as you always said kiddo, mom is getting older

Hello My Love
Another year approaching and the birthday sweep as you call it coming into term. Micah no longer squirt is 5 , then me 45 , you get to celebrate grandmas 74th in heaven with her this year , then dad turns 46. And mom learns the lesson that time does keep going.

I don't mind aging , its natural progression and my anthropological mind is OK with that. MY heart however rallies against one more milestone without you here.  Its rallies against you not coming through the door with your boyfriend, spouse, children. It cry's because there will be no card in the mail from far off places as you took on the world in nursing in places other would have ran from. Its not getting a call from grandpa tomorrow , "how you doing , you cant be 45 I am only 40 myself."
Its keeping my answers to myself so I don't sound self pitying but what I want for my birthday , I cannot have. One more day , one more hour, minute second to hug you , to hear you. To have the last time you walked through the door saying I love you see you later to have not been the last time. What I want is peace to reconcile with God why after years of being abused and unloved , this family came into being , that we rallied together for you, for us and for unconditional love , why was that so short?
I look at your art the blackboard with your writing "love is always love no matter how it looks" and try to remember this is love. It is unconditional love and with that you run the risk of loss. And even in this mourning I love you as much as the day I first set eyes on you.

45 , not sure how many years still for this earth but I think I will never stop looking for you everywhere I go , that each new birthday moves me less away from bitter and more to the sweet of your memories. Dad and I will celebrate , we will have fun and love and laugh but now there is always this underlying piece. The thing we both feel that needs no words or conversation.

While I never minded aging , I did fear death. Losing you has stopped that fear. In our loss there were profound and undsiputable incidents that allowed God to show us there is life after this.That you are safe and with us each day . Like grandpa crossing you over , I know you will be there for me .

In my early 20s I somehow did one of those tests that said I would die at 45, now 45 I would lie if I said it was not coming back in my mind. But for me it is different , I don't see 45 as the year of my death but instead the death of my old way of being . To love and to live for me and for you and for dad,, I am dismantling all I ever was and moving to an era of betterment and love. I don't want the old me but the new one better and moving towards progress and embracment, making up for lost time. Losing you taught me that.

So this weekend I  will play on the favorite family beach, I will have cake , I will laugh and love and appreciate my life ,just know you are in my heart

love mom

In praise of the crockpot( with recipe) #restanddigest

Its winter and right now our homemade applesauce ( lovely spices no sugar) is doing its magic in the crock pot. My son either deeply inhaled when the crock pot was in his favor ( black beans and rice, paprikash, applesauce,) or sniffed disdainfully on things not his favorite ( my bone broth , pulled pork) He loved that I cooked because in his childhood in foster care  food made with love was never around or food was institutional , bland or criminally non existent or withheld. At 19 he would still let me make his lunches, telling me coyly" they just taste better when you do it".

When kiddo came home to us , years of stress from foster care and abuse had his gut jacked up . In his case file folks often claimed he faked feeling ill as an avoidance technique. If you knew Mike that was a crock of crap, he never avoided anything even if it meant going dead weight for 3 group home staff to carry him off. We knew he was not faking and took him to a specialist, years of stress coupled with being fed bleach had wore some starting ulcers into kiddo. I am proud to say in one year we healed them all .

Part of that was using the concept of parasympathetic nervous system function to rest and digest, In fight or flight or daily stress we wolf down food , and our body simply does not digest it well. Digestion is not part of fight or flight. Its not just my kiddo we all are guilty of it time to time and for some of us its chronic and reeking havoc on our health. Folks often read this as weight but I am talking health. Not matter what size we have more and more folks with GERD, heartburn, IBS, etc . Digestive breakdown because we wire our brains to believe traffic is just as stressful as running from a lion. Rest and digest means that , taking our body to a place of no stress to eat, digest and process without cortisol pumping through.We slowed down kiddos eating ,ate together and discussed issues not at the table.

