The lighter side of random thoughts.

I don't recall Mom asking if Mike was wearing clean underwear.


Mom and Dad will have to come to me to talk. Who am I gonna talk to about Mom and Dad?



Hunter turns 13 in 2 years. I sooooo wanted to be a fly on the wall watching Mike get his!


Mike and I will not get to play Jesse and Maude Phillips! Very disappointing!



What does normal mean, anyway?



It took Mike's death to realize he is the sane one!



A peanut butter and jelly sandwich tastes much better after it has been thrown against a refrigerator.



Some of this will only be funny to a few. I apologize for that. Maybe those stories will be told another time.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

I am sorry to tell you but...

You have been diagnosed with grief. Grief is almost like having a disease. Some debilitating, have-to-learn-how-to-live-with, for the rest of your life, disease. Something like diabetes, or high blood pressure. You will have to modify your lifestyle to accommodate it. Some days you will have everything under control, then your sugar or blood pressure or feelings go way too high or way too low and you find yourself in an emergency state of needing rescue. How could Mike let this happen? How could God let this happen?

How can I have this disease process? After all, grief is a process, right? A life-long process. Am I a manic? Some days I have energy like a Rat Terrier and other days I feel like an old hound dog. My eyes and tail sag. I just assume lie in bed or on the front porch. It shows up without warning signs. I am emotional for no real reason. I have no energy even on days off. Then, I go to work like the Rat Terrier on a major caffeine high and no one can keep up with me. Explain this to me.

I have spent the past 15 years in some form of emergency and critical care. No one or no thing has prepared me for this response. It is beyond my comprehension and education. It is a life education. I would not have picked this as an elective in college. No thanks. But here I am learning on a moment by moment basis the whole awful, terrible, roller coaster process.

I have to share a very honest moment I had last week. I had a major low. I just plain hurt. I missed Mike. I cried uncontrollable tears, down to the tips of my toes. I swear they cried. I felt it with every ounce of my being. Then, I decided I needed to do something different. Something I have not been able to do. I decided to look at the video played during Mike's memorial celebration (yeah, right. What celebration?). A little more info...I am on another travel nursing assignment in Asheville, NC. I brought the dvd with me in case I decided to finally look at pictures of Mike. After all, I have only, briefly been able to look at him. And only once have I seen the video displayed during the visitation. I have not even seen the video played during the memorial celebration. So, I thought I grabbed one from home to bring with me to Asheville. It's about 1am in the morning. I have cried with no relief. I load this dvd onto my computer. And what pops up? Something from my husband's rescue squad. I grabbed from the very place I had left one of the dvds but I grabbed the wrong one. So, by myself, in the wee hours of the morning, in between the tears, I had to laugh. It was classic, Mike. Something always happens. Something a little wrong or misadventure. But, obviously, a little right. Maybe I did not need to see that right then. Maybe I needed to laugh. Whatever it was, it needed to be.

I have no explanation for Mike's wreck. None. I have no explanation for his death. But it needed to be. Grandaddy made the statement that Mike was tired. So, I guess, God took him to eternal rest and relaxation. I have no explanation for my new disease. None. But I am learning to cope. Moment by moment. Hour by hour. Day by day. It is a lifelong process. Patience. Grace. Understanding. I miss you, Mikey. But I am learning to live with your absence. It is a process. A disease of sorts. So it was a blessing to have you in my life. Absence of a good thing leads to a disease. Hmmmmm.

Until next time,
Love,
Rhonda

Random Thoughts

The following are some of my random thoughts, lately.

There is a whole new meaning to storing up treasures in heaven.

Is it wrong to be anxious for Christ to return ASAP?

I have lost a part of me, my flesh and blood. The closest connection.

One more day. One more chance. One more...no longer cliche'.

Ackerpersaingogicky. Only a few will understand that.

Freebird.

The following are comments from some of Mike's family.

I can hear his voice in my head and feel his hug around my arms. These are senses I hope to never forget. He will be in my heart and my thoughts forever! I will be happy for the day when we are all reunited. I love you Michael and I wish so much we would have had more time together then just short visits here and there.

