Karla's Cottage

Notes to my son

We had sprinkled ashes around the farm on trees given as memorials, by the wind chimes Ryan had hung, and by flowers he had planted.  We want to take some to Wyoming and Florida also.  Ry was not a traveler and we couldn’t get him to go with us on trips, except for two to those spots.

He came along on our big family vacation to Siesta Key, and to the giant family trip to Casper in honor of Grandma Joan’s 80th birthday.  Both times, he tried to back out, but we were insistent.

We did our best to make him comfortable, in Florida we rented a large enough condo for him to have his own suite so he could have solitude when needed.

(He never knew that we almost Home Aloned him, my husband and I both drove away to pick up other family members to take to the airport, each thinking the other had Ryan!)

For the lake house birthday party, where relatives from all over the country gathered to share a large home that slept about 40, we knew that would overwhelm his sensory disorder. To help, we hauled a camper with us so he could have his own house away from the commotion when he needed quiet.

Both times, he surprised himself by having a blast. He loved family time and joined in on games and excursions, even one to Disney.  We were so glad that we had practically forced him to come along, and I will treasure that time with him forever.
Some of his ashes will be sprinkled in each place.

He was always my power washing buddy too, so next time I get that machine out, I want to shoot some ash across the drive way with the spray.  

I know, slightly odd, but he would have thought it was cool. 

His ashes hadn’t been delivered yet when I had the washer out recently, so I wrote his name with it for now.

More of the remains will be made into blown glass.  But most have been placed in this hand made urn.

A sweet friend from my book club invited me to the ceramic studio behind her home to pick out an urn crafted by her husband, Ed McCormick.  He does beautiful work and I was overwhelmed by his generosity.

They had sat out creamy and soft colored, elegant vases that would have matched my home perfectly.

But when I saw this one, I burst into tears, knowing that the floral-ish looking skulls around it were ideal for my boy.  He always liked to doodle skulls, some with top hats, some with roses.  I came across a few when I cleaned out his apartment.

The urn now sits next to a shadow box frame with Ryan’s portrait and his favorite matchbox car from childhood in it.  

I had planned on putting the angel I had made from Sugarwings’  “fairy building kit to go” in his room, but I like it here instead.  It is by a hydrangea dried from an arrangement sent to us.

When I think of something that I need to tell him, I write it down and put it in the urn.  Along with the notes, I added a silver skull ring that he liked to wear.

Ryan and I had what people might think were the most boring of conversations.  He and I told each other about the little things that happened during our days, interesting or not.  

So some of my notes might just be about cleaning out the fridge.  

But I know that he liked hearing about what I had been doing, no matter what it was.

It is rare to have someone in your life who never thinks you are monotonous when you ramble on about dull things.  Someone who actually wants to hear them. 

  
Other times, I write to him about how much I miss him, memories I had of him growing up, or something funny one of the dogs did.

The notes usually have a blurry spot or two where the ink was splashed with a tear.  But somehow, it does feel good to write my thoughts down and place in his jar.

Thank you Ed and Mellisa.

 

 

 

Big memories, but a small memorial

We had an ancient oak on our property, just over the creek.  My husband would snuggle under it with his little grand fairies and tell them family stories.  He wanted to share memories of people who had passed and places they had come from. 

They always called it the “Grandfather Tree”.

When it was lost to a storm, we had it turned into a dining table, big enough to seat our whole family without pulling in extra tables for more space.  When we were together, we were a total of 11, and I’d joked it was a Nathans’ Dozen, kinda like a bakers’ Dozen wasn’t exactly twelve either.

When Ryan died, his Indiana cousins sent a tiny oak for us to plant.  I don’t know if they knew about the Grandfather Tree, or if it was just luck that the gift they sent was also an oak.  But when Sugarwings saw the type of tree, she suggested we call it “The Uncle Tree”.  She used a wood burning tool to write that on a sign her daddy made from some cedar planks we had.

We planted the little tree, and most of the remaining Nathan Dozen sprinkled some ashes on it, while saying something about Ry Guy.  I had confetti to throw too.  He would have thought that was funny.  

He was always laughing with me.

As I was gathering up the wrappings the oak had come in, I almost threw away a small, silver plaque that said “The Cousin Tree” that had been sent along with it.  We added that to Sugarwings’ sign.

The oak is near our gazebo, filled with the wind chimes we received and the ones Ryan had hung there.  

On the other side of the gazebo is a weeping redbud that was sent by the Guncles, and a vintage rose bush sent by a friend.

Rich and I like to turn on a sprinkler that waters them in an arc around us, while the hens play in the spray and the breeze makes the chimes sing to us.  On the hottest days, this is a cool, shady place to sit with a glass of wine in the evening, holding Dorothy (Ryan’s favorite dog) on my lap.  

Ry and I had a habit of watching a tv show together every night after dinner, and this has taken the place of tv watching for that hour.  It is comforting.  

