Riding with my angel

I ordered a custom decal for my bike. I have a 2011 Giant Talon 29-1, a white, black, and blue mountain bike. Recently, I put some slick tires on it to make the rides on road smoother. I've been wanting to get something on it so I could look down and see while riding that reminds me of her (same rationale for my wanting a tattoo, but more on that later). Thought I'd share a pic of what I got.

I miss her so much...

A chat with Jimbo

A while back, a friend was doing some work for us and I was helping him install a new hot water tank. He says, "I ain't ready to go, I've still got some living to do, you know?" He was pretty surprised when I gave him my response; "Not me, I'm ready man." "Really?" "Oh, hell yeah. This world sucks. I can't wait to get there and hold my little girl again."

Missing my angel...

Life still has to go on.

I've ridden my bike 144.5 miles so far this summer. I have a feeling I may have set my goal of 1000 miles a bit high. I thought that once I finished my professional development for school that I would have all this time to dedicate to riding.

When Sophia died, I had this strange sensation of losing time. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. I had a watch on, and this was the only way I could tell what time it was. When I finally did fall asleep, it was usually during the daylight hours, and when I'd wake back up it would still be light out. The night we came home from the hospital, my wife's blood pressure spiked, so we had to call an ambulance and go back to the hospital. We arrived in the emergency room at about 12:45 or 1 in the morning. They re-admitted us and we got moved back to the eighth floor and when we stepped off the elevator, I had to shield my eyes because I had no idea the sun was up. Among all the other emotions we were experiencing, it was a very confusing time.

I got rid of that watch. Looking at it reminded me of those times I'd spend staring at it and hoping I would die. I also put away the green collared shirt I was wearing that day. I wore it the day our first daughter was born and thought it would be a nice picture to compare the two pregnancies. I still pull it out every now and then to see if it smells like Sophia. It doesn't.

So much of life has been a blur since last May 29th. I feel like it is impossible that more than 365 days have passed. I feel like she was here, in my arms, just yesterday. I reflect on my life over this past year and I can't believe what has happened. I have grown spiritually and closer to God. I changed school districts and now teach what I've wanted to do for the last five years. My wife has begun working on her Master's Degree in counselling, and we are beginning to lay the ground work for starting a non-profit organization promoting random acts of kindness.

I feel like the point of this entry has been lost. I had a direction I wanted to go here, but I lost it. Like many of the days I've had since Sophie died, sometimes I just blank out and the world-changing ideas I have flying through my head get lost among randomness and other ideas. Maybe a solution should be to update posts as I have them.

I miss you, my sweet angel. I can't wait to see you and hold you again. My eyes burn and my heart aches for you...

Time to change

I have changed the layout of this blog for a couple of reasons. Previously, my blog was black and grey, much like my outlook. The other day, we celebrated Sophie's 1st birthday with a balloon release with family and friends. My wife and I started the day by visiting our nurses from the 7th and 8th floors of St. Elizabeth's Hospital followed by visiting Lifebanc and taking a Thank You cake. We spent the rest of the day at a nearby park inflating balloons and prepping for the event.

I thought about writing a speech. There were things I wanted to say, thank yous to mention. I never got around to it and together, we spoke to everyone and Isabella, out 2 1/2 year old daughter got us started with the release. As we stood there watching the balloons rise, I felt my wife's hand on my shoulder. We held Izzie and cried. We agreed later that it was the perfect day for honoring our little girl.

My wife amazes me. She has resigned her position from teaching and is currently enrolled as a grad student pursuing her Master's degree in clinical counselling.

I am still teaching, but I wanted to get back to roots of what made me "me" so long ago; mountain biking. It may not sound like much to some, but it is to me. One of my fondest memories from my childhood was the day my dad took the training wheels off my old grey Huffy and I rode across the street like I was a pro. When I was 14, I applied to work at a local bike shop and did so every month or so until I was old enough to legally work there. I started working and quickly traded my paychecks for the newer, lighter, better looking part for my mountain bike. Later, I switched to road and triathlon riding, and then life happened and I got lazy.

I decided to get back in to riding. I set a goal of 1000 miles this summer for three reasons.
1-The obvious health benefits of exercise.
2-I want to reignite my passion for cycling.
3-I think that being out there, pedaling, listening to the sound of my breath and the world, I would feel closer to Sophie and to God.

I know this blog has seemed scattered...it's late, the night before the last day of school for the year, and the end of a tough week for my family. I'm tired, but I'm here.

Until next time...

Proof of God through signs from above...

I used to teach at a high school that was literally three minutes from my house. I now have a 25-30 minute drive to school each way. I accepted a position as a STEM teacher in another district in our county.

