Karla's Cottage

A place to hold hands and reminisce for our 35th anniversary

For our 35th anniversary on Monday, I wanted to find a meaningful gift for my husband.

Since Ryan died, we have spent a lot of time sitting in our gazebo, listening to the wind chimes and thinking about our boy.

We watch the chickens play in the sprinkler, talk to the dogs, and hold hands. It has become our place to remember Ryan, and to be together.  
Oh, and drink some wine, too.

So when it came to picking out a gift, I figured that a matching set of  cozy rockers to sit in together would be ideal.  I searched online for something just right and wasn’t having the best of luck.  Then, I saw this set (on clearance, too) at TJMax and knew they were just what I had been looking for.

When we remodeled Ryan’s apartment for his 40th birthday, he chose everything in the rooms, and had gone with a lot of grays in a kind of modern, farmhouse style (he watched a lot of TV decorating shows for ideas).

These rocking chairs would look equally good with Ryan’s color scheme as they do in our garden.

I think he would approve of them.

Once I set them in the spot, I realized that rocks aren’t great for rockers... so I went back online and found a matching, outdoor rug. From Walmart, and it seems to be of a nice quality and looks pretty good there.

It is a peaceful place that has become very special to us.  I can see us sitting there together, holding hands and reminiscing throughout our next 35 years with each other.

Stitching my world back together

 

The day Ryan died, I was in the middle of making this flower I had crafted to stitch together a hole in a favorite shirt.

I was waiting for him to come downstairs for our planned walk. As I worked on the shirt,  I texted him a couple of times to ask if he was okay, since he was running so late.

After the shock of finding his body, and dealing with the dozens of emergency personnel that go along with a tragedy like that, I found myself back at the table, numbly stitching away on this flannel.

Over the next few weeks, while I still could not bear to speak to many people, and my chest twisted up into shards of pain with every breath I took, I found myself still stitching.

The creations were an outlet for me, my mind could wander with memories of my boy, as my hands stayed busy.  

I have never been into sewing, but embroidery seems different.  I call it “painting with thread”.  After surgery, early in March, while Covid was amping up, I could be creative while elevating and icing my knee.
So luckily, I was already immersed in the hobby and had a selection of supplies out, when I really needed them.  

Having these shirts to keep me occupied, didn’t take my mind off of Ryan, but sewing them did give me quiet time to think about him and I could feel myself being stitched back together a tiny bit with each flower.

I can’t say that embroidery has brought me peace, because I feel like breathing will always be painful now.

But I think it has helped me along towards peacefulness by the repetitive and simple process of pulling the needle in and out of the fabric and by choosing pretty colors to put together.

Ideally, it is best to be working on these flowers while listening to wind chimes in the gazebo.  And after a long walk on the trails Ryan and I had walked together on over and over.

The walks can be tough, each step reminds me of a laugh or something he said as we passed in that exact spot.  I have learned to never go on a walk without wearing pants with pockets and filling those pockets with tissues.

And to never waste tissues on tears.  Tears can drop on my feet, or on the sidewalk, but snot really shouldn’t.  And I am a snotty cryer.

I save the tissues for nose blowing and let the tears go wherever they want.

Maybe I will be able to do some artwork in the studio soon.  I have cleaned it top to bottom and rearranged it a bit too.  I am easing myself back into my old life, making myself ready to be artistic again.

For now, I’ll keep stitching, and trying to hold myself together as much as I can.

Filling my arms with furry hugs

 

Well, guess what?  Not only did we take Honey to Free State Pedigrees to be bred by Felix, we dropped off Sugar there for a date with her previous beau, Wally. 

Oh my.

 Am I of a right mind?  Two litters at once?  And later in the year?  I always said I would never have winter puppies, because we have a perfect set up for summer pups.  And I believe the babies need fresh air and a place to run (as well as for housebreaking themselves).  

But November, when they are old enough to run and wrestle and play outside, can be mild in KS.  And I have worked out a plan for keeping them in our garage, with a dog door to get in and out if needed, when it is chilly and at night.  Then in the daytime, they will have access to the fenced yard with a bed in the breezeway for their nap times. 

And with the two week age difference, I will be able to provide the needed attention at the appropriate growth stages.  But I sure will be busy doing it!

Which is just what I need.  It has been two months now since my son died.  Two months of missing his hugs and the kisses on top of my head.  Two months of missing our walks and our laughs together.

An armload of furry sweetness won’t replace Ryan’s hugs.  But it will be a very welcome distraction from heartache.  Plus, even though both of our dogs were taken to meet their boyfriends, it is never guaranteed that they will have successful dates.  It would shatter my hopes if we’d decided against taking Sugar in to see Wally and Honey ended up not having pups after all.

I decided I would rather double my odds.  I need some puppies in my world right now.  

This is Wally, the father of the Sugarbabies.

