A New Life

I’ve been remarried for about 7 months now.  Life is great!! I really cannot say enough about Kristin and what a wonderful person she is.  She has done an absolutely fabulous job as a mother to these children.  Truly, I could not ask her to do any more than what she is already doing.  The beauty of the situation is that the kids reciprocate to her as if she was their birth mother.  She is the ingredient that my family has been missing for the past 5 years.

As far as my grief goes, most days are good.  I recognize that I will always have a part of me that is gone now that Becca is gone.  Time helps.  You learn to cope with the pain and recognize the heartache you feel.  My feelings for Kristin don’t diminish how I feel toward Rebecca.  I compare it to having another child.  Just because you love one doesn’t mean that you can’t love the other equally as much.  There is no comparing or judging who is better.  I have married two very capable, intelligent woman.  Just like I could never say, or even think for that matter “I like one of my children more than the other.”  I would not say that for Rebecca or Kristin.

I have had a couple of bludgeoning experiences over the past month or two though.  The first one came as I was touring a dental school in Mesa AZ, AT Still University.  They took me into their ‘anatomy’ lab.  They had 4 cadavers out in the open.  Only one was exposed and the other 3 bodies were covered with white sheets.  The lab reeked of formaldehyde.  The dead bodies looked like Becca’s.  I didn’t realize that during dental school that I was going to be dissecting the human body, specifically the neck and head.  I suppose I just had never thought about it before.  The dental students get the neck and head while the medical school students get the rest of the body.  Dental students dissect the neck and head and then get their very own human skull to take home and study during the course of their didactics.  I guess there is just a certain amount of ‘creep’ factor to this.  The very first dead body I had ever seen was Rebecca’s.  I never wanted to see another after that.  Then my dad passed away last year.  I helped the mortician dress him.  Perhaps I’m gaining a little bit of tolerance to it.

A few weeks ago I started reading a book called Stiff: the curious life of human cadavers, by Mary Roach.  It was a mildly interesting read.  I thought it was okay.  She was attempting to make it humorous but I thought it was rather brash and callus.  In her book, Mary Roach did say that you have to sort of gain a bit of emotional detachment to the cadaver, you can’t think of it as an actual human body.

I suppose this is just something to emotionally prepare for when the time comes.

From conversations with both doctor and dentist friends of mine they have expressed how initially they were slightly repulsed by the idea of carving up a human body, however they claim it gives a renewed sense of respect for the body.  Also it is quite helpful once you are an actual treating doctor/dentist.

A New Day

Sometimes it is hard for me to reconcile the dichotomy that I feel in my heart.  It’s been almost 4 years since Rebecca died.  I feel that my kids and I have worked through much of our grief in a healthy way.  We have become very close and found strength from each other to press on and enjoy life.

As I was driving home today I heard a song come on the radio that I hadn’t heard in many, many years.  It is One Sweet Day by Mariah Carrey.  Instantly I thought of Becca and just wept.   It is hard for me to justify the feelings of sadness and heartache that I feel, and probably always will feel, for my wife but then also to feel such strong feelings for Kristin, the girl I am currently dating.

A few months after Becca died I had this experience where I could hear her telling me, “Jared, it’s okay to get married again.  Just don’t love her more.  Just don’t think she is more pretty.  It’s okay though.”  I couldn’t help but laugh because that is probably exactly what Rebecca would say to me if she was sitting in front of me.

I feel so blessed to have these two magnificent women in my life, one on the other side of the veil who I can feel cheering me on and encouraging me, then another on this side of the veil who loves me and my children.  They are very different women but both carry wonderful and unique qualities that any man would be lucky to have in his home.  I am just fortunate to have both.

My Prayers

Prior to Rebecca’s death she and I were pretty ambitious people. We had a number of goals that we wanted to achieve. Rebecca had begun the school psychology program at Fresno Pacific. I had been working toward being accepted into the Wharton School of Business, the top Executive MBA program in the country. It’s a pretty big deal to get into this program. Their average graduate gets a job offer between $175-325k per year upon graduation. It’s not that I am a super genius that would get me into this program but rather a combination of my college GPA, work history, test scores and there were a few other criteria that I happened to meet. In retrospect these goals were likely for our (or my) own self gratification and aggrandizement. To say that Rebecca’s death caused a total paradigm shift for me would truly be an understatement.