That is great Rachel , you may say but what in the heck does this all have to do with crock pots?  Well its about us all slowing the heck down and chilling the heck out. It s about engaging our sense to relax, enjoy food, each other and process it better. To not walk way from the table bloated, busting or burning. Crock pots are the original slow food movement. In the 70's as most families transitioned in to two income households , the crock pot became a way to have dinner without being home all day to prepare it . We have evolved from just soups and stews into a whole way to cook with them.

Now it is trendy to use an instant pot or pressure cooker, I have shied away . I know there are a time and place for them on certain foods but they miss the point. Time to develop flavors , a warm rich aroma when you open the front door. Smells, sights they help get us into rest and digest . Instead of hurry hurry lets make the time to let the crock do its magic. Dinners bubbling away have the family help you make the salad, spend 5 extra minutes sitting and chatting , and eat slow because you are not pissed and stressed that you had to run home and cook .  You do not even have to buy a cook book, pintrest alone not to mention recipe sites can have a crock meal for your every mood.


so for kiddo  sharing his favorite crock pot meal of mine  Grandma Marys Chicken paprikash

4 chicken thighs skin removed ( frozen)
4 drumsticks skin removed ( frozen)
1 hungarain pepper( wax pepper medium ) small( 3 tps)
3 tsps ghee or 3 tsps duck fat ( duck fat preferred)
1 small yellow onion minced
salt pepper to taste
3 tsps parika smoked
3 parsnips rough cut
2 turnips rough cut
2 cups poultry bone broth or chicken stock
2 tsp tomato paste
1/2 cup water plus 2 tsp


for reserve
2 tsps flour
sour cream for topping 

In the morning heat ghee or fat and saute minced onion in a deep pan
once sauteed add in paprika and 2 tsp of water mix low 2 minutes for a light paste
In crock pot place chopped root vegartables, tomato paste, pepper
add stock and water to paprika paste , whisk to mix one minute low flame
Pour over chicken
cook 5 hours on high and 1 hour on warm or 7 hours on low 1 hour on warm.
Before serving take some of the sauce and mix in flour , whisk in to thicken slightly
serve veggies, sauce and chicken with dollop of sour cream
enjoy 

Yeah it is not getting easier

Dear Michael
Dad and I made it through the holidays and your birthday , by the skin of our teeth but we did it . Interesting I never knew my body could cry daily but it has , some days less , some days on the floor holding your ashes, someday violently in the shower. But every day the tears leave me as at some point  the fact that I had to give you back to God becomes unbearable.

There are traces , glitter embedded in your bathroom wall , your clothes still in the closet that smell like candy , your cologne and young male testosterone.  Cold spots on my arm , warm spots and pressure over my heart, all subtle signs you have not left me completely.Left us completely.But your physical tangible preference  at times I am so desperate to find it , find you . You defied a lot kiddo: convention, victimization , bitterness. You rose up against that all . But here we are defying natural order , my son you should not have gone before us and no matter what any parent who has joined this hell of loss knows , that upset of natural order shakes us as mothers to our core. The natural and man made world no longer makes sense and its  struggle to find up again, to make sense again.

I have seen other moms lose their children while you have been gone and without having to see their face, I see their soul . Its shredded , lost , wanting in a swarm of pain , sadness and at times cross road of faith. I don't know at times what to say because the it gets easier part has not yet happened for me. I put on my game face , I do appreciate and take in those who I love and are around me , but at some point, some mile-second, that portal of loss sucks me back into the vortex. I know why we tell grieving parents  it gets easier,  it keeps us from going under from drowning. Its not easier, I am not accepting this more, figuring it out better, adapting or adjusting. I just put on the mask of competent and connected and give my healing over to God . To be blunt you being with him and dad loving me is the only reason I have not yet blown my brains out , becoming an addict , threw it all away . You safe , so my job now is my own safety, its tough.

