A measure of the man

One foot forward

Two weeks ago (was it only two weeks ago? was it ALL of two weeks ago?), I was chatting with Mir. She asked how I was holding up, and I told her I was fine, actually. It was the day of Grandpa's memorial service, I told her, and I was mainly worried about finding Raphael's tie. Tomorrow, I said, it will all be over, people will go home, and then I will think about the fact that he's actually gone.

That night, as we got ready for bed, I looked around the house. It was...trashed. Too little schedule and too much distraction and the clutter got away from me.

"Sorry about the mess," I told Clay. He shrugged.

"It's not like we haven't been busy. We'll get it together tomorrow."

But that night his dad died. Instead of sleeping, we somehow packed bags for everyone and were on a plane by 8:30 in the morning. As we sat in the airport, waiting to board, I thought about the seven suitcases we'd packed.

"I literally have no idea what's in our luggage," I told Clay.

"Me either."

As we flew home a week later, I thought about that night, the numb chaos of it. Now I couldn't imagine what we'd left behind us. And sure enough, when we arrived back at our home, it looked as though it had been ransacked.

It's been nearly a week, and I'm still fighting upstream against the mess. Every day feels like one step forward, two steps...over a slippery mound of newspaper that needs to be taken out to the recycling box.

I got all the laundry washed and put away, which felt like a monumental accomplishment. But then I tried to make banana bread and dropped a container of salt in the mixing bowl, sending a flume of flour across the kitchen. I stepped back to look at it and saw a perfect outline of my foot in the white spray on the floor. I sat down and cried, because it all seemed to hard and too hopeless and too much for me to put back into place.

Now when I wear the shoes I had on that day, I see flour tracing the laces on my left foot. I put one foot in front of the other and watch it appear and disappear and reappear and I try to remember that these things take time.



De-lurking because this post made me wish to give you a hug, a cup of tea, and some brownies. I'm so sorry for all of you. My own father died when I was nineteen, and it's so discouraging to be at the very beginning of grief and to know that there's all that long, long journey ahead of you till things feel normal again. I'll be praying for you.


oh honey, sending lots of hugs!

Julie in Austin (mom to 4 boys)

Hang in there, Kira! Please pace yourself - don't overdo, and give yourself time and permission to heal and get fully back on your feet. Take some breaks to just love on your sweet kids and be good to yourself! *HUGS*


Do me a favor, sweetie, would you? Take a look at that little picture of your boys in the sidebar, there.

Think about where you all were, then, when that was taken. And what life looked like.

And then look at how happy they were, anyway. How willing to put one foot in front of the other, even on shifting sand.

Think about how much better life has gotten. And will be again.

(And remember the calendar.)

Love you.


I know I don't *know* you, but I do know, from reading and weeping and laughing along with you that you are stronger than you know. I know how hard it can be to think you can move on -- 2009 was a terrible year for me, in a lot of ways, but I survived it and I know you can survive this. After all, the internets are behind you!


The old saying "time heals all wounds" holds true. It may take awhile, but there will come a time when things start to feel back on track again. In the meantime, please be gentle with yourself, and try not to get frustrated with yourself in your grieving process. Hey, the fact that you even considered making banana bread has you ahead of 95% of the world's population!

Katie @ Can't Get There From Here

If I, a complete stranger, wants so much to be able to show up, sit you down in the corner with a strong cup of coffee (or a full glass of wine) and start putting things to rights for you, I imagine you have a gaggle of girlfriends who would love to do the same. Give them a call. I'm sure you'd feel like you were imposing, but if one of my girls ever made that call to me, I'd be so touched that they felt close enough to ask. That's what friends are for, right? To help with the little things.

Carrie (in MN)

Katie (above) has good advice. Call a couple of girlfriends; I'm sure they would love to have a constructive way to help you out.


Kira I agree with Katie & Carrie, only instead of calling me just come see me! I truly am counting the days until you get here! I miss you all so much & can't wait to hug each & every one of you on Friday!!


One step at a time. Blessings to you and your family.

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