bOB always remembered

Bob's birthday is today. He would be 47, or as he always put it (to his younger siblings), "entering his 48th year." In some ways, it's good that his birthday is near Father's Day--we sort of "get it over with," feel all the heaviness and hardness around the same time. Which is not to say it doesn't pop up on a regular basis at other times, but this has been a tough week. Fortunately, Bobby, Stella, and I are surrounded with love.

Photos from 2010: Bob and Bobby on Memorial Day Weekend at one of Bob's favorite places, the Pompanuck Farm Institute. And with Stella in Chicago, spring break, reflected in a mirrored sculpture.

happy spring!

For the first time in years (and the first time ever for the kids), we spent Easter in Ohio. I had forgotten how beautiful our family home on the Pike is in springtime--the new green leaves and grass, the bird sounds, the flowering dogwood outside my bedroom window. And the sun shone every day, for at least part of the time.

It is truly a time of renewal after the long dark winter. Wishing joy and new life to all!

the way life should be

We are spending some time in Vacationland--the beach, the lakes, the mountains. More soon!

grief for kids

"The grieving process is different for children," asserts this article. The piece is about a support group for bereaved kids, which sounds similar to the one that I have been taking Bobby to at The Center for Hope at the Cohen Children's Medical Center.

The group has helped him a lot--perhaps the most important thing is to be around other kids who have lost a parent or other close family member, to make them all feel less alone, less different. The kids get into small groups by age to do crafts and other activities designed to help them process their loss. Meanwhile, the parents meet in one big circle and learn about the kids' activities, and talk about how they can help their kids (and, often, themselves) through it. At the end, the kids come back into the "big room" and we celebrate birthdays and sing a special song written just for the Center.

The kids have been having some trouble sleeping some nights of late--not as easy to get to sleep, and waking up in the middle of the night or early morning. I'm looking into some grief-related services for children with special needs, so that I can get some support for Stella, too.

"how are you?"

Cartoon by Cathy Thorne

I love this cartoon, because it captures a situation that is all too much part of my current reality. When people ask this question, do they really want the answer? I know that people truly are concerned--about me, about the kids--and sincerely do want to know how we are doing. But most of the time, I am stumped for what to say. So I just say, "OK." I can't really come out with "Fine," or certainly not "Great!"

It's been five months now since Our Devastating Loss. The shock has worn off, and we are in a new phase--reality hits, and it hits hard. My feelings are complicated, of course, by the emotional impact of the three-year separation that preceded this tragedy. Sometimes I feel as if I'm going through the split all over again--and others I feel as if it never happened. Not sure which is worse--it's all mixed up with the incredible love I have for our children, the crushing weight of being their sole surviving parent, and the daunting task of shepherding them through these fields while dealing with my own healing process.

I have found myself taken over by grief at odd moments--on the subway, in the ladies' room of an Irish pub in Washington, DC, during yoga class. According to friends who have been through similar situations, this is par for the course. And it's unclear how long it will go on--being sideswiped and swept into a crying jag, right there in public. It's terribly inconvenient, and extremely undignified. But it is what it is.

So, dear readers, please don't worry about us. We are OK, and we have a lot of support. But yes, I do need help, and I don't always feel comfortable asking. In the immediate wake of loss, helpers are everywhere, but after a little while, everyone moves on--or maybe just thinks of us, wishing there was something they could do. There is! Help clean my house (please). Play games with Stella while I make supper or grade my online classes. Play Wii or XBox games with Bobby (I'm just not a gamer). Stay with the kids for an hour or two so I can do laundry, take a run, or go outside to make some private phoe calls. Take them to the movies, bowling, something fun that I may not have the energy for. Hang out with me some evening while I put the kids to bed, and have a glass of wine (or two) with me after they're asleep.

