Easter Sunday 2020

It is Easter Sunday today in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic.  We spent the day as a family together, like all of these pandemic days.  We missed our extended families terribly.  Paul, the dog and I went on a walk first thing this morning.  After retiring home we made parfaits that turned out very yummy!  I couldn't settle my soul so then as a family we went for a second walk down by the beach.  I was afraid it would be too busy to stay but it was actually fairly quiet and easy to observe proper social distancing.  We were all shocked at how high the water and sand are.  It is quite shocking to see.  I gave the kids the little bit of easter candy I had bought and we had a very yummy meal bought locally and all we had to do was warm it up.  I enjoyed the break from the kitchen.  We had some nice outdoor basketball time and then zoomed with Paul's family and mine..... which is always good for some laughs.

I want to let you in on a little secret.  Just yesterday, I was feeling pretty darn good about it being Easter and not too worried about how the day would play out missing Keyan.  Since Keyan died, I have said at every holiday, that it would be easier if we could just pretend that the holiday wasn't happening.  I have fantasized about a holiday where Paul and I could ignore the fact that it was happening and we could just live the day like it was a regular day.  And that was basically my plan for today.  Obviously as Christians we would celebrate the reason for the day and I had a little bit of candy for the kids, but the kids pretty much assumed that there would be no huge celebration, no egg hunt, no baskets, no fancy clothes, etc. Just a special meal and celebrating the hope that we have of eternal life thanks to Jesus rising from the dead.  SO yesterday, I told Paul that this was going to be perfect because it shouldn't trigger all of the grief that holidays normally bring and we could just have a good day together with the kids.

Boy was I wrong.  All of the holidays we have been through so far, I have fought this voice of "if only we could ignore this day" and I learned today that it isn't possible.  I woke up feeling frustrated but not being able to put words to it.  I thought a walk would help settle me, but instead it led to a fight with Paul.  Both of us feeling the pain of missing Keyan but not knowing what to do with it.  After eating some breakfast, the only thing I knew was to walk again so I drug everyone out to the beach to find the missing piece that my heart was screaming for....the beach helped a little but it didn't solve it.

Alone time and personal space is a high commodity around here during the pandemic so after putting the food in the oven, I decided to take a shower.  I turned my "grief" playlist on, (yes, that is a thing that mom's whose kids have died have) and I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it.  I was searching for something to cause me pain other than my heartache.  Before I knew it, I was grabbing handfuls of my hair and pulling it hard over and over again while my tears were washed off my face by the scalding water.  The pain of not having my Keyan physically with me was so intense.  The thought of all the easter hunts that she loved, the pain of every damn minute of this pandemic family time without her, and even the thought that she is singing with angels in the majestic awe of heaven just made me crumble.

I stood crying and searching for an outlet for a long long time. And then I fell to the floor of the bathtub and pushed my body hard against the surface of the tub....the very tub that she spent hours and hours in until her organ failure took that joy from her.  I envisioned my pores opening up and soaking her essence in.  Two years and nine months since she went home and I couldn't find my way.   I needed to just let it out.  Before I was ready, dinner was done and I knew I needed to pull myself together for the sake of my family who IS here on this earth with me.  I got dressed through tears, held onto Paul through tears, and prayed for our meal through those same tears.

This my friends is mourning.  This is how the holidays feel for me every single time.  Painful, lonely, heartbroken, traumatic, and hard.  There is no rainbow ending to the day....just trying to breath through it until it is over.  Tomorrow will feel better...today I will just survive.

Keyan, what I wouldn't give to have dad hide 100 eggs so that you could go find them.  What I wouldn't give to find the right books, movies, and toys instead of candy for you.  What I wouldn't give to hear your laugh and watch you declare yourself the winner fo the egg hunt.  What I wouldn't give to hear you yell "mommy" from the potty.  I asked God to give you an extra special hug from us here and I know you are having an absolutely amazing day celebrating in heaven.  I love you and miss you more than I can express.

Feeling it ALL

Somehow, even in the midst of a global pandemic, the second of the month rolls around without fail.  If it is anything, it is consistent, as well as the feelings that it brings up.  April 2 marks 2 years and 9 months that our Keyan has been in her heavenly home. I find it incredibly hard to wrap my mind around the fact that we are rounding the corner on three years without her in our physical presence.  

