Disney

Milestones- Preferring the Very Merry Un-Birthday

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Walt Disney World, Grief, ALS

At the Crystal Palace

(I wrote this late last night) Today, October 27, is my birthday. My fourth birthday without Ben. I still seem to measure time that way. It’s still emotional to think of celebrating events without him. I can’t seem to feel happy. I want to indulge in that childish delight about a birthday, but I can’t shake the sadness. I always struggle on milestone events with not having Ben or my mom, dad and grandma- the people I was closest to- with me. Yet, it’s not just that, or guilt about continuing to navigate life when they aren’t here and conveying in any way that they are even a little bit forgotten. I don’t feel comfortable celebrating myself and, although I am so grateful for good friends and birthday wishes, I am much more comfortable celebrating other people. Maybe that says something about my self-esteem as much as it does about grief, which is definitely something I need to think about.

I made plans with a good friend to go to the theater, which is always one of my favorite things to do, and I preferred to think about a show rather than my birthday. It was a nasty day with a nor’easter, which seemed fitting for my mood. We saw Oklahoma! At St. Anne’s Warehouse in Brooklyn, and although we were looking forward to exploring DUMBO, a neighborhood I had never visited, the storm limited our plan. I knew to expect that the show was a dark interpretation, which was sort of unusual for this musical, but also appropriate for my mood. Throughout the day, I got sweet texts and calls and posts on Facebook, which touched my heart. I really wanted to be happy, but trying to act happy actually made me sadder. Ironically, if it had not been my birthday, it would have been a perfectly great day. Maybe the March Hare was onto something when he talked about a very merry un-birthday. I find joy in so many things and from so many people. Those are my “un-birthday” gifts.

I think about the wonderful birthdays I had with Ben. I loved that he always wanted me to feel special on my birthday, and he often planned little surprises for me. That was more about the romance than about the birthday. Now, I feel awkward making or being a part of the planning of my birthday plans. For so long, I defined myself by the way I cared for my dad and Ben. I planned surprises for Ben and took opportunities to celebrate him and us whenever I could find them. I need to learn to feel the confidence and comfort in taking care of and acknowledging myself.

Once again, after a good cry, I comforted myself with the memories of birthdays with Ben. I’ve shared these in prior posts, but please indulge my sharing some of my favorite Walt Disney World birthday memories with Ben:

The time I asked Mickey how old I looked and he held his hand up and I asked if he thought I looked 5. He shook his head and held his hand up again and I asked if he meant 50. This went on for a while until he held up one finger at a time and I realized that he only had 4 fingers. He looked up at the ceiling and held his hand to his forehead and when I looked over at Ben, he and the PhotoPass photographer were laughing hysterically. Ben couldn’t believe that I didn’t know my Disney buddies had 4 fingers and he said the photographer was laughing so hard that she couldn’t take a picture. From that point on, Ben and I only “high four-ed” each other.

Mickey has Four Fingers!

The birthday holiday we took there when Ben proposed to me. The actual proposal was on Halloween because he knew I would love that. I did.

Mickey congratulated us on our engagement!

Birthday hugs from Pooh, Eeyore, Tigger and Piglet at the Crystal Palace, because I had to have birthday lunch with my friends from the 100 Acre Woods. I was as gleeful as a 5-year-old when the waiters sang “Happy Birthday” to me. Ben surprised me with a cake once and Pooh kissed my hand. I’ve kept all the confetti and the birthday cards.

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The little girl at the Akershus Restaurant whom I noticed was intently watching Ben and me as we struggled a bit to get him into a chair and then as I cut his food and helped him to eat. When she saw the waiter bring me a little cake with a candle and sing happy birthday to me, she came over and wished me a happy birthday and gave me a hug. Kids have such intuition, and her mom and I both had tears in our eyes.

Dancing with Stitch and Goofy at the Halloween party while Ben sat in his scooter, laughed at me (with love) and videotaped it. As if anyone who knows me would be shocked!!

Getting extra candy when we went trick-or-treating at Mickey’s Halloween Party because I announced that it was my birthday, probably more excitedly than most of the little kids. Between Ben in the electric wheelchair and my birthday, we did very well collecting candy!

Having so much fun tasting the foods at the various pavilions during the Food & Wine Festival. Even though he needed help with food, and he couldn’t eat everything he wanted, Ben loved to be at Epcot and he didn’t let himself lament what he couldn’t do or eat.  His attitude was incredible.