Or just tell me I'm doing a good job keeping this all together (even if I'm really not). Don't ever think you are bothering me--I appreciate your concern, and I know it comes from a good place. I wish I had better news to report, but it will improve, I know,  all in good time...

merry christmas & happy new year

Bobby, Stella, and Mom at Grandma & Granddad's, Christmas 2010

D.P. and A.L., Fairfield Pike, 12/29/10

Grateful for these wonderful people in my life....

sisyphean

• parent-teacher conferences
• forms, endless, endless forms to fill out
• take kids to get blood/urine samples for their physicals (which happened over a month ago)
• bobby home sick two days
• stella half day tuesday
• both kids off thursday for veteran's day
• keeping up the household
• WORK: five classes. five billion ungraded written assignments. forgetting things, things slipping through my fingers. the threat of student evaluations. insane and slippery paperwork for four guest speakers' honoraria.
• a bunch of other stuff i probably forgot.
• oh, and grief slapping one upside the head, randomly. "part of the process"

ican'tdoit ican'tdoit ican'tdoit ican'tcan'tcan'tcan'tcan't

iwillnotfeelsorryformyself. no.

UGH. ARGH. AUGH. It will pass, I know it will....

buddy walk...stella style!

The NYC Buddy Walk starts at the top of the "Great Hill" in Central Park, then winds down the path and out to Central Park West and back up to enter the park at 106th Street. We (that is, Stella, Bobby, our friends Adrian and George, and I) got off on the right foot, perhaps a little behind the curve, with perhaps a few more stops than the rest of the walkers, but then we took a sharp left at the practically brand-new, very cool Tarr Family Playground.

A giant sandbox. A water play area. Some really cool jungle-gym type things. It was no contest. This was where we ended up spending the rest of the "Walk."

There is a certain point at which you just give in and let the moment happen, despite the "plan." We have many such moments with our Stella Bella. This photo was snapped after her strip-down sojourn under the water sprayers (blessings to the anonymous woman who offered a beach towel). She was clearly in her element. And the whole thing really was all about her, anyway.

I sat on a bench and chilled. I chatted with George and cleared up a funny miscommunication (I'd been raving about the new Howl movie, and he thought I meant the "owl movie," Legend of the Guardians). When Stella moved out of sight range, George got up and followed her for a bit (he had also chased her earlier when she started running, and carried her piggyback when she refused to walk).

Then it was time to go, so we headed to our car (which George had parked for me after I spent a fruitless 45 minutes circling a 10-block radius for a space) and back to Queens. I felt a little weird about not participating in the events on the Great Hill--Bobby and Adrian did not even get their snow cones--but we had done the walk. And unlike last year, we had T-shirts. It was a beautiful day. Somehow, thanks to a little--or a lot of--help from our friends, and a few deep breaths, it had worked out for the best.

stella's stars...buddy walking in central park today!

our wonderful team logo by the stellar George Giunta!

We're walking in Central Park today to support the National Down Syndrome Society Buddy Walk! Despite our terrible loss, the memorial on Monday, and all the other stuff that's been going on (including a sprained ankle Monday night), I was determined to walk this year, and we've put together a little team for the event. It's a beautiful day, and I have a pair of high-top sneakers to get me around the trail. You can click here to contribute to our team. You can enter my name (Amy Lemmon Bowen) Bobby's (Robert Bowen) or Stella's (Stella Bowen) to go to our personal pages.

memorial for bob in nyc 9/27/10

Two Bobs, Brooklyn Bridge, spring 2005

New York Memorial for Bob Bowen (Robert Emmett Bowen III)
Monday, September 27th, from 5:30 to 10 pm.
Irondale Theater
85 South Oxford Street, Brooklyn NY

Robert Emmett Bowen III, June 18, 1965-August 30, 2010

I cannot imagine anything sadder or harder to grasp. Bob Bowen, my soulmate, friend, and coparent was severely injured in a brutal hit-and-run incident while riding his bicycle in Manhattan on Thursday, August 26. Despite exceptional care at New York Presbyterian's Trauma Center, we lost him Monday night, August 30, just before midnight.