I used to despise working for UPS. I think I just felt like because I was a commercial pilot and flight instructor. I have or was working toward a Bachelor’s degree. I felt like I had much more to offer life than spending my days wrestling around with some dusty old boxes, breaking my back in a beat up old truck—this is not how I envisioned my life. However as time has progressed since the death of my sweetheart I have learned a great deal about myself, who I am and what I want in this life.

As I think most men do, I believe I was trying to find my own identity through my career. I found myself wanting and craving to achieve certain goals in life as if this would somehow say that I, Jared Leonard, was here and I mattered. I believe that it was Maslow, in his theory of hierarchy, that called this status people are looking for self-actualization; or in layman’s terms, the need to build a legacy. Some people seek to find their identity or “center” through their work or their spouse’s work. Some find it through their church by jockeying for positions, status and recognition. Others may try to find their identity through the money they have, the house they have, the cars they drive, people they associate with, etc.

This time that I’ve had since Rebecca passed away has truly been a time for introspection and self inventory. I’ve tried to examine the deepest, the most core points of my beliefs. I’ve had to ask myself if the ladders of success that I had been trying to build were even leaned against the right wall. Are these ladders of ‘success’ going to take me and my children to the place that I most inwardly desire to be? Where do I want myself and my children to be?

I think most everyone would say that they want happiness for themselves and their children. Yet they do things that contradict that very prospect. I think this was what I did while I was married. I felt like I needed to achieve all of these….things, in order for Rebecca to love me or to feel like my children would love me. I wanted to create this legacy for my posterity to be able to look back upon and say, “Hey my dad (or grand dad) was.. [insert something important here].” This was me. This is what I thought I needed. Rebecca was an ambitious person too. She wanted me to be successful and for me to achieve the things I desired. However the difference in our perspectives was that she didn’t define me or equate her love for me by what I did for a living, by the things I accomplished or any status I may have achieved. Her love for me was absolute. She told me repeatedly that she didn’t care what I did for a living. The problem was that I did. I felt like I had to be somebody in order to mater or to qualify for her love when the reality was that I had already achieved it.

Herein lies one of my deepest regrets regarding my relationship with Rebecca. I wish that I had of slowed down and not stressed so much about finances or achieving….whatever. I wish that I had of listened to Rebecca and accepted the fact that I don’t have to be defined by what I do or how I appear. To me it is nothing short of the utmost tragedy that I didn’t learn this lesson until after she was gone. I hope to be able to apologize to her someday and express my deep regret for not listening to her wise counsel. For now I just try to live and raise my children in a way that would be pleasing to her and in a way that an all knowing, all loving Heavenly Father would be pleased with as well.

One last thought that I want to share before I close this entry. When talking to my fellow widowed friends, just when I think that I have heard the most sad, most tragic story, someone else seems to share something that makes me think, “Gosh I’m glad I don’t have things as bad as that person.” There is another grave marker just a few steps away from Rebecca’s grave. I had seen the man come and bring his lawn chair on holidays and anniversaries. After seeing him several times I decided to go talk to him. I asked him who he was visiting. He told me it was his wife and only child, a daughter. He went on to explain how just a few days after his daughter’s 16th birthday she had gotten her license. His wife and daughter had gone for a drive down the freeway. While driving the daughter lost control of the car killing both his wife and only child. He told me “I lost everything (that mattered) that day.”

Each day when I pray, I truly pray that my children come home safe to me. I did this before but I think that was what the scriptures called ‘vain repetition.” Each day I try to savor the time that God grants me with these precious children that I have in my care. Each day I try to remind them how much I love them and how important they are to me. Unfortunately for us we have learned that in a few short moments a life can be blotted out and so we must savor the time that we have today.

