Year 2

 There is lore that the second year after the death of a loved one is worse than the first. I was determined for that not to happen. I could not imagine feeling worse! For me, the second year was different. The shock and numbness were gone, and I felt things differently. So, the year was not worse, but I had to actually deal with the feelings. 

I definitely overcommitted myself throughout the year finding my purpose. It's fine. I have had wonderful adventures along the way. Attending classes at St. Meinrad to earn my Master of Arts degree in Theology has been healing. I have no idea what I will eventually do with that degree. However, in 2028 I will retire from my teaching career, and I trust God will lead me to a new career path that uses this degree. 

A role I embraced this past year is that of grandma to Kali Sophia. Yes, a girl was added to the Schrader family. I heard so often, “Finally, a girl!” That would make me laugh because I was always very content being a boy mom. Of course, I would have joyfully welcomed a daughter. But, it was Branden who would have been over the moon about having a princess to protect and spoil. 

I have been thinking about the word peace often recently. I have yet to find the story of a Saint who led a life with no adversity and then died at an old age peacefully in their sleep. Usually, the stories of the Saints are just the opposite. My search for peace meant accepting that Branden is no longer here. Branden did not experience internal peace for most of his life, but I am hopeful he is now at peace with the Lord. As I enter year three of this journey, I will continue to find a way to tell the story of his struggles to help other people. I thought that he would be able to recover and do that, but maybe it is part of my purpose in life.

Does a butterfly miss being a caterpillar?

     Recently I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle with a student. Then I had some deep thoughts. For those not familiar with the story, a small little caterpillar hatches out of his egg and is hungry. He starts by eating one apple on Monday, then two pears on Tuesday, and each day more fruit until he eats 5 oranges on Friday. Saturday he goes a little crazy and eats a bunch of food including cake, candy, and salami. He feels sick on Sunday so eats a leaf. Now he is a fat caterpillar who makes a cocoon (or is it a chrysalis?) and turns into a beautiful butterfly. 

The message is about growing and transforming (and maybe a lesson on not eating too much junk food). But, the caterpillar is never described as sad. He seems to have fun eating his way through the week. He’s a cute little guy crawling all over the pages of the book. He also seems happy being a beautiful butterfly. But, I bet he was scared inside that dark cocoon. Change can be painful.
I hesitate to call myself a beautiful butterfly but I did go through a painful change. Grief is transformative. With faith and support your life may not be better after a loss, but you can become a better person. You can be happy. It doesn’t mean you weren’t happy before or that you wanted to change. But, here you are, different than you were before. My life is now defined by the days before I became a widow (the caterpillar days) and my life since that day (the butterfly days). 
I have big plans for this year of being 53. First of all, my first grandchild will be born soon. I am fully embracing that I am a grandma, or apparently a Meemaw. In May I will graduate (God willing) from St. Meinrad with a Masters in Theology. This has been a long wonderful journey of learning. My graduation present to myself is joining a group from St. Meinrad in London for two weeks next summer. I knew I got my passport last year for a reason!
There are times I miss the caterpillar days. But, I can’t go back. I can only look forward as the butterfly I am now. I am determined to continue my journey with faith and joy. I won’t forget the times of being a caterpillar and all that I learned in those dark days inside the cocoon of mourning and grief. Becoming a butterfly changes the caterpillar but it doesn't destroy it.

Right Place, Right Time

         My friend saved someone’s life the other day. I happened upon the scene a few minutes after the man regained a pulse. As word spread it was this strange mix of shock, awe, and joy as we received news that the man was indeed stable. It was definitely a reminder of our mortality. My friend, who has a medical background, was in the right place at the right time. As I traced back the steps that led both of these men to meet that morning, I could see God’s design. It was subtle, but just one different decision from either of them and the morning could have had a different outcome. 
God knows our complete story but at the same time we have free will. There are times in my life I have felt drawn to do something out of routine and that decision to follow that gentle nudge led me to being at the right place at the right time. Branden’s death was so unexpected and I cannot put into adequate words what shock does to you physically and mentally. (I have this urge to apologize to anyone who talked to me in the days after his death. I feel like I said some weird things.) However, I can see how God placed people and events in my path that eased me into this new phase of life. 
I discovered the practice of Memento Mori a few years back. It means to remember your death. By focusing on the fact that we are going to die, it should lead to living each day in the best way possible. Live like you’re dying. But I am not talking about skydiving and Rocky Mountain climbing. I mean, it’s cool if you want to do all that but I am looking a little deeper. 
We are all going to meet God face to face and we need to be prepared for that. We know neither the day nor the hour. This is not a drill so live life with meaning. Learn to be quiet and listen to God’s voice. It is so easy to be distracted by the world and chaos around us. Ask yourself what will really matter on your last day on Earth. Are the things you complain about in your daily life really important in the grand scheme of things? Do you want to be remembered for the way you are living your life right now? Are you growing closer to God and bringing your family and friends along with you?
A man’s life was saved this past Sunday. It was a message for all of us there that day to contemplate our life. I felt the need to write about it to send the same message to all who read this. Bad things happen and it hurts. It’s natural to want answers and to ask why. But, that can lead to spiraling in circles of confusion. I am purposefully choosing to ask “What now?”  I want to seek God’s voice to lead me to the right place at the right time.

The Year of Me

After the death of a loved one, holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays become reminders of absence. I got some strange looks when I told people I was dreading New Year’s Eve more than the other holidays. The thing is, family can fill in the void at big family gatherings. New Year’s Eve feels more personal. Not that we always went out or had plans, but Branden and I spent 33 New Year’s Eves together. 

Well, technically not Y2K. Branden was mandated to work overtime at the prison to wait for the computer glitch that never happened. But I digress…

I have learned this year that you can’t outrun your feelings. After weeks of wondering just what in the heck I was going to do for New Year’s Eve, I decided it didn’t really matter. It’s another day that I feel sad and a bit lonely. But, I don’t have to wallow in misery. I can make my favorite appetizers, watch a fun movie, and just be. I can reflect and plan for 2024, the Year of Me. 

You may think that the Year of Me sounds a bit self-indulgent. It’s just a matter of fact. For nearly 30 years my life decisions took into account my spouse and children. Naturally, some of my needs and wants were put on the back burner. For five years our life revolved around being part of the diaconate program. Then the last two years my energy was focused on Branden’s physical and mental health. In 2024, I more than likely will become an empty nester. (Except for the dogs). I am still a mother but my kids are figuring out their way and now I need to figure out how to focus on myself. It's a little weird but also the possibilities are intriguing.

While 2023 was a heartbreaking year, I am grateful for the blessings. In 2024, I am confident those blessings will help me improve my spiritual and physical health. There are still times I wonder if this is all a bad dream. Life has taken an unexpected detour and I will do my best to enjoy the journey. 

Evolution of Music

            I am a country music fan but only by association. Before I met Branden, my knowledge of country music was the song Elvira by the Oak Ridge Boys, whatever the  Mandrell sisters were singing on TV, and that Kenny Rogers knew when to hold 'em. Branden introduced me to country music like Hank and Randy Travis. Especially in those early years, country music was playing on the radio when we were in the car together. It was fine, I developed my own taste in country music that didn't always jive with his. Sometimes I would even listen to country when I was alone. But, I hadn't listened to any country music since he died 9 months ago. Listening to country music was more our thing than my thing. 

    One day in October,  I forgot my phone at home when I drove off to work. The horror. How was I supposed to stream my podcasts? Actually sitting in silence was not meshing with my Monday vibes. That's when I remembered my radio had this feature called FM. The first station that I tuned to was the local country station. It was fine, it was familiar. Then it happened. A Chris Stapleton song started and so did my tears. 

