Moving Out...

 

Hi everyone! I feel honored that Brennan asked me to be a guest writer here on the blog.  But also, I need to set some expectations…Brennan is an amazing writer and can truly articulate things in a special way.  I on the other hand am not as good, so just keep that in mind as you read.  However, as we started talking about the blogpost about our big move, he felt I was the one that should tell the story and I can tend to make long stories longer rather than shorter.  So here goes…

I feel I should start with a bit of history/back story.  Prior to Kyle’s death we had been talking for a few years about moving.  As most of you know I am a realtor and deal with folks moving every day…it’s truly my bread and butter. It’s not that we didn’t love our home on Night Cap Ln. we were just starting to need more space as Leah and Kyle were getting older.  Also, my dad lives alone and we really wanted to find a place where he could potentially have an in-law suite or basement of some sort and move in with us.  I joke that he is my 3rd child, so I just thought it would be easier for everyone if he was under the same roof.  But also I wasn’t willing to leave Rocky Hill and therefore our options were pretty limited and we just never found something that worked.

When I walked in and found Kyle the morning of November 14, 2024, it was obviously the worst day of my life and I didn’t know if I would ever want to go back to that house.  I was literally joking with anyone that would listen that if they knew someone that could burn it down and make it look like an accident I would appreciate it.  We moved in with my mom for a few weeks, spent some time at my dad’s and then finally weeks later our amazing friends (my team of Jens and their people) decorated our house for Christmas and helped to welcome us back there.  Leah was so much happier being in her room/house but it was very strange and hard at first to be back there.  However, as we got settled back in it became weird to think of living anywhere that Kyle had never lived.  While I couldn’t step foot back into his room for months it still felt weird in some ways to think of leaving that house.  Also, everyone’s advice was “you need to wait a year before you make any drastic decisions”, so we decided to stay but also keep our options cracked open a bit.

As most of you know my best friend growing up (Jennifer) married Brennan’s childhood best friend (Oscar Hemmelgarn) and they are truly “our people”...we do most of life with them…vacations, celebrations, etc.  Kyle was super close with them as well and loves them all dearly.  They live in Lakeridge subdivision and we have spent lots of time at their house over the years and have always loved their neighborhood.  During covid we would go over and walk on opposite sides of the street (which seems so insane to say now)  just to get out and see familiar faces.  Not only do the Hemmelgarns live in Lakeridge but also our other best good friends The Stewarts do as well and we have grown very close with them as our girls dance and play softball together. Both Kate and Jen have given me unwavering support to make it daily and I wouldn’t be standing upright if not for them (as well as TONS of others, I truly have the best friends and I am so grateful for each and every one of you 🙂).  As Brennan and I started talking and praying about a potential move/relocation we just kept feeling very strongly that we wanted to move to Lakeridge and that we were willing to wait for something in there to come available. We had no specific timeline, no rush,  just when the right place came up we could hopefully jump on it.  

Ok…whew hopefully you are still with me.  This year we went over to Lakeridge to trick or treat on Halloween with all the friends.  If you know me I have little to no filter and pretty much will do/say whatever I want, especially now.  So as Leah was trick or treating I just kept asking folks if they wanted to sell me their house.  “Trick or Treat…are you wanting to move anytime soon?”.  The owners at one of the last houses we stopped by said “Well we aren’t but we are pretty sure our neighbor is…she lives up the street” and he gave me her address..  Well that is all the fuel I needed to look her up and write her a letter.  In my letter I just simply told her our whole story and how we were really wanting to move into this neighborhood and heard she might be wanting to sell soon.  I made it clear that I was a realtor but wasn’t in any way trying to go around her agent if she had one and I wasn’t trying to solicit her listing, AND that her house may not work for us, but we just wanted the opportunity to have the first right of refusal so to speak.  I mailed the letter the Tuesday after Halloween and went about my business.  Another quick side note is that my mom and I work in the Realty Executives Gettysvue office and it’s a small office of only about 15 agents.  We are a mother/daughter team obviously and there is another team in our office that is a father/son team, Wesley and Michael Shotwell.  On Saturday of that week I get a text from Wesley asking me to call him.  He said Michael and I have a listing coming up that we think you might be interested in, and he sends me the link and it was her house!  I immediately got cold chills and felt great knowing that of all the agents in this town, Wesley and Michael in my own office were representing her.  Wesley warned me that she was a widow and that they had shown her close to 50 properties and she hadn’t found anything at all that she liked.  She wasn’t going to put it on the market until she did find something, and that they were going to price it at $599,000.  We weren’t in a hurry anyway, so that was fine with us.  He also told me he was showing her a new condo that had just come on the market the next day (Sunday November 9th) and we could go over and look at the house while they were gone.  