Naturally Handicapped

Today is my girls’ birthday. Happy Birthday ladies!! I got up extra early to make them pancakes and prepare their favorite breakfast. They were so happy and their faces were just glowing when they got up to see their favorite breakfast foods in front of them—warm and ready to be eaten. I’m always glad to be able to do these things for my kids. I can feel during these brief moments that I’m doing alright as a single parent. I took cupcakes to both their classes and they were just elated to see me there and have their classmates singing Happy Birthday to them.

As some of you know I’ve worked especially hard at learning to acquire new skills that I did not have prior to Becca’s death—things that I leaned on Becca for, e.g. doing my girls’ hair, doing deep household cleaning, brushing up on my rusty cooking skills, etc. I think I’ve done alright at keeping things together. However one of the things that I have learned during this whole widowed experience is that I am just naturally handicapped with this male brain of mine.

One of the recent experiences that come to mind is my son’s birthday which was last month. Three days before his big 10th birthday party I was having knee surgery. Prior to my knee surgery I wanted to have everything ready. I had vacuumed the whole house. I shampooed the carpets. I polished the kitchen floor and had gotten all my inside cleaning done before I went under the knife. I had the cake ordered. The food was ordered. I had the tables and bounce house/slide confirmed with the party rental place. Invitations were sent out. Other than some minor cleaning outside I was ready…or so I thought.

I had some family come about an hour before the party was scheduled to start to help with last minute preparations. As they were cleaning up outside my daughters were beginning to stir with excitement in anticipation of the kids soon to arrive. That was when my daughter asked the big question, “Where are the decorations? We need a sign that says, ‘Happy Birthday Elijah’, we need balloons, we need pictures on the walls.” Oh man, I hadn’t even thought of decorations. Who thinks of this stuff? …girls do. It’s funny to see some of the age old Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus dichotomies unfold within my home with girls that are so young. I mean I certainly didn’t train them to think of this stuff; half the time it seems like they are so aloof that they don’t even pay attention to what’s going on. However at times like at Elijah’s birthday I am suddenly reminded that despite the fact that they are nurtured one way, their feminine nature seems to come out anyway. I love it!!! Personally I like girly girls. I like the fact that they play in the mud and aren’t afraid to get dirty. Yet at the same time when they are getting ready to see their friend Joey they want to put on their body glitter and lip gloss. It’s just cute.

Another example that I think accentuates the fact that I am naturally disabled due to this male brain of mine would be when I am doing their hair. My girls like for me to do their hair nice. They like it when I do the fancy braids, rollers, curlers, the hair care products, all that stuff. When I actually take the time to do a fancy hairstyle they always want to go and ruin it by shoving in bows and clips and ribbons in their hair. Personally I’m just glad that I conquered the task of getting their hair looking good. Yet to them, a girl just isn’t fully dressed without….accessories. For some reason my brain just stops at getting the hairstyle done. They like the hairstyle but then they have this insatiable need to go put a bow or ribbon or a clip in their hair. It makes me crazy but it makes them happy so I just deal with it.

In further examination of the aforementioned examples I can’t help but think that there most certainly has to be other things that my kids are missing out on by not having a mother in the home. I have done my very best to try and compensate for those things that I can think of. However just like the bows in their hair and the decorations for the parties, there are just some things that I wouldn’t even think to do because my brain doesn’t work that way.

For the most part in this entry I have referenced my girls but I acknowledge also that my son is missing out on that feminine influence as well. In addition to losing his mother he has lost his maternal grandmother (she died a few months after Rebecca). He will likely soon lose one of his maternal great grandmothers soon. His cousin Liz has not been feeling well lately and so there has been this slow ebbing away of female influence over his life since his mother died. I do my best to teach him that we treat our women differently—we treat them special. We have to be gentler with them and talk more kindly because their feelings get hurt quicker.

I have tried to teach my son how to dance with his sisters. My thought was that it would teach him how to hold a lady, be firm yet gentle. I felt that it would teach him to read her body language and also just learn patience. Rebecca and I used to love to dance together (Oh how I miss that!!! I miss holding her and reading her body language. I miss holding her body and knowing exactly how she wanted to be touched. Whew, I’ll stop now). Anyhow, dancing is something we’ve always enjoyed doing as a family.