And then there were the magical birthday surprises that were not spent at Walt Disney World. There was a time that my birthday fell on parent teacher conference night. Ben and I had decided that we would celebrate over the weekend instead and it was no big deal. He picked me up at school, as he always did after evening events, and when we got to my apartment, I was delightfully surprised to see that he had decorated with balloons, flowers, a cake and some of my Disney toys all around the decorations. He had done all of this after work and before meeting me. That was Ben-always romantic.

I am grateful to always have those very sweet memories, and so many more. I grieve for the birthdays I won’t have with Ben, and also for the birthdays he won’t have. But, I’ve often felt his presence and I know that he is with me, as are my mom, dad and grandma. People say that Ben would want me to be happy and to celebrate. I’m sure that’s true, but it still doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe it will feel better on a very merry un-birthday!

At the Walt Disney World Wishing Well at Cinderella’s Castle- Making a wish!

What The White Rabbit Did Not Know About Grief and Time

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It’s been a week that I’ve had my old and new Halloween decorations up in my apartment (click here for last week’s post). I was most apprehensive about the Halloween countdown calendar figurine that I gave Ben, and I was prepared to return it to its box if it was too emotional to display it. Ironically, I find great comfort and connection to Ben when I dutifully change the number of days remaining till Halloween.  I can see Ben’s smile and I feel like I am doing this for and with him, taking pride in the knowledge that it is a gift that he absolutely loved and that brought him joy at a very unjoyful time.

I’ve been thinking about how is was the first time in the three years since I lost Ben that I was ready to have any Halloween decorations. I cannot explain why, at this point in time, the countdown calendar figurine gives me a sense of connection to Ben in a good way and yet, other things continue to upset or unnerve me, conjuring the memories of the pain of loss. I’m still not ready for some of the items in our collection and I don’t know if I will ever be ready for the things that I brought to decorate Ben’s hospice room. Only time will tell. But, should there be a time limit at which point I should without a doubt be able to cope with all of this?

They say time heals all wounds. When it comes to grief, I think time helps you adjust to and learn to coexist with the grief. The White Rabbit in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland says, “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date.” I have felt like that as I have dealt with grief, except that I never knew what date to set or if, in fact, any such date exists. There is always the sense of measuring how long it will take to get past the pain. When loss was very new and raw, I simply wanted just to get to a point where grief became easier. When I wasn’t wondering when I would feel better, or if I should be feeling better than I did at any given time, other people were placing a time stamp on my grief. There are always the people who remind you that it’s time to “move on,” which is one of my least favorite expressions. Those dates have been based on their own experiences and opinions, and sometimes even on their own comfort level with my grief. The thing is, everyone handles grief differently and in their own timeframe.

I have always asked myself if I’ve been handling grief well. I ask myself if I should still have such a hard time celebrating Halloween without Ben. Time has allowed me to joyfully embrace some memories but not others. Should it be different? Have I missed a deadline for grief to subside? I really don’t know. On a day to day basis, although I have bad moments and bad days- especially on milestone dates- I feel like I am functioning just fine. I have always been a person who cries easily, so I cannot measure grief by tears. Still, I constantly question and assess myself. To me, the fact that I made the decision to welcome Halloween this year is a good sign of progress. It seems okay to me that some things are easier than others. I test myself, as I did with Ben’s Halloween countdown figurine and, sure enough, it is actually making me happy. If I’d decided that I was not yet prepared to display any Halloween things, would that have been okay, too? Should I be rushing or worrying that I’m late to coming to terms with my new life and new normal?

How long should grief last? How can we say? Grief began the day Ben was diagnosed with ALS. We grieved our life as we knew it, we grieved the future that we wouldn’t have, we grieved each ability that Ben lost as a result of the disease. After he left this world, I grieved his loss, and I grieved the loss of purpose that I had as his caregiver. This weekend, I was reminded that for at least a year after Ben died, each time I did venture out into the world to socialize, I cried on my way home. I remember that on one of my first outings, I cried on my way to the subway, because in addition to missing Ben, I also realized that being alone and returning home by myself had to be my new normal. It also scared me that no one would even know if I arrived home.  It took me more than a year to begin to establish routines. I tiptoed into life, testing the waters to see what felt comfortable, worrying that I was not progressing quickly enough. On Friday night, after attending a Broadway play, I walked to the subway and thought about how I have become more comfortable with my new normal. I don’t experience the same pains and anxiety to return home alone. I don’t love it, and I do hope that one day I will find love again, but I embrace the good and bad days and moments simply as part of life.

