blogging a – z challenge – “a”

April 1, 2016April 5, 2016 / Kade's mom / 8 Comments

I learned about the Blogging From A to Z Challenge from A.J., a girl in my writer’s group. Today, April first, the project of blogging each day in the month of April (except Sundays), for each letter of the alphabet, begins!

The letter A. Well, the first “A” word that comes to mind is the name of my youngest son, Asher. He is five years old and at kindergarten this morning. Today’s post will be about my little Asher…and will touch on how his big brother’s death has…or hasn’t…affected him.

Asher was only 22 months old when Kade died. When I wrote about the day that Kade died, I noted that Toddler Asher was…quiet…during all of the chaotic goings-on. I won’t write about that day at length here, but he was calm, as if he knew something grave and life-changing was happening. He didn’t make a fuss, as if the Older Wiser Asher within was telling Toddler Asher that this was bigger than a tantrum. This was bigger than fear. This was bigger than chaos and hyperventilating and oxygen masks and strangers taking care of him at the pool because mama couldn’t right then.

I am a big proponent of being open about grief. Of letting the bygone days of shame and secrecy associated with loss, be way bygone. The societal tides are changing, and I’ve had great mentors to learn from. I agree with the thinking that “being strong” for the children is a bunch of bunk, and if my kid sees me cry because I miss my other kid who died, it’s not going to harm him. He’s going to witness true human emotions (not all of them all of the time of course), and furthermore learn that tears give way to laughter, laughter gives way to frustration, frustration gives way to sadness, and on and on and on. Emotions ebb and flow and what favor am I paying Asher if I paste on a cheery smile 24 hours a day? Let’s just say my toddler/preschooler and I have spent some afternoons on the couch with Cheetos, tissues, and TV. And conversely, we’ve spent some afternoons at the museum learning about dinosaurs. Life, and mood, is rich and varied.

I’ve learned that as Asher grows and changes developmentally, his dealing with his brother’s death…a large impactful loss in his immediate family…will affect him differently. Today, my very verbal five-and-a-half-year-old is hot and cold on the topic of “Big brother Kade.” Some days he mentions his big brother with affection. Other times he simply wants to leave him out of what we are doing. A succinct “No” was the answer to my question, “Shall we include Kade when we make up nicknames for our family for Dr. Seuss week at school?” OK, then.

But a couple weeks later when I started drawing on the sand on our Mexico vacation, Asher said, “Let’s write Kade’s name.” Then he nestled the smooth rock and brain coral he had collected inside the heart.

forever changed

February 5, 2016 / Kade's mom / 1 Comment

Our similarity in circumstances, and in proximity, brought us together over a year ago. My friend, Paula Stephens, asked me to contribute a Healing Note for her blog. Thank you, Paula! And thank you for your friendship, energy, authenticity, and all the healing goodness you provide so many broken hearts through Crazy Good Grief.

kade’s 23rd birthday

January 25, 2016 / Kade's mom / 2 Comments

Oh my, 23. Kade would be 23.

I had an unusually weepy build-up to his birthday the last two weeks.

I’m blaming Adele.

The soundtrack in my head this birthday season has been Adele’s “When we were Young.” It’s not only the words, which take me to the time of it being “Kade and me,” raising Kade when we were both young, but the haunting, wistful melody.

You look like a movie
You sound like a song
My God, this reminds me
Of when we were young

One morning after volunteering at Asher’s school, it was on the radio. I’m not a huge Adele fan but the lyrics sucked me in.

Let me photograph you in this light
In case it is the last time
That we might be exactly like we were
Before we realized…

Right after I got home, my mom called. I took deep breaths to answer and pretend I was OK. When my “Hello” was a little off, I knew she would know. She was calling because the lead-up to Kade’s birthday was hard for her, too.

We had a really great writer’s group meeting last week. We’re in an exciting phase of reviewing members’ completed manuscripts. It was an invigorating meeting.
Didn’t matter. On my way home, on came the song and the pain washed over me with the chorus:

When we were young
when we were young
when we were young

That was the second time I called Adele a bitch. But I can’t hate anything for long that brings me closer to Kade, even the hard stuff. And since I’m not generally a crier, I took a strange bit of comfort that my tears could be evoked like that. Does that even make any sense?

