The Not Very Merry Unbirthdays and Other Milestones

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It has been a while since my last blog post. January is difficult because it is the anniversary of the loss of my mother, and January carries the dread of February, which has too many sad dates. I have written about all of them- my dad’s birthday and the day he died, which are only two days apart; Ben’s birthday; the day my grandma died; the day that my cat Disney died; and my aunt Eleanor died on Valentine’s Day. February is a month that I go through motions, knowing that I am going to hurt. The hurt of grief has become less agonizing. The dread of the dates with the hurt attached, however, is exhausting. I find myself wondering if I am doing grief right, if I am where I should be, and, if I am not, where should I be? Although I have felt like I have written it all, I felt compelled to explore my journey to date. I was hopeful that I would find some pixie dust, and I think I see the sparkle, even if it feels faint at times.

As always, Disney is the way that I sort through my feelings. One of the most profound quotes that has guided and comforted me is from The Fox and the Hound. I cry each time I watch the heartbreaking scene when Widow Tweed has to let Tod go and she tells him, “Goodbye may seem forever, farewell is like the end, but in my heart is a memory and there you’ll always be.”  I have so many wonderful memories and I take every opportunity to surround myself with them. During January and February, when I spend so much time remembering my favorite people, the memories make my heart ache. I feel more alone.

I was somewhat distracted on my dad’s anniversary dates and on Valentine’s Day, because my club did a Valentine candygram fundraiser for victims of the devastating earthquakes that hit Turkey Syria. A lot had to be done and the students were so excited to help others. Ellie was a teacher, so I know that she would have appreciated this. My dad did so much to help my students over the years, not only helping me to buy supplies, but also helping me to support some students to participate in school activities. My students and I joked that he worked harder than they did to learn Spanish because I was a Spanish teacher, and he watched Spanish language television stations, calling me with all kinds of questions. They knew when he was ill because I would sometimes let them know when I would be absent due to a surgery. And they cared. During parent conferences, I received genuine inquiries about his health. While I did not like to reveal much about my personal life, I do believe that my students learned life lessons about caregiving, compassion, and juggling a lot of responsibilities. I firmly believe Daddy was watching over us and smiling. We raised just over $200 that the club members chose to split between Doctors Without Borders and the International Rescue Committee. I am proud of the kids. I am only a little embarrassed to admit that I am proud of myself for plowing through those emotional days.

On Ben’s birthday, I watched Monsters Inc. as is my tradition, because Ben loved it so much. I found myself bawling when Sully looks at the picture Boo drew of them, where he had attached the one wood chip he saved from her door. Mike reconstructed the door, and with the piece Sully had, Sully could once again visit Boo. I don’t have a chip. I can’t see Ben, or my dad, or mom, or grandma. I hold onto the memories, and I am so grateful for them, but a month of un-merry events puts the spotlight on their absence.

This year, because it is a school break, I decided to take myself to Philadelphia to see the new Disney 100 exhibition at the Franklin Institute. In 2008, for his birthday, I took Ben to Philadelphia, to that same museum, to see a Star Wars exhibition. I was not sure how I would feel about returning at the same time and to the same place. But, I am at a point where I plod through and acknowledge that I might be fine, and I might not, and I will just go with how I feel. As I got dressed the morning I was leaving, I decided to wear a necklace that was my mom’s. Since she was a Disney fan, I thought this would bring a little bit of her with me. As I put it on, I was overcome with a deep sadness of the reality that all too often, I search for ways to bring my loved ones with me. I know that they are always in my heart, and I do sometimes feel their presence. Maybe I was thrown because the locket was an actual object and not the abstract thought of her being with me. It sent me into a tizzy, making sure that I was wearing something from each of them. I felt alone and frustrated. Still, I got myself together and got on that Amtrak train and headed to Philadelphia.

