So today marks the end of the year and the 117th week since Jillian departed. 819 days to be exact. Yes, I am one of those people who keeps track of the days, months, years.....and remember the dates. What is hard to believe is that by the middle of this new year I will have lived over 1,000 days without her.
Tomorrow is the beginning of a new year. I know the questions I will hear..... Are things getting easier? Have I started to live life again? Is it still hard? These are often questions people will ask me (or if they don't ask, then I know they are wanting to) and especially so with the turn of the year. The reality is that these are the wrong questions. Jillian will always be a part of my life. She is forever my daughter and that will never change. I will share about her whenever asked or given the opportunity. I want people to ask. I want to share about the amazing things she did while she was here and the impact she had on me and transformed my own perspective on life.
Though I won't ever experience some of the parenthood milestones my friend's will - like watching their kids go off to college and then become adults and start their own lives, there are still so many memories and adventures that Jillian provided me. Our life with her was slowed down to the point where we had more of an opportunity to soak it all in and not take for granted the typical milestones that kids whiz through. I still remember the day when she stood up on her own.....the sparkle in her eyes, the smile on her face...realizing she could do more than just crawl. That was near her fifth birthday. Then, it was three years later when she took her first step and began walking. These are memories that are engraved in my memory banks. We prayed and hoped for her to do these things and when she did it was such an amazing achievement.
So as the days continue to pass since she left this world, my memories of her solidify and the lessons I have learned are highlighted all the more.... I can't wait to share about her in the new year.
Happy New Year.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Simple, Yet Complex
If I could think of any one thing that Jillian taught me, it would be to appreciate the simple, yet complex things of life. She absolutely loved balloons. Why is that so significant? What makes a balloon so special? Perhaps it is it roundness, or the feeling of the latex on your fingers, or the fact that if you let it go, it will rise into the atmosphere. Perhaps she was giving us a message that one day she would leave this world and float up into the spiritual world. A balloon is full of air, yet is light, round, colorful and just plain fun. Yet at the same time it is fragile and can be popped easily if it is not handled correctly.
Isn’t that life then – it can be so full, colorful, and exciting, yet must be appreciated and handled delicately, or it will pop. If it is handled with the appropriate respect it will take us through a world of adventures. If we take it for granted and allow it to 'pop', then we miss the hope it offers, we miss the opportunity to experience new things, meet new people or live out our dreams.
Jillian loved balloons - something so simple, yet delicate and complex - a view toward how to treat life.
Isn’t that life then – it can be so full, colorful, and exciting, yet must be appreciated and handled delicately, or it will pop. If it is handled with the appropriate respect it will take us through a world of adventures. If we take it for granted and allow it to 'pop', then we miss the hope it offers, we miss the opportunity to experience new things, meet new people or live out our dreams.
Jillian loved balloons - something so simple, yet delicate and complex - a view toward how to treat life.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Time Can Be A Friend
It has been 115 weeks since my daughter Jillian left this world. As I calculated in my journal, well over 1 million minutes of time have elapsed. But it still seems like it was just yesterday that I was holding her hand as she took her last breath. Sometimes it still seems like a dream. An often heard cliché when someone goes through a difficult loss is, “time will heal”. However I don’t think that is quite true. Actually, I am sure it is not. Time doesn’t heal anything, but time allows you to heal. Let me explain.
When I started thinking about the idea of time it first seemed like it was cold and uncaring. The seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, months, and years seem to have their own agenda and lack any compassion as they just continue to ‘march on’ in spite of the loss of my child. I looked at time as my enemy. It wouldn’t give anything back. It was focused only on moving forward. Couldn’t it just pause and rewind for me awhile so that Jillian and I could sing one more song together? Watch a video one last time? Or read just one more book? Time just seemed so unforgiving.
Yet as the minutes have turned to hours, the hours to days, the days to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to years my opinion of time has changed. I no longer look at it as my enemy, but time has actually become one of my closest, if not best, friends. You see, ‘time’ has not judged me as I have tried to navigate my life after Jillian’s death. Time has not criticized me. Time has not made me feel guilty. Time has not been insensitive. Time has not expected that “I should be over my grief by now”. Time has not been ignorant. Time has not been silent or said awkward things.
But instead time has been accepting. Time has been understanding and patient. Time has been sensitive and allowing. Time hasn’t healed me or my wounds of grief, but has allowed me the space I need to heal. Time has been my best friend just willing to sit with me in my pain and grief and tears and sadness and in my space of anger, guilt and confusion –knowing all along that I would get by and be okay. Time gives me hope that I can do something more with my life. Time inspires me to realize that though there is only a limited time we are here, there is so much we can do with it.