Volunteering at Dumb Friends League Buddy Center yesterday was nice. Beau and Dylan came. It was wonderful to get to catch up with those two great kids. Beau is Kade’s best friend. Their bond is as solid and bold as the “Brothers Forever” on Beau’s forearm. I loved his memories of camping. He had some great stories about Kade. And with some stories, I wanted to plug my ears and go Lalalalala!

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And Dylan, he’s an all-around likable kid. I got some insight into his thoughtful world views when we talked a little politics and current events. And there were laughs to be had when some of our end results were shaped more like bonnets and diapers than blankets.

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Aaaand then the song came on in the car on my way home. I keep a regular box of tissue in my car—I scoff at travel size. I thought, Great. I get to take Asher to one of his classmate’s birthday party with puffy eyes now. Brian would have taken him and allowed me time to decompress or finish up errands for Kade’s party, but he was sick with a bad cold.

I really didn’t want to go to a little kid’s birthday party, nestled in between my two events honoring Kade. But I had to suck it up. I knew I could do it for Asher; he was so looking forward to his buddy’s Star Wars party.

The drive and walking in went fine. I can do this. Until one of the kind moms looked me in the (puffy) eyes and asked, “How are you doing?” Tears. Damn it, Adele!

I explained that it was Kade’s birthday weekend, and that it was a hard time of year. I told the small cluster of moms about Kade’s party the next day. They were so sweet. They asked to see a picture of him. They were amazed that his friends still come to his birthday parties. I didn’t feel quite as bruised. Support can come from the darndest places.

First thing I saw on my Facebook newsfeed this morning was, “Today is Kade Tyson Riefenberg’s birthday! Wish him a happy birthday!” with his profile picture surrounded with confetti. I wished that everything about his birthday was surrounded by confetti. And I wondered if moms whose kids’ birthdays are all confetti, know how lucky they are.

We had Kade’s party today. I like that our venue and menu have worked so well in previous years that we don’t have to make many decisions to put it together.

For gift bags I ended up going with:

photo keychains
Faygo pop (his favorite soda, found at a record store in Denver he frequented)
Red Vines
beef jerkey
Sweedish Fish
purple-wrapped Hershey’s Kisses (Muah!)
prints of a few favorite pictures
a blank card asking for a memory to share with me

Things I loved about this weekend:

Seeing two strong young men up to their elbows in fleece kitty blankets
Hearing new Kade stories (well, most of them)
The sweet moms boosting me by letting me talk about Kade
Kade’s friends showing up again
Seeing an old friend from back in the Boy Scouts day—his first time at one of our gatherings
His friends wanted to do sky lanterns (sadly, we didn’t because our party was mid-day. I should have had it last night–it was a full moon!)
They asked if we were still whitewater rafting for the anniversary this summer
Craig said he already got June 29th off work
My best friend, Leah, being there for me today with her daughter, Katie
Kade’s “little sister,” Autumn, made the two-and-a-half-hour drive from Buena Vista

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“When We Were Young” by Adele

Drinking Responsibly

January 13, 2016 / Kade's mom / Leave a comment

Too important, and close to home, not to share.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the phrase, “Let them sleep it off, they’ll be fine in the morning,” but I’m alive today because my friends got me help. Don’t take a chance if you see a friend passed out from drinking too much. Get them help as soon as possible. I’m very lucky to have made a full recovery, but I know there are others who won’t be as lucky. So please drink responsibly and make sure your friends do too. Watch out for friends, family, even strangers, and take care of them when you suspect they might be suffering from alcohol poisoning. Know the symptoms and be safe.”

Hanna Lottritz

Today is my 21st birthday, a day I have been looking forward to for quite some time now. Due to an event that happened about six months ago I will not be taking birthday shots and getting wasted tonight. Instead I plan on having dinner and maybe a glass of wine with my closest friends and family. I am writing this because I didn’t realize the importance of drinking responsibly until I was waking up from a coma, and I don’t want anyone to go through what my family and I went through. I ask that you share this with your friends, family or anyone who may benefit from reading this. If I can help just one person by sharing my experience, then I will be absolutely ecstatic.

FullSizeRender Reno, Nevada- July 26, 2015: A photo from the emergency room an hour after I arrived at Renown hospital. At this point…

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who knew old navy was a house of horrors?