I was overwhelmed at the very start of the exhibition. There was an actually pretty bad hologram of Walt Disney welcoming everyone, but there were two quotes that have been very important to me, and to see them at the start simply made me cry. The first is, “We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things, because we’re curious … and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.” This is a quote that expresses how I ultimately have explained my emerging from the depths of grief. The second is, “The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing.” I say this to myself as I work on my writing and efforts on behalf of kids who are caregivers, as well as strategize where I want my life to go. I suppose it is what led me to even go to the exhibition at a time that I thought might be challenging. I did quickly immerse myself in the exhibit, which has marvelous artifacts. I knew that Ben would be front and center of my thoughts because he would have loved to be there. I missed him because our love for Disney was a signature thread throughout our relationship. As always, I looked at things through his eyes. I made sure to take photos of the things that he would have enjoyed. I lingered at the artifacts that would have fascinated Ben. I talked to him in my head, which simultaneously helped me feel more and less alone. I did ask someone to take my photo with a Mickey statue. It’s always awkward, but people are very nice. I could not help but wonder with sadness if I should just resign myself to being alone.

It could be that February will always be a melancholy month filled with the frustration that all those beloved people are gone. Still, I must find the pixie dust. In Up, Ellie left a final message for Carl that said, “Thanks for the adventure. Now go and have a new one.” Despite my insecurities, indecisiveness, and aloneness, I do things like plan the trip to Philadelphia. I wanted to have a little getaway and to have some time to work on my writing in a different venue. In fact, that was a positive experience, and I am already thinking about my next little self-care and creativity getaway. It is a reminder that, as Joy and Sadness learn in Inside Out, sometimes joy arises from or coincides with anguish in unexpected ways. At least I know I have a huge cheering section of grim, grinning ghosts.

Veteran’s Day, My Dad and History Through a Disney Lens

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Today is Veteran’s Day, and yesterday was the 247th birthday of the United States Marine Corps. I’ve written about how the USMC was so important to my dad (click here for more). He was a patriot through and through. My dad was not a huge Disney fan, though he had a healthy respect for Mickey Mouse (he really had no choice in our house!) Truth be told, he and Walt Disney had something important in common: patriotism.

My dad was in the USMC during the Korean War but he had a tremendous fascination with World War II, during which he was a child. He and I were so close and spent a lot of time together, but when he was ill, I cooked and ran errands for him every weekend, and Ben and I found lots of documentaries about WWII for him to watch that Daddy liked to watch with me. I still miss the days of going to bookstores and finding the new World War II titles, calling him and reading the jacket descriptions to see if they piqued his interest and buying the ones that intrigued him, despite his protests of his (not really)  impending death and that he “won’t need them where I’m going.” Daddy and Ben actually enjoyed discussing the war when Ben was well and we visited him together. Sometimes, Ben would ask me a history question and we would call Daddy and get a very detailed history lesson by phone. My dad loved Ben knew all the important USMC and war event anniversary dates. Ben and Daddy bonded over their shared love of history, but they felt particularly close when they were both ill with terminal illnesses. The other thing they had in common was needing me as their caregiver. 

In his last years, my dad was concerned about the young men serving in the military. He took such interest in the guys in our neighborhood who were returning after various deployments and were struggling to adjust to civilian life. I met some of these young men when I visited my dad and was amazed at how well my dad knew their stories. He genuinely cared about these “kids,” as he called them. He felt they were the disenfranchised, abandoned by the government and that the general public did not relate to them. Daddy found reasons to tip the kids, give them things he knew they needed, and probably most importantly, listen to them.

Ultimately, Daddy ended up at the VA hospital out in Northport, Long Island, in the palliative care/hospice unit. We were both grateful for the amazing care he received. It certainly is not the case at all VA Hospitals around the country. I was grateful to have had the experience of meeting many veterans in that palliative care unit, hearing their stories and feeling their dedication to this country. It fueled my own pride in this country and my devotion to the men and women who have fought and continue to fight to keep us safe. I proudly display his beloved model F7- the plane he flew and one of his USMC caps, and I keep his dress blues jacket safe and sound in my closet.

