Once in a while, I look back to the post from exactly one year ago. Today is one of those days. It's Christmas Eve, and I don't know what or how to feel. Well, I know that my insides feel like the pin has been pulled out of the grenade and nothing feels good. My brain is telling my emotions to get used to this. 'This' being Pablo's physical absence from our lives. That push and pull leaves me feeling...nothing. Guarded. Protected. Flat.
I just miss my son. Badly. Deeply.
A year ago today, our house was filled with hope and joy and gratitude. Most of all, it was filled with Pablo. And his five-year-old Xmas excitement. Today couldn't be more different.
Here's my post from last Christmas Eve. The brightness in Pablo's eyes might just be the perfect antidote to how low I'm feeling today.
We're flying to New Orleans tomorrow—our first family trip to Jo Ann's hometown in over two years. Another first. We'll be surrounded by family and friends. In fact, we're staying with Gretchen and Jon Drennan and their three kids. So we'll have no choice but to mix it up and keep our heads above water.
I'm wishing you a happy holiday season. Whatever you celebrate, we wish you all the best. Please hold Pablo in your heart tonight and tomorrow!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Slowing Down
It's raining in Los Angeles. There's something about rain here in LA that I love. It equalizes everything: the smoggy sky gets a scrubbing, the trees get a drink, and, in a perfect world, traffic slows down and chills out. I always feel that rain (and snow when I lived in Milwaukee) puts everyone on the same level, regardless of what's going on in their lives. For some reason, that comforts me. I like it when we're all together.
I am tired from a hard week at the office and from yesterday's 20K time trial on the bike. I am came in third place at the race. Gave it all I had, and then a bit more. And, boy, do I feel it today. Didn't feel this tweaked at any point during Pablove Across America. I think it has to do with the fact that, waking up this morning, I have no major goals in front of me for the rest of the year. What a f***ing relief.
My focus for the next three weeks is family—Jo Ann and Grady and our extended family and friends. But mainly Jo Ann and Grady. Everyone says that the holidays are the hardest part when you lose someone—a child—and I know this must be true. So far, every day has been what I'd characterize as 'hard.' A deep, dull sadness swells up inside me seeing Christmas-themed decorations and trees and Santa stuff all over town. I breathe in, I breathe out and I think of how happy Pablo was this time last year. I remember how happy Pablo was all the time. What else can I do?
As you can tell from the infrequency of my posts since returning from the road, my writing is slowing down. Riding across the United States for six weeks, and racing yesterday makes the words 'slowing' and 'down' seem very attractive. For the past 18 months, there's been something to say every day, so I've posted every day. Lately, when I get that writing feeling, I put it into my book proposal. That's now finished and out to publishers, and I'm still not compelled to write blog posts every day. I want a quieter life for now. I will continue to post, but far less frequently.
Gratitude: I appreciate the time you've given to the Pablog, and how you've passed it on to friends and folks in your own blogospheres. You are our community, and the Pablog is our meeting ground. Thank you. I'll see you soon. Very soon.
I am tired from a hard week at the office and from yesterday's 20K time trial on the bike. I am came in third place at the race. Gave it all I had, and then a bit more. And, boy, do I feel it today. Didn't feel this tweaked at any point during Pablove Across America. I think it has to do with the fact that, waking up this morning, I have no major goals in front of me for the rest of the year. What a f***ing relief.
My focus for the next three weeks is family—Jo Ann and Grady and our extended family and friends. But mainly Jo Ann and Grady. Everyone says that the holidays are the hardest part when you lose someone—a child—and I know this must be true. So far, every day has been what I'd characterize as 'hard.' A deep, dull sadness swells up inside me seeing Christmas-themed decorations and trees and Santa stuff all over town. I breathe in, I breathe out and I think of how happy Pablo was this time last year. I remember how happy Pablo was all the time. What else can I do?
As you can tell from the infrequency of my posts since returning from the road, my writing is slowing down. Riding across the United States for six weeks, and racing yesterday makes the words 'slowing' and 'down' seem very attractive. For the past 18 months, there's been something to say every day, so I've posted every day. Lately, when I get that writing feeling, I put it into my book proposal. That's now finished and out to publishers, and I'm still not compelled to write blog posts every day. I want a quieter life for now. I will continue to post, but far less frequently.
Gratitude: I appreciate the time you've given to the Pablog, and how you've passed it on to friends and folks in your own blogospheres. You are our community, and the Pablog is our meeting ground. Thank you. I'll see you soon. Very soon.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Peddling for Pablo
ABC News launched a longer version of its Pablove story today. Check it out: Peddling for Pablo
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Vote For The Pablove Foundation!
Please take a moment to vote for The Pablove Foundation. Chase Community Giving is doling out grants to charitable organizations based on a show of community support. All you have to do is click the button below....
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