gaston 2011

As I write this, I wish I was leisurely enjoying a cup of coffee on a miraculously breezy North Carolina morning while looking out on the lake. I wish I had a day ahead whose most stressful moments involved choosing who would tube or ski first or dreading the next sunscreen application. But alas, those days are behind us and and we have 51 weeks of waiting to enjoy that kind of relaxation again.

This year was different from the rest. Lake Gaston was the one time each year that we all saw Griff. Just as Mike, Mary, Alby and I were petering out from the kids' do-it-all-in-one-day attitudes and boundless enthusiasm, Griff would arrive, with all his toys and limitless energy in tow. He'd ask them interesting questions, take them for jet-ski ride after jet-ski ride, snap lots of pictures and video and spend time getting to know them as best he could. Then he'd entertain us all by teaching himself something new, like how to wake board, or how to do some sort of behind-the-boat trick. He was like a hurricane of energy, a windstorm of contagious excitement that we looked forward to each year.

Griff's loss was felt all week long. The nagging feeling you get when you've forgotten something came often and was quickly followed by, "I just can't believe this." We've found that with kids, you're fabulously catapulted into the present and your grieving comes in tiny private bursts when your thoughts break through the chaos of your days. Within the peaceful backdrop of Lake Gaston, Griff broke through.

I'm sure he'd be glad to know that it was a good week, too. Lots to discuss and catch up on, loads of fun provided by the kids and several visitors filled our days. The kids made sure we were moving full speed ahead, but even they, especially Logan, brought Griff up several times.

I guess there's no "getting used to it". There is forever a hole where there used to be something so much larger than life. It's unimaginable that people figure out how to go on with giant holes like the one Griff left, but they do. And we are.

griff's trees

It's overwhelming how people come out of the woodwork and show how amazing they are when bad things happen. We're so blessed to have such wonderful folks in our lives who've shown their generosity and friendship by honoring Griff's memory through trees for yard.

From Tiffany, Jeni and Matt, a gorgeous prariefire crabapple that we can watch bloom a glorious pink each spring. Our high school coach, Brent Johnston and his son, Danny drove out to our place with the tree and did all the work planting it. It was just a little bit amusing to watch Mike "watch" as other folks did work around his house. This is not his comfort zone! It was great catching up with Coach and the good vibes continue to emanate from Griff's crabapple every time we look at it.From the Marienthal's, Sack's, VanGilder's and Ayers', a gift card to one of our favorite places on earth, The Growing Place, was used to purchase a lovely Bloodgood Japanese Maple that we planted right outside our dining room windows. It's leaves peeking in at every holiday meal will be the perfect reminder of Griff.


Words cannot express our gratitude for good friends and fond memories.

the wisdom of finn

Last week, I had the opportunity to ask Finn how he was feeling about Uncle Griff's death. Kids are so resilient and they do move on so quickly - a blessing for sure - but I want them to know that we're available to talk about this, or anything, at anytime. While coloring with chalk on the driveway (we were drawing an elaborate mural of Whoa-Whoa) I asked.

"How are you feeling about Uncle Griff?"

"Sad," he said.

"Was it hard for you to be at his funeral with so many people who were so sad?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"How did it make you feel when you were there?"

"Sad. It was bad," he commented. "But it was the worst for Nana. I was so sad for Nana because she lost her son."

"I know," I said. "Come here and hug me."

"Why do you want to hug me?" he said. "Did you like what I said?"

"Yes I did," I answered. "But I want to hug you because I have a son to hug."

And right there on the driveway, surrounded by chalk drawings and dust, we hugged like crazy. Because we could.

Griff

Is there any doubt that life is too short? It is with great sadness that I enter this post into the collection of our lifetime stories on this blog. On Monday, March 21st, we lost Mike's brother Griff. Unexpected and tragic, his passing carved a hole never to be filled, but created a poignant awareness of all the blessings we have and how much we love Griff for the amazing individual that he was. I have dreaded this entry, but have known it must be entered as his loss is forever part of the five of us; ingrained in the fabric of the soul of our family.

God bless the many family members and friends that have come to support our extended family in ways unimaginable, even as they experienced their own sadness. From a peace plant to caring for pets to the most warm hug, we've witnessed greatness in every walk of our lives. God bless those that call for daily check-ins, plan visits and email support and prayers. God bless my children as they process Griff's loss with their unyielding resiliency and boundless hope for the future. God bless my husband, who is focused on supporting all those who need him while he feels his own deep grief. God bless Jessica as she finds the strength to go on each and every day. God bless Mike's wonderful parents as they forge ahead in spite of an unfathomable loss.

God bless you, Griff. We're so grateful to have had you with us, if only for a short while. We wish you peace and we know we'll meet again.