So,  we went over to check it out that Sunday and met my mom and H there and Jen and Oscar came up from their house.  When we got out of the car Jen said “the girls counted and there are 11 houses between our house and this one.”  Another cold chill moment as 11 was Kyle’s number and one of the many ways he shows us signs is through that number. (**side note Jen said the girls counted wrong and after she counted it is actually 12 houses between ours and theirs but it still makes the story cool, ha).  When we walked in the front door we immediately had a good feeling in the house.  A peaceful feeling really…it was so warm.  Its beautiful vaulted ceilings, exposed beams, stackstone fireplace and natural light were stunning.  AND it had a 3 car garage and perfect basement for Pap.  We were pretty excited after viewing it and talking about it we decided to call our lender to just see what our options were.  She said we could do it without selling our current house, so no contingency needed (but we of course wanted to sell our house) and we could feel free to make an offer.  I no more got off the phone with her and Wesley called me to tell me that the condo he had shown her the day before was perfect and she loved it and was making an offer on it.  AND after she crunched the numbers she wanted to offer her house to us for $555,000 (5.5 is half of 11 and so our down payment was literally $111,000).  All the chills.  We wrote our contract that night and by the time it was signed and bound it was Tuesday.  If you haven’t already figured this out by now, our binding agreement date on our contract was 11/11.  November 11th. More chills and also helped really confirm that Kyle was helping make this happen for us.  Not to mention, we were dreading that Friday as it was the 1 year anniversary of his death and the anticipation was awful, but this gave us something positive to focus on during the hardest week.

After we came down from our excitement we had to get busy and put our house on the market.  We rented a dumpster, cleaned it, staged it and officially put it on the market on a Wednesday (12/3). We had 2 showings Wednesday and 3 on Thursday and received an offer on that Friday.  A precious couple and their 4 year old (also pregnant with their 2nd girl) were relocating from Johnson City for a job and wanted our house.  It made me happy knowing another sweet family was going to move in and make memories there. Some of our best memories were made in that house but also the absolute worst memory.  We scheduled the closings to happen back to back on January 16th.  Then came the fun part of packing, packing and more packing.  One Sunday after Christmas Leah went to hang out with one of her friends and Brennan and I went into Kyle’s room together, just the two of us and packed up all of his stuff.  I’m not going to lie, it sucked.  We cried a lot, but we also laughed and talked a lot about him and what an amazing kid we were lucky enough to get to raise for 12.5 years.  His clothes still smelled like him even after a year. God we miss him.

Moving isn’t ever easy, but for us the emotions were all over the place. I was lucky enough to get some time in the house all by myself after everything was out and I was able to sit in the floor of Kyle’s room and talk to him and tell him how much I loved spending time with him in that room reading Harry Potter and Wings of Fire and giggling before bed.  It was good for me.   I truly think he helped make it all happen for us (also The Lord of course) and I can almost hear him saying “Mom, can you believe we live between the Hemmelgarns and the Stewarts.  LET”S GOOOOOO”   We love our new house a lot, have been here for almost 3 weeks and are “mostly” settled in.  Bubba is getting used to it and loves the walks in the new hood.  Leah got to pick a new paint color and get a bunch of new stuff for her room, plus she is within walking distance of her besties!  She has to get up about 15 minutes earlier than she used to to get to Rocky Hill on time, so that is her only beef so far, lol.  In 2 weeks my dad will officially be living here and we are super pumped to have him around.  He and Kyle were truly best friends (and extremely similar people) and he has been utterly devastated (as we all have). It will be good for him to not live alone anymore and he and Leah can get closer as well.  We feel Kyle all around, while he doesn’t have a room in our new house, he’s literally in every room.  OH and Brennan is super happy because he bought a new golf cart to get around the neighborhood and he takes all the kids on rides.  I think he likes the house as well.

We will be sending out postcards soon with our new address but thank you all so so very much for all the love and support through this move.  We want to have everyone over soon and fellowship.  Thanks for loving us all so well, and thanks for loving our Kyle. 

Times Like These

A year ago, on the evening of Thursday November 13th (my 43rd birthday) Kyle Mooney laid down to go to sleep around 10 o'clock at night. At approximately 6:40 the next morning, his mother discovered him cold and lifeless in his bed. Dead, 6 months before his 13th birthday of a previously undiscovered and still unknown heart ailment. 