The bottom line is I just worry about these kids. I worry about the things they miss out on by having a naturally inept father. When I was a flight instructor we used to say that they worst mistakes a pilot can make are the ones they don’t know they made. The thought behind that is that if you know you made a mistake you can correct it and take appropriate actions in you subsequent flights. If you make a mistake and don’t know about it that mistake can lead to larger ones thus compromising the integrity of each flight. Most aviation accidents are not caused by one single mistake but rather a series of poor decisions. Herein lies my worry as a single parent, just that there are things that I am not doing, not for lack of desire, but rather my brain just doesn’t work a certain way.

Piano

I have this picture that I’ve always loved. It is a picture of Becca sitting on my lap while I played the piano. It was taken at her house in Laie, HI. I suppose I like it so much because it reminds me how Rebecca used to thoroughly enjoy listening to me play. She would sing and I would play. We could go on for a while. I mostly play classical music and don’t really enjoy playing for people to sing with. For me, it is just much more enjoyable to play Chopin rather than pounding along to a church hymn for people to sing along to.

When I proposed to Rebecca I wanted to be creative and do something out of the ordinary. I had three ideas originally. My first was to take her snorkeling and let her find the ring. Then have in permanent marker on my chest, “Will You Marry Me?” I was a little unsure about how to get away with slipping in the water without her seeing my chest first. Then there was the factor of the ring. Certainly I wouldn’t leave it in the ocean. So I’d have to have it in my pocket and then pull it out at the last minute. Rebecca wasn’t a very good swimmer so I decided against this option.

I don’t remember the 2nd idea but I’m sure it was very creative and fun. It was the 3rd option that I went with. This idea was to send her on a scavenger hunt all around Laie. We had a class together at BYU. The plan was to fake being sick and leave class early. I had given the professor a note to give to her when class was over. When class was over, she read the note and the hunt was on. Becca loved surprises! I had our friend Mandy stay with her so that she wouldn’t get too far off track. According to Mandi, Becca was running like crazy trying to get to the next clue and decode the puzzle. I don’t remember all the places I sent her. I do remember the first one was at the Seasider on the BYU campus. I sent her to 3-4 places around the campus. Then it was to the Laie LDS temple for a few more clues. After that I had sent her to her house on Laie Point at the end of Naupaka St. I had a few clues around her house.

I don’t really remember what most of the clues were but I do remember the last two. The first of the last clues was, “Look to the 88 keys of my heart for your next clue.” Of course she went right to the piano. The final clue was. “Please come take this very high, final leap of faith with me. We’ve made this jump many times together but this time you will have to do it alone. There you will find your final clue.” This of course meant that she was to jump off of Laie Point by herself. This is about a 40’ jump into the choppy ocean. Becca was not a strong swimmer and later told me that it was very hard to make the jump because she was so scared. When we had done it in the past there was always a large group of people. This time she was all alone. I don’t think she would have normally done it but the excitement of what was to come out-weighed her normal logic and reasoning. So she took the plunge. When she landed I had been sitting in a cavern underneath the cliff that she had just jumped off of. So prior to jumping she couldn’t see me. However once she landed and resurfaced she could see me standing there in the cavern. I was wearing white pants and a Hawaiian shirt. I helped her out of the water. I waited a few seconds for her to catch her breath and then I proposed to her. So of course she was already out of breath from swimming, she starts chocking on the water and she starts crying. But then she replies, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” (I knew she’d see things my way).



Why do I bring up how I proposed to Rebecca? Among the many clues that I scattered across town I tried to incorporate things that were specific and unique to our courtship. I don’t know why my piano playing was so significant to our courtship but Becca and I both have fond memories around that instrument. I thought it was especially significant that that was the second to last clue. Then finally doing something totally wild and crazy that she wouldn’t do for just anybody was also significant. (Marriage to me wouldn’t be anything else).