Catherine

When I think of Michael (I always called him Michael) I will never forget the way he always greeted me with a smile and a gentle, “Hey Aunt Libby, how are you?” then always a big hug.

Libby

I always called him Michael too or I guess I should say "Miiichael." He loved the way I said his name. He had a way of reading into your mind and just "getting you" when it seemed not many people always did. It didn't matter how long in between the visits were he welcomed us with big open arms and started just where we left off. I feel his presence so much more than I ever could have imagined. It's difficult for those left behind but his absolute joy now brings comfort. I love you Miiichael.

Julie

Where to start? Mike has always had such a special place in my heart. From the great big bear hugs, to the comforting words, "I Love you!" You could always feel the love that he shared just by being with him. I am gratetful that I got to be a part of his life. He always made you realize that there was always someone that was worse off than you! His Love fills the void in my heart. Love to Mike the big Teddy Bear in the Sky!

Renee


I miss Mike all the time. When I sit back and think about the same things that he and I have been through it is amazing how much alike we are. Everytime I go to clean his mom's house or we have a family get together I wish so much to have him greet me one more time with the powerful handshake that he used to always give me and the "Hey cuz" greeting he always met me with. Thankfully by the grace of God I will experience this again but he will be meeting me on the streets of gold!!! Until I see you again Cuz I Love You!!!

James

In thinking about Michael and his life, and all the loved ones who are left here wounded and wondering, I remembered a passage from one of my favorite authors, Maya Angelou.
In Letter to My Daughter, Angelou writes:
I find it very difficult to let a friend or beloved go into that country of no return. I answer the heroic question, “Death, where is thy sting?” with “It is here in heart, and my mind, and my memories.”
I am besieged with painful awe at the vacuum left by the dead. Where did she go? Where is he now? Are they, as the poet James William Johnson said, resting in the bosom of Jesus?...
I can find relief to the questions only when I can see that I am not obliged to know everything.
I remind myself that it is sufficient to know what I know and that what I know may not always be true. When I find myself filling with rage over the loss of a beloved, I try as soon as possible to remember that my concerns and questions should be focused on what I learned, or what I have left to learn, from my departed love.
What legacy was left which can help me in the art of living a good life?
Did I learn to be kinder, to be more patient and more generous, more loving, more ready to laugh and more easy to accept honest tears?
If I accept those legacies of my departed beloveds, I am able to say thank you to them for their love and thank you to God for their lives.

Thanks, Michael, for your smile, your laugh, your hugs. Thank you, God, for Michael.

Jeannie.

Absence stares you in the face

An empty easy chair. A certain empty seat at the table. A voicemail unanswered. A punchline with less laughter. A job unfilled. Empty shoes. A tractor with no rider. A picture with no life for comparison. A question with no answers. Staring at absence. Visualizing presence. Wishing for life.

I had no idea of the power of grief. The power of absence. The world without Mike. Everyday I wake up I am reminded as absence stares back at me. It glares, it penetrates. How can nothing look back at me and hurt so much? Isn't absence the opposite of presence? Nothing the opposite of something? Nothing can hurt me. Something can. But in this case, it is the opposite. If you are confused, welcome to my world.

I promised to post others' sentiments and memoirs of Mike. I am still collecting those. I wish to post more of that and less of me. I thank each of you for continuing to share this painful journey, however. For me, writing is a way to express and vent. I can write better than I can speak my feelings. My tongue is mute when it comes to speaking my feelings of this loss. If only I could silence the angst in my head. Relieve the angst in my body.

No one told me that grief manifests physically. Maybe they did. I don't remember. But I know it showed up. It stares at me. It cuts me. It hurts me.

On behalf of the entire Mike Watson Family, thank you for your continued prayers and support.
Love,
Rhonda

Sunday, August 30, 2009

I had dinner at Mom and Dad's tonight. They were having a small dinner party for their neighbors' birthdays. As Mom always does when she is entertaining, she prepared a beautiful meal and table. She used their dining room. As we were serving ourselves in the kitchen and making our way into the dining room, it occurred to me that this was the first time I was eating in there since my last dinner with Mike (and his last dinner) the Sunday before his wreck. It shocked me so much that I said it out loud, without knowing the ramifications of that statement. Mom and Dad had not eaten in there, either. I did not know that. I thought it was just me. Needless to say, there were a few moments of holding our breathes and shedding a few tears. I blurted out that fact without thinking, right in front of their guests. Thankfully, their neighbors are more than just neighbors, they are friends. They have been wonderfully supportive to our family. They were understanding.