For a moment, I'm going to describe Kyle physically to someone who never met him. Kyle was a big kid - not fat, but big, tall and strong. He had huge hands, huge feet and a posterior so big and wide you could have set a dinner platter flat on it. His back and shoulders were wide and thick and his legs long. Kyle was built and carried himself like an athlete - baseball and basketball - and had dreams of playing sports up to and possibly through high school. And his face - round and bright with a deep dark set of brown eyes, Kyle mostly resembled his mother, Erica, had begun to thin and take structure - a boy on the precipice of his teenage years. We called Kyle, "Mooney", and he was our Man on the Moon - guiding us with his bight, indominable and perpetual spirit.

So when 8-1/2 hours after out last, "I love you" as father and son to have him left us like weak smoke smoldering over an extinguished fire was... I don't think there's even a word.

Poof. Gone.

Last Thursday I had lunch with my friend Clay who has become more like a brother me me than a friend. Clay is a smart and introspective man who loves and takes care of his family. He's also the father of two young men that both remind of Kyle - smart, ambitious, kind. And during lunch we had this discussion about life, death and what comes next. We discussed how, like quantum physics argues, we are all just a combination of cells and matter. What distinguishes us from say a building or a car is inconsequential. Underlying our various exteriors is exactly the same. And that energy is never truly gone it just takes on a different forms of matter and moves on to its next intended purpose. Clay went a step further arguing that when you die, your body weight decreases 27 grams, which many believe represents the soul. So, why Kyle left his physical body and was converted to ash was his soul converted with him? Or has he left this world to inhabit something beyond our realm of comprehension? 

Last night, friends of ours organized a memorial wiffle ball game in Kyle's memory. Over 350 friends, family and classmates stopped by to pay respects, play some ball and share stories of Kyle. It concluded with a prayer, candlelight vigil and a song. The song, "Times Like These (Acoustic)" by the Foo Fighters is a song of hope, redemption and fortitude. It was written by lead singer Dave Grohl during a time where the band was splintering. The bands drummer was nearly lost to an OD from heroin and Dave, himself, was recording and touring with other bands. Long story short, it all worked out for the Foo's and we were gifted this powerful song from the mind of Dave Grohl. Before the song played Erica and I spoke and our message was simple - Kyle loved you, we love you and are grateful for your support. And we have to move forward. And we're going to do it together. I was informed that during the playing of the song, a shooting star flew across the sky over our vigil. Remember, we never leave we just change - our Man in the Moon(ey) is now a shooting star. He's still there it's just a little harder to catch him.

While "Times Like These" is the theme of this post, there's another song I wanted to share that has come back into my rotation lately - "Here in Spirit" - by Jim James of the band My Morning Jacket. There's a few lines right before the chorus that I feel sum up my emotions immediately Kyle's passing and what we've done as individuals and families to navigate our grief:

The stone is thrown, it's coming fast
The next thing you know
It's crashing thru the glass
Now we're down on our knees picking up the scraps
Whatever it takes we're gonna build it back

They say the second year of loss is harder than the first. The shock wears off and acceptance becomes your default stage of grief. And maybe that is true - only time will tell - but we are building it back. The building is damaged, but not gone. The light around it has dimmed but if we squint, we can see. A million hands propping us up in the memory of a young man that impacted so many. It's times like these you learn to live again. 

Do You Know What Today Is?

 On October 14th Erica and I celebrated 19 years of marriage. 19 years of marriage, while significant, is one of those anniversaries that can easily get lost. The 1st, 25th, 40th and 50th anniversary are touchpoints in the life of a married couple and are typically marked by lavish gifts and trips to exotic places. On Tuesday I told Erica, "I didn't get you a card and I don't expect one in return." She replied similarly and we agreed to have dinner* that night while Leah attended her first acting class.

*By the way - we had dinner at Sunspot on the Cumberland Avenue Strip. The 'Strip, as its affectionately known to UT students, alumni and Knoxville residents is a mile long drag of bars and restaurants. Excuse me, the Strip "was" a mile long road of dive bars and restaurants that have been replaced with high rise condos, banks and more condos and holds the charm of a root canal. And I'm pretty sure the entire wait staff was on drugs. I'm getting old. But I digress.