And I think I am not the only one suffering.  With the state of the virus spreading now, I am sure there are many people who would love to have a doodle to cheer them up.  
We will be offering a discount on pups to families who have been directly affected by Corona. 

If you are interested, please check back here for updates.  Sugar’s babes will be ready possibly the week of Thanksgiving and will be small to medium F1b goldendoodles.  Honey’s will be ready approximately the week of November 15 and will be medium F1 goldendoodles.

Looking back and finding joy

The last few days, I have looked back through my entire blog.  I have never re-read it before, except in bits and pieces.  (And it did take DAYS). I had hoped to find photos of Ry that I didn’t have saved in my computer, and I got lucky and found quite a few.

Often, they were like this one, big family shots with Ryan as part of the background.

Or this, where he is helping with a chore around the yard.  Ryan was often part of the background, or working.  

But then, jackpot! Here he is showing the pure jolt of joy and happiness that he never held back on when he was excited.

Looking back through 13 years of blogging, I saw so many blessings in my life.  

Some things long forgotten, others a deep part of me.  Tough times have come and gone, but through this journal that I have faithfully kept, I can see how lucky I have been over the years. (I also saw some some really cool things that I am kicking myself for selling.)

We are all going through an unprecedented rough time right now with the virus raging on and taking away so much from us.  

Maybe we all need a look back at the past to remember our blessings to hold onto them in our hearts, to get through what we are dealing with in the present.

My heart is forever damaged with my boy gone, but having happy times past and future to keep in my thoughts does help.

I had began with recent posts and scrolled backwards, diligently staring through all the photos, occasionally reading something that would make me grin.  When I’d find a picture of my son, sometimes there were tears, but more often, smiles.

Coming across the photo of Ryan showing pure joy near the very beginning of my writings, after a few days of flipping through pages of millinery, smiling babies, painted roses, beaches, sisters, adventures with friends, circus, travels with Rich, and other Good Stuff, was like finding the golden ticket in a chocolate bar.

Yes, I have been lucky in my life.  I had not only all of those wonderful experiences, I had this moment with Ryan.  When he was so happy, he leapt into the air like a kid.  

Those are the moments we need to hold onto.   With those, will get through this. 

 

Memory Chimes

We took our camper on a trip to Wyoming and while there with family members, we were able to have another small memorial for Ryan.

It was similar to the one at our home, where a few of us sprinkled ash on the Uncle Tree planted for him.

This time, each person added a chain to a wind chime when they told a story or memory they had of Ry.

My SIL, Terry, prepared family photos to add along with chains, bells, stones, and charms.

She set the supplies out, and family members gathered around the craft table to make a length of chain and charms with a tinkling bell at the end.

The wooden parts were hand crafted by Terry’s husband, Dale.

Sugarwings picked a blue chain to use, because of course, a Favorite Color is a major consideration for her.  When she moved on from pink to aqua as a new beloved color, it was a major announcement and life style change.  

I listen to her  discussing Favorite Colors with others and it is almost as if they are talking about something that defines them, not just a preference for a shade.

After raising rowdy boys, this fascination with Favorite Colors amongst the grand fairies was  a change.  Maybe I just never ease-dropped on or appreciated the conversations my two sons had the way I do with these girls (who by the way, are also very rowdy).

After losing Ryan, I have given a lot of thought to how I raised him and his brother way back when, and how different I am with the new sibling duo now.

There are regrets.
Lots of regrets.

Many mistakes were made my first time around the block.

When Ryan came along, I was 19, and he was a baby who needed more than I could offer.

We were far from family or help, he didn’t sleep more than an hour and a half, which meant that I didn’t either. (For months and months).

I lived in poverty, and didn’t even have a phone to call family for advice.  It was a 45 minute drive to a pay phone, and sometimes Ryan and I would be alone with no transportation for weeks at a time.

 Looking back, I am sure that I had postpartum depression, but that wasn’t something mothers were screened for much  in those days.

I have always said, “Ryan wasn’t an easy baby.” He cried nonstop, and so did I.

Now, I can see that his problems started with me, not with him and it wasn’t fair to put the blame on a baby.  My inability to care for him was why he was so unhappy.  If I’d had just a little help, someone to hold him and comfort him while I napped, could I have been able to comfort him myself?  

Sugarwings and Dewdrop haven’t always been “easy” themselves (what kid is?).  But my attitude and mental health have been different with them. I wish I could have given Ryan what I gave to them.  He deserved more.

All of my kids have some form of sensory or learning disorder and I never thought I was up to any of it.

I felt like my boys deserved someone better, stronger, more knowledgeable, than me to get them through it.  It wasn’t until I had grand fairies that I felt like I was doing something right.  Maybe the boys helped me work through all of the insufficiencies that I had in raising them.

Ryan and Adam-I am sorry that I was not the mother I should have been for you.  But thank you for the lessons you taught me.  Thank you for helping me become a better grammie. Because you suffered through my insecurities and my impatience, I know how to be patient now.

