Where The Kids Are.

"Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you..."

I realized last week that overall, this blog has quite the melancholy tune to it most of the time. I realize that this is because this blog is where I reflect, where I remember, where I choose to share my grief. It's a much better option than hanging on to Old Jess, and dressing her up in black clothes and allowing sadness and depression to make their home in her heart. I have to look at life now as leading 2 separate lives: Old Jess, that girl that lived before Tim died, and New Jess, the girl that lives now. There is no other way to departmentalize my grief with my happiness. Otherwise, every time I smile, I would feel like I shouldn't be, because Tim isn't. Because he's dead. And I shouldn't be happy. (I know, this is not true, but you can't help those feelings that creep up...). So today, is a happy blog. It's a happy blog because there are so many things in this life to be happy about.
I have laughed so much these past 2 weeks, that my stomach hurts, and it's adding to my hopeful 6-pack abs. There is no better way to go through my life right now than with an abundance of laughter and ear-to-ear grins. I have enjoyed 2 theme parks, stumbled through wine tasting in Temecula, enjoyed a random day, that led to a random evening exploring Pacific Beach dive bars, and luxuriously hung out by the pool at the Catamaran Spa. New Jess loves this life. She loves waking up and never checking the weather because it's always nice. She loves that she can drive only an hour and a half to get to the Happiest Place on Earth. She loves catching the sunset over the ocean. I've said it before, and I'll say it again probably every week- my friends and family make me smile, and laugh, and help me remember that I'm alive every day. That just because Tim is gone, that doesn't mean I'm completely gone too. It just means that I have changed, and I have adapted, and I have learned to live a new life that doesn't let the darkness in. It means that New Jess is allowed to enjoy a few months of being purely selfish (in a good way) and taking care of myself. For my heart, it means that I have known deep love, and a true partnership, and some people never get that. Some people never get the chance to have an epic love story- one that puts them on their feet, that makes them happy and sad, that makes them scream out loud and laugh out loud, that makes them feel like the world is complete. Because of this, I am able to live life happily, no matter what comes my way. I emerged OK. I emerged changed, different, but still OK. And still happy. It's seriously a wonder sometimes.

I love that line that I started with... "Grief doesn't change you, it reveals you." I see the world in a different light, and I believe that many people see me in a different light as well. I never knew that I was so strong. That I had such a voice. It was revealed to me that I am surrounded by the absolutely most incredible people, and that the world introduced me to people that have changed my perception and, overall, my life. I have found the joy in the world again, and I found it on my own. 

Tim sent me this song one day and wanted to go see this band in concert. We didn't end up going, but every time I hear this song, I think about him. I think about letting go and just living life with no fear. Living life as a kid. Running free, playing, laughing. I'm so happy that I have found my inner kid again. That I'm starting to find myself again. 

Where The Kids Are- Blondfire

I can't blame it all on you
Cause I'd be wrong
All in all, all all, in all
You're such a beautiful girl

Don't take my chances
Smile for the lenses

Live it up, you're growing up
Parties in the wilderness of life
Light it up, just give it up
Where the kids are running free tonight

The cars on the avenues
Can wait in line
All in all, all all, in all
Lived out this innocent time

Gold roads leave Kansas
Scarecrow loves dances

Live it up, you're growing up
Parties in the wilderness of life
Light it up, just give it up
Where the kids are running free tonight

They're running free tonight
They're running free
They're running free tonight

Live it up, you're growing up
Parties in the wilderness of life
Light it up, just give it up
Where the kids are running free tonight

Live it up, you're growing up
Parties in the wilderness of life
Light it up, just give it up
Where the kids are running free tonight

Where the kids are running free tonight
Where the kids are running free

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVKFmNMQVTg

The Scientist.

"He got into bed and we lay there together under the covers, me on my side, and Gus on his back, my head on his bony shoulder, his heat radiating through his polo shirt and into my skin, my foot tangled with his foot, my hand on his cheek. When I got his face nose-touchingly close so that I could only see his eyes, I couldn't tell he was sick. We kissed for awhile and then lay together listening to The Hectic Glow's eponymous album, and eventually we fell asleep like that, a quantum entanglement of tubes and bodies..."