Before dinner Erica and I toasted with the simple, "What a year.." we both shrugged and sipped our drinks in silence for a moment. When you take your vows you hear the spiel about sickness and health, richer or poorer, but you don't get the "In the event you lose a child". I assume that's covered under the "for better or worse" portion of the vows and if ever replaced with "in the event you lose a child" would likely cast a pall over what's typically a happy occasion.

We were married really young, too young actually. I was 24 and  Erica was just barely 23. We had no money, no idea how to plan and execute a wedding and no idea the work it took to build a successful life together. And we certainly had no idea what lay ahead for us. We spent the first 7 years of our marriage in Nashville but moved back to Knoxville in March of 2012 mere weeks before Kyle arrived. Once again - we had little money, a ton of debt and no idea on how to raise a baby.

But much like the first few years of our marriage, we figured out how to raise Kyle and eventually decided to try for another. Homes were purchased, credit cards got paid (and closed) and we settled into what we assumed would be a normal suburban life.

I'm not going to rehash the events surrounding Kyles death, but I will say this. Those first few days were very dark. And at times, moments of doubt creep in and you find your mind wandering into a deep pool of grief. But when you share a life with someone who knows exactly what you feel, you no longer feel isolated in your pain. 

Like two great athletes on the field of play who can just read each others eyes and know exactly what to do, such is the connection Erica and I now share. If cohabitating for over 20 years, multiple moves and raising kids doesn't form an unbreakable bond then imagine what grieving the loss of a child can do. It can go one of two ways and one of them is filled with even more pain and more ugliness. When you see someone suffering your first reaction is to console them using words. Platitudes such as, "I'm so sorry for your loss" or "He's in a better place" get thrown around grieving loved ones like frisbees, but it's more to break the uncomfortable tension in a room. Those that know true suffering just want to emote and it's best to sit in the room next to them in silence then offer up any advice. Sometimes one of us will walk into a room and the other will be crying or finishing crying. And the other will simply walk up, hug the other and say nothing. I urge you to try substituting physical touch for words to someone grieving next time and see if it doesn't make a difference. 

We miss Kyle so much. Charles Dickens couldn't articulate what Kyle meant to us and he got paid by the word. A few weeks ago I saw a picture of Kyle in Leah's room and it broke me. I sat on the stairs crying. Erica walked up and I said to her, "What is the point of all this? What is the meaning behind his death? I do not understand." To which erica replied, "Maybe he died to teach us a lesson." But what would that lesson be? That we can take a punch? 

Here's what I do know, of all the people in my life there is no one that understands me more than Erica. There is no one that has impacted my life more greatly than her and there is no one stronger than her. She'd shrug off that last comment and give credit to advancements in modern pharmacology, but you can't build anything without a strong foundation. And Erica's constitution is solid.

When we were first married she used to say, "I don't think I'd be a good mother." I took that comment with a grain of salt knowing that she was put on this planet to raise Kyle and Leah. She did everything she could for him and then it was his time to go be with someone else in another dimension. And as desperately as we miss him, we choose to allow his death to not be in vain but rather as a deep emotional bond to carry us for another 19 years and beyond.

 

Go...

I haven't posted in nearly a month, which is not a coincidence. As we approach 9 months without Kyle I've had many discussions with my therapist about two specific aspects associated with my emotional well-being:

1. I'm tired of being sad.

2. I feel guilty that I don't feel worse.

Before I unpack these two points, let me make something painfully clear - I miss Kyle every second of every single day. I think about him constantly and miss simply hearing his voice. I played golf with a friend and his son yesterday who was a teammate of Kyle's. While it wasn't hard being around Kyle's friend it just made me think about Kyle and I playing golf or simply bonding together. As a man with a son so much of your identity is tied to teaching this young boy how to be a man. So, when the boy dies before his 13th birthday you struggle to find your purpose. But I have run into my grief head first, unafraid of the obvious pain that awaits. Someone told me that I am like a buffalo. Buffalos run to storms and not away from in order to get through the violence and disruption a meteorological event can bring.

Which bring me back to my two points. The moments of sadness are inevitable. Grief is a permanent scar and comes against our will. Now, when I get emotional I know that the sadness does not last forever. It, too, like a storm, will pass. And the sooner I lean into it, the sooner I can get to safe passage. 

As for the guilt, my therapist tells me that the initial pain and shock of losing a loved one is so acute that we assume it's a burden we carry forever. That we don't feel depressed or incapacitated emotionally  months after a significant loss isn't stocking, it's an inevitable part of the grief journey.