It pains me to think of how distraught my dad would be over what’s happening in the country now. Growing up, I dismissed his warnings that history was important because history repeats itself. I think about that so often now as I read the news. I think about what Archimedes said in The Sword and the Stone- “Man has always learned from the past. You can’t learn history in reverse.” I don’t think that we are learning from the past. In fact, it seems that some leaders want to repeat some of the devastation of the past. In many ways, our civil rights movement has gone nowhere and this country is falling back instead of stepping forward. It scares me, and I fluctuate between wishing so much that I could talk to Daddy about it and being relieved that he is not eating his heart out.

Regardless of my disappointment in what I am seeing in America, today is a day to honor the veterans who have served this country. Their patriotism runs deep beyond politics that often puts their lives on the line. Daddy always wore a USMC cap and he loved when people thanked him for his service. When he saw other veterans with caps, he thanked them for their service. They would sometimes chat and reminisce. I think they liked to revisit the times when they felt strong and active.

I once gave my dad a 2-disc DVD set called Walt Disney Treasures: On the Front Lines, which highlights Disney’s contribution to American military participation in World War II. My dad was amused by my ability to find this connection between my love for Disney and his love for WW2!  In 2014, shortly after my dad passed away, Disney During World War II: How the Walt Disney Studio Contributed to Victory in the War,  a fascinating coffee table book, was published. I bought the book because it reminded me of my dad and how much we embraced each other’s lives. John Baxter, the author, pointed out that during the war, Walt Disney’s studio primarily did military contract work- morale-boosting war dramas, troop entertainment and training films for the military and, unlike big companies like US Steel and the Ford Motor Company, Walt Disney insisted that the studio did not profit from this work. Walt Disney said, “Actually, if you could see close in my eyes, the American flag is waving in both of them and up my spine is growing this red, white and blue stripe.”I think my dad could relate to that comment.

Today, and always, I honor my dad and all veterans on this day, with an extra special shout out to the USMC! Semper Fi! Thank you for your service! And, because he found his way to use his unique and brilliant talents to show his patriotism, thank you, Walt Disney!

Happy-ish Birthdays and Halloweens

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As Rapunzel wisely stated in Tangled, “That’s the funny thing about birthdays, they’re kind of an annual thing.” Maybe it is for this reason that I could not determine what I wanted to say in this post. Birthdays happen. So do holidays. October is my birthday month and it is Halloween. Grief makes holidays difficult, though I have learned to accept the setback and tears and to embrace the good moments. Ben and I loved to go to Walt Disney World to celebrate at Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party. He even proposed to me at Walt Disney World on Halloween, asking me to be his Minnie. Now, Halloween and my birthday serve as an annual occasion to think about those memories. The thing is, it has also become a time to reflect on how I have adjusted and shaped my life. Maybe it is a bit scary to feel that I have not come as far as I would like.

Last year was a milestone birthday, but it arrived with a breast cancer diagnosis. It is difficult not to think about that. Gratefully, I am still here. And, I am so fortunate to be fine. Still, I do not really like to celebrate myself. It was fun and romantic when Ben planned birthday activities. I enjoyed planning them for him, too, and I enjoy participating in plans for others. Not for myself. I am already keenly aware that I have been gifted more years on this earth than my mom and Ben. That is a lot. I appreciate kind wishes from friends, colleagues, and family. Each year, as my birthday arrives, I want to be able to say that I accomplished something, contributed to the lives of people and animals in some small way. I want to feel that I have grown.

It may seem strange, but this year I realized that I measure a great deal of my personal growth and how far I have come in my co-existence with grief by how I honor Halloween. Although most of my childhood birthdays were Halloween-themed, I attach much of Halloween, and my strongest Halloween memories, to Ben. We loved the fall weather and walking around, spotting fun Halloween decorations. We listened to Disney Halloween music. When Ben was homebound, I decorated the apartment for Halloween, usually after I put Ben to bed, so he had a fun surprise in the morning. He could often be found watching our videos of the Walt Disney World “Boo To You” parade. I have the soundtrack with that music, and I still listen to it almost every day of October, picturing Ben’s face and delight. When I took Ben to Walt Disney World for the last time in July 2014, I had our hotel room decorated for Halloween. All of those decorations came home with us. Several of those decorations were brought to Ben’s room in the hospice unit of the hospital. He loved being surrounded by those memories. After Ben left this earth, I had a hard time with those decorations. I put them in storage, and for a couple of years, I did not really decorate. I immersed myself in our memories.