I truly believe that Jillian understood this idea of time - she understood that time was a friend, not the enemy. She was on this earth for 10 years, 10 months, and 10 days. Her time was exactly what it was supposed to be. She knew it and embraced it. That is why she lived life as she did - with vigor, with love, with silliness, with an outlook worthy of imitation. While most are consumed with getting things done, accomplishing things and performing for the rest of the world, she was only concerned with the day to day things that were simple and yet deep and real. Spending an hour on the computer laughing at hallmark greeting cards – the same one over and over – was way more important than any math problem that she needed to solve. She knew that her friend Time would only be able to provide life for her for a shorter amount than most. What was important for her was to love, laugh, give, learn, and teach while she had that space.
So I have come to the conclusion that Time is the best friend anyone can have when they go through a loss such as ours. As I navigate my life now with my friend Time, I’m comforted knowing that ‘he’ will always give me exactly what I need. If I try to fight against him and look at him as the enemy again, I will certainly miss many of the things that life will offer me through our relationship.
When I started thinking about the idea of time it first seemed like it was cold and uncaring. The seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, months, and years seem to have their own agenda and lack any compassion as they just continue to ‘march on’ in spite of the loss of my child. I looked at time as my enemy. It wouldn’t give anything back. It was focused only on moving forward. Couldn’t it just pause and rewind for me awhile so that Jillian and I could sing one more song together? Watch a video one last time? Or read just one more book? Time just seemed so unforgiving.
Yet as the minutes have turned to hours, the hours to days, the days to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to years my opinion of time has changed. I no longer look at it as my enemy, but time has actually become one of my closest, if not best, friends. You see, ‘time’ has not judged me as I have tried to navigate my life after Jillian’s death. Time has not criticized me. Time has not made me feel guilty. Time has not been insensitive. Time has not expected that “I should be over my grief by now”. Time has not been ignorant. Time has not been silent or said awkward things.
But instead time has been accepting. Time has been understanding and patient. Time has been sensitive and allowing. Time hasn’t healed me or my wounds of grief, but has allowed me the space I need to heal. Time has been my best friend just willing to sit with me in my pain and grief and tears and sadness and in my space of anger, guilt and confusion –knowing all along that I would get by and be okay. Time gives me hope that I can do something more with my life. Time inspires me to realize that though there is only a limited time we are here, there is so much we can do with it.
I truly believe that Jillian understood this idea of time - she understood that time was a friend, not the enemy. She was on this earth for 10 years, 10 months, and 10 days. Her time was exactly what it was supposed to be. She knew it and embraced it. That is why she lived life as she did - with vigor, with love, with silliness, with an outlook worthy of imitation. While most are consumed with getting things done, accomplishing things and performing for the rest of the world, she was only concerned with the day to day things that were simple and yet deep and real. Spending an hour on the computer laughing at hallmark greeting cards – the same one over and over – was way more important than any math problem that she needed to solve. She knew that her friend Time would only be able to provide life for her for a shorter amount than most. What was important for her was to love, laugh, give, learn, and teach while she had that space.
So I have come to the conclusion that Time is the best friend anyone can have when they go through a loss such as ours. As I navigate my life now with my friend Time, I’m comforted knowing that ‘he’ will always give me exactly what I need. If I try to fight against him and look at him as the enemy again, I will certainly miss many of the things that life will offer me through our relationship.
Lesson No. 1 - It's All About the Heart
This blog is about my journey of being the father of a very special little girl. My hope is that it will be helpful to other dads who have experienced similar experiences and provide me a place to share the lessons I am learning.......
Jillian was born on the evening of November 24, 1997. We knew she would be a special child as her unique journey began when she was diagnosed with Down syndrome. I remember driving home to pick up some things at the house the next morning. I went into her new bedroom and sat on the floor. It was there that I cried my first tears for Jillian – tears of happiness. I was overjoyed. I still can recall the immense feeling of gratitude that filled my heart and mind. I was a father. My wife and I were parents. I was blessed with this wonderful child and I was supposed to love her, care for her, protect her, and be her daddy. Little did I know that she would actually be the one teaching me how to protect, teaching me how to care and teaching me how to love. At the same time, according to the world’s standards, Jillian would be different. Not to be deterred, I remember on that day in her bedroom resolving to unconditionally love Jillian regardless of her unique challenges and provide for her the very best life possible, whatever might be in store.
The next three years were anything but normal as Jillian was diagnosed with leukemia in the summer of 1999 and then with congestive heart failure in March of 2000 - caused by the chemotherapy needed to put the cancer into remission. It was the heart damage that eventually took her life on October 3, 2008. During the nearly 11 years of her life, she gathered an extensive group of friends from the areas of medicine, therapy services, education, church, and her local neighborhood. She made friends with almost everyone (both children and adults) and would win over their hearts with her smile, warmth, humor, compassion and love. Her physical heart was permanently damaged and marking time until its last beat, but her spiritual heart was incredibly healthy and bigger than most.
If I could summarize her life in a phrase it would probably be something like this: Jillian enjoyed life as it came to her, and she had a true sense about what life is really all about – special relationships and loving other people. Ultimately, those will always be my greatest memories about her and equally important, the greatest lessons I learned from her.
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