He was loved by so many, and Bobby, Stella, and I are receiving so much love right now. This is only one example. And here is another.

There are no words. Just none.

maundy maundy

Tonight I'm delighted to be participating in the annual Maundy Thursday reading of Dante's Inferno at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on Manhattan's Upper West Side. Last year I was a last-minute replacement for one of the scheduled readers; this year I was invited to be part of the regular program under the auspices of poet in residence Marilyn Nelson.

It was particularly cool for me last year because I had just joined an Episcopal church and was soon to be confirmed--so in addition to the wonderful literary history of this institution, it was also "my" cathedral!

The three-hour reading starts at 9pm and covers fifteen out of the thirty-four cantos. I've been assigned the second half of Canto XXI, which will occur sometime between 10 and 11 pm. If you're inclined to stop by, know that you're not required to stay for the whole three hours....judging by my observations from last year, attendees sneak in and out as the spirit moves them.

Today is also, of course, April Fool's, and I've had a fun gmail exchange just now with my friend Greg who works for The Company Currently Known as Topeka. He said in their Chelsea offices they had fake "surveillance cameras" in the restrooms and (uncracked and thus inedible) coconuts in the cafeteria's fruit baskets. What a bunch of kooks!

It's also the birthday of my wonderful father. Happy Birthday, Daddy!

paul james vasquez, 1954-2010

Bob's Uncle Paul was a creative inspiration to his family--musician, actor, writer, director. He passed away yesterday after being seriously ill with cancer for about the past year. This photo is a still from Jail City,an independent film by his former student Dan Eberle. Bob's brother Paulie was a co-star, and Bob had a cameo as some hoodlum who gets offed in a mob hit. (He was really good at falling on the floor :)

This week Paul was in the hospital with hospice care--the whole family came to see him--Bob took Bobby on Tuesday--and Bob and his brother Mike played music for him all day Thursday. Bob said he made sure Paul's hand was on his guitar. Pax, Paul.

the chef is in...

Another pic for all you Stella fans...our girl loves to cook--for real or for pretend. Here she is in the chef's outfit Santa brought this year. And the groovy glasses she doesn't seem to want to wear much anymore. Time for pancakes--which she calls "ca-cakes"!

nesting

The kids and I moved into a new apartment in August, but it's only been the past couple of weeks that I've finally been able to make it feel respectable. It's bigger than the old place (the two-bedroom Bob and I moved into as newlyweds in '96), and was completely redone before we moved in--the walls and floors are immaculate, all the bathroom fixtures and appliances (except the refrigerator) are brand-new, there's actually counter space and cupboard space in the kitchen--and [gasp] a dishwasher.

It was advertised as a three bedroom, but it's technically a two-and-a-half with a formal dining room. There's a little room off of the living room that I'm using as my "study" (yes! a study!). The kids each have their own bedrooms, and I use the front room as my sleeping place. Until last week, I was using our old futon couch as my bed, leaving it down because the frame is too much of a pain to crank into sofa mode. We put the TV in the dining room also doubled as the living room, kids' homework room, etc. The front room has three huge east-facing windows, and I felt bad about hogging the light (the dining room has only two small ones). I wanted to find a way to have the front room really be flexible enough to function as a sitting room.

All that has changed now that I have a sleeper sofa (pictured). It's awesome--a "click-clack" mechanism makes it easy to change back and forth, and there are two storage compartments underneath where I stow the pillows and bedclothes while it's being playing the role of sofa. And the futon, now mostly a sofa, is in the dining room, and the kids no longer have to sit on the floor to watch TV. It's strange how one item can change your way of life.

p.s.: posting more today on the Red Hen blog.

in need of chocolate

Here's why:
*Work stress is hitting an all-time high; I will not even begin to go into particulars.

