Random Updates and Ron's Birthday

Over two months since I last blogged.  So much has happened.  The OCD part of me feels this compelling need to recap it all.  The “Let It Be” part of me feels like that is crazy and I should just move on with today’s business. 

A compromise - some highlights, in brief:

1)  My sister came to visit and we got some good quality time together

2)  I was approached by a derby sister who needed a place to live and because I have the extra space and we get along, I agreed to let her crash here temporarily

3)  The one year wedding anniversary came and went on 3/9/13 – complicating factors meant that I could not spend it the way I had pictured and it ended up being a lot harder and sadder than I had imagined

4)  I refinanced my house so that it is just in my name (and has lower interest)

5)  I was in my first roller derby bout . . .  and my second . . . and (last night) my third

6)  I realized I am not able to live with someone else, at least not at this time in my life – I still have so much grieving and personal work to do and I find that I am not doing it when I am sharing my living space, so I had to ask my derby friend to move out - she gracefully has agreed and we will still be friends, so it all works out

7)  My little brother became a Ph.D yesterday – Dr. Dustin M. Hoffman

I feel like I am growing.  Leaps and bounds.  I learn more and more about myself and my place in the world each day.  I am increasingly filled with calm and confidence.  Not that I think I am the best or anything like that.  Just that I am starting to learn who I am and I am increasingly comfortable in my own skin.  Just as in derby I am told and finding it to be true that my body can do things I did not think it was capable of, in life I am finding that I have a reserve of strength, determination, and will that I never realized existed. 

Most of the time, like 97% of the time now, I am full of Ron’s love.  I have stopped doubting and questioning like I was in the first months after he passed away.  That was such a crazy space to inhabit . . . the really wicked, self-destructive space that is called my head.  So, 3% of the time I still go there.  The rest of the time I just know I was loved and am loved, and that I did love and keep loving, and that love is so huge.  It just is.  It is giant.  It is full.  It fills my life.  In the realm of loving and being loved, I feel like I lack nothing. 

Today is Ron’s birthday.  He would be 31 years old.  I cannot help but time warp to last year.  To what I was doing each hour of the day to pull off his big birthday party.  To the people who came from near and far to celebrate with us.  To Ron needing me to help him . . . the way his arms felt around my neck while my body shuffled the weight of him in and out of his wheelchair . . . and his joy at the party . . . and his exhaustion after.  What an amazing day it was.  I keep looking out the window and expecting to see the pink flamingos that littered the lawn.  Instead I see his memorial tree and the daffodils I planted around it.

Sharing again some memories from his party last year, here is the blog post.  You can click here for a link to all the pictures.  Here is one of my favorites:

Ron with some of his guests

Yesterday, I was busy all day with a home bout for the Battle Creek Cereal Killers.  The weather was gorgeous and I filled my time helping to prepare the arena.  Ron’s brother, Doug, and sister, Heather, came down to watch the bout.  Friends Kara and Dan also came to watch, and so did my cousin Stacey and her kids.  The Killers won, for the first time since I have been playing with them, and it was so much fun. 

After a quick stop at the bout after party, we came home and decorated biodegradable Sky Lanterns to send up as birthday wishes for Ron.  Borrowing from a card that a lifelong friend mailed to me, I wished Ron a happy 30 earthly years and 1 heavenly year.  Dustin, Carrie, and Evy Jo came to join us with their dog Sadie.  And one of my Cereal Killer friends, Brooke, also joined.  We hiked through pricker vines, daffodils, and a small wooded area to the field next to my house – six adults, one infant, and three dogs.  At midnight, as the stars vanished into the clouds and the wind picked up, we lit and sent off six lanterns.  One got caught in a tree, but the rest took to the sky, slowly ascending at first and then catching wind and racing higher and farther.  With each one, I yelled “Happy birthday, Ron,” and on the last one, we sang Happy Birthday to him.  The earth smelled like spring.  The wind was not too cool and had a hint of moisture to it.  Three of us tipped back beers and four of us smoked.  I felt like Ron was all around us, standing in the circle of humans and animals, weaving the love of interconnectedness.

Speaking of interconnectedness, I created an event on Facebook for others to share in the midnight festivities, or just to think of Ron on this special day.  I continue to be touched by the posts I am reading and photos being shared.  Not all of them are going to the event page, but here it is, for anyone not on Facebook who wants to follow along (hopefully this link works).  It is amazing how one person can bring people together, even people he never met who are just inspired by the stories we share of him.

My friend Cathy Franklin recently shared this with me:

“I think in sharing in whatever small way I have with you through the illness and loss of Ron, I have learned so much more about life, so much more about loss, and about people.  Ron has left a legacy, changed lives, perspectives, people, brought some together, seen others walk away, taught many to dig deep, helped many to see their resilience, find new normals, and the list goes on.  I can only imagine how much you miss him, and if I could do anything to bring him back for you I would, but we both know that is not possible.  BUT, we do know however unfair his death was; the loss for you and his family and friends, it was not in vain.  Ron has taught the world many lessons by just being who he was.”

Spot on!  Thanks, Cathy!

After a delicious breakfast at Frona’s this morning, Heather and Doug headed back to Alma.  I am alone in my house, which has been rare these days.  As the events of this weekend quiet down and I am more still with myself and my thoughts, I am so sad.  I am crying.  I miss Ron so much.  I am grateful for the love he’s shown me.  I am grateful for the friends, family, and animals that I have in my life.  I am also grateful for derby and that Ron encouraged me to pursue it, because I am pretty sure it has saved my life.  It is a good life.  I like it.  Often now, I actually feel happy, which I thought I would never do after Ron left this world.  But I would give it all up to have Ron alive again. 

As I write that last statement, I judge it.  I think about how it sounds.  I wonder who it hurts.  I think about taking it out.  But it is true.  So I leave it.  I would give it all up to have Ron alive again.

Until we meet again, Ron Clark, happy birthday.  You are vastly loved by so many.