This pandemic that is COVID-19 is bringing up so much loss.  Not only are people dying from this virus but every single person has had life changing shifts.  In some respects, I feel like mourning Keyan has prepared my family and I for some of the grief that comes with the loss of what we thought life was.  In other ways, I want to scream and say "Enough!  Give us all a break!"  I know many many people are feeling the same thing.  

The forced family time has been such a gift.  Jamahl is a senior and will presumedly be headed off to college in the fall.  Our household has spent lots and lots of time over the last year doing our best to sort out how we all feel about that.  The gift of time with him right now does not go unnoticed by any of us.  I watch our girls learning new games and trying new activities just to do it with their big brother.  What was supposed to be a spring where I was coaching the girls through the high school water polo season and Jamahl was running his senior track season....meals and family time spent in the car between events, has now become time to just soak each other in.  We are creating forever memories living through this time together.  We all take turns feeling grumpy about missing our jobs, our friends, our sports, our extended family, and the crazy schedules...and we all need some alone time from time to time, but for the most part, we are cherishing the slower pace and time together.

But the same thing that brings me so much joy is what rubs my raw grief.  All of this family time just screams how much she is not here. Keyan would have LOVED all of this "at home" time.  Her best days ever were staying in her jammies and being with her siblings at home.  She would have read SO many books, watched so much Disney channel and Netflix, and played a million games of Uno.  Her absence is so loud right now.  

I think for the better part of almost three years we have missed her immensely but our lives have still been happening.  In the quiet times at home or in the loud stands of a swim meet I have moments of agony at how my heart feels like it doesn't beat right without her.  But the life of a mom with four teenagers in the house is busy and some of that lends itself to distraction.  I purposely spent the first 2 years after Keyan died proclaiming that my job was "mourning Keyan and feeling all that came with that."  I sat with it, focused a lot of energies on working with the complexities of her life and death.  This previous fall I made a very purposeful decision to work part time so that my brain had something else to spin on besides missing Keyan.  My teaching job has been the ultimate blessing and gift that I feel is directly from God and Keyan because I find her in my school days all of the time.  Now, I find myself with time that forces us all to realize that our family of 6 never feels right.  We will always be a family of 7 and I will forever and ever be the mom to 5 kids; quadruplets and a big brother.  That is who we are.  Team Hogan is made up of an intricate balance of the lives we have led with each other.  Team Hogan is feeling the pull of our missing MVP right now more than ever.  The difficulty and grief that this virus brings is compounded by the family time never feeling in full balance.

So today, April 2, 2020, I am not going to find the sunshiny spin on this.  I am not going to talk about how much worse it could be and I am not going to attempt to quiet the screaming inside of me.  I am going to feel it.  I had a virtual therapy session where much of it was spent just crying.  I will let my tears flow during dinner missing leaving her spot open and desperately wishing that I was disconnecting her from her TPN in the midst of getting dinner on the table. I will feel the anger at the unfairness of the situation and I will feel the terror that trauma could come knocking at any time.  If Keyan dying has taught me anything it is that the only way around is through.  Through the muck and the mire I will stay on this course of feeling so that I can honor my girl by living with this pain and pure joy.

Paul and I caught the end of a Garth Brooks concert being televised by our local PBS channel.  I do not think it was coincidence that the only song we heard in its entirety was "The Dance" I truly am thankful for understanding the meaning of  "I could have missed the pain, but I'd of had to miss the dance." Even on the second of this month, I would never have wanted to miss the Dance Keyan.  We love you and we miss you and we are clinging to the hope of dancing with you again.  

Looking back on the memory of
The dance we shared beneath the stars above 

For a moment all the world was right 

How could I have known you'd ever say goodbye 

And now I'm glad I didn't know 

The way it all would end the way it all would go 

Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain 

But I'd have to miss the dance 

Holding you I held everything 

For a moment wasn't I the king 

But if I'd only known how the king would fall 

Hey who's to say you know I might have changed it all 

And now I'm glad I didn't know 

The way it all would end the way it all would go 

Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain 

But I'd of had to miss the dance 

Yes my life is better left to chance 

I could have missed the pain but I'd of had to miss the dance