After finishing The Fault In Our Stars this week, I have found myself going back and re-reading it. It's moments like the one described above that really hit my heart, that really bring me back to a year ago, that really suck the air out of my working lungs. That paragraph could have bee written about us, and this particular moment could have taken place any day of the week, when Tim was sick, and when he wasn't, when we were living apart or together. Moments like those are what I go back to- what I remember with so much emotion and heart, what I remember with a smile and sigh, what I long to go back to. Music was an important outlet for both of us- an escape, a way to emote. Tim almost always had music playing when we were laying in bed- we would lay there, listening to the words, silent except breathing, running hands through each other's hair, just being in the moment- our moment, like no one else existed in this world and we were the only one's left.
I've never had a great memory- I thank my dad for this annoying flaw, and it has been an issue of argument in the past with ex-boyfriends. I think even Tim would get annoyed with it- I sometimes can't remember the smallest things, or things that I heard the day before, or someone's name 5 seconds later. But I remember the important things with Tim. The moments that matter.
The First Time We Met- I was standing in the downstairs office hallway at Iron Pony, talking to a co-worker in their office, and Ivan and Tim walked through the door. We shook hands, and I can't remember anything that was said because my head was screaming inside. I was smiling like a fool.
The First Time We Kissed- 3 days later, while watching Eastbound and Down awkwardly on his iPhone.
The First Time I Said I Love You- 10 months later, on a street corner in Indianapolis.
When He Told Me He Had Cancer- Sitting on a park bench outside of the Laguna Cliffs hotel in Dana Point, while Sophie played with her frisbee. I was still in my bathing suit and cover up.
When He Told Me He Needed Me To Move Here- Security line at the San Diego airport. I was maybe 15 people away from getting through the line and to the other side.
The First He Told Me He Loved Me- The moment I pulled up and got out of the car from a long, hellish day of traveling and moving there. He looked so much worse than when I visited him a month prior. He gave me a huge hug.
When Doctor Reismann Told Us He Was In Remission- I skipped through the hospital parking lot, smiling, and laughing, and screaming. I had to go back to work and I wanted to shout it out loud from the rooftops.
When He Told Me The Cancer Had Come Back- He was sitting on the couch, playing video games. I kissed him goodnight and turned to go to bed. He said, "Guess What?" "What?" "It's back." "Huh? What's back?" "My cancer." I was dumbfounded. I went to bed and cried for 2 hours.
Our Last Real Moment Together, When He Wasn't In Too Much Pain, and Coherent- On his Last Good Day in the hospital, when everyone was visiting. We had about 30 minutes of alone time, with the door closed, and we just tangled ourselves together, a mess of bodies and tubes. He told me, "I'm sorry we haven't had much Bear Time together lately."
Our Last Kiss. 

This blog really helps me remember our time together- our numbered, yet amazing days. Days that will never be forgotten by me, days that will live on as some of the most beautiful days I have experienced in this life. Days and moments that are precious to my heart, my mind, my lungs. I appreciate you taking these journeys back with me, and helping me step forward. I appreciate you listening to my stories, to my "What Ifs", to my "If Tim were here" tales. Thank you for taking care of me in Tim's absence. I know he worried about me and what would happen to me if he passed away. I think he would be thankful that I'm surrounded by strong, loving, caring, and beautiful people. People that have acted as my legs to walk me forward, my brain to think straight, my eyes to see the world before me. People that laugh with me, that cry with me, that smile with me.
My favorite line in "The Scientist" is "Oh, take me back to the start". I wish to start our journey again. Take it from the start. From that first hand shake. From that first kiss. From that first "I love you". Before that last kiss. And everything in between.

The Scientist- Coldplay

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I'll set you apart

Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming in tails
Heads on a science apart

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start.

I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
Oh it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard
I'm going back to the start

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RB-RcX5DS5A

Passenger Seat.

“It seemed like forever ago, like we'd had this brief but still infinite forever. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities..."

I started reading "The Fault In Our Stars" by John Green this week. I've been avoiding reading it for quite some time, as it deals with a cancer love story that I'm sure ends up like mine, but I had an urge to read it, so I gave in. I've heard so many good things about this book, and the movie comes out this Spring, so I sat down at a coffee shop in Pacific Beach, and started on Page 1.
I fell in love immediately with the book because it reminded me so much of Tim. It's incredibly witty with cancer humor. It's made me laugh way more times than I have wanted to cry, mostly because I relate to all the things that she points out in the book, and Hazel points them out in a way that Tim would have. No sugar-coating, here's the reality of the situation, and that's how it is. She refers to "cancer perks", and I think Tim's favorite cancer perk was the Handicapped Parking Permit (or he would correct me with "It's Disabled!"). Tim's doctor offered after every visit to hook him up with a disabled parking pass for the times he didn't feel very well, but Tim would always refuse. He finally accepted this generous cancer perk, and let's face it, as San Diego residents, it was the best, though only, cancer perk he received. Unless you count the free bottle of water he got at the Amy Shumer show. He also would have gotten to go up and hang out with Oracle Team USA in San Francisco if the timing had worked out correctly. That would have been an awesome cancer perk to experience. I think he would also count how the nurses swooned over him as a cancer perk, though to be fair, they would have swooned anyway. I had to be prepared for a cat fight at any given time. I remember one ER nurse had all her IV tools resting in his lap (totally unprofessional- use the tray next to you, ya big dummy), and she kept rubbing his leg, and the entire time he was smiling and laughing in my direction. I had to stop my eyes from rolling out of my head. The only reason he was ever excited to go to the ER was to see how many nurses he could make fall in love with him. I miss that smirk on his face that said, "See? It's awesome."
I've been keeping pretty busy lately, and that definitely hasn't gone unnoticed by my friends and family. The reality is, I can't stay still for too long. I need to constantly be doing something. Monday night, I had nothing planned before my training session, and I was so antsy. I felt like I was just running circles around the house for no reason. I've been taking all that energy that didn't have a home after Tim died, and redirecting it toward myself, which is a good thing. Sherry has helped me set personal goals for myself, so I focus energy toward that, Sarabeth has me focusing energy on our adventure nights, and getting out in San Diego more, the dogs obviously focus my energy toward getting them out and about. I just feel like there are constantly things that I need to be doing, that I should be doing, and I really just wish I would just stop for a week. A week would be nice. I have been reading a TON more than I was (it's probably about time I actually get a library card), and some days, that's all I want to do. Escape into a book.
As you may know by now, my favorite band is Death Cab for Cutie. I love every one of their songs. Ben Gibbard could sing me "Heart of Darkness", and I would fall in love with it. When I hear his voice, I'm immediately calmed. Immediately in my own little sanctuary. Immediately home. I love "Passenger Seat" for several reasons- it's beautiful and hopeful. It reminds me of the happy times I spent with Tim just driving up the coast on little trips. Staring out the window at the vast ocean. I used to feel so anxious when we did these little coast drives before I lived out here- knowing that I would be leaving him and that moment could be heart-wrenching. I used to fight sleep so that I didn't miss a minute- a minute of him, a minute of laughing, a minute of the world.

