So this will be my last post on CaringBridge.

Today would have been Lyman’s 54th birthday. The thought of him not being here has really sunk in this past week. The first weeks after his death are a blur of logistics and planning, combined with just shock. Even though we had a long time to prepare for his death and to say goodbye it has not made it easier, although I am thankful for the extra time.  

About 150-200 people joined us for Lyman’s celebration of life, and although I appreciate the love and support, I don’t remember most of the events of the day. I think that I kept it together, but not sure of exactly what I said when I spoke or who I hugged on that day- but people tell me it was a nice tribute. 

To some degree I was ready for this week, after people left town, planning completed, and necessary agencies informed. I thought I was ready to just “feel” the loss, but I am not. Lyman was always the peaceful silence that balanced my chaos and energy. His easy smile always made me feel love and supported. He was an amazing father and loved me unconditionally. A big part of who I am is because of his confidence and support in me. Thank you to everyone who sent words and cards of support, made donations in his name, attended his celebration of life, or have sent gift cards for meals. I continue to be amazed at the lasting legacy that he leaves behind. At his celebration of life, friends flew or drove from multiple states to be here. I was immensely touched that a former student he taught 20 years ago (who I had never met) came all the way just to tell me the impact he made on her and fellow students. Lyman made a difference in the lives of so many, and we continue to see the ripple of those he touched. 

The grief counselors from hospice have reached out, and as much as I would like their help during this transition, I am not sure where to begin or what to do for their services to be effective. I don’t know what to ask or say. I tell the kids that they can also talk with them- but I am sure they feel the same. Everyday I want to talk about the loss, but also do NOT want to talk about it. The few work events I have attended have brought some welcome distraction, and as much as I appreciate the hugs it does interrupt the distraction. 

The kids have great support from their friends, but are struggling in their own ways and I am not sure it has sunk in yet for them either. I struggle to show my feelings, so that the kids will do the same- while trying to keep it together so they don’t feel they need to take care of me. It is a balancing act, that I am not sure I am pulling off well. I am not doing much work right now, have not cooked a meal in weeks, and the fridge is full of mostly expired items. I feel like a baby duck- smooth on the surface, but feet are frantic beneath the water, and not moving anywhere very quickly. Friends continue to invite me out of the house and encourage me to just take a shower. My work family is carrying my load in addition to their own. To some degree I think the kids are doing better than I am, but I mainly I hope they are not faking it for my benefit. I know we will make it through this together, but I hope it comes with as much transparency with each other as possible. 

To remember Lyman's birthday today, the kids and I ended the day planting some of his ashes beneath the tree in our yard the he picked out last month, and brought some down to "our spot " down at the river. Afterwards we went to Wyatt's soccer game and watched him play a great game that Lyman would have loved.

-Amy