As a family we always did a themed Halloween costume. Last year we did the cast of 'Beetlejuice'. Kyle was Beetlejuice and kept walking up to random people on the streets going, "Do you know who I am?" One year, we dressed as characters from the 'Wizard of Oz' and Kyle was the Tin Man. One year, however, we did the cast of 'Inside Out' with Leah dressed as Joy (Erica was Sadness). Most kids movies bore me to tears, but I loved 'Inside Out'. It has such a powerful message that in order to experience joy and happiness we must experience pain. I read an interview where Amy Pohler said she took the role as Joy to teach her kids about how to manage their emotions in the wake of their parents divorce. 

Divorce, like death, deserves a grieving process and a time to feel deeply that pain that comes with loss. I've mentioned before, there is no hierarchy of grief - it all simply sucks regardless of what or whom you've lost in your life.

A building gets torn down and another one is built in it's place. Men die in battle and down the road babies are being born at a hospital. Life goes on and progress is made. You mark the razed building with a plaque. You build a monument with the names of the departed in your town square. You remember. You grieve. But you move forward. It's human nature.

But what do I know? I am 9 months into a lifelong journey that has no roadmap. Recently, I've begun thinking about my birthday in November and the one year anniversary of Kyle's death and dreading those two days. But I know I will get through it, because I have to. There are other children's to raise, marriages to nurture and friendships to cultivate. I guess the best monument I could build Kyle would be to simply keep going, to put my head down and run into the storm. And I know, for an absolute fact, that the wind will be at my back and Kyle will be pushing me forward. 

 

Live Forever

Last night, British rock and roll band Oasis embarked on a reunion tour after almost 20 years apart. Originally, I was going to buy tickets to their performance in Chicago at Soldier Field later this year and take Kyle. Kyle loved Oasis. He loved the music but secretly I think he loved the stories about how the Gallagher Brothers, Liam and Noel, used to fight and curse each other on stage during shows. In fact, the last song Kyle and I ever listened together in my truck was an Oasis song, "Don't Look Back in Anger". Below is that video, which also happens to be a wonderful message for someone experiencing deep grief. 

I said during Kyle's eulogy that their is o value in grief. And after nearly 8 months of reflection, I disagree. Anger is a natural emotion, but I think it's important to identify why one is angry and attack that particular issue, not allowing the raw emotion to fester.

Here's to the Gallagher Brothers, our dearly departed Kyle, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. 

In "His" Shoes

 

In “His” Shoes by John Montuori

 

I had just landed in New York, gotten my rental car, and was on the Grand Central Parkway when I got the call.  After Katherine delivered the news, I was dumbstruck.  That is to say, I couldn’t process the message I’d received.  I went from confusion, to misunderstanding, to shock, to denial, until I was somehow parked at a rest stop, stumbling alongside my vehicle, succumbing to anguish.  

 

When I collected myself, I made a few calls.  Katherine picked Jack up from school.  We told him together.  He fell apart.  They went home, and I was in a trance over the next 48 hours.  

 

An abrupt change of plans, I found myself at a hotel near South Street Seaport.  I checked in, changed clothes, and decided to go for a walk.  With air pods in to drown out the life of the city, I wandered the streets listening only to white noise.  I drifted through neighborhoods I’d never been.  I entered churches I’d never seen.  I lit candles.  I bought lepidolite angels.  Eventually I found myself in Central Park.  It would be about 4.5 miles as the crow flies, but I meandered on and off course numerous times, either lost or being led.  I still don’t know.  

 

I thought about hopping the subway back, but decided to walk a little further.  A little further turned into completing a round trip, clocking a full 13 miles.  

 

It was still two more days before I finally got home.  I drove from Tyson McGee Airport straight to Jeanne’s house at 10pm.  It was time to put the shock and pain away just long enough to be the John that Kyle knew me to be.  If I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’ve been that John since. 

 

As a family, we’ve experienced a fair amount of grief.  In just the last 5 years we’ve lost a friend to addiction, one to cancer, and one to sudden cardiac arrest.  But these were all adults.  Each tragic in their own way.  

 

This.  This isn’t the same.  I don’t know what THIS is.  It’s not grief.  Not in a normal sense anyway.  Because not only do I feel this in my own body, I’m also experiencing it through one of Kyle’s best friends. 

 

Every. Single. Day.  

 

He’s my son.  Kyle was my friend’s son, but before that he was my son’s friend. Not just any friend; a best friend.  The kind of friend who when he heard the news, waited about 6 hours before texting Erica and asking if he could deliver the eulