Just Because Friday: My Hero

Last week, I posted about my divorce.

It was a super depressing topic, wasn't it?

This week, I want you to meet someone...

This is Kevin.

My late nephew.

He died in 2006.

I never told him how awesome I thought he was.

He was 18 when he died.

He was in a pretty gruesome car accident

which put him in a coma for three days.

If he had lived, he would have been a vegetable. 

He would not have been Kevin.

He loved his guitar.

And photography.

And Flogging Molly's music.

We got into so much trouble when we were kids.

(He was a year older than me.)

Like the time when we kept sneaking tastes of the cheesecake at Thanksgiving

so by the time dessert rolled around, there were a ton of little poke marks all over it.

Or the time when he tried to teach me how to rollerblade

and I fell on my butt.

A lot.

I got a bruise.

Or when we thought the word "butthole" was the funniest thing ever

and we would NOT stop saying it.

Or when we would play POKeMON for hours and hours and HOURS.

But there was a lot that I never told him.

I never told him that he was my hero.

That I looked up to him in more ways than I could count.

He was a good guy.

I remember being jealous of his friends

because he hung out with them voluntarily.

They got to see him a lot more often than I did.

I had always hoped that if we WEREN'T family, we would have been friends, too.

Because, honestly, he was my very best friend.

I was shattered when he died.

Utterly broken. 

I mean, how in the world was it possible for him to be gone?

He was such a vibrant, happy guy.

Full of life.

I wrote him a letter

and put it in his casket.

I told him how much he meant to me.

How much he changed my life.

How privileged I was to call him family.

I told him that he was my hero.

***

May 26, 2008

My nephew was 18 when he died about two years ago. He was the
most beautiful person I have ever known. I miss him tremendously.

Kevin taught me so much in our time spent together. Firstly, he taught me how to not be gullible. With all of the jokes he played on me, I learned very quickly not to take him seriously 99% of the time. Second, he taught me how to roll with life. I would always get so bent out of shape about everything, and he just seemed to float along without a care. I wanted to be like that, so, by example, he taught me how.

He still teaches me things to this day. Kevin had three memorial services. One in Mississippi, where he lived at the time, one in Kansas, where he had just moved from, and one in Utah, where he was born and buried. In all three services, the chapels were FILLED, with people overflowing into the hallways and gymnasium. He was only 18, and he touched literally thousands of lives. He taught me that I need to continue to love, no matter how much I've been hurt, because love will come back to me one hundred fold.

Kevin was an amazing person, and he shouldn't have had to go so soon. Every so often, I can feel him wrap his arms around my heart in a reassuring gesture that simply says, "Everything is okay, Michelle."

I wish that I could explain him fully to you, but that would be impossible. Kevin was truly his own person, and to try and explain him through mere words would be an almost laughable attempt.

Here's an essay I wrote last year in my Writing for College class. It didn't do him justice, but it satisfied a need at the time.

**********************************************************************
Tears were coursing silently down my face as I looked into the casket of my nephew and best friend. I raised my trembling hand in an almost trancelike state and placed it gingerly inside the hand of my deceased friend. It was cold. I looked into the waxy face that had once been full of laughter. The mortician, I thought, did not do a very good job of portraying Kevin. His face was oddly still, when before it had been in constant motion. His lips were straight, almost frowning, while he almost always had a smile on his face, no matter how much he hurt.

I slipped the letter I had written to him underneath his left hand as I continued to clutch his right. Everything I had ever thought about him but never had the courage to say was in that letter. I spoke of how I had always looked up to him. Even when we were two and three years old, I wanted to be just like him. I idolized him. He was, to say it simply, "cool." Well, actually, as a kid he was nerdy. He sported huge round glasses and a large gap between his two front teeth. He had a contagious, loud, throaty laugh, which lit up his entire face, and clothes that were way too big for his skinny body.

As he grew older, Kevin gained contacts, braces, and an amazing self-esteem. When he was around ten years old, he had gotten to the point that he didn’t care what other people thought of him, and he learned to be himself.

I also expressed to Kevin in my letter that he was, in truth, my hero. He had the qualities that I longed for in myself. He was completely carefree, and full of love. He was ambitious, and charismatic. He was always willing to try something, and he gave the impression that he was fearless.

I continued to stare at the lifeless body that was once my best friend as I felt a sudden rush of calm sweep over me. It was the sweetest sensation to overcome me since Kevin died, and I was grateful. The feeling was that of a warm and gentle squeeze of my heart, almost like an internal hug. I looked into Kevin’s face and squeezed the hand that I had been holding for so long. Somehow I knew that that feeling had been him.

I felt my sister, Kevin’s mother, put her arms around my waist and rest her head on my right shoulder.

“It’s so unreal," I sighed. “He was only eighteen."

“I know." She said, “It’s cruel that he had to die so young. But we were blessed to have known him."

Her words echoed in my head as she steered me away from Kevin’s body. My hand held on to Kevin’s as long as possible. It was too soon for me to let go.

Kevin was...is...amazing. Beautiful. Hilarious. Loving. Caring. Friendly. Heroic. Crazy. Unpredictable. Rebellious. Spiritual. Musical. Talented. Witty. Non-chalant. Incredible. Angelic. Strong. Bright. Artistic. Smart. Wild. Untaimed. Corny. Magical. Magnificent. Charismatic. Admirable. Charming. Loyal. Fun. Young.
My best friend.
My hero.
I miss him.

Thursday 13

T13 has a new home! 

I'm sad and excited all at the same time.
This week we're linking up with Miranda at All Things Lovely to discuss
our...


13 Favorite Places/Spaces


1. Nick's Arms. (Cue cheesy "Awwww" here) I know, I know. But it really is my most favorite place in the world. My own personal retreat from the world.


2. Switzerland. Probably one of the most beautiful places I have ever had the pleasure to see with my own two eyes. And the people are SO. NICE.

Crans-Montana, Switzerland

3. Grandma's house. My Mamaw passed away when I was 10, but I will never forget how I felt when I got to stay at her house. It ALWAYS smelled like cookies. I am not joking. And she always let me have dessert first because, "You never know when you're gonna die."

4. Disney World. This is just too obvious. If you've ever been there, it really IS the happiest place on earth. (Until you get hungry and realize how expensive food is.)

See? Look how happy I am.

5. The park. More specifically, MY park. There's one just down the street from my parent's house in Marshall, and I would walk there -barefoot- every day in the summertime. I'd go there to think. Or read. Or just sit and enjoy being outside.

6. The Temple. As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, there is no place more amazing than the Temple. Not only is it gorgeous, but it really is the House of the Lord. He walks those halls and allows us to have a glimpse into Heaven when we are worthy to enter.

Washington D.C. Temple

7. Mom's house. I remember when I was in high school and how much I couldn't wait to move out of my parent's house. Now, as an adult, there are days that I really, REALLY miss my mom. I miss my old room. I miss hearing the clippy noises of the dog's nails on the wood floor. I miss her hugs. Sorry for being such an angsty jerk, mom!

8. The car. You haven't seen the continental US unless you've seen it Mike Rich style. (That's my dad, by the way.) I've seen countless monuments and natural wonders... in the dark. At some ungodly hour of the morning.

Dad: "Wake up, kids! Look at the Grand Canyon!" 

Us: "Dad, we can't even see it. It's too dark."

Dad: "Oh, well. Let's get moving! We've gotta make it to [wherever] by nightfall!"

Sometimes the car got boring...

9. In the rain. I love, love, LOVE summer rain. I love being outside IN summer rain. I love feeling it on my toes and on my face. It's warm, soothing and completely spontaneous. It makes me happy.

10. In the sun. Okay, so maybe I'm hurting for ideas, but I still love being in the sun. Summertime is my favorite season EVER and I love [almost] everything about it - especially the sunshine. Even though I never seem to get any color from it...

11. Italy. I can't believe that I forgot about going to Italy! It was probably my favorite trip ever! The food: amazing. The architecture: amazing. The weather: AMAZING. Seriously so. much. fun. 

Don't judge me. I was 17.

12. Alexa's nursery. Sometimes I'll just sit in there and try to imagine my life in a few months. Or her face. Or her laugh. I wish I could see her! It's so frustrating to not know what she looks like!

13. My bed. Come on. I'm pregnant and I'm exhausted ALL the time. Why wouldn't I enjoy being asleep in my bed?

Where are YOUR favorite places to be??

27 Weeks

Well, I'm 27 weeks along today.

Helloooooo third trimester.

...and insomnia.

...and back pain.

...and irritability towards everything.

Current mood: Tired. I have NOT been sleeping well the last few weeks. Last night I think I woke up every half hour or so. Yay.

Recent cravings: I have wanted LOTS of fountain drinks lately. Not bottled soda. Fountain drinks only. Granted, I try to avoid that, but I've succumbed more often than I care to admit. 

Mood swings: Unfortunately, yes. According to Nick, I snap a lot quicker than I used to. Well sor-REE. (Just kidding.)

Baby movement: Holy crap, yes. She is so strong. Her kicks are becoming less kick-y and more pronounced and deliberate. It's more of a slow push than a jab. Every time she does that, I feel like she's trying to explode out of me like that scene in Spaceballs.

Funny things: It's absolutely hysterical. She'll be movin' and a-groovin' in there (basically killing me from the inside out) and Nick will blow a loud raspberry on my belly. She will completely STOP MOVING after that. I get the biggest kick out of trying to picture her facial expression when he does that. Hahahaha!

Anyway, that's all I've got for you today! We're still unpacking, but I promise I will get pictures of the house to you soon! 

Happy Tuesday!

Just Because Friday: Remembering

Wow.

I just realized something.

A few weeks (or months, I don't even remember) ago, I told you that I would be posting WEEKLY PHOTOS  of my baby bump.

Fail.

I'm going to try REALLY HARD to remedy that.

Even if I don't think I look super cute.

Or cute to my standards.

I will be posting more pictures.

I plomise.

*Ahem*

I mean, I PRomise.

I pinky promise, even.

Can't break one of those babies. 

Anyway...
I wanted to ramble talk about
my divorce.
I wanted to share a memoir with you that I had written for one of my college classes.
On August 17th, I will have been divorced for two years.
It's strange to think about.
Sometimes it doesn't even feel like it really happened.

Now, I've shared this memoir via my "notes" section on Facebook.
But, I feel like I need to bring it to light again.
I don't need any sympathy.
I just wanted to share a piece of my life that I have buried.
This is a piece of my life that will never fully go away...
...no matter how happy I am now.

***

Photo by: SF Photography
Model: Myself

A Memoir

Note: The italicized portions are my thoughts and/or flashbacks.

Some memories are so painful that looking back on them gives you no other choice but to laugh. Like junior prom when you had to take your cousin instead of Joe Schmoe who was just so hot. Or the time that your little sister shaved half your head in the middle of the night, and you didn’t even notice until first period biology. You know, little stuff - high school stuff. But then there are those memories that are so painful they remain tattooed on your brain forever. A splinter that, if given the chance, will infect every happiness inside of you until you are left a bitter, empty shell of the person you once were. It only takes one.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. Brief snippets here and there tell the vague story of a girl who never sat still and talked way too much. Other than that, life before seventh grade is a blur.

I remember moving to Smalltown, Minnesota from Georgia when I was twelve. On the way, we stopped in Buffalo Ridge – a town littered with mammoth windmills and little else.

“Listen! Those huge windmills are making the weirdest sound!”

Maybe if I pretend to be sleeping, they’ll leave me alone.

“Michelle! Wake up! Come listen to the windmills!”

Oh, grief. Just kill me now. Do you honestly think I want to get out of the car in Middle-Of-Freaking-Nowhere, Minnesota to listen to a windmill? You have got to be joking…

My father, proudly and purposefully, flung the door open, allowing the March winds to crystallize my nose hairs.

“Out,” he says simply.

Seriously? Are you crazy? Hell has actually frozen over outside, and you want me to get out and listen to a godforsaken windmill? Am I the only sane one in this family?

As it turns out, I was. Not long thereafter, my father pulled me out of the car and locked himself snuggly inside, forcing me to stand awkwardly in the middle of  a seemingly abandoned Minnesota highway, wearing nothing but a t-shirt, basketball shorts and incredibly thin socks.

You only wish that was my memoir.

“It’s over.”

