Difficult Milestones

Last Thursday, I traveled from Auburn, California, to Moscow, Idaho. I’ve made this trip by myself before (both driving and flying), but this trip felt different. This was a trip Sami and I had hoped to make together - to see our youngest, Emma, compete in her home logging sports competition (and yes, there is such a thing as logging sports!). We’d planned on going even before Sami was diagnosed. After she’d been diagnosed, we hoped she would feel good enough to go to the competition. But I went alone - my first visit with Emma since she returned to school shortly after Sami passed in August.

On November 10, Sami would have turned 56. Her birthday always marked the beginning of a flurry of November birthdays in both our families (at least 11 between November 10 and November 23!) - not to mention the kickoff of the Holiday Season. I thought about Sami all day. That evening, after a day of helping Emma’s logger sports team with the first day of competition, I ordered a Moscow Mule cocktail at the hotel bar (Sami’s favorite) and thought about her as I drank it.

Saturday’s competition was incredibly fun! I watched Emma compete in the choker race (an obstacle course involving balance, speed, and setting a logging choker!) and several crosscut saw events. I watched her lead her team. I watched her shmooze the President of the University of Idaho and his wife when they showed up at the arena. Many times over the course of the weekend, she reminded me of Sami (as does her sister Lara) - I'm lucky to be surrounded by such strong and intelligent women. Emma is far more mature than most 20-year-olds, partly (I’m sure) because of what we experienced as a family over the last 10 months.

But Saturday night, I went back to my hotel room alone after the awards dinner. I’ve been coming home to an empty house every night since the girls left Auburn in August; this felt different. Saturday night, I found myself wanting to call Sami and tell her how the day went. That night, more than any time since August, I felt truly alone. For the first time, I suppose, I felt despair.

I had a wonderful time seeing Emma - and experiencing her communities (both the University of Idaho community, and the collegiate logger sports community). Teams from Colorado State, Montana State, University of Montana, Oregon State, Northern Arizona University, the University of British Columbia, and Flathead Valley Community College in Montana all made the trip to Moscow. Watching them help each other - and cheer each other on during the competition - was wonderful (and a stark contrast to high school sports, for sure). But the trip was more difficult emotionally than I expected. I kept thinking how much fun Sami would have had. And I felt her absence sharply.

These milestones have forced me to look squarely at the things that will never be the same in my life. They force me to acknowledge that many of the assumptions I’d made about growing old(er) with Sami no longer apply. The reality of Sami missing many of the milestones in her daughters’ lives is hard to bear - Emma’s graduation, both girls’ marriages (if that happens), our retirement - all things that we’d both looked forward to. I’m finding myself challenged by the duality of life at the moment - I was so happy to see Emma and watch her lead her team; I was so sad that Sami wasn’t there with me.

Three months after Sami’s passing, I’m also beginning to feel overwhelmed by work and by the work of running a household by myself. I’ve written previously about the things I took for granted; this week, I feel like there’s not enough time in the day for everyone who needs a piece of me (let alone for me). I’ve always struggled with setting boundaries and saying no - and I suppose the time change (and getting home after dark) have made these last several weeks all the more difficult. I’m working on being better about knowing my limits.

In all of this, I’m trying to cut myself some slack. I’m trying to remember that I need to take care of myself before I can help anyone else. I’m trying to be open to who I will be and what I will do in the future. I’m trying to let go of the things (and people, frankly) that only add stress to my life. I’m trying to simply put one foot in front of the other.