To Tony

Tonight I received some unhappy news. A dear friend (Tony) has been battling cancer for some time and has kept me and other friends updated through emails (similar to the "Deat Updates" I did when Deat was ill.) Tonight, he sent one telling us that he's essentially lost the battle, that the doctor told him there's nothing left to do. Tony guesses that he may have a few months left.

He asked a favor: to write or email a memory of him or a time he's shared with each of us that he can compile in a book for his family. I love this idea, as some of you know I've asked Deat's friends to do the same on his memorial website as a gift to my girls. I love that Tony is putting this together himself; but that's Tony... he's putting together something that will comfort his family long after he's gone. I'd tell you more about how great he is, but hopefully my contribution will do that for me.

So, this is what I wrote.

You never know how much the little things you do bless someone, and so often we forget to tell people how much something that seems like a "little thing" means to us. I am humbled and honored to have that opportunity.

Almost 10 years ago, my husband was unhappy in his job, and was offered a chance come back to the job he had loved at the radio station here in L-town, Kentucky... 100 miles from my family, my friends, and everything that was familiar to me. Two days after we had decided to move, we learned I was expecting our first baby (P.D.). I was intimidated at the idea, but as I told Jerry (Deat) , "You're miserable, you're fixing to make ME miserable, you'd probably make the baby miserable... Let's go!"

In the first several months after our move, I was spending the weekdays in central Kentucky doing my old job, coming back to L-town on the weekends. I had been away to college, but this was different, this was GOING to be my HOME but I didn't really have much in the way of opportunities to get used to it.

When someone said to me, "Oh, you live in L-town, do you know so and so?"

I replied, "Well, if they're not Catholic or a public official, I doubt I've laid eyes on them!"

A better answer would have been, "Well, if they don't work at the radio station or they aren't Tony Cambron, no."

Tony was St. William's, and really L-town itself's ambassador to me. St. William's was a very welcoming community, but Tony really stood out. He introduced himself the very first time we attended and made a point to speak to us every single time he saw us, usually with a joke or funny story, and always with that great welcoming smile. Tony was the guy who really made me feel that this town "could" become my home.

He always asked how I was coming along, and when P.D. was born, he was the first to carry her off and show her to the rest of the church. Of course I had to have "P.D.'s buddy" at her first birthday! Thank you for that, Tony.

My other big thank you's are for the comfort he brought me during the hardest period of my life. These updates seem so familiar to me, I sent them out in '07 and '08 when my husband was battling Lupus and kidney failure. Tony sent me the best responses, and for those I am grateful. When Deat was in the hospital here in L-town, Tony came to see him. When I came in later, Deat mentioned Tony's visit and laughed as he shared their conversation with me. I don't remember what they talked about... but at a time when Deat's smiles were fewer and farther between, it was a million-dollar conversation to me.

Losing Deat was, and is, by far, the most difficult thing I've endured... but Tony was a bright spot in that, too. The night of Deat's visitation, we invited people to get up and tell their favorite story about Deat. I loved hearing them all, but Tony's was my favorite. He told of watching us come into church and how, eventually one of girls would "act up" and demonstrated how Deat would end up collecting all the "baby stuff" up and carrying her out...

then he did Deat's walk.

I pointed and howled with laughter, "THAT'S EXACTLY IT!!!! I used to tell Deat all the time, 'honey, if ducks had long legs that's exactly how they'd walk!'" I can't describe how, in the midst of so much sorrow, how much that laugh meant to me. It wasn't the act of someone making fun, it was the act of someone who cared enough to know; of someone who loved and respected my husband.

Tony also took the time to write a beautiful tribute on Deat's memorial site, a wonderful gift to me and to my girls, and one I treasure. I've read it well over 100 times, and it always brings comfort.

Tony Cambron, you're about as fine a man as I've ever known... and I thank God for putting you in the places He has in my life. I also thank YOU for being who you are: God knew you'd bless me, and you have, again and again. I am especially grateful to God and to you for what you sent to me tonight, for this opportunity to TELL you.