His words continued to echo in my head long after they were uttered – long after he had gone. I removed my wedding ring slowly, placing it gingerly on the table in front of me as I sank to the floor. Glazing over, I allowed the memories of my year-long marriage to wash over me, sending me cascading down into a deeper depression.

I didn’t move for three days.

I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t even cry. I simply sat there dazed and alone, staring at the symbol of promises and love that had now broken. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I mean, sure, we had problems. But who didn’t?

"You’re just not the same girl I married a year ago. I mean, I know you have depression, and I know that things are hard for you, but I figured after a year you’d make some progress, and you haven’t.”

I wasn’t good enough for him, and I wasn’t becoming good enough fast enough. I had assumed that I had my whole life to improve. I assumed that marriage meant forever. Silly me.

         

The lawyer’s office was freezing. Seriously, I could see my own breath. Don’t these people realize my lips are blue?

“Ms. Pearl?” The receptionist was too happy. I hated her. “Mr. Ryker will see you now.”

I felt like I was in the waiting room of a doctor’s office. There were magazines everywhere with beautiful people smiling up at me. This was my first time seeing a lawyer, but from what I understood, people aren’t generally smiley in their presence. It seemed more fitting to have self-help books strewn about, with titles like, “Depression and You: This is Your Life Now” or “How to Get Back at That Crazy Old Bat Who Stole Your Money and Ran.

“I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork,” he said, nasally, dropping what appeared to be a novel in front of me. “Here’s a pen.”

           

With outstretched, periwinkle fingers, I left-handedly took hold of the pen. Seeing my empty ring finger shot shockwaves of memories through me.

"Seth, we need to talk,” I announced into the phone.

"I’m kinda busy right now, babe. Can we talk later?” I hated it when he blew me off.

"No. You get somewhere you can talk right now. I’ll wait.” I added that last part in a “you-better-not-make-me-wait-long” kind of tone. I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to say to him. My fury had gotten the better of me, and I was connected to him before I even knew I had dialed.

“Okay. What’s up?”

I breathed deeply, steadying my voice. “Are you cheating on me?”

I don’t think I’ve ever filled out so much paperwork in my life as I did that day. It probably took me a good hour and a half before Mr. Lawyer Smileypants spoke to me again.

           

“So,” he began, folding his rather hairy hands into his lap, “tell me your story.”

           

Where do I start?

“Are you ready to go?” Seth asked, impatiently, looking me up and down.

           

“Go where?” I asked the question, though I already knew the answer. It was Saturday. We always visited his parents on Saturday. Every Saturday. “I mean, can’t we just hang out today? You and me?”

           

He rolled his eyes and gave his best martyr sigh. “Why do you hate my family?”

           

“Wait. What? I never said-“

           

“You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face. You stay. I’m going.” He then turned on his heel and left me standing there, utterly bewildered.

“Last call for Michelle Pearl for flight 207, nonstop to Minneapolis. Michelle Pearl?”

           

The perky-yet-concerned voice of the airline worker shook me from my stupor. This was it. I was going home, and never coming back. My marriage was officially over, and I didn’t even know why. I numbly rose to my feet, gathering my things. I think I knocked over someone’s coffee, but I didn’t care. Their life would go on. They could get another coffee. I would never get another Seth.

           

As I settled into my seat next to Call-Me-Catherine of 24b, I took a look around. Is this really my life? Have I just become another statistic? Michelle: 20-year-old divorcee from Whocares, Minnesota.

"Please don’t go.” I was begging now. I hated the way the words tasted on my lips. “Just… stay. We can fix this.”

           

“It’s over, Michelle. I’ll go stay with my parents while you pack. Maybe I’ll come back before you leave for good.” His face was totally emotionless. Why didn’t he care? I mean, you can’t just dump your wife like a high school girlfriend. This is different. Isn’t it?

           

Despite the fact that I willed them not to, tears coursed down my cheeks, burning my skin. Tears of sadness. Tears of anger. Tears of betrayal. “Fine.” I said, “Just go.”

           

“Look,” he softened, weaving his fingers through mine, “I’m here for you, okay?”

           

I backed away from him slowly. There were no more tears now.

           

“You don’t get to say that to me anymore. You don’t have the right. Being ‘here for me’ would mean you were staying. Being ‘here for me’ would mean that you wanted to fix this. But you’re running. You’re only looking out for yourself now. Go.”