Besides our apartment living phase, we pretty much had a piano throughout our marriage. I think it was a symbol, to Becca especially, that we were a family. I remember sitting around the piano in our previous house. We had obtained guardianship of Rebecca’s sister, Lela. The twins were about a year old and Elijah was about 4 years old. I had sat down and started playing some Christmas Carrols. The whole family migrated toward me and eventually we were all singing together. It was a moment of such happiness. Later Rebecca cried and said, “We are a family.” Sort of funny that it was only after 5 years of marriage that she really felt that. I mean I know she felt that before. I just think that in that small moment it was a glimpse into the future of what she’d always hoped for. Thinking back to the first apartment we were in, used furniture, old beat up cars. We were very happy but that’s not really every girl’s fantasy. However over time you build and create the family that you desire. I think it was just being in our first house, the kids were happy, she and I were happy, it was a subtle moment but that moment seemed to speak volumes regarding how far we’d come along.

As I said before, I don’t particularly enjoy playing for people to sing along to. Rebecca and our children are just about the only one’s I’d do it for. It was sort of strange but after Rebecca passed away I quit playing the piano. I would sit down. Read the note. Touch the keys (no sound). But I never played. When Rebecca died she just took so much of me with her and I felt like that part of me was gone too. It was as if I was just afraid to feel what I feel when I play the piano.

It was roughly a year after Rebecca’s death that I finally decided I felt okay to play the piano again. I would play for short periods but would quickly lose interest. The passion was gone. It just felt dull and void. There was no longer anyone to encourage me and frankly I was just bored of it.

Typically I would start to play after the children had gone to bed. I didn’t particularly like playing while they were awake because they always wanted to come and bang on the keys while I was playing. They would harass me about insignificant things so I found that in the evenings after they were in bed was the best time to practice.

Despite my lack of not ‘feeling it’ I would push myself to play anyway. It wasn’t until maybe 2-3 months after I started playing again that I sort of took a break for a week or so. That was when Elijah said to me, “Dad, why haven’t you been playing the piano anymore?” I smiled and said, “Oh, I didn’t know you guys noticed.” He replied, “Oh yeah, I love it when you play. It makes me so happy and I love listening to it as I fall asleep.” So I decided, hey, it’s time to get serious about this piano business again. I suppose now my children will be my audience.

On Monday this week I had put the kids to bed and immediately came out to start playing. I was just in the mood to play something different so I started playing patriotic hymns. While I was playing America the Beautiful my little Rachel slipped out and came to sit on my lap. She said, “Dad, I know this song.” She then started to sing along. Eventually Lauren slipped out to tattle that her sister was out of her bed. I told Lauren that it was okay, Rachel and I were just playing and singing together. I think Lauren thought, “If Rachel gets to get out of bed to sing. I will too.” Before long all three of my kids were standing around singing while I played. It felt so happy. It just felt like for a small moment that even though Rebecca was gone we were happy again. I just felt at peace and that everything we were doing was right where we should be.

Another Anniversary

Yep. Oct 14th 2000 is mine and Rebecca’s wedding anniversary. I never know what to do on these days. To me these days don’t feel like something I want to celebrate or lament or…anything really. However no matter how hard I try to ignore the fact that today is another significant day in mine and Rebecca’s history it always seems to surface to the forefront of my mind one way or another.

Yesterday I was writing a check for my daughter’s field trip and when I looked at the date I saw, October 13th. I thought, “Oh great, tomorrow is my anniversary.” Should I take flowers to her grave? How about I take a couple of days and head to Hawaii? Sounds good to me. Like I’ve said before I think the best thing for people to do when they are grieving is to do whatever comes natural (as long as it is safe and legal). Last year would have been mine and Becca’s 10 year anniversary. I had to work. After work I went and laid down next to her grave and had a long conversation with her. I took flowers and just enjoyed a long quiet conversation. It was actually really nice being at the cemetery late at night with no one around. It allowed me to speak openly—something I typically don’t do.

This reminds me. I’m not too much of a ritualistic type person. I like to go with what feels natural and right at the time. Going to Rebecca’s grave throughout the first year was nice. At times I could feel her close to me. Then as the second year approached I felt less of a desire to be there. I mean, I just don’t ‘feel’ her there anymore. I feel much closer to her when I am doing things to help our children—and quite frankly I think my being with our kids is exactly where she would want me to be.