After a few years, I went to storage and looked through our Halloween collection. I brought back to the apartment a few things that did not immediately make me sad. I decided that if I felt uncomfortable, I would just take them down. Annual traditions, annual tests. The Halloween banner that was placed outside our hotel room unnerved me, so it went back to storage. I did not bother to bring back many other items from our 2014 holiday because looking at them in the box at storage just made me miss Ben all the more. I felt that I was not entitled to enjoy them without him. Oddly, the Halloween countdown figurine that Ben adored proved to be a huge comfort. I still chuckle when I think about how he texted to tease me if I forgot to change it before I left for school in the morning.

Eventually, I purchased some new Halloween items, some Disney and others from another favorite store, the Vermont Country Store. It was a way that I held onto our memories but began to incorporate some new ones. Still, everything I chose was in some way connected to Ben. Each year, I tried to place the banner in the apartment, and each year, it never remained on display.

In 2019, I returned to Walt Disney World for the first time without Ben, but with my dear friend Monica and her two amazing kids. It was a tribute trip- to Ben and to my cat Disney, whom I had also lost and who was my last direct connection to Ben. It was challenging to face the memories but energizing and comforting to know that I could create new memories but have Ben with me in my heart. I brought souvenirs home that have also become a welcome part of my Halloween and Christmas decorations.

This year, once again, I pushed myself to rummage through the boxes in storage. For the first time, I felt prepared to bring almost all our Halloween decorations from storage to the apartment. Again, I told myself that nothing had to remain displayed if it brought sadness. I set out the big black candelabra and even ordered replacement LED candles for it. I placed the Halloween garland that I used in the apartment when Ben was homebound. I set out the banner, and, although for some reason I still feel somewhat bothered by its presence, I have kept it up. I ordered some new Halloween toys for Tinker Bell. I purchased some cute new Halloween toys- little Toy Story aliens dressed as other Disney characters, including Ben’s favorites: Buzz, Mr. Incredible, and Sully. The apartment has a Halloween spirit that Ben would love and that feels good. Actually, I talk to him about it. That, too, feels right.

About a week ago, I exited Central Park by our favorite block and decided to take a look at the brownstones, since they are always decorated so beautifully for the fun Halloween party that Ben and I almost always attended. The tears fell as I was enveloped by feelings of aloneness and missing the things we loved to do. Still, I was proud of myself for pushing my limits and embracing the memories as well as the tears.

I think a lot about a quote by Mrs. Frankenstein, from Frankenweenie. When you lose someone  you love, they never really leave you. They move into a special place in your heart.  Ben remains a part of my birthday and Halloween, even as I create new memories and traditions. He remains a big part of my annual Halloween cookie baking. This year, I made a cookie that featured the scene when Charlie Brown says, “I got a rock.” It was one of Ben’s favorite quotes. I know that he would have loved that cookie and it absolutely delights me that my friends responded so well to the image. I always feel like Ben and my grandma are with me when I bake.

I continue to cherish my walks through Central Park. During a recent jaunt, I was joined by a new little bird. It was intent on staying with me and as afraid of birds as I am, it did not fly or show a wingspan, and I have come to firmly believe that there is a reason for these visits. I took its picture and googled the bird and found that it was a tufted titmouse. I read that if seen in a dream, this bird signifies a breakthrough, good luck and a change in life. I like to think that he meant that for me.

Despite not going out of my way to acknowledge my birthday, Rapunzel is right that birthdays are an annual occurrence. This year, my annual Halloween preparations showed me that I am continuing to adjust and shape my life in positive ways. I hope that I can always say that upon reflection, my year was meaningful and productive.

I hope that you had a not-so-scary Halloween!