           

And he did.

Thursday 13

I'm so glad to be back to a 

routined life.

Erm...

Well, I'm at least glad that I have enough time to blog

and to participate in the Thursday 13.

Seriously, my FAVE link up.

Thanks, Aunie!

ANYwho, this week is a super upbeat and cheery topic. 

I love it!

13 Things People Do That I Love

1. Smile. Seriously. How much brighter would the world be if everyone smiled more? Why are people so grumpy all. the. time?


2. Hold the door open. Nick does this for me all the time! He's such a gentleman. What's weird is when he does it for someone else, and they act genuinely surprised. How sad!


3. Adopt an animal. Now, I'm a dog person, myself. But the kitties need love, too. Sometimes I'll go to the animal shelter just to play with them for a bit. But, then I feel just awful when I can't bring any of them home with me. (However, we're ALLOWED to have puppies in our new home! YAY!) I'm sure they appreciate the playtime, though.


4. Give a compliment to a stranger. I've always felt kind of awkward talking to people I don't know. But when I see that they're wearing an awesome shirt, or their hair looks super cute, I've just gotta tell them. I mean, people give me compliments, too! (Although nobody's actually said, "You're glowing" yet. Haha.)


5. Offer hugs. I remember when I was living in California. I seriously had, like, two friends. When my divorce was made public and I was packing up my life to move back in with my parents, love was FLOODING in. People that I had talked to once were coming up to me and hugging me. Or making me dinner. Or just letting me cry on them. 


6. When someone says, "I appreciate________ that you did." That's what gets me the most. I NEED to feel appreciated. Because of my depression, I often get down on myself and feel like I'm not really contributing anything good to the world. So when Nick or anyone else tells me that I've done something awesome and they approve, I feel like I could fly. Seriously.


7. Just a phone call...  If I'm going through a hard time with something, I love it when people think about me and shoot me a text or call me just to see how I'm doing. It's just so considerate, and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.


8. Say "excuse me." Too often, people are so concerned with their own lives, that they neglect to notice that they're being rude. So, it just makes my day when people take notice and say, "Oh, excuse me!" 


9. Comments! I love knowing that people read my blog and enjoy it. It makes me smile.


10. I love when people shovel the snow of their neighbors driveway just because. THAT is an amazing surprise to wake up to the morning after a snowstorm. :)


11. I also love it when those same people get carried away and mow their neighbors lawn because... why not?  


12. Seeing kids share. That's such a cool thing to watch. I remember in school when we would trade parts of our lunch or when your friend would take the heat for something you did because they knew that your mom would just freak out if she ever heard about that stunt you pulled. Kids are awesome.


13. Flowers. Even if it's a dandelion, I love seeing a flower on the table and knowing that Nick was thinking of me at some point in the day. 




What makes YOU happy about others?

Crazy, Beautiful Life

Hi!

I've been a bit MIA haven't I?

I'm sorry.

We FINALLY moved on Friday

to our new home in Glencoe.

We were so excited!

But, with every move

comes the unpleasant task of 

unpacking.

Bleh.

Needless to say...

my back hurts.

A lot.

And we JUST got internet, like,

ten minutes ago.

See how important you are to me?

I'm afraid I don't have any pictures of our new place just yet.

I want to make sure it's set up all pretty

before I go around and show the world.

BUT...

I'm happy to announce that I have FINALLY 

started my nesting process!

YAY!

It was so much fun

to hang her name on the wall.

Afterward, I just sat there.

Staring.

I was trying to imagine her there

in her crib.

I wish I could see her face.

I wish I could even imagine her face.

It seems to bizarre to me that I'm having a baby.

I mean, I can't be 22.

Can I?

Am I REALLY pregnant?

Truly?

Maybe I'm just fat.

No, wait.

My fat just moved.

And why do I have to go to the bathroom all the time?!

I must really be pregnant.

Anyway,

Nick and I love it here.

We love our house.

We love our church.

We love the town.

It's so incredible that we've found this place.

It kind of fell into our lap, really.

A definite slap in the face.

"You need to go here."

I promise I'll post pictures soon!

Happy Tuesday!