We've been so lucky to have you, Tony. I know this journey is frightening, and I wish I knew just the exact right thing to tell you to make it easier, but I'm not sure I do. So, I'll remind you of something you said in your gift to me... I'm sure Deat will be right there with St. Peter, ready to strike up a conversation to make you feel at home.

We love you, Tony.

Kelly, P.D. and B.B.

Extra Credit

I'm here tonight seeking extra credit. My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to chose a theory that interests me and spend the next 2 weeks incorporating the core concepts of that theory in my everyday life and interactions, and to journal about that nightly.

The good news is, I've decided to kill two birds with one proverbial stone: work toward some extra credit and alleviate my guilt about not providing T.L. and Delmer something to comment on. The bad news is you'll probably be reading more about Adlerian Theory than you ever hoped to. I find everything about the material I'm learning fascinating, but you may not. I asked Dr. Parsons about injecting humor on a project in another of his classes and was told no, so I'm not sure how I'll approach this assignment.

If it becomes too dry, at least my readers will have a sound substitute for Ambien!

Giggling

Just passing along an entertaining website: www.ticklenotes.com. It's okay in the latest entries, but I've been reading the stuff from '07 and giggling my head off.

Mostly, it's stuff he's overheard... with a couple other random entries. Just sharing!

Random School and Counseling

Yeah, yeah, I know, it's been awhile. I'm sorry!

School... uh, wow. So many things run through my head about it...

1. I have this fear I'll have to quit blogging when I become a counselor. I mean, I don't think you can find this blog just by Googling my name, but what if a client DID find it somehow? Way too much self-disclosure here.

I like to think I'm pretty transparent in my friendships, so I don't mind my friends' reading it. Strangers? Well they don't know me so who cares if they judge? But client relationships are very different animals. Guess when the time comes to make the decision I'll be checking the ACA Code of Ethics.

2. My first semester was very emotional for me, I wanted so badly to do everything RIGHT. I wanted so badly to be respected my peers in my classes... I didn't handle the pressure well and lost control of my emotions in more than one class.

I did my paper for Foundations of Counseling about "Stress in Master's Level Counseling Students" (ha ha!) but the topic was perfect for me to do... I learned a great deal, most importantly being that some of my issues, the areas where I felt particularly anxious, were already recognized stress factors for counseling students. In the course of writing the paper, I came to the conclusion that if you're a stressed-out master's level student, at least in a counseling program you're dealing with a staff that is trained in recognizing your issues and is willing to help you sort them out.

Also, I learned (the hard way) that an A- isn't worth 4 points, it's only worth 3.7 on the Lindsey Wilson grading scale.

SO, the pressure is off! If my peers think I'm a basket case, so what. Damage done, can't fix it... and my profs have shown an interest in helping me succeed. Besides, my 4.0 is already blown, no more pressure there either... Whoo hooo!

3. That said, (and with aforementioned pressure off) I LOVE learning this stuff. My classes have been and are absolutely fascinating to me.

Tonight was the first meeting of Systemic Family Therapy. I was nervous because the image I had in my head of this prof (from students who have already had him) was that he was a real hard-a**... so I was nervous, but I really liked him. He seemed pretty forthright, so I don't imagine I'll have to guess about where I stand. Besides, I really, really enjoyed the lecture he gave tonight. I feel good about the class.

4. Which leads me to one other thing I worry about a bit. My friends know, I live by the philosophy "If you 'think' something nice about someone, you should just 'say' it"... I'm torn by that in dealing with my profs because I don't want to come off as a brown-noser.

I'll admit, I have a pretty bad case of hero worship for the profs I've had so far. I think much of what we learn in class is simply "how to be a better person" for lack of a better way to describe it. Since these people are TEACHING these things, they've already internalized them.

Recognizing this huge admiration thing I have going, I worry about where to "draw the line" in my dealings with them. I guess I'll keep learning as I go...