December 28, 2015December 28, 2015 / Kade's mom / 5 Comments

Written November 15, 2015

I went shopping two days ago with Asher. It seems I’m on a never-ending quest for everyday jeans, since that’s my wardrobe…every day. Dropping Asher off at kindergarten? Jeans. Nannying? Jeans. Coffee with a friend? Errands? Writer’s group? Jeans jeans jeans. We were waiting for work to be finished on our car so we basically killed time running errands in the loaner, not wanting to go all the way home when we’d be called back any time. We went to Krispy Kreme for a special mid-afternoon treat. And then to Old Navy in hopes that the roof would hinge open, and a ray from the heavens would shine onto my perfect jeans that fit like a comfortable glove.

The jeans shopping went fine. There was a decent sale and selection, and I settled on a pair I like. Not heavens-parting-perfect, but good enough. Asher was reasonably cooperative to allow me to get my necessary item picked out and even tried on, so after that chore we had time to browse around the store.

Brian’s latest quest is casual-dressy shirts (is that a thing?) that he can wear out. Out for a date night, out to dinner with friends, out to a friends’ house, maybe even suitable for work. But being in the men’s section was also loaded. Loaded to the brim with memories of picking up things for Kade. Though I hadn’t been to Old Navy all that recently, it’s been a favorite place of mine in all his years of growing up.

We strolled our cart past boxers, socks, PJ bottoms, t-shirts. The basics, as well as the more fun stuff: shirts, flannels (twist a dagger in my heart, they had nice prints of soft and bright flannels! I would have totally looked for his size: Large, XL, or XXL, depending on which magnitude of over-sized he was in to at the time).

I was hit with an almost primitive urge to know what he needed and stock him up. Instantaneously I got a jolt of: Oh my gosh, why has it been so long since I’ve bought these necessities for Kade?! I need to find out what he’s low on! I wanted to call him. “Kade, there’s a great sale at Old Navy. Can you use any shirts? Flannels, or those thermal ones with a few buttons at the top? They have some nice colors right now. How are you doing on socks? Could you use a hoodie? Do you have something warm to wear outside?”

It was an old familiar maternal feeling being triggered that logic didn’t seem to turn off. Being sure he had enough. Socks? Boxers? T-shirts? I felt it. I knew he was gone, and had no need for clothing, and still I felt it. My brain kept going back to it. What does he need? What is he low on?

I could not cry and let loose in Old Navy, so I plastered on a smile, or at least a shopping face. I even played a short game of fast-walking tag because Asher asked me to, he’d been shopping for a long time, and no one else was in that section. But I was feeling sad, so sad. So tangibly, soft flannel, teal-blue thermal crew neck with flecks that would bring out his brown eyes, sad.

No, I couldn’t let loose and cry then, but I am now. Why some things are such triggers and others are not, I can’t figure out. Why some memories are so sensitive and others are not, is a mystery. I now feel less selfish about the clothes that I buy for myself vs. Brian, though. I didn’t put words or logic to it before, but the men’s section is a sad, longing place for me to be. Two days ago it was beyond a wistful place. It was a maternal, primal, compulsion-to-provide-for-my-son place. I knew he didn’t need the clothes, but the hard-wired memories of clothing him all of his life haven’t died. (What’s a word between memory and feeling? More than a memory, and entering into the realm of an emotional, and even physical, feeling. We need to find a word for that.)

Queue the angry part: I swear, I get sick of mourning every last piece of my life with Kade. It’s not a one-time thing. It’s a life-time thing, reliving each tiny piece as it presents itself. They all get re-examined, one by one, as I live my life: each bit that made up the mosaic of our lives together.

Queue the questioning part: The men’s department was another part of that mosaic. Will it ever be done? Will the last piece, one day be placed, and mosaic be finished? I doubt it, because then another will disclose itself in a slightly different way. Two days ago it was boxers and socks at Old Navy. Maybe another day it will be skate shoes at BC Surf and Sport. I sure get tired of the mourning and the remembering and even the honoring.

Queue the wishing part: I wish a trip to Old Navy could be a simple matter of stocking stuffing (Yay, penguin boxers!), or checking boxes off my Christmas list (Gee, Mom, thanks for my thousandth flannel!).

Kade’s 999th flannel

true halloween confessions

November 3, 2015November 20, 2015 / Kade's mom / 1 Comment

I can’t believe I’m sitting here about to post to my blog, after more than three months since my last posting, during NaNoWriMo. That’s National Novel Writing Month. I have pledged to write around 1,667 words per day (about four pages) throughout November. I’m not writing a novel, or story, but working on my Kade writing. Will it be a Kade memoir? Will it be a Jenny memoir? Will it be something else? That remains to be seen. I’m sitting down and doing the writing (the most important part I’m told) and hoping it will reveal itself.

I’m actually meeting my daily goals. Perhaps the idea of posting to my blog during NaNoWriMo is not so outlandish after all, as I’m already doing the writing. Here’s a piece from today, fitting for the Halloween season:

True Halloween Confessions

I’m afraid to delve into writing about the topic of Halloween, as I am about a lot of topics. I think I’m afraid I won’t be able to remember all the Halloweens past. What he dressed up as, at what age. That I won’t be able to summon all the memories. A good mom should be able to bring them to mind, right?

I’m also afraid of the pain. Which is why I haven’t written yet about the day Kade died. Writing about the day he was born conjured tears. The hopes, the dreams, the promises of protection, the absolute falling in love. The ignorance that he would only live to be a teenager. That each day was a ticking clock, and I didn’t know.

Alongside the pain, I’m afraid of the remorse. That I didn’t do more. That we didn’t do more fun activities. That I was a busy single mom. That I missed out. (But if I missed out, who really missed out?) “You want to go trick-or-treating with Grant? Sure, have fun!”

Now that I identified some of my fears and vulnerabilities around writing about Halloween, I’ll dive right in with probably the biggest of my True Halloween Confessions.

I grounded Kade from trick-or-treating WITH HIS BEST FRIEND, BEAU. I could just sink into a hole right now thinking of that most harsh repercussion.

Kade and Beau were…active…at their after-school daycare called Adventure Club. Oh boy, please take this as a lesson not to threaten a consequence that you might have a real problem following through with.

Halloween fell on a school night. Kade had had some trouble at Adventure Club that week. I can barely get my fingers to type the letters to formulate the words: I told him that if he misbehaved that afternoon, he would not be able to go trick-or-treating with Beau that night (I’m sorry Kade, I’m sorry Kade, I’m sorry Kade). I remember approaching the director and hoping with all my might that she had a good report for me.

Nope. There were some poor choices made, I don’t remember what they were, but I do remember that they were topped off with the boys belligerently telling staff, “You can’t tell us what to do. We’re trick-or-treating together no matter what we do here. You can’t do anything about it,” or something along those lines.

I seriously felt like I had no choice. Though it broke my heart (and his—the tears!), I felt that to be a good mom I had to be consistent. I had to follow through. It was awful. I remember the phone call to Beau’s mom. I remember feeling horrible to disappoint not only Kade but his friend.

He and I trick-or-treated at Cherry Hills Church. We tried to make the best of it, but when I look at pictures of Blue Ninja Kade sitting alone on the haystack, I feel nauseous. Those chubby cheeks. Those big light-brown eyes, behind which, the idea of holidays, trick-or-treating, candy, and best friends meant more than we hardened adults cared to understand.

The straight smile of Kade’s senior picture hanging across the kitchen table from me doesn’t look like he’s holding it against me. I only wish he was here, paying me a visit this afternoon, maybe to ransack our post-Halloween candy abundance, so I could say I’m sorry in person. So he could give me a hard time and tell me how emotionally scarred he and Beau remain to this day. And then play-punch me with a silly self-conscious sound effect to show me I was ridiculous for feeling sad about it after all these years. Kade, it’s Halloween-time. Asher is watching a Casper movie for goodness sake. Can’t you at least come and haunt me or something?

Halloween in Ft. Collins with his friend, Amber. I think he was four years old.

kayak morning

July 18, 2015July 18, 2015 / Kade's mom / 2 Comments

I found this a serene and peaceful read, as the name suggests.

I was a little afraid of grief reading before bed, but realized if I ever wanted chip away at my backlog, that’s the only time it seems I can set aside quiet time for it. It went better than expected. My sleepiness from reading overrode my sadness from the content, and I could fall asleep.

This book wasn’t a story, but rather a stream of consciousness. Several short almost journal entries. Rosenblatt writes about balance, writing, kayaking, the unique view from the water’s surface, and his love for his daughter.

It was fascinating to learn how it feels to be in a kayak. Kade liked to kayak, and I remember hearing from his dad, was good at it. I’d like to try it one day.