I remember before walking in for my second interview, I prayed. I asked God, "If this is where I need to be, help me find the right words and showcase my talents." I was told that I was not a good fit for the position I applied for; instantly, I was crushed. The next statement blew my mind, though. "But, we have this position that we haven't really advertised yet." Lego robotics. Computer applications. STEM and robotic team plans. "Is that something that might be of interest to you?" I walked out, knowing I nailed the interview and gave thanks to God. One week later, Sophia was stillborn.

What should have been a summer filled with planning and learning new ways to teach was spent crying and in this foggy, warped reality. I believe the extra driving time is a gift from God. Now, I use that time to pray, talk (and sometimes yell) at Him, cry, and talk with my daughter. Had I still been teaching close to home, I would not have this coping time.

Today, like every other day of school, I prayed during my drive to work. I asked God to watch over our family and I prayed that He would lead me to be a better man and teacher today. And just like any other day, once I put my car in park, I pulled out my little Guardian Angel coin, rubbed it between my fingers, and talked to my little girl. I told her how much I loved and missed her, and asked her to shine down on me; to share God's love with me. I silently prayed for just a little sign that she was there with me and that she was ok and went about my morning.

Halfway through the day, I ran into an old college friend who was visiting promoting his educational software to our administration team. We talked for a few minutes and I showed him some pictures of our family. He took out his phone and showed me a picture of his family, a boy and a girl. Evan, I believe was his name, and his little girl Sophia.

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest and my eyes welled up...there was my sign.

Thanks, Sweetheart. Daddy loves you and misses you so much.

A few things I wish I knew...

I wonder what color your eyes would be.
I wonder about how many bibs we'd have to go through each day.
I wonder what your cries would sound like.
I wonder how it would make your mommy and me feel to see you sleeping with your sister.
I wonder when your heart stopped beating.
I wonder if there is something that could have been done differently.
I wonder why it was you.
I wonder about all the lives you have changed.
I wonder how I can honor your legacy.
I wonder how it will be that day when my class of sixth graders comes in and you would be their age.
I wonder why Izzie can see and play with you, but we can't.
I wonder if Charlie would steal your toys.
I wonder how much fun bath time would be for my two girls.
I wonder if Izzie would crawl around with you from room to room.
I wonder if you would have her mannerisms.
I wonder what your giggle would sound like.
I wonder if you would enjoy tickles and wrestling with Izzie and me.
I wonder what foods you would like.
I wonder what I am supposed to learn from all this.
I wonder how I can use your legacy to make the world a better place.
I wonder what you'd feel like sleeping on my chest.
I wonder if this hurt will ever lessen.
I wonder if I will ever be able to concentrate again.
I wonder when I will be able to believe how lucky you are to not have to experience hurt and pain.
I wonder when I will not want to trade everything I have for just a few more minutes holding you.
I wonder if we'll ever find out why you died.
I wonder if you hear me when I cry out for you.
I wonder what it will be like when I do get to hold you again.
I wonder if I would have the same relationship with God if you hadn't died.
I wonder how much fun Christmas would have been with you opening presents.
I wonder what your first day of school would be like.
I wonder how beautiful you would look on your wedding day.
I wonder about the day you would choose to become saved.
I wonder what you'd be like today...

Another sign from my angel...

This morning I was missing Sophia quite a bit. I missed seeing signs, namely the white butterflies we'd seen every day since she passed away. I tweeted out a message:

I made it to school early today. Normally, I get there with about ten minutes to spare before the first bell, but this morning I had about thirty minutes to prepare for the day. I guess I had anticipate the roads would be slicker than they actually were.

After I looked over some notes, I had to go an put my lunch in the refrigerator. I walk around the corner to head to the teacher's lounge and see a fellow teacher walking with his one year old daughter. She is well known among the staff, so when we walked in to put his lunch away, she just walked around in the hall. I could hear her saying, "Dad? Where Daddy?" and she put her hands up in a quizzical manner. We met eyes and she asked me the same question. She reaches out and takes me by the hand so I can help her look for her dad. He walks out of the lounge and I say, "Here he is!", and all is right in her world. I walked in to the dark lounge to put my lunch in the fridge, close the door, and begin to cry. While Sophie wouldn't be walking (she'd be about eight months old as of today), she would be crawling around. I wonder if she would be babbling what I would say is "da-da". I wonder what our lives would be like, how Izzie would treat her younger sister, how much she would help us with feeding her and at bath time. I wonder what my days would be like coming home to two beautiful little girls and see them napping together. I stand there, by the counter trying to compose myself when I happen to catch a glance at a ziploc bag full of plastic spoons and knives to my right. There is a single napkin folded in half in there, and printed on that white napkin above the fold in yellow, is a butterfly with it's wings outstretched. Instantly, this overwhelming sense of peace and sorrow filled me all at the same time. She still wasn't going to be there when I got home, but she was there with me at that moment, to let me know "It's ok, Da-Da. I'm here now."

I miss you sweetheart, and I love you too...