Oh, and I promise I'll try to blog more often...

WOO HOO!!!!

Checked my unofficial transcript to see how I did in my first class

I got an A! I got an A! (repeat 100 times)

GRIN!

Getting Out and About

Last night was just plain happy. I doubt I can do it justice.

As is the theme of my blog, a huge part of my healing process has been searching for who "Just Kelly" is. For a long time after his death, it felt like an act of desperation:

Is there anything left in here that's "just me", and therefore, any part of me that DOESN'T ache for his input? Deat's mark seemed to be on every single thing I did or even thought about.

Facebook has actually been a tool in this process in that it's allowed me to reconnect with people who knew me well before I was ever Deat's wife, people who remembered a previous version of "justkelly". For a while, I mistakenly imagined that perhaps I could just remember who I was before we married and just "be her" again. (BEEEP, wrong answer.)

Even on the few occasions I did "go out" with old friends initially, I found (much to my frustration) that I couldn't stop talking about Deat. It seemed impossible to find very much about myself that had not, in one way or another, been touched, honed, refined by his influence.

I decided "getting out socially" was just too much of a hassle. As much as I care about the friends I've been out to see, I just felt so awkward and uncomfortable with myself, it was hard to completely enjoy it. So, I haven't "gone out" anywhere without P.D. and B.B. for almost a year, often using them as an excuse to stay home.

Several months ago, I was reminiscing about my days at EKU, and wondered what happened to Richie. Richie was 6 years my senior, one of the guys in "The Gang" who taught me to play and love the game of pocket billiards... but he was more than that, too. (Okay, so I had a crush on him...) Despite the bravado in the Powell Building, he's one of the most soft-hearted people I know. I don't know if I ever actually came out and told him how I felt, but I know he knew. "Romantic near-misses" aside, we grew to be very close friends.

We got in touch with each other a few times after college... one of those times was soon after he'd gone through a very painful divorce... not long after that was when Deat and I got together, and we lost touch again.

So, got on Facebook, typed in his name, and bang, there he was. We corresponded on Facebook, and soon got on the phone and talked for hours.

He had been remarried for several years to Wendy. He sounded so much more comfortable with himself than he'd ever been: it was easy to tell that Wendy is a primary factor in that. He admitted that when he read that I was widowed, he couldn't help but shed tears for me, his friend. He told me that it reminded him of how important it was to tell the people who really influenced your life what they meant, so he wanted to tell me.

He also said the tears also came from trying to imagine what I'd been through, how in the world he'd go on if he'd been in my shoes, if he'd lost Wendy. To me, that spoke volumes about their relationship, and I was so happy he'd found someone he loved so much. I just knew I'd love her too.

BUT, Richie is a talker. He told me that Wendy knew all about who I was, well before we got back in touch... all of it. Ugh. Of course, I responded that her feelings came first. The last thing I wanted to do was create friction in his marriage, and I knew I would be uncomfortable if I were in her shoes. But he said he'd also already told her that we'd gotten back in touch, and she knew he was planning to call me, so not to worry.

A few days later, I saw Richie "on" Facebook and IMed, but it turned out it was actually Wendy putting up some pictures on his page (Wow, this is awkward) but we ended up in IM conversation. She was gracious and I could already tell she had a great sense of humor. We had a great conversation, "friended" each other, and started chatting.

We had a direct conversation where she admitted that she suddenly felt stupid for having been nervous about me. I told her not to feel stupid, to me, it just meant that she knew she had something of value and her first instinct was to protect it! I told her I completely respected her marriage and would never do anything to jeopardize it. Heck, she's the best thing that ever happened to Richie, the last thing I want to do was mess that up!

From there, Wendy and I became IM buddies, and until I went back to work, chatted nearly every day. Most of the time, our conversations have very little to do with Richie at all. She's totally amazing. How many women would have been willing to give me a chance? Not many, but she did. I got to keep my dear friend, and add a new one. (Oh, and she's also a reader, Hi Wendy!)