One of the last times I was in the cemetery a scripture started playing in my mind. It doesn’t totally fit but I do believe it is appropriate. The scripture that comes to mind is one that is found in Luke 24:5. This is after Jesus had been crucified and was placed in the tomb. Saturday was the Sabbath and Sunday was the first chance that Mary Magdalene had to go and see the Savior’s tomb. When she arrived the guards were gone and the tomb was opened. When she looked in she began to weep. There were two men who asked her, “…why seek ye the living among the dead?” In this particular case Jesus was actually resurrected. His body and spirit had been reunited. As far as Rebecca goes, obviously her body will remain in the ground until the morning of the first resurrection. However her spirit dwells somewhere else.

Now it wasn’t my intent to go into any kind of deep theology. However I will say that it is because of my belief and I don’t really feel a great desire to continue going to the cemetery regularly. I feel close to Rebecca by going through pictures, reading her journal, sharing stories about her, smelling her perfume, going to places that she would like to have gone, working on our family biography. In fact today I will attend the temple in the morning. I’ll work on our family biography. Then tonight I will take the kids to Rebecca’s absolute favorite ice cream store. That to me sounds far more fulfilling and like a much better way of inviting Rebecca’s spirit into our home rather than taking a lawn chair to the cemetery.

People grieve in different ways. People may look at my method of dealing with my anniversary and think I’m a little loony. That’s okay. They can deal or not deal with their grief in any way they choose. This is just what feels right to me.

Clueless

Yesterday I went in for my knee surgery. The nurse was asking me how long it had been since my wife passed. I told her it has been 2 years now. She asked me, “Is that still hard for you?” My thought was, “This person probably doesn’t have a clue what real loss is like.” I wasn’t upset by the question. The truth is that prior to Rebecca’s death I didn’t have a clue what real loss was like either. I suppose I’d just never thought about it.

I joined a couple of widow groups through facebook about 3-4 months after Rebecca’s death. I think I was just going mad by the deafening silence that seemed to ring throughout my house. As part of one of these groups there was a section for people who were in different parts of their grief. There is a section for 0-6 months, 6-12 months, the second year, and finally beyond the second year. I absolutely hated transitioning from the 1st to the 2nd group. Then again from the 2nd to 3rd group. I think this was in large part due to the fact that I felt like people were subconsciously thinking that I was getting over Rebecca’s death. Certainly there are new difficulties and challenges in transitioning from one group to the next. Each time period seemed to carry its own set challenges. Now that I am in the final group it seems that this is the stage where you are supposed to move on. I have dealt with a lot of the grief. I have helped the kids deal with a lot of their grief. I think for the most part we are in the acceptance stage and now it is time to move forward.

Moving forward, what does that mean? Does that mean I’ll somehow no longer be saddened by the loss of Rebecca? Does that mean my kids are ‘over’ the loss of their mother? Of course not. I think for me it just means picking up the pieces of my broken heart and trying to invite happiness back into our home. Not that I’ve been trying to exclude happiness as part of our home but at times I feel a sense of guilt in being happy.

The other day I was at the eye doctor having my glasses fitted (as if I’ll ever wear my glasses). The lady that was helping me was telling how she and her husband were getting ready to go to Hawaii the following week. Of course I volunteered how much I love Hawaii and how that was where Rebecca and I fell in love. She asked a few questions about how long I’d been married. I explained that Becca passed away 2 weeks before our 9 year anniversary. She asked a few questions about Rebecca's death. By this time a few other ladies who were standing close by started listening in on the conversation. I suppose I was just in a good mood that day but I was actually able to talk about it without crying. Before the conversation ended the lady who was originally helping me said, “Well, you seem to be doing really well and like a happy person.” I just smiled and walked away. Inside I wanted to cry. I felt as if I was disrespecting Rebecca by not weeping for her. I wanted to say, “NO!! I feel terrible inside.” I didn’t know what to say. However I did feel guilty like somehow I was saying that I was alright with her death. I believe herein lies the difficulty of transitioning to the acceptance stage of grief.