 

Passenger Seat- Death Cab For Cutie

I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

 

Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

 

"Do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter.

 

When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride
When you need directions then I'll be the guide
For all time.
For all time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WRxCmL1Yre0

I'll Be Seeing You.

“I know you can't live on hope alone; but without hope, life is not worth living. So you, and you and you: you got to give them hope; you got to give them hope.” 

Through part of our lives, we live in a bubble. We are happy, and content in our bubble. We smile and laugh and play in our bubble. We learn and we grow in our bubble. We know things go on outside of this bubble, but they aren't necessarily affecting us, so we go on living in this bubble. With one quick revelation, one catastrophic event, one life-altering moment, your bubble can shatter to a million pieces. And you now stand on the outside of everyone else's bubble- a loner looking in.  But you start to realize that you stand with people who also have broken bubbles. People who also have had to pick up the pieces. People who are trying to use their bubble-shattering event for good.  People that embrace you and carry you on through the "bubble-less" world. 
As I stand in my own bubble-less world, I am hoping to make a tiny difference in someone's life. It could be to open their eyes to Tim's battle and the long road ahead for lung cancer survival rates to increase- a community advocate for lung cancer that sees hope.  It could be just to be a good friend- someone that listens, cares, and never judges. I hope that I haven't been faulting too much as a friend these past few months. I see so much beauty in all my friends and loved-ones, and I love they don't treat me like a broken butterfly.  I see the looks and feel the awkwardness from people that aren't close to me that know my situation. I know that it's not something that someone my age would say, "My boyfriend passed away from cancer last August... no, he didn't smoke... no, he wasn't old... yes, I'm ok... ), so I try to gently tell people this. But it doesn't matter if I gently say it, or blurt it out, I still get the "broken butterfly" look. Or I get asked for my phone number, which seems like a ridiculous gesture after the bomb that I just dropped. 
I met a girl named Julie a few weeks ago at a lung cancer fundraising event. She actually spoke at the Free To Breathe 5K last year (which was held 3 days after Tim's death) and I remembered her speech so vividly. I actually have a picture of Karlene and I framed in my room, listening to her touching story about the friend she lost to lung cancer. Her friend was only 26. Beautiful, healthy, 26 year old. Gone in a year. Her bubble was shattered. Julie, like me and so many of other Tim's family and friends, felt helpless after her death. She wanted to do something to make a difference. So she joined the Free to Breathe family (formerly the National Lung Cancer Partnership), went to the advocacy retreat in Texas, and is the 5K chair for the race here in August. I was so happy to meet her. Bubble-less people unite. She's a true inspiration, and I joined her committee for helping put together the 5K this year. I'm also on the Relay for Life committee (which happens to be the weekend before) so my August is looking to be pretty busy. I had dinner with my friend Kristin a few months ago (a cancer survivor), and she is co-chair for the Relay For Life here in downtown San Diego. She offered me the committee role, and I said yes immediately- one because she's also such an inspiration and amazing advocate in the cancer world, and two because I was eager to do something, anything. So my plea is this- find it in your hearts to donate to either or both of these causes. Ask your company, friends, family to be a sponsor of one of the races (Free To Breathe registration is coming soon, but we're looking at business/hospital sponsors now!). And don't forget to head over to ThreadStart to buy the lung cancer apparel to benefit the Lung Cancer Alliance (promotion goes until March 9th I believe). I already bought 2 shirts. :)
Tim loved listening to jazz music, and I heard this song, "I'll Be Seeing You" this week and thought about him. It's haunting, yet hopeful and beautiful. And it's so true. I see him in everything. I feel him in everything that I do. I hear him in everything that I say. I remember him every time I think about how beautiful this city is, how wondrous this state is, how perfect the temperature is. 
I see you in everything, Bear. I know you're here. 

"I'll Be Seeing You"- Billie Holiday

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day and through

In that small cafe
The park across the way
The children's carousel
The chestnut trees, the wishing well

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDlKb2cBAqU