    The last concert Branden and I saw together was Chris Stapleton. It was a good weekend. It was 2019 before the world shut down. It was before Branden's mental health took a nose dive. We had gone to Louisville with two other couples and I was starting to see what life as a couple of empty nesters could be. I love being a mom, but I was looking forward to quality time with my husband, 

    Obviously, life in 2023 is not what I pictured back in 2019. In November, my youngest son and his girlfriend flew to Florida to go to a concert with my oldest son and daughter-in-law. It was HER, Imagine Dragons, and Chris Stapleton. (I know, weird combination). My daughter-in-law sent me a text during the concert to let me know that it was being live-streamed on the WalMart webpage. I decided to sit in the comfort of my own home, connect my computer to the TV, and enjoy the show. I wasn't sure how I would feel when Chris Stapleton started to play. But, I was fine. Music brings memories to the surface, but that's a good thing. 

    Every once in a while I will turn on country music when I am in the car. But, more than likely you will hear some 80s rock if you're next to me at a stop light. If I am in a mood, it might be Eminem or Nelly. If I feel I need some Jesus it will be Matt Maher. I like that my tastes are diverse. It's because of Branden that my diverse interests include country music. 

52

      I was born on my grandmother’s 52nd birthday and here I am writing this on the eve of my 52nd birthday. Fifty-two doesn't seem as old as I thought it was when I was a child. But, I never thought of my grandma as elderly. She was just a few weeks from her 89th birthday when she died and still went to water aerobics in her late 80s. Grandma also loved to laugh. At some point in my young childhood, she decided I was ready to hear my first dirty joke. It went something like this:

Three boys were walking home from school, and one of them says that he knows that Mrs. Smith always changes her clothes after work and never closes the blinds. If they climb the tree in the yard they can see right into her window and see her naked. So, the three boys climb the tree, and sure enough they see Mrs. Smith naked. Suddenly, one boy jumps out of the tree and runs towards home. His friends chase him and ask why he is running. He says. “My mom told me if I ever looked at a naked lady I would turn to stone and I think I already started!”

Then there was the time she decided to tell me about the funny movie she saw in the theater, There’s Something About Mary. She made my 15-year-old sister cover her ears as she tried to explain the famous hair gel scene. She was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out. My 26-year-old self was trying to comprehend that I was having this conversation with my grandma. Now, it’s one of my favorite stories to tell. 

Grandma was also a young widow. My grandpa died before I was born. There was never a reason to talk to her about that phase of her life, but now I wonder what advice she would give me. I still laugh and feel joy, but there is always that tug that keeps me from being TOO happy. It’s a weird balance to be mourning but still want to enjoy the life around you.

My 50s so far have not been fabulous. I had high hopes for this decade. I had plans. The future is so uncertain but I remind myself that uncertainty doesn't have to be scary. My past has made me the person I am now and I want to embrace the adventures that are waiting for me in the future. God knows the plans he has for me, and seems to like to keep those plans a surprise. I know God will not abandon me. But, I pray that 52 is a year of joy. 

Background Music

     When I was in high school, I worked at a grocery store. The store played muzak which was on a continual loop. Sometimes, I found myself humming the next song before it even started. I don't remember it being awful or great; it was just there. If I was busy, I took little notice of it. But, if I was working the closing shift, which I often did, the muzak was very noticeable at the end of the evening when there were few shoppers. 

   For the past seven months, I have had images and memories of the past two years, especially events surrounding Branden's death and funeral, that play on a loop in my mind. I would label this muzak Loss. It can make me a bit weepy. I went back to work quickly to silence the muzak of my mind. Work was a good distraction. Until July, I couldn't sit still, so I focused on all the paperwork that widows need to file and unfinished projects around the house. I hit a mental wall in July after I came home from visiting Florida and lost my motivation for projects. The muzak got louder. 

    Now I am back to school year #30 as a teacher. Transitioning to another season makes Branden's absence more noticeable. I am again distracted from the muzak, but it becomes louder at the end of the day and in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. Hopefully, the muzak will soon change to something less dreary.