I see a lot of comments on support groups from people whose family and friends make them feel like they either haven’t grieved long enough or they’ve grieved for too long. As I see it, there is no such thing as an appropriate time to grieve. That said, I did seek therapy and join grief support groups after the loss of my mom and of Ben, because I felt like I needed support with getting back to living. I think it’s perfectly appropriate to seek help if you feel that you need support to function in a manner that you think is appropriate and that gets you from day to day. It was helpful to me to talk to others who were in a similar circumstance, though it did at times fuel our insecurities to compare our experiences coping with grief.

People have asked me if I often still think of Ben. Yes, I think of him every single day, and I often talk to him and about him. It feels right to me. Some people feel that I shouldn’t still be thinking of him so frequently because it’s dwelling on the past and it keeps me from “moving on.” Frankly, I am not moving on and leaving Ben behind. I am moving forward, continuing to live but having been shaped by my love for and experience caring for Ben. Some widows and widowers share my experience and others say they don’t think about their spouses as much anymore. I’ve heard people make negative comments about those who have lost spouses and have found new love within several months. I am not aware of any formula or correct answer to any of these situations. There should be no judgment, and if there is, please keep it to yourself.

I have not wanted to return to Walt Disney World without Ben, although I do miss it. I still cannot imagine attending the Halloween festivities without him because that was truly our time, even marked by his proposal one Halloween. But, I don’t rule out a return. In fact, I do feel a tug of wanting to go and to feel the connection to Ben at a time other than Halloween. I guess I’m not like the White Rabbit. I’m not setting any dates or deadlines on how I deal with grief and its integration into my life. I have not set a deadline for myself and I will not accept a deadline set by anyone else. There are times that I feel that I’m not where I should be, and at other times I feel like I cannot rush myself, following my emotions and experiencing life on my own terms, and although I’m not always steady on my feet, I’m stepping forward every day. In my opinion, White Rabbits around me can turn off the alarm and relax , because when it comes to coping with grief there is no finish line, because it never completely passes. What’s more important than deadlines that I might have missed is that, in my own time and in my own way, I am more welcoming of the creation of new memories.

Halloween 2012

 

Three Years- How I Can Feel the Pixie Dust

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2011- This is one of my very favorite pictures of Ben because he was so full of happiness and laughter. Here, he was laughing at me when I met Tinker Bell.

Today marks three years since Ben left this world. It’s a difficult day. Last night was a difficult night.  I relived that time three years ago, staying in the hospital and watching Ben sleep, knowing that it was his last night, wondering what he was thinking as he slept. I remember my fear and anxiety and sadness.  I remember those hectic hours before those who loved and treated him gathered as he separated from the vent. It was scary and somber, and yet, seeing Ben surrounded by love and music- and how wonderful and yet bittersweet it was to say our vows- was quite beautiful. Ben used to get frustrated with me about my lack of confidence, so I think he would be happy that I do feel pride that I turned to Dr. Muller, his much beloved doctor and my frequent source of strength, who helped me to pull together a loving farewell.

Although it has been three years, this remains a day for which I brace myself. I woke up with a headache that I am still fighting. I thought I might go to Central Park to see our turtles because I know they are messages from Ben. I decided that I just want to stay home with my thoughts and memories. I simply don’t want to be around anyone. I’m giving myself this day.

My Disney friends have taught me well that Ben will always be with me in my heart. I feel especially connected to Ben when I watch his favorite films- The Incredibles, Toy Story 1,2 and 3, and Monsters, Inc. Today, I decided to watch the Tinker Bell films. I have not been able to watch them without Ben but today, I felt compelled to tackle this and revisit my tiny friends and the huge sentiments they invoke. They have indeed been hard to watch today, too, though they are so special to me. Those are films we often watched late at night because the soundtracks were like lullabies to me. As joyful and sweet as they are, they also bring back the memories of rough evenings when just transferring Ben into bed was physically and emotionally stressful. We rarely had a full night’s sleep because as ALS affected Ben’s breathing, he had a lot of anxiety about sleeping; he could not turn by himself; and then there were times that he needed to use the commode in the middle of the night. I do have to say that it always made me smile to open my eyes and see Ben totally enthralled by the fairies. Since the Blu-Ray films looped, when he had trouble sleeping, he would watch them over and over while I slept. I remember once saying that I didn’t quite remember the plot of Tinker Bell and the Lost Treasure because I always fell asleep before the ending and Ben shook his head and said, “she was a very bad girl in that one.” I looked at him with a smirk on my face and we both started to laugh. He loved those little fairies. I loved that about him. I loved to come home and see him watching, Pixie Hollow Games.  I think Ben was more excited than I was when Tinker Bell and the Pirate Fairy was released, because Ben loved pirates (click here for more about that!)

While all of the Tinker Bell movies held a special place in our hearts, it was Tinker Bell and the Legend of the Neverbeast that was unexpectedly emotional. In this film, the fairies meet and help Gruff, the Neverbeast, a frightening looking creature who comes to life every thousand years. Though he is feared by the fairies because he is fabled to want to destroy Pixie Hollow, he is actually more friend than foe. I remember how Ben and I cried at a couple of points during that particular film: when Gruff saves Fawn’s life, which, of course, no one could do for Ben or anyone else with ALS; and then, as Fawn told Gruff, “Hey, big guy. I-I won’t see you again, but I know you’ll always be there when we need you. I’m really gonna miss you. I love you, Gruff.” Though Ben did not like to talk a lot about dying, the film brought his emotions to the surface.  Tinker Bell and her friends sprinkled the pixie dust that gave him insight and permission to feel, and, also gave me insight into things he was not outwardly expressing. It was painful to watch those scenes again today, and there have been many tears, but it is an important reminder of our good memories and how Ben is always here for me. Never underestimate the power of Disney magic to convey very big messages in even the tiniest fairies.

Tinker Bell and the Legend of the Neverbeast, Disneytoon Studios 2015

Yes, it’s been three years. I have seen grief shift from emotionally paralyzing to something with which I co-exist. I continue to assess my feelings and compare them through the passage of time. I have created a new normal for myself with a special place for Ben’s presence. I struggle with his absence at times, as I did when I went to the Georgia Aquarium this summer (click here for that post). I do look for and see messages and signs from Ben. I keep him in my thoughts and wonder what he would think and how he would see things. I have stepped forward and, just like Gruff was for the fairies, Ben is here when I need him, just in a different way. It is ok that today is a bad day. Any way that I would have chosen to spend today would be okay because, no matter what, Ben is in my heart.  I know that overall, I am doing better at delving into and living my life. Just not today.

Once again, I am sharing the video that I made on the first anniversary of this day. It continues to make me smile to see and share so many lovely memories and to hear Ben’s favorite Beatles song, “In My Life.” I love you and miss you, my silly Ben.

What Piglet and His Best Friend Pooh Knew About The Care In Caregiving

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Halloween 2012

Disney’s Christopher Robin made a big impression on me, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I think I’ll have to see it again! (and probably again after that, and many times once the DVD becomes available!)

I’ve been reminiscing about Pooh and Piglet played a big part in how Ben won my heart. When Ben and I first started dating, we often walked to the flagship Disney Store on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. It is no longer at that location. We wandered the 3 floors and I often left with little gifts- the courting phase of a relationship is fun, indeed!

Having spent increasing amounts of time with me, Ben was becoming fully immersed in the Disney mindset, and loving it, sometimes to his own amazement.  One day, as we strolled through the store, Ben called me over to look at a figurine, exclaiming, “Abby, look! It’s Piglet and his best friend, Pooh!” I stared at him, speechless, and then started to laugh. He shook his head, laughed, and said, “I was macho before I met you!” Truth be told, he was not so macho. He was a big teddy bear, and his great hugs could calm me down and completely surround me with love. He was a big kid at heart who indulged my inner child, and that was us.  He bought me that figurine as a surprise, and it will always be so special to me.

Disney Store,Winnie the Pooh,Piglet

Piglet and his Best Friend Pooh!
A very special figurine with very sweet memories.

When I saw Piglet and Pooh together in the film, I couldn’t help but picture Ben smiling. They have a such a beautiful, sweet friendship. Here’s one little conversation between them that touched my heart.

“I don’t feel very much like Pooh today,” said Pooh.

“There there,” said Piglet. “I’ll bring you tea and honey until you do.”

That’s caregiving. It’s that simple and that complicated. Ben didn’t feel like himself as ALS took away his abilities. There were times that he was understandably frustrated and sad. All I could do was be there, trying to bring him comfort.

Sometimes it’s a matter of being present, sometimes it’s being a good listener, sometimes it’s ensuring that routines- including medications- are followed. Mostly, it’s about caring to figure out exactly what will soothe the caree at the moment. For Pooh, honey was always a good solution. It’s not always that easy. But communicating the desire to be there, to help and support, can only strengthen a bond. Although we could lose patience with each other, and sometimes we both needed our moments to feel down, Ben knew that I would always at least try to find the thing that would be his tea and honey.  And, I knew that he would find a way to show me he loved me.

Halloween 2011. Piglet was bigger than we’d imagined!

In another conversation:

“What day is it?” asked Pooh

“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.

“My favorite day,” said Pooh.

It’s hard to imagine that any day with ALS can be a favorite day. There were definitely the big time highlights, like when Ben woke up on January 1, 2015, and he said that he had such a fun New Year’s Eve. I had ordered matching Mickey Mouse and Friends pajamas for us and even for my cat, Disney. Ben always loved the fireworks at Walt Disney World, and I found a toy that supposedly simulated fireworks, with sound effects and LED light “fireworks” that were activated by a remote control. We played the soundtrack to the “Wishes” Magic Kingdom fireworks show and Ben chose the sequence for our fireworks show while we had our photos scroll on his computer. It was pretty hilarious to pretend we were at the Magic Kingdom as we watched these pretty unconvincing fireworks splash on the wall. It felt almost magical to laugh and enjoy the evening. That silly celebration was a most favorite day and is now part of my treasure trove of beautiful memories of moments sprinkled with pixie dust.

Crystal Pavilion at Walt Disney World, May 2010. We took this trip right after Ben received his ALS diagnosis.

Any days spent at Walt Disney World were favorite days when Ben felt free as he rode around in his scooter or electric wheelchair. The Disney magic allowed him to enjoy most of the attractions and to temporarily abandon his worries.

Once he was homebound, Ben’s days did not vary much. But, every day that he was okay and things went smoothly, when we handled or averted a crisis, solved a problem, and enjoyed each other’s company, was a favorite day. We recognized, acknowledged and treasured those.

Winnie the Pooh commented, “There’s always time for a smackeral of wonder.” I think that’s true. And, it’s so important. Ben never lost his curiosity, sense of humor and ability to be inspired, particularly by music. When we were able to go to Walt Disney World, his inner child shone, and he marveled at everything he saw and all the music he heard. When he was home, he watched movies and documentaries and listened to music, always questioning, always learning, always with a sense of wonder and delight. I think that helped him to navigate ALS. Always finding time for a “smackeral of wonder” is good advice for all of us.

I believe that Ben would be especially happy that these lessons came from Piglet and his best friend, Pooh.

 

Finding Nemo and Dory Also Means Finding Good Advice on Caregiving and Life

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Finding Dory,Disney,ALS,Caregiving,Caregiver,Grief

I guess aquatic life has been on my mind since my little jaunt to the Georgia Aquarium and found Nemo and Dory and had so much fun with the sea otters, dolphin and penguins. Nemo, Dory and their friends helped me put into perspective a lot about caregiving and life. It’s not all about “just keep swimming!” but you can read about how that quote inspired me by clicking here.

  1. Some of the best help and support you receive will come from unexpected sources.

Finding Dory,Disney,ALS,Caregiving,Caregiver,GriefDory felt alone because she thought she would never find her mom and dad and have a family. She finally realized that Nemo and Marlin were also her family.  My friends are my family, too and they provided help and support for which I will always be grateful. So did some of the professionals who took care of Ben, and I will forever love and be grateful to them as well. Becky and Gerald may have seemed like they were not up to the task of helping Dory and her friends, but they also came through in big ways. Don’t automatically judge or dismiss people, especially if they genuinely want to help, because they may be the very people who will listen, assist and offer really good ideas and information. Teamwork happens in many ways. All kinds of people stepped in surprised us in wonderful ways throughout Ben’s illness, and they continue to do so. They have compensated for the people who disappointed us, because, of course, there’s that, too.  Knowing that Ben was in the hearts of many always touched me, and it still does. Never underestimate the power of compassion and always be open to delightful surprises.

2. Be careful of the undertow.

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Caregiving is overwhelming for so many reasons. Aside from the demands of the job, there is an emotional toll of helping someone you love deal with any disability or illness and watching them struggle. The “undertow” can take a caregiver and/or a caree to a place of extreme sadness, depression, loneliness and helplessness.  It’s important to stay connected to the outside world, through your own network of friends and relatives, outside agencies, and social media support groups. Make lists of things and/or people that provide comfort, cheer, or assistance when the undertow starts pulling you down.

3. “I’m OK with crazy”- Hank

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Illnesses are unpredictable and caregiving needs are unpredictable. Our moods are also unpredictable, particularly when we are stressed, exhausted and our Tangled emotions are turning us Inside Out (what can I say? Disney references work for me!) You have to be ok with crazy when many things are happening at the same time that you have many conflicting emotions. And, you have to be ok with crazy when attempting to handle crises. I remember thinking that crazy was my new normal. Perspective helps! So does humor.

4. Not everything is easy to do, but there is always another way.

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Creativity, resourcefulness and a good sense of humor can help to determine new approaches and perspectives on how to deal with issues. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

5. “News flash! Nobody’s fine!” – Hank

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In the most planned and organized day, there will be crises. They can be physical issues but they can also be emotional fallout. Caregivers and carees are not always at their best, though we would like to be. It seems to me that our default answer to “how is everything? “ is “fine” and I’ve found that most people kind of want that answer because they don’t know how to handle anything else. I have heard people with ALS and their caregivers says that it irritates them to be asked that question because people really don’t want an honest answer and they don’t want details. And, they don’t want to feel obligated to do anything, even if there is no expectation of that. It’s ok to admit that things aren’t fine. That admission should not invite any judgment. And, it doesn’t mean that things won’t be fine again, even in a matter of moments. Remember, Hank taught us that we’re ok with crazy!

6. An octopus may have 3 hearts, but it doesn’t mean it’s nice.

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Yes, it’s a fun fact, but it also lends perspective to our expectations of people around us. Ben and I were very fortunate to have lovely people around us, but we also learned that not everybody has a big heart, and having three probably would not have helped them either. Also, professionals are there to help, but, like all humans, there are more and less helpful and invested people. We were surprised in good and not so good ways.

7. Let someone know you love, care about and value them.

Finding Dory,Disney,ALS,Caregiving,Caregiver,Grief

Marlin often gotten frustrated with Dory, but he realized that in her innocence, she was fearless and she got him to do “crazy things” like jump jellyfish and outsmart sharks to help find Nemo. His approach to problem solving became asking himself what Dory would do.

In the film, Marlin apologizes to Dory for not having told her how much she did for him. That’s not a regret anyone wants to have. Take any opportunity to share kind and loving moments and memories.  The frustrations and resentments will ebb and flow, but the appreciation and love we have for each other should always flow.

8. “What is so great about plans?”- Dory

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We certainly need to have plans in place, and even back-up plans, but when you’re dealing with illnesses and caregivers, you’re also dealing with human beings and unpredictable factors.  For example, I prepared to go to work every day, but there were days that I had to stay home at the last minute for a variety of reasons. I remember that on some of those days, my feeling Ben’s very loving appreciation and his feeling my unwavering devotion, made for beautiful days. You know you have to be prepared for anything, but expect the unexpected in good ways, too.

9. You can do whatever you put your mind to.

Finding Dory,Disney,ALS,Caregiving,Caregiver,Grief

Dory may have suffered from “short-term remembery loss,” but she dove in and figured out what she needed to do to find her parents. She enlisted her friends to help her and remained determined. She didn’t give much thought to consequences, which did create some problems for her along the way. But, she forged ahead. Caregiving can be very overwhelming at times, in terms of the actual tasks and in thinking about the future. But, I always come back to Christopher Robin’s wise advice to Winnie-the-Pooh: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.

10. Never underestimate the power of a cuddle party!

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I am kind of obsessed with river and sea otters, so those litter critters stole my heart in the film. But, they are a strong reminder that a little bit of whimsy, sweetness, and cuteness can lighten any moment. For Ben and me, that often came in the form of generally anything Disney. My huge collection of Disney toys to cuddle didn’t hurt either! I have added a couple of cute little otters to my collection. They all comfort me now in grief, too.

11. Sigourney Weaver rocks! You need someone like her on your side!

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Whether standing up to aliens or lending her voice to stand up for our marine life, she is a star! Sometimes I felt like that person for Ben, and at other times I felt completely inept. But I’m going to always keep reaching to be a rock star (well, maybe more of a Broadway show tunes or Disney star!)

All photos: Finding Dory, Pixar Animation Studios and Walt Disney Pictures, 2016

Walt Disney World’s Epcot, 2007, pre-ALS

 

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