Dear Nathan,

So much for the so-called five stages of grief, because I’m right back at anger today. That’s right: I’m mad at you. I’m mad at you for dying. I’m mad at you for not being here today when I need you. I’m mad at you for being gone.

I cry angry tears, and then they turn into sad tears, and then I feel bad for being mad at you. Then, I cry some more because I think I have a right to be angry. Then, I feel embarrassed for crying off my makeup, because someone will surely notice my bleary eyes, which will make me cry even more when they ask how I’m doing.

Today is one of those days when the enemy tries to tell me that I’m a failure, and nothing I do matters. When the principal calls with her trying-to-be-nice-to-the-poor-ragged-mother voice and tells me that she knows we have a lot going on in our lives, I want to scream at her. Not because it isn’t true, but because it is true. I don’t want to be patronized because I’m raising five kids and my husband is away doing Army stuff. I don’t want pity. I want to prove them all wrong and make them take back their pity.

Is defiance a stage of grief? If not, then it should be.

I don’t want someone’s understanding of my tough circumstances. I want to raise five godly young men who are productive members of society. I want people to look at our family and see God’s hand at work. But first, we have to get to the part where they are grown up and move past the part where they throw pencil boxes and lunch bags and get sent to the principal.

Right now, though, I just want to cry. I want to sulk and be angry.

Dear Nathan,

I wish I could pick up the phone and call you. I wanted to tell you that I am replacing the power supply on the boys’ computer (yes, that means I opened the tower case & removed it myself! Hooah!), and I bought myself a new laptop. I researched the specs I wanted & didn’t let the guys at the shop talk me into anything else.

You can make end-user jokes all you want, but I know you’re proud of me. 😀

Love,

Your big sis

I can’t claim to be a native Texan, since I wasn’t born here, but there is one thing about growing up in the Lone Star State that I know to be a requirement: you must take childhood photos in a field of bluebonnets (<<the state flower, in case ya didn’t know).

It’s a tradition that I’ve tried to keep with my own kiddos, although we don’t do it each year (especially not last year because of the severe drought across the state).

Check out that totally rad muscle shirt! 😉

However, we got some much-needed rain over the past couple of weeks (ironically, a bit more than we needed all at once, but come August, I suppose it’ll be good when the lake doesn’t dry up), and the wildflowers are blooming again!

The highway embankments and grassy medians have never been more lovely, not to mention the splash of color sprinkled across open fields.

The boys are already asking if we’ll take pictures in the bluebonnets again, so I need to find a field where we won’t be trespassing … or perhaps at the local arboretum … and take some snapshots. I’m happy that they enjoy sharing a tradition that Nathan and I did as kids, also.

Because of the deep connection with childhood memories, I can’t help but think about this old photo of my brother when I see bluebonnets.

I love you & miss you, Nathan!

Well, big-little brother, it’s been 1,095 days since our last conversation. It was nice chatting with you on the phone that day; I just wish we’d done it more often. The boys and I were talking the other day about all the cool people you’ve probably met in heaven by now, and they were wondering if Jesus let you ride his white horse. I told them I didn’t know, but I imagine if you wanted a horse, he’d probably give you one of your own.

We miss you.

I’ve been teasing (ok, only half-joking) about being in solitary confinement these past nine weeks (but who’s counting, right?!), since the other three colleagues in my suite were relocated to other offices. The truth is, I have a lovely office and would be happy to stay put, but I do miss having people to talk to … or to bless me when I sneeze. I have a feeling that I’ll be relocating to a drab cubicle in the not-too-distant future, but like everything else, that, too, can change, so I’m not going to fret about it.

My office gets a lot of natural light, and I have a lovely view. I also have managed to keep several plants alive (which is no small feat, if you know me well). I have decided that when occasions arise, like funerals, where giving flowers or a plant would be appropriate, I will opt for a live plant whenever possible.These that were given to me as gifts have continued to bring me joy years later.

I received this peace plant (a much, much smaller version of it) when my brother died, and it has received more compliments from folks than pictures of my kids! I’ve already repotted it once, and it could stand to be in an even larger pot now. I water it from the bottom tray, and that really seems to help it thrive.

I also have more lovely plants by my window. The large one (I forget what it is called) needs its leaves dusted, but it’s still lovely. That’s my brother’s super-zoomed-in face in front of it — sometimes I just like to look at the twinkle in his eyes.  I’m thinking of repotting this into a larger container and tying a pretty ribbon around the stalks to hold them upright and add a little color.

The geranium is funky; at one point, one stalk grew halfway up my window in a straight shoot!  I tried pruning it and rooting it to share with a friend (and to keep the pot from toppling over). It rooted well but didn’t take when they repotted it at home. I love the butterfly picks; they make me happy. I think I will try repotting this one into a bigger container, also; it seems a little crowded.

Welcome to my office!