I marked passages I liked. There are a lot of sticky notes poking out of my book. There is quiet thoughtful wisdom in Rosenblatt’s choice of words. Both his own, and those he included from others who lost children, like William Wordsworth and Charles Darwin.

I recommend this book to bereaved parents; or anyone, really, who is interested in kayaking or feeling a part of the waterscape of the East Coast. I identified with his longing for his daughter, and appreciated his candid ruminations on difficult subjects like anger, isolating, and believing in a god who would allow this to happen. I’m not alone…and I got to take a ride on a stream that leads to the Atlantic to boot.

I give this book nine out of ten flannels.

selah retreat: day 3

June 23, 2015June 23, 2015 / Kade's mom / 2 Comments

Day 3: Going toward grief

Finger labyrinths we made after walking the labyrinth on day 2. Mine is the first on the left. On it is a purple lavender flower given to me by a mom who heard purple reminded me of Kade, and a sugar skull bead.

the view out my casita door as I left for morning meditation

6:20 a.m. meditation again. No tears this time. It was a guided meditation, similar to yesterday’s small group exercise. We were to acknowledge where in our bodies we carried our grief, what it looked like, talk to it, listen to it. My grief was in my stomach, because sometimes I feel sick to my stomach when I think of Kade being gone. It was a ball of molten lava, or fire. I tried to throw it away but it was too dense and heavy and wouldn’t go. But…I was able to press it down into a small ball. Compress and compact it.

I ate breakfast with my shuttle buddies.

Tami, Eileen, Claire and Jenny

Let me tell you about the meals, that I wistfully missed after I got home. We ate al fresco in perfect, breezy temps. The buffet was filled to the brim with colorful, mostly vegetarian options. My favorite was the coffee: cinnamon vanilla flavored. Now sometimes I sprinkle cinnamon in my morning coffee. Meal-times got a bit noisy, with other groups at the communal dining hall. There was a group of Japanese tourists, and a few of what I presumed to be yoga or wellness retreats. When these happy, vacationing people would merrily and loudly enter the dining area, someone in our group (her name might have started with a “Dr.”) joked, “Tone it down! Kids are dying over here!”

on the walk to Earth Hall

Our morning small group exercise was pretty excruciating. Dr. Joanne was our leader. We were to fill out a short form finishing the sentences:

Since you’ve been gone, physically I’ve felt _____________.
Emotionally I’ve felt ___________________.
Spiritually I’ve felt ____________________.
I wish ____________________.

We were then paired up. In front of the group we were to look our partner in the eye as if she was our child. And she was to hear and acknowledge what we had to say. Oh my goodness, the tears. It was super emotionally-charged.

The exercise was topped off with a natural segue discussion of tears. What happens biologically when they’re released. Which led to the topic of the “flight or flight” response. I learned there are a couple additions to fight or flight I didn’t know: fighting, flight, feeding and…reproduction. It was a fascinating and informative discussion!

After lunch we were to go off with the person we’d been paired with and spend the next couple hours learning each other’s child’s life story. This would lead to tomorrow’s topic: looking outside yourself to others. We were to create something for our partner in their child’s honor. An art project. A drawing. A poem. A song. Anything. To present on the last day in front of everybody.

Oh the pressure!

We headed to a waterfall oasis. For the next two hours, it was just Tami, me, the lizards skittering across the rocks, and Kade and Joel.

the waterfall oasis

Tami

walking back from the oasis

That night was my least favorite part of the retreat. Singing, dancing, and working on our art projects without letting our partner see. The singing and dancing were cute at first, but went on a little too long. Then the art project. At that juncture of the retreat I was just too tired to give it the focus it deserved.

Poetry usually comes pretty easily for me. I can bust out funny songs or rhymes without much trouble. So a poem was the route I was heading for Tami. But that night I Could Not. Nothing came. I had material and stories and felt I knew a little about funny, sarcastic, and likeable Joel. My brain felt slippery. Evidently I’m not good at time-sensitive poetry.

Tami is one of my favorite people. I spent the most time with her, and I loved our opportunity to learn about each other’s boys. We have a bond and I have a feeling the retreat isn’t the last we’ll be seeing of each other. It gave me great joy to give her something from my heart to honor Joel. Had it been for her eyes only I think I would have felt more at peace with what was coming to me. Instead, I second-guessed and felt as if it wasn’t good, or grand, enough. If I encounter this type of project again I hope I leave the anxiety out of the creating and giving.