I thank God for friends who I connect with on deep levels and can be silly or sad or both without judgement. I thank God that he took you quickly , that the pain of death is for dad and I to bear, you never had to , you crossed instantly.I am getting use to the stares when I am asked if I have children and I say I used to. I am ok with crying at coffee commercials with happy families, knowing your wedding , my grandchildren are off the table for me. I am accepting that muscle memory is powerful and i will automatically buy your favorite foods at the store, try to send you a pic in text when it is something I think you would find funny. I am figuring out how to argue with myself on who will win Drag Race( ps this last season , mom actually called it, not you ) I have a therapist, a life coach , a natropath and great people all around. Everyone but you .

I miss you honey. It is my honor to be your mom, to have been there for your journey , to love you without condition forever.

I love you Michael Wyatt
.

My son, The Divine and The Ramones

             The iconic image on a tee , a first bonding memory with Michael in the flesh

It has been a typical winter day in Oregon, rain mixed with snow, in our little farming town its slate grey and quiet. For me it is my last day before I go back to work and I am comfy in my flannel pants and Joan Jett vintage shirt. It’s faded, a bit too big now (happy dance) with a few weird random bleach splotches. Its history will have me wear it to rags and then keep. Our pilgrimage to North Dakota included getting our son clothes that fit. In our mall trip, I found this shirt and kiddo was so enthralled that his mom not only knew who Joan Jett was wearing in the picture but his mom loved the group too. It was the first time I think he realized these people, his parents were real folks.

It has been a long 8 months. At times I can move to the bitter sweet, the thoughts and bubbles of joy when I think about or talk about my son Michael. Often though it’s still the rough broken sobs when the reality is no matter what he is not walking through that door. So now instead of sitting on his bed listening to him chatter, I have made a nest of his pillows in his room, where I sit and write. It’s not an easy write, it’s a start and stop process of me writing then sobbing, howling, until I can write again. Because I am flooded with so many memories, sounds, thoughts mementos, everything but Michael himself. But I am wearing the shirt he wanted me to get for myself since it  was “so cool mom” And I feel the chill in the room and know he is here still thinking it’s cool.

Grief takes a lot out of you, without perspective it can take you too and over the edge. It can suck your will to live away. This process started June10th at the mortuary when I was left alone with my son. It hard fighting the rational brain, accident happen, we cannot glue ourselves to our kids, I know that. But the fighting of failing to protect him still can haunt me. I read an article from a mom who had lost her 22 year old son and she summed it up so well. Your child being gone and you being here defies natural order. Your natural instinct as a mother to protect your child feels betrayed. For me every step of us being connected to Michael, how the adoption played out, how we bonded as a family and so many things that defy coincidence always had me believe the divine played a part in gifting us with our child. I struggle to hold onto how June 10^th was part of the plan. I put on this shirt and I am transported back to a dreary mall in North Dakota with my day old 16 year old son, blue eyes shining , chatting about which Ramones album was better with his mom who he had waited for 16 years to come get him. I try to understand why I get no more of these moments, why life is fleeting, and what a gift our kids our even when they drive us to the point of crazy. I would carve my heart out of my chest for one more time of Michael making us crazy, one more car trip of him and I singing I wanna be sedated or Sheena is a punk rocker. One more time to tell him I love him.

They say in grief you find your life’s purpose. When you lose your child at some point you do need to find purpose. Your child was your purpose and without them you need to find in yourself something to numb the void. A fire to melt that glacier in your heart for me looking at purpose is how to live the way I was supporting Michael, with love, fearlessness, seeking support but eschewing the toxic naysayers. I .am not sure the purpose but I know the path. I am still here, my son is not. To curl up, give up, die would be to disgrace the light and love that was my son. I am beginning to find that path and it my connection back to the divine. Without it, without God, I not only block the ultimate love but I block out my son. He is in now divinity, anger will keep him from me not closer to me. In the new year I through the sadness and through the pain have decided to embrace the life I wanted for my child, my connection to the divine and Joan Jett and the Ramones as the soundtrack