I have already anticipated other "firsts" without Mike, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those are the obvious that we all know will be difficult. But the everyday, or lesser events are no longer just that. They are everyday without Mike. No, we did not see each other everyday, but at least we were in the world together. I cannot express how crazy, ridiculous, frustrating, maddening, and incomprehensibly hard this is. So much so that at times I am numb. There are times I want so much to just grab and hold onto Laura or Hunter just because. Just because.

I am compiling more Mike memoirs for future postings. Please feel free to forward them to me at rmw4jc@yahoo.com

Love,
Rhonda

Tribute to Mike

As I read back over this, I realize that one little tribute is hardly enough to sum up Mike and how I feel about him. However, when I wrote this, just before the Memorial Celebration, it brought smiles and happy thoughts of him. I hope you enjoy it.

Read by Rhonda, May 3, 2009, at the Mike Watson Memorial Celebration.

As most who know me and my husband can certainly attest to this, I do not like to dress up. I like to be comfortable. Given my chosen profession of a Paramedic and nurse, I have worn a uniform for years. When I am off work, I like to be comfortable. Heels were created by the devil as far as I am concerned. My husband actually thinks I am crazy if I wear heels or dress up excessively in lieu of comfort. In fact the older I have gotten, the less I have cared about dressing up, make up or the perfect hairstyle. I was never too keen on men who preferred the dress up type of girl. But today is a little different.
Over the years, I would once in a while wear a cute outfit, do my hair really well or put on a little make up to look, well, pretty. Most of the time I was so ready to go home, change and take a shower. There were few exceptions. In my brother’s presence was one of them. He would actually tell me I looked cute or pretty or I should dress up more often. Maybe it was because Mike was a flirt and family was no exception.
Dad’s parents used to give us money for Christmas. One year when I was about 8, I found a beautiful rabbit fur coat I so desperately wanted. It was expensive and more than a little girl who is going to quickly outgrow should have for Christmas. My brother knew how badly I wanted it so he gave his Christmas money to mom and dad to use with mine so I could have that fur coat. He liked his little sister to look pretty. And he thought she was.
Few people have ever made me feel pretty. Not because they have not tried. It just has not been a big focus in my life. So as I stand here today in my pretty, albeit, loud dress, I am feeling and looking pretty for Mike. He liked me that way. It was special to him. If you see me dressed up or wearing my “Mike mascara,” it will be in some way in honor to Mike. And as a girl if you have ever been hugged, kissed, or loved by my brother, you are pretty. He loved all girls. I am so lucky and blessed that he flirted with me first

A day in ICU

I had reached a point of mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion, a breaking point. God sent me to the ICU... Intensive Christ Uplifting. I went to the Deeper Still Conference by Beth Moore. She was accompanied by Kay Aurthur and Priscilla Shirer. There were many points to this conference. So many women there, and everywhere, have "issues" and so much to deal with. But the focus of this conference was not about "our issues." It was about living in the power of the living spirit of our Lord and Saviour and uplifting Christ during all of our life experiences. I cried, I laughed, I sang, I celebrated. I felt intense emotion and healing. A day of Intensive Christ Uplifting will handle any ailment or issue. It may not change our ailments but is changes our response to them. The beauty of all of it was uplifting Christ no matter what our circumstances and seeing over 11,000 women do the same thing. Laura, her sister Heather, and her mother were there, also. I also shared the experience with 2 wonderful godly friends, women with their own stories and struggles.

My point is that we all have issues and life struggles. Our grief has been a real, life-changing challenge. Whatever your challenge, spend a day in ICU, Intensive Christ Uplifing. When you uplift Christ, He CARRIES you and keeps you out of a constant state of emergency.

Please, don't hesitate to post your Mike memories here or email them to me at rmw4jc@yahoo.com.

Love,
Rhonda