I finally got a picture of the evening light on the rocks the last night.

Stay tuned for day four–the last day!

selah retreat—day 2

June 11, 2015June 11, 2015 / Kade's mom / 3 Comments

Day 2—Being with Grief

The first full day focused on mindfulness. Hearing, feeling, smelling, experiencing. We mindlessly go through the motions of our day. We were to hear the crunch of gravel as we walked. Notice the breeze, and the sun, on our face. Acknowledge the thoughts that came into our head. And the emotions. That they are fleeting. Even the dark ones we think will consume us and never leave, and we are afraid to face. Tears give way to laughter, and so on and so on.

If you know me, you know that getting up at 5:30 in the morning for an optional meditation is a big deal. But I was only at the retreat four days, and was going to get the most of it, gosh darn it. And incorporating more meditation and mindfulness in my life is a personal goal of mine.

Earth Hall, pre-meditation

As soon as we settled for meditation, the gong strike signaled the start, and all was still…the tears came. I made it to the retreat. I walked the pink sunrise walk to Earth Hall. It was the start of the first full day. And why was I even there? Why had I made so many arrangements, and traveled across the country? Because Kade died. The gong sounded. And I wanted Kade there with me at Mago Retreat Center. Not to be there by myself because of his death.

Later in the morning, our small group’s facilitator, Karla, led our group of around 10 to a tiny island in a picturesque lake. In the middle was a huge weeping willow shading the entire island. There was a small waterfall that I can hear flowing now.

We were to close our eyes. Ground/root ourselves to the earth. Give our grief a form. An object, animal, anything. We were to talk to it. Bring it closer. Send it away.

Mine took the form of a big black rock with a jagged edge. I told my grief to stay away. I asked it why it had to pick me. Why it had to exist. Why there had to be this flip side to love. I wanted to kick it away, but knew that wouldn’t work. I cussed it out.

It was very interesting doing this exercise, and hearing others share the forms of their grief. I think this exercise was to illustrate that when you really stop and face your grief, it loses some of its power. And you gain some of yours when you can engage with it. What do you think?

In the afternoon the whole group walked a large labyrinth. We were to take our time and be mindful of each step, of what we saw, heard, and felt. You may get tired of me saying this, but it, too, was a powerful exercise. I saw teeny purple flowers peeking through the fine gravel. I was alone on the journey, taking it at my own pace—but yet surrounded by so many others. There were countless grief analogies on that labyrinth walk. And in that painting-like setting, it took on a mystical, sacred feel.

At dusk we circumambulated the lake. New term for me! It means to walk around something sacred together. We were to do this at our own pace in silence. It was recommended we go barefoot, to help us be ever-present and mindful. I didn’t, for a silly reason like I had lace-up hiking shoes and didn’t want to be bothered, or something like that. But I’d like to try it sometime.

The walk began with plenty of evening light, and ended with stars and a glowing moon in a blue-black sky. I remember looking up at the moon on my walk through the leaves of a tree. I went off the beaten path, like someone I know would have, and was rewarded with a huge owl gliding low and silent.

After that final group activity of the day, I had some priceless chance experiences that I hope to always remember. Three of us: Karla, Tami, and I, meandered back toward our casitas together in the dark. Karla led us to a higher part of the property that we hadn’t seen yet, to show us the pool and hot tub. Up there she told us about the Sedona vortexes, and that there was one on the premises at the site of an old gnarly twisted juniper tree. Atop the high plateau, the nearly full moon lit everything with blue light. Karla was thrilled to stumble upon two new labyrinths up there. She took off her shoes and immediately started walking them. Tami and I took a trail to find the nearby vortex tree. I think we spotted it, but couldn’t walk up to it at night with so many cacti around.

There was a large formation of puffy clouds and jet contrails encircling the moon. Not just a round-ish shape of clouds over it, but a ring encircling it. It took up half the sky. I wanted to lay on a rock and gaze at it, and at the stars. None of us wanted to leave that quiet wild desert and thrill and mystery of the vortex so close. But tomorrow was another early morning and full day. So back to the casitas the two of us made our way, while Karla finished her moonlit labyrinth walk. Barefoot.

Stay tuned for day three!

