory. As I clean out my house, it is likely that I am going to find more memories but I know over time these surprise memory triggers are going to become less frequent.
Our circle of friends always call ourselves “the family that we created.” Some members of our social circle know each other from college, or from politics or other organizations in Bryon’s life. Many of us are not from the Albany area and we live far from our own families so we do depend on each other like a family. Bryon’s sickness has also brought us closer together. We were there to comfort each other. They got me through the funeral and those early weeks of raw grief. We continue to help each other and support each other. Bryon’s death continues to bring us closer each day. Our souls are on some sort of journey and Bryon was in each of our lives for a reason and there is a reason that we are together now. We may not know, or ever know, the exact reason but there is a reason. We are all exactly where we are supposed to be.
During my conversations with close friends this weekend, we came to the realization that while Bryon might be physically dead, he is not really dead. He still has us laughing hard when we tell stories of his antics and those stories bring us comfort. While we share situations when we need Bryon’s guidance, we share the guidance he gave us when he was here. He truly lives on in our memories. While we may all be special and one of a kind, Bryon was different. He completely shattered the mold.
Our friendships have changed since Bryon died. Most of us in our circle have grown closer. We take the time to check in with each other more. We celebrate the events in our lives more and if there is no event to celebrate, we make up a reason. Being alive is a good reason. Every brunch together, every birthday dinner, every game night, we are meant to be together. We are in each other’s life for a reason. I may never make sense of why Bryon’s life had to be so short but I know that we were meant to be together for the short time we had and that it is because of Bryon that I have these amazing friendships and a whole bunch of happy memories. I have no idea where my life is going to end up, but wherever I go, it will be a result of the time I spent with Bryon as well as the time spent with my friends now. I don’t know how but these two factors are going to play a pivotal role in the rest of my journey on Earth.
Some friends have grown apart from our core group since his death and that’s okay. It’s natural. We are all moving forward. Forward doesn’t necessarily mean together. Just like some of us are in each others lives for a reason, there is a reason that people grow apart too. We are each on our own path and must follow it. Coming to this realization makes it easier to let go of any relationships that may be toxic because there is no reason for that to be in my life or my daughter’s life. Toxicity brings no value.
One thing none of us doubt is that Bryon is still playing a role in everything down here and we could very well just be pawns. There may be relationships I don’t have yet because Bryon still has it in the works. He was never one to play his best card right away. He is too smart for that. He has plans for all those close to him and he’s going to orchestrate it carefully. We just need to be patient.
I thought of this over the weekend when I brought my daughter to the birthday party of one of Bryon’s law school rugby teammates. I don’t know his teammate and his wife very well but they are great people and have always been kind of my daughter and me. They expressed an interest in our daughters being friends as they are close in age. Only time will tell if they become good friends of ours or if our daughters become close friends. But it is a good reminder to myself to not to get too comfortable with “the family that we created” and that I need to be open to the other friendships too. Because Bryon’s work may not be done. There could be people that are meant to be in my life that aren’t yet and it may take awhile for our paths to cross. Or maybe the friendships I have now will change and I need to be open to whatever those changes might be.
I certainly don’t know the meaning to everything or anything for that matter. I will never understand why Bryon had to die young. But I do think he was given more personality because he was here for a short time. I also think that maybe his soul was in some way more developed and therefore, he didn’t need to spend 80 years on this earth. But I know that he is still here and he is still working his magic and it gives me hope that maybe there are good things yet to come for me, my daughter and for everyone in our family that we created.
I am going to start this off with a confession. Way back in the very early days of our friendship, you missed my birthday party. I don’t know why you missed it. I am sure you had a perfectly good reason but at the time, I was so mad at you. I didn’t tell you I was mad at you but Bryon definitely heard about it and he was so annoyed at me. I have a tendency to hold onto anger. It’s not one of my more endearing qualities. (How fitting that I am talking about my Irish stubbornness on St. Patrick’s Day?) I held onto this anger until Bryon invited you and your boyfriend, now your husband, over to our place to watch a televised Siena game and I decided I was not mad at you anymore.
I am not sharing this story to try to make you feel bad. If anything, I am hoping you are laughing at what an idiot I am. I am sharing this story to demonstrate that because my own stubbornness, I could have easily missed out on of the best friendships in my life. I want everyone that is reading this to learn that lesson and to not be like me.
Through the years, we became good friends. You gave me a wedding planner when Bryon and I got engaged. We were at each others bridal showers and weddings. You held my daughter when she was a baby. We attended Siena games together. We went on double dates, one of which involved dueling pianos and an interesting rendition to the classic “Joy to the World”.
You were present at some of my funniest memories of Bryon. I wish you could have seen the look on your face when Bryon walked out of your wedding with a six pack of Sam Adams Oktoberfest. And remember that time when we were playing Cards Against Humanity and there was the incident with the Chinese food? And of course the infamous Christmas Eve Mass where we broke the pew after Communion and Bryon said “We need Jesus the carpenter, not Jesus the baby” and then Bryon marched up to the altar with the long piece of the broken pew over his shoulder, explaining it all to Father Bradley who wasn’t phased at all.