Ryan grew up to be a remarkable man.  I wonder what he could have become if he’d had a mom who was prepared for a child with difficulties and in a better financial and emotional state when he was born?

Hopefully, I made his rough start up to him later on.  He had a generous soul and never showed me anything but an abundance of caring..

I have been so proud of who he became, and love hearing people describe his kindness and gentleness when they speak of him.  The remarks family made while adding a bell to Terry and Dale’s wind chime design were quite moving.

 Losing an adult child is a layered grief.  At first, I mourned the thoughtful man who was my beloved friend and walking companion.

Then, I’d have flashes of him as a child or a teen and a fresh pain would strike me, taking my breath away.  Thinking of him as a newborn rips my heart out.  

I am trying to remember the happy times with him, that cute little face looking up at me with joy. Remembering  each story that was shared as a chain was added to the wind chime. 

And appreciating that knowing him helped me to learn to be better.  

 

 

 

 

In the land of heart shaped rocks

We have been doing some traveling.  Yes, I know that in the Time of Corona, that is an iffy thing.  But we have a new RV that allows us to avoid all public restrooms and restaurants, we roll with our own kitchen and bathroom.  All we need to do is pump gas, then park and picnic inside the bubble of our little home on wheels.

This trip was to Wyoming, where the virus hasn’t become a big threat.  We gathered at the spacious lake house we’d gone to before on our big family reunion.  This time, the attendance was much smaller, due to the concerns of the plague hanging over us all.

Honestly, I was  not a fan of the idea.  Shouldn’t we all just stay home, doing our part to stop the spread?

But, my husband and I are dealing with our boy’s death in different ways.  I couldn’t even speak to anyone at all for along time, he wants his people around him, and was especially missing his family.  Whom I also love, and love to spend time with.  It meant a lot to him, he needed his people.

I felt more than a little guilty about indulging ourselves with a vacation/family reunion but knew that this one was about as safe as one could be. 

Buying the new camper made me feel pretty secure. And we questioned everyone we were going to be seeing on their practices. Our family members had all been careful, working at home, shopping at early morning senior hours, staying in, etc.

A couple of weeks ago, we took the RV to North Carolina for the grand fairies to see their daddy, and while NC is far from as virus free as the remote lands of Wyoming, that had gone well and had also been very careful there.

So, I took some of Ryan’s ashes from the urn Ed Noonen had gifted us with and carefully packed some in the “to go vase” he had also made.    Actually, the small vase was a separate gift, not exactly meant to be a traveling ash container, but it seemed ideal for that purpose.  I have mentioned that Ry wasn’t fond of getting out and seeing the world.  But when we last vacationed in Casper, he rode along and had a great time.

We had pulled a camper then too.  Not because the lake house was too crowded, it sleeps DOZENS, but to provide a private place for him to retreat to if needed. We practically forced him to come and used the fact that it was his grandma’s 85th birthday to guilt him into it.

And we were so glad we did.  He joined in, laughed with everyone, took long walks in the hills with me, helped in the kitchen, and even placed pretty high in the ping pong tournament.  It was such a pleasure to remember him there with us, that we wanted to spread some of his remains in a spot that had been special to us.

This might sound odd, and might also mean that I am totally losing it, but carefully tending to the ashes, and wrapping them up to take along reminded me of taking care of him as a baby.  Geez, why did I even tell you that?  I do sound crazy.  And grief will do that to you.  Maybe I felt like I was doing something for him like I used to when he was just little?

Sugarwings and Dewdrop went hiking with their cousins and all of the girls brought back heart shaped rocks for me.

I do not remember seeing any at all when we were there three years ago. But on this visit? They were abundant.

The largest rock is next to his urn now.  The teeniest is wrapped up in a note to him, inside the urn.

When I came across the smaller, almost perfect heart, I knew it would be an ideal bodice along with the larger hearts as wings and skirt, to form an angel for my boy.

There is twisty, weathered wood all around too.  I picked up pieces to make a frame around his angel. Then took the ashes out to it, and let Sugarwings sprinkle them over it all. 

While I hadn’t thought I needed this trip, like my husband did, I found out that I certainly had. Staying in a unique spot that was full of happy memories and being able to create this angel for Ryan with stones found by the girls was good for me.

As was spending time with two of the dearest sister-in-laws anyone could have.  Both of them offered their own big hearts to me when I sobbed.  

My husband says the time was healing for him. 

 I can’t say that for myself.  Right now, I don’t see any possibility of ever healing.

But I can say that when people who care about me were there to listen to me talk about our loss, and to show their love,  I knew that I had not lost everything.  It is good to feel their love, when I needed it so badly.  

I know that with this virus ramping up and raging through our world, not everyone has the luxury of buying an RV to go be near family.  Although our son is dead, I still feel blessed for what we do have.  And my heart goes out to those who suffer through the loss of the ones they love completely alone due to the isolation we are all going through.