On the walk from casitas to Earth Hall

selah: a contemplative retreat for traumatic bereavement

June 4, 2015June 4, 2015 / Kade's mom / 3 Comments

April 30 to May 3, 2015 I was lucky enough to attend Dr. Joanne Cacciatore’s MISS Foundation’s “Selah Contemplative Retreat for Traumatic Bereavement.” Say that five times fast.

I’ve loved everything Dr. Joanne has said on the topic of traumatic grief (child loss) since I stumbled upon her foundation’s website over two years ago. It was beyond my means to attend last April, and wasn’t even on my radar this year. That is…until I happened to see that there were two days left to apply for a scholarship. Scholarship, you say?! I whipped out my laptop. In just days I was informed I was a recipient!

The realization that I was ACTUALLY going to meet Dr. Joanne in person, or EXPERIENCE this amazing retreat, or SEE the red rocks of Sedona, didn’t hit me until a day or two before I left. But when it did I was excited!

Of course I won’t be sharing all of the experiences I had at Mago Retreat Center. I want to give you an idea of the surroundings, the exercises, the friends I made, and the tools I learned. But like my relationship with Kade, some things are just between us. Most of it I couldn’t describe if I tried. And some, I’m sure you’d appreciate me not trying.

Day 1—Lunch in Cottonwood with my cousin at a hot yoga studio

My Sedona adventure began with a very early flight. Cloudless and stunning. We flew over Colorado’s Great Sand Dunes. I’ve never been, but Kade has!

The van from PHX to Cottonwood shuttled four of us. It was nice to get to know some retreat mamas on the way, while admiring the rugged beauty of the desert. Big cacti!

I got to meet up with my cousin from Michigan, Aubrey, en route to Sedona! She lives in Prescott now, and was kind enough to drive 45 minutes to meet me at my shuttle transfer stop. Seeing Aubrey was definitely a highlight of my whole weekend.

Aubrey’s a sweetheart just months older than Kade. I remember they’re so close in age because of this memory: When I was pregnant with Kade, on a family trip to Lake Michigan, I laid on the beach…and felt him kick for the first time. (Maybe he was saying, Mom, get out of the sun! I’m hot!”) Nearby, in the shade of a tent, lay sleeping blonde baby Aubrey.

We had a fabulous hummus wrap at the local hot yoga studio. Sounds strange, but it came highly recommended. Then we strolled Cottonwood’s Old Town. What was the first item that greeted us inside an antique shop? An old Michigan Bell Retirees directory. We stopped and stared at each other for a second. We have two uncles and a cousin that worked and work for that company. Such a back home coincidence!

I’m glad I had those hours with Aubrey. She’s a kind, intriguing, strong young woman. She’s not afraid to talk about Kade with me. She was courageous enough to ask, “Is it better to bring up Kade, or should I not?” When I told her it’s better for me to talk about him, she recited a funny poem he taught her and the cousins:

One bright day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight.
Back to back they faced each other,
drew their swords and shot each other.
A deaf policeman heard the noise
and ran to save the two dead boys.
And if you don’t believe it’s true,
go ask the blind man, he saw it too.

A little macabre…as was Kade I guess you could say. She said she would teach it to Asher (when he’s older), and more about her relationship with his big brother. I appreciate that so much. And I just appreciate Aubrey.

The 11-mile road leading to Mago Retreat Center was long, slow, and bumpy. Surrounded by nothing but desert I got the feeling of being removed from the world. Which was perfect.

After arriving at the resort I unwound in my room and met my roommie, a nice lady from Pheonix. I made my way to the dining hall where I sat with her and shuttle buddies for dinner.

As we 40 participants and several facilitators gathered to walk to the bonfire that night for the first formal activity, I met HER. Dr. Joanne. She was a petite, approachable, likeable bundle of energy and true compassion. Who could drop precision f-bombs. I didn’t think it was possible to like her more than before but I did.

From what I could tell, over the course of the weekend she remembered EVERYBODY’S name and EVERYBODY’S child. Here’s an example of her personality: After the bonfire where we introduced ourselves, where we were from, and our children, there was a huge heavy bucket of water to douse the fire. I strained my neck, looking for one of the handful of guys in attendance to lift it. She said, “I got it!” and wobbled it to the fire.

It was hard to hear so many sad stories around that fire. It was going to be an intense weekend.

Stay tuned for day two!

he wore flannel

honoring my son, Kade, and my grief and healing journey