Sometimes, I sit there and embroider. 

The roses Ryan had planted for me were in full bloom the day we planted the Uncle Tree, so we placed some ashes around the rose bush too, and on the iris bulbs he had planted. Although the rest of the iris around the farm were done, there was one last flower in the patch.

Because of the Corona Virus, there was no funeral.

There was no hustle bustle of running to the airport to gather up family members and hugs from far away.  

Ryan was a quiet guy who didn’t care for crowds.  With his sensory disorder, crowded places were physically hard for him to be in.  But he was also a loving soul who enjoyed his one on one conversations when he was in a group.  

I feel bad that he did not get a big goodbye, but he is one of many who could not have the funeral they should’ve. We have lost over 100,000 people, plus the ones like my boy, who died, not from the virus itself, but from what I feel is Covid related circumstances.

Maybe our small gathering due to social distancing was just what Ryan would have preferred.   And while I missed being able to have a funeral, I felt as if I had gotten hugs from afar with all of the cards, letters, flowers, and gifts that caring people had sent.  

I treasured each and every kind message, comment, and thought. I am rereading notes, drying flowers, and saving empty vases to mosaic on.  We are tending bushes and trees sent in his memory and listening to the melody of the wind in the chimes. Each and every compassionate item that came to us helped, and was appreciated.

Thank you all for caring. 

And Ryan, thank you for being my friend, walking buddy, caretaker, horror movie watching companion, helper, and my little boy.  

I will always miss my baby.

 

 

The comforting sound of wind chimes

Ryan was helpful around the yard.  At first, I thought he was just trying to make things easier for me.

It would start with him keeping me company as I worked on something, and before I knew it, he had taken the shovel away to do the job himself.

Over the years, it progressed to him asking if I had a job for him on his day off.

I think he had come to enjoy gardening.  Or maybe he just knew that I loved it and he loved me, so wanted to help.

He built this entire sidewalk for me, one shovel full of gravel at a time.  As the rocks settled over time, twice, he took the truck to the  garden center, to buy more stone, and surprised me by touching up the balding spots.

The deep, dark pink rose bush is one that he bought for Mother’s Day two years ago.  He surprised me after planting it.

Lately, with my husband retired and Ryan working long hours at the nursing home, we got a lot of jobs done daily while he was at work.

Ry was always interested in seeing what we’d done, and would walk around the yard, complimenting the progress.  He told me that he liked to stand on his deck and look out over the yard and enjoy How pretty it looked.

I mentioned that the only thing we needed to complete the redo was some wind chimes or a fountain.

On Mother’s Day, he brought me these beauties, and he moved them from one end of the yard to the other, looking for the best spot to catch the most breeze.

The day he died, Rich and I spent much of our day in the gazebo, listening to the chimes.  The weather was ideal, there was a slight breeze making the soothing sounds pretty much continuous.  

Since then, caring loved ones have sent us some more sets to hang in the gazebo.  

We added some to a nearby branch, also.

Each has its own, soft set of notes that are slightly lighter  than the deep tones from Ryan’s gift.  The dogs run through the gazebo, wagging tails that make the chimes sing when there isn’t a breeze to to the job.

We spend time out there together, holding hands, drinking coffee in the morning or wine in the evening, listening, and thinking about our boy.

An angel for Ryan

Sugarwings went caving and kayaking with her dad last weekend.  While there, she gathered rocks and shells for me, calling it a “fairy kit to go”.

In the box of pretty rocks, was just what I needed to make an angel for Ryan.   Typically, I leave my fairies and angels on beaches, but this one is for Ryan’s room, so I glued her to one of the favorite paintings that he had in there.

A few days before he died, we took one of our long walks together and as I glanced down, I spied a four leaf clover.  He and I were both so excited, you’d have thought I’d found a fifty dollar bill, not a leaf.  I was using a cane, and had a Twinkle on a leash, so Ryan carefully held that clover throughout the rest of our walk and I pressed it when I got home.

I am still going on my Ryan walks.  Usually with Twinkle, sometimes with my husband, always with tears.  One walk was with my son, Adam, and I told him about the shamrock.  That night, he brought me two that he found for Ryan and I.

Ryan’s digital portrait and a thank you

I did a digital sketch on my iPad while missing my boy.

It is preliminary, in planning a larger, acrylic paininting that I can frame.  

Every heartfelt message that was left on my posts about Ryan is appreciated, thank you. I have read them numerous times and am slowly, a few at a time, trying to acknowledge each one on FB, IG and my blog. Over the years, I have been lucky to get to know so many online friends, some I have met in person, others just through typed words. Social media has been a great way to meet friends and now it is a comfort to hear from them as well as from family, past co-workers, and long time friends who are all far away. So many have reached out to me with kindness, and I appreciate the sincere caring that went into the comments. Some make me cry, some make me smile, others touch me with a shared grief. All are meaningful to me. Thank you.