So, anyway, she and Richie decided that I needed to start getting out more, and asked me to come to their town so we could all go out and let Wendy and I finally meet face-to-face. Anytime Richie and I talked, he'd harass me about how he needed a partner to play pool at a restaurant/pub where he and Wendy are regulars.

I still love to play, but I'd only played a couple times in the last two years. I really didn't want to embarrass myself, especially since Richie sounded so convinced that I was a better player than I am. We made plans for one weekend, but they fell through. (Partly from a mis-communication, partly from my apprehension.)

(Man, I prefaced the dog-doo out of this entry, didn't I?)

This past Thursday I happened to see Wendy online and was telling her about how I was going to miss the girls since they were going to my parents' for the weekend, and Wendy jumped on it. "So, you're free Saturday night, huh?" (Oooops!) Okay, no ducking, time to get out again. I was nervous at first, but then, in the course of a lecture Saturday our professor mentioned that worrying was wasted energy.

Okay Kel, so stop worrying, find your pool stick and just go!

I arrived at the restaurant, was there for 5 minutes and felt completely at ease. Wendy is just as awesome in person. At dinner, she or I would say something and the other one would chime, "Me too!"

After dinner, we headed out to the pub they'd been telling me about. Wendy and I settled in at the bar and started playing some silly computer game, but it was fun. We "people watched" and laughed about some of the antics of some of the uh," less-than-sober" patrons.

Brief bar-table billiard etiquette lesson for those who don't know:

The winner keeps the table. On most tables that take quarters, the rule of thumb is that if you want to play, you place your quarters on the table and wait your turn to try to beat the winner. If you win, you play the next one waiting.

Richie put his quarters up, followed by a friend of his. His friend left, so when Richie won, I was next in line to play. After that game, we asked the next ones in line if they'd play partners against us.

We started playing a little after nine, and kept the table until just before last call about 12:30. I shot so much better than I imagined I still could. (I'm sure Richie and Wendy's confidence helped!) We laughed and talked and just had a great time.

Then opponents and by-standers started complimenting my game. Geez, I had forgotten how good that felt!

Funny moment: I stepped out for a quick smoke-break and ran into a pair of guys that Richie and I had just beaten. One of them stopped me:

"Man, you are really good!"

(smile) "No honey, you just think I'm good because you aren't used to seeing a female play well at all."

"Well, you're 10 times better than me, and your partner, he's 100 times better. I want so bad to play like he does, but I just can't."

"Well, here's a little perspective. You're how old, 22 maybe?"

"Twenty-one"

"Well, there ya go. My partner in there, he started teaching me how to shoot the same year you were born!"

He seemed to feel better after that.

It was just a simple, comfortable, happy night, on so many levels, for so many reasons.

• Had a night that was just "for me." and knew Ev and Ab were in good hands so I could relax.
• Finally got to "cement" my new friendship with Wendy.
• I saw first-hand what a great marriage God blessed my dear friend Richie with, and it made me so happy for him.
• It was so neat to see Richie be "the top dog". To use an old "Gang" expression, he shot like "God on the pool table."
• Spent time doing something that I loved, and had loved well before I ever met Deat. On a VERY rare occasion, Deat would come watch me play, but it still wasn't his interest. Pool was one tiny aspect of me that was, and still is, truly, "just me."
• While I did mention Deat from time-to-time, it was just a comfortable part of conversation, it didn't feel awkward, or even "compulsive" as it used to.

Thanks, guys, I so needed that!

After Deat's death, it took a long time to accept that the best part of my marriage was that nearly every single part of me was colored by my relationship with Deat. I had to instead learn to embrace that fact and incorporate it into this new life. Trying to run away from that simple truth wasn't making the pain lessen anyway, much as I tried to "will" the hurt away.

So, okay, most of who I am is still wrapped up in Deat and his influence, but not all. Saturday night I saw a lot of the old Kelly: just older, wiser, and much more comfortable in MY own skin.

Hmm, maybe I should have named my blog "justkellyhere 2.0"

Funny thing happened on the way

past the 2 year mark/2nd of Deat's birthdays since his death...

I started feeling a weight lift. I started WANTING to work on accomplishing something for myself again. I really started seeing myself as somebody "other" than just Deat's widow. I know, I say that in my bio... but lately I've started really feeling it.

I know some of it was simply passing these milestones. It's hard to describe. I also think a great deal of it changed after a really rough "practice" group therapy session for class a couple weeks ago. I had to view myself in a pretty harsh light and I didn't much like what was being reflected back to me.

Somehow, I also think I can attribute part of it to completing my first class (It was "Group Counseling Techniques") toward my masters' tonight. My master's, that I decided, by myself, (okay, with a big ole push from above) to pursue.

I really wish I could fully describe it. For the first time, I'm spending more mental energy looking forward and less looking back... and it doesn't feel like something I have to WORK at. It doesn't feel disloyal anymore. I suppose some of that came from, as I mentioned before, deciding a couple days ago that Deat would have chastised me for making a big deal out his death date as a morbid thing to do, and probably would have insisted that I not do as much as I did. (see February 23 post)

But, I did cheat and do one more thing... I learned I've picked up a couple readers who don't actually know me (how exciting!) and one of them asked me what happened. Rather than even try to condense that incredibly long story, I copied the file that had all the "update" emails from his illness into a new blog, "What Happened." (Okay, so I was fresh out of catchy titles)

Maybe that seems like more dwelling, but somehow, to me, it felt like another step toward closure.

Will I still talk about Deat and about widow issues? Well, uh, yeah. Kinda hard to erase 17 years of my life... and I wouldn't want to if I could. This journey was/is part of who I am today.

It's just that as of recently, it's doesn't feel like the only part.



Note: Just now as I was reading what I thought was final edit, it just so happened that "Send Me On My Way" started playing. (#173, second from the last on the player on the right as of this writing) came on. Turn it on, it fits this post perfectly.

An Exerpt from a Cat's Diary

Deat would have been 35 today, so over on Facebook I posted this. (Don't forget to pause the player on the right so you can hear it)

Happy Birthday Buddy. You always made me laugh.

This is a spot that Deat and Trevor recorded while Deat was at WWEL. Trevor is doing the intro, Deat is the cat. I wanted to only upload the sound, but since FB won't upload mp3 files, I had to make a movie. I included the pic from WYMT on the first few seconds, b/c that's how Deat looked when he was announcing, but I only left it up for a few seconds because it's funnier if you just listen...

Today, 2 years later

It was two years ago today that God released Deat from that horrible illness. I've been flip-flopping for 2 days about what to do about today, about what to write... should I recap the last 2 years?

Um, no. Not tonight. I actually made a point today NOT to mention what today was to the outside world, at least not until now. I didn't want a bunch of those old sad looks. P.D. asked me this morning if we were going to do anything special, I told her I had thought about it, and I didn't think her Daddy would want us to. (I actually think he would find that morbid.) I think she was relieved.

Besides, I've lived those last moments, that day, that night, over and over. Deat wouldn't want me to do it again... I'm sure I will at some point, accidentally even, but I'm not doing it on purpose. I may do a sort of recap sometime the coming weeks, but not tonight.

So, here's a weird disjointed collection of things I wanted to talk about:

1. I did do a couple things today. I called Jack at the jail (Deat's old boss). He's not running for re-election, so I wanted his take on who's running. We had a nice little chat, but he was too busy to talk about it much. I also called Todd, a dear friend and deputy at the jail who has since been moved to the night shift. I cannot say enough about how much these two people (and everyone at the jail, really) did for us during Deat's illness. I am forever grateful and love them both. And Todd, well he always makes me laugh. Todd can make griping about something the funniest thing you ever heard.