*YAI just informed me that they can no longer pay for Krystal's in-home respite services until a Medicaid waiver is on file. Earlier in the year we were informed that the agency was having to use funds from Medicaid for the clients' services (due, I believe, to state budget cuts). I thought we had done all the paperwork for this in the spring, but apparently not. Krystal called and said her supervisor told her not to come today--I am going to pay her out of pocket until I regroup and figure it out.

*Bob is taking the kids to be with him family for Christmas. This will be the first Christmas in their lifetimes that they have not been with me. I suppose it goes without saying that divorce sucks.

Fortunately, I picked up a B.T. McElrath Dark Chocolate Bar ("our proprietary blend of European and Columbian chocolate, 70% cacao") yesterday at my Thursday morning coffee place. It is truly the smoothest, silkiest dark chocolate I have experienced in a very long time. Goes well with the Guatemalan dark roast I purchased as well.

from dad

Since I seem to be having trouble doing writing of my own here, I will continue to borrow the words of others. From an email this morning that brought some much-needed encouragement on a very Monday-ish Monday:
I must say that in view of the tough problems (not "issues," not merely "challenges") that you often face, your resilience and ability to manage the things in your life are quite remarkable. You should take a minute from time to time and just remind yourself of that, and draw some well-deserved confidence from the way you have overcome these difficulties. A truly exceptional young woman, as we have known for all these __ years.

birth story, big brother's version

Still in the process of unpacking some of the detritus left in the wake of the move. I came across this draft in Bobby's inimitable handwriting--which in another century might have been called "crabbed." It's undated but I suspect it's from last fall, when his teacher had them work on a "personal narrative."

When my mom told me that she was going to have a baby I was so exited. I hoped that I had a Brother Because we could play legos together. Every day I would ask Mom if the baby was here but she would always answer no. A couple of months later my mom told me that I was going to have a sister. It was ok but I still would love to have a brother.

The 7 to 9 months past really quikly and before you knew it I was a home waiting for Mom to come back from the hospital. I was watching TV eating crackers. Then the phone rang. Dad said we had to drive to the hospital right away. Dad told me that the baby was here and we drove to the hospital in about 100 minhits. When we got there dad went to a room while I waited on a bench. A couple minuits later Dad came out. He said that my sister was going to stay in the hospital for a couple of weeks.

A couple of weeks later dad said that my sister needed surgery because there was a problem with her heart. When she came home I was so happy even if she was a little different. She had somthing called down syndrome that is a problem with her brain. She can still walk and talk but sometimes she just acts weird but to me she's just the same as all of us and she's my sister.

This is, of course, a work of fiction, with the concomitant inaccuracies and reworkings of time. Bobby was all of 22 months when Stella was born nearly 8 years ago. Yet somehow he chose to write about this event that he couldn't possibly remember in any sort of chronology or detail. I do recall his coming to the hospital, but he wasn't left sitting on a bench unattended. He was in a small "family room" watching a Schoolhouse Rock video, his latest obsession, while parents and grandparents took turns donning the pale yellow gowns and scrubbing up with acrid-smelling soap to enter the NICU.

Now that I'm starting a new season of Creative Nonfiction, my students and I are once again talking about the unreliability of memory, about truth vs. fact, about our version vs. someone else's. Somehow, I think, despite getting the "facts" mixed up, my son has captured a certain truth about his sister's birth and its impact on his life.

kidz

Taken by our friend Ceren, who babysat with her husband Dave last week so I could read at the Bowery. Bob is in South America for a four-week tour.

sweet girl

My 13-year-old niece Mary is a young poet. Her dad, my brother David, just sent me a link to some of her work, which she's put on her school's website. She wrote a wonderful poem about Stella and used a cute photo as background for the page. Still wringing out the kleenex...

Meanwhile, the sweet girl is home with strep (here we go again). At least it was not flu (they tested her) and will be dispatched with amoxycillin forthwith.