Bryon and I were saddened by your father’s death and attended your father’s funeral. We were sad that we didn’t get to know your father. We heard the stories and realized that we missed out on knowing a great man. Maybe they are getting to know each other now. I remember Bryon and I discussing how your father’s death was significant because we didn’t have many friends who have lost parents. Most of us had lost grandparents but a parent’s death was different because it was one generation closer to us and therefore it made our own mortality seem closer. That conversation gives me the chills now.
None of us were prepared for what was going to happen. But through those five months of hell, you were there for me the whole time. I am crying as I type this because I don’t know what I would have done without you. You just seemed to instinctively know what I needed, when I needed it. Whether it was baby-sitting my daughter, or an iced coffee, or nachos or just someone to sit with me. You would sit with Bryon when I was too afraid to leave him alone so I could run home and take a shower. You kept my spirits up which was important because I needed that hope to get through those months. You also rallied the troops when you organized the “Double Miracle for Bryon” campaign.
You and your husband were the first people to come over to my house the day Bryon died. You told people to bring food. The rest of those days are a fog in my memory but I know you were present. And when the crowd thinned out, you stayed. You assured me that Bryon is still around and will always be around. You still come over for #tacotuesday. We brunch with the ladies. You cleaned my kitchen and because of you, I can see my backsplash and all my tupperware has lids that match. You have even offered to help me purge my house and have a yard sale.
Christmas Eve was not the same this year but we started our new tradition of Feliz Navidad Lunch and then we visited Bryon’s grave. And instead of a broken pew at Mass, we had an epic toddler meltdown. I don’t know which was worse…
Even though Bryon has been dead for almost seven months, you continue to be there for me. You have taught me what it means to be there for people and how to be a good friend. I aspire to be like you. It’s crazy to think that we are friends because our husbands lived together during college. And if Bryon were still alive, we wouldn’t be as close as we are today but your friendship is one of the biggest gifts Bryon could have given me.
I have always been somewhat of an introvert and I have never had a large group of female friends. As a child, I was shy and hyperactive meaning that I talked too much to the few people I was comfortable with and annoyed them. In high school I kept myself busy with cross country, track and my job at Shop ‘N Save and my circle of friends was pretty small. I carried a similar pattern in college where I went to track and cross country practice and I did not attend many parties. During most of my 20’s, I immersed myself into politics where I socialized but in a highly structured manner. I always felt awkward in conversations and politics gave me a reason to talk to people and contact to discuss with them. Despite my shyness, I made a few friends during my political years as well as an amazing boyfriend.
In 2009, I moved to Albany after a year of long distance dating and I left behind a few close friends in Maine. For years after the move, I tagged along with Bryon to social events but I felt that our circle of friends were really just Bryon’s friends and that his friends barely noticed me. I was very lonely but over time I began to grow friendships with the girlfriends of Bryon’s friends and some of Bryon’s female friends from college. Over time I started having the occasional dinner and movie nights with the girlfriend/wife of Bryon’s best friend and a friend of Bryon’s from college. She would “babysit” Bryon and the guys in college. She deserves to be elevated to sainthood here on Earth.
Over the years we met up to show off our engagement rings and squeal with excitement. We poured over wedding planning magazines and got together to watch Say Yes to the Dress and Four Weddings. There have been bridal showers, bachelorette parties and weddings. Then came the baby showers, christenings, play dates and little kid birthday parties. I enjoyed the celebrations, double dates, brunches and occasional girls nights out. But you don’t realize how strong your friendships are until crisis hits.
You quickly learn who your friends are when you are told your husband might not survive. They are the ones who drop whatever they are doing and rush to the hospital and sit with you. They immediately step in to take care of your daughter and tend to your very basic needs because you forget about things like basic hygiene and eating when your husband is close to dying. These are the people who bring you food to make sure you eat and bring you endless iced coffees to sustain you. Usually when people say you learn who your friends are, it implies that they had fewer friends than they thought but in my case I found out I had many more friends than I ever could have imagined. I never knew how much they meant to me.
Bryon’s death has brought all of us closer. Not just to me but to each other. Life gets busy but we all make a point in checking in with each other more. It’s been a year of highs and lows. In addition to Bryon’s death, there have been new jobs, babies, new houses, engagements as well as divorces, breakups and illnesses. There have been job promotions, new jobs and job frustrations. There have been vacations and birthdays. We have all been there to support each other no matter what curve balls are thrown at us. It is so peaceful to be with friends who are there to listen to each other and offer support. We are the family that we created.
I look forward to spending the future with you. I look forward to more babies (just not from me!), engagements, weddings, new jobs and vacations. I know we will be there for each other for whatever lows there might be. For those of us with kids, I look forward to birthday parties, play dates and if I have the privilege to live long enough to see our kids grow up, I hope to attend recitals, concerts, and various games and other sports competitions and I hope to celebrate graduations, birthdays and another cycle of weddings and babies.
If Bryon were still alive, we’d all still be friends but we wouldn’t be as close. There would still be the highs and lows and Bryon would be helping us through them. We all know that he is still helping us through them in his own way now. And I like to think that our strengthened friendships are in some way, a gift from Bryon. He can’t be there for us anymore, but he gave us each other.
Running Forward...My Way 