2. Right turn, Clyde. (If you don't get the reference, you obviously didn't get dragged to the drive-in to see Clint Eastwood in the late 70's like I did. Anyway, for my purposes it's just a warning that I'm switching gears)

3. Yesterday, B.B. looked at P.D. and said "Sissy, you're an asshole" This is a problem... mostly because it's so funny to hear her say it, it's hard to correct her properly, and partly because it's my fault.

Me: B.B., (trying so hard to keep the giggles to a minimum) honey, you can't say that, that's a bad word

B.B.: You called Mr. Dowell an asshole.

(Yes, same Mr. Dowell, you know I really like you when I start calling you names. At this point I lost it and laughed. I'm a really bad mother!)

4. I don't remember whether it was Tina or Sabrina who gave me the Gourmet Mint Chocolate Truffle hot chocolate that I've been avoiding... but I had a cup tonight and whichever one of you it was, I love you to distraction. As for the other one; no, I won't be sharing.

5. Tonight as I was looking up something on my computer, B.B. sat down on the corner of my bed (My desk sits right beside it... I gotta finish the basement at some point and get this thing out of my room!) got my comb and started combing my hair. "Momma, look at the bathroom, look out the window. (When I comb her hair, to get her to turn the way I need her to, I tell her what to look at. "Look in the mirror, baby, look out the bathroom door... ) I had no idea that having someone comb your hair for you felt so good. And it was just a great moment. Little does she know, she'll be stuck with this chore for life...

6. And we have lots of great moments. Earlier tonight it was while the girls were unloading the dishwasher, (B.B. does the silverware, P.D. everything else) then sitting down together for supper. P.D. was just chattering away about this and that. After B.B. finished my hair, she and P.D. were playing some make-believe game together.... I hope someday B.B. realizes how lucky she got in the big sister department. We're a pretty cool little team, we three girls.

So there, I blogged. Onward through this life we go...

It's Almost the Two-Year Mark

And what a journey it's been so far. May I say the learning curve has been much longer than I imagined?

P.D. asked me question yesterday that threw me for a loop.

"Mama, did you love Daddy?"

"What? Yes, more than anything in the whole world! Why would you ask me that?"

"Well, I hear you say that he was your best friend, I never hear you say that you loved him."

"You don't remember? Daddy and I always kissed each other hello and goodbye... we constantly told each other we loved each other."

"No, not really I don't."

Wow. You really never know what they know and don't know. I had to remind myself, P.D. was only six... he's been gone for almost a 1/4 of her whole life. She remembers special things he did and said, but what he was like, day-to-day, eludes her. B.B. doesn't remember him at all.

The one thing, perhaps the only thing I've been consistent about in the past 2 years is my concern for my girls' feelings in all this. I've made a special point to give them as much information about their Daddy as I can, and to preserve anything that might give them any inkling about who he was for when they're older. I read books, talked to therapists, and I really thought I had THAT PART of this life covered.

"Everything else can fall apart, as long as I handle this well, I'm okay." I will say, I am pleased that P.D. felt she could ask... I did something right.

Today, P.D. and I practiced her lines for a play she's in... "The Four Presidents" at The Gusto Theatre here in L-town. God bless Mr. Dowell, he gave P.D. a part as one of the reporters, knowing her Daddy had been one.

I really enjoyed giving her tips on how to deliver her lines. It gave me the perfect opportunity to tell her how much I loved hearing her Daddy on the air, and how beautiful I thought his voice was. Yet another lesson learned, thank you God for the chance to immediately act on it.

Along the same lines, if you knew Deat, (Jerry), and you haven't already, please take a few minutes and go to the guestbook on his memorial website, and share a little about him, especially any good stories you may have. You can SAY how great he was, but a story will SHOW it.

I think it will mean so much to the girls to read about their Daddy and what he was like from all sorts of angles. Also, if you know other people who knew Deat, (especially those that I may not know) please, pass the site along. You have no idea what a gift you'll be giving my girls, and therefore, me.