Control {or lack thereof}

You know when you are in an interview and the interviewer asks you to name your biggest flaw?  My answer has always been my control issues.  

Ask my co-workers and they will say that I have control issues.  Ask my parents and they will say that I have control issues.  Ask my siblings and they will say that I have control issues.  Ask my children and they will say that I have control issues.  Ask my husband and he will say that I have control issues.  

Lack of control is my kryptonite.

So when I feel like I don't have control of a situation, I naturally become uneasy, anxious, and {sometimes 😉} difficult.  I overthink, overanalyze, and overreact to situations which are beyond my control.  

Imagine the lack of control I felt the night that we lost Luke.

What happened that night is very personal to me and Tommy.  When talking to friends over the years, I have been able to recall the story without too many tears.  But it is not a story that I feel comfortable sharing on a forum like this (possibly because I would be unable to control how the story may be distributed}.  But I can tell you how I felt.  How the loss of control made me rely on my faith, my husband, and my family.  How I found refuge in God and Tommy.  And in my parents, Nana, and my siblings.  

How I realized that there was nothing {nothing} that could change God's will for Luke and his life.

It was a pretty surreal thing to stand outside of that ER that Friday evening, praying with my husband.  Telling God that we would "be ok" if He took Luke.  Did He really need our permission to welcome Luke to paradise?  Of course not.  But as I stood there with my best friend and prayed, a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders.  And that control that I had been holding onto so strongly had simply disappeared.  It was shortly after we stood weeping and praying outside of that ER entrance, when a member of the hospital staff came to bring us inside.  And it was then that we knew that Luke wouldn't make it.  It was as if God was waiting for us to release the control.  To know that we would be alright. 

And we are.  We are ok.  We aren't perfect and things haven't always been easy.  But we have our love, our friendship, our faith.  And with these things, we can get through anything.  And after losing Luke and all the things we saw and experienced that night, I'd like to say that I am pretty proud of me and Tommy.  We made it through every parents' nightmare.  And we came back stronger.

Emily is headed to college next year and the thought of her being on her own, a few hours away, is downright frightening.  But with Tommy's help, I am hoping to let go of that control and to trust in the path that she will take in life.  To remember that she is an intelligent young woman who is strong and faithful.  I can't wait to see how she soars!

I know that I will always struggle with control issues, but my hope is that I will be able to deal with them a bit better as time goes on.  And even though there are many things that I cannot control, I can control some things:  how I treat others, how I can help others, and how I can react when faced with adversity.  

On this day of our Luke's passing, please try to show love and kindness, offer help when needed, and don't give up when things get tough.  Take control of what you can, and release the things in which you have no control.

Here is one way in which I can spread love and joy, sharing a picture of an angel on earth:

And a picture of our Emily, because she has worked hard throughout school and deserves the recognition:    

We've Got a Teenager!

Fear.  It’s what I wrote about this time last year.  And I think it is safe to assume that it is something that each one of us has felt over the past year.  It hasn’t been an easy year for any of us.  It has been difficult for everyone.

I will never forget March 12^th, 2020.  It was the day that our world shut down.  It was the day we got the call that schools would be closed for a few days.  It was the day we first heard the term “14 days to slow the spread”.  And it was the day that we knew our world would be changed forever.

But it was also Luke’s 12^th birthday.  March 12^th is always a sacred day to our family.  And last year, it was marred by this deadly virus.  A virus that has taken so many lives. Our yearly tradition of Dave and Buster’s and Chuy’s was nixed due to covid fears.  We created new memories…enjoyed pizza at a local restaurant and watched a movie together at home.  But it wasn’t the same.  And it will never be the same.

Yes, the world changed for all of us last year.  But on March 12^th, 2008, the world changed for our family.  That day, our precious Luke Thomas was born.

Thirteen years old. It’s yet another milestone that we won’t get to observe with Luke.  Another “big” birthday without our son.  We never had a birthday party for Luke.  We never watched as he devoured a smash cake.  We never had the chance to sing “Happy Birthday”.  We never got to see him open presents.

There are so many things we have missed over the past 13 years.  We’ve missed baby belly laughs and toddler tantrums.  We’ve missed first days of school and countless bedtime stories.  We’ve missed childhood fears as well as childhood triumphs. 

Much like this past year was stolen from all of us, memories with our son were stolen from us. 

Memories that we were never given the opportunity to create.  Memories that were gone the night we lost him.  I weep for these missing memories.  And simultaneously, I am so thankful for the chance to make memories in his honor with his sister and brothers.

Yes, this year has been hard.   We lost Tommy’s mother in late January.  She was a strong Italian woman.  Small in stature, but huge in spirit.  She raised four boys and was a devoted wife, mother, Nana, and Great Nana.  She was a talented cook and enjoyed entertaining her friends and family.  The loss of Nana is a difficult pill to swallow, but knowing that she was welcomed to paradise by her husband, son Bob, and Luke makes my heart happy.  Before she passed, she and Tommy had a conversation.  During the conversation, they recalled the many joyful things in their lives.  They recalled the memories they had created as a family.  Those memories are priceless for Tommy and I am eternally grateful that he was able to thank his mother for providing them. 

My hope is that we use this year to create memories with your family.  Make the memories that we were unable to create with Luke.  Memories that will make you smile, laugh, or even cry.  Just make the memories. 

Because after this past year, we all deserve to make some amazing memories. 

And as a bonus, here is one of the few memories Tommy and I made with Luke (post-op).  Oh that sweet cry.  It was perfection.  {and please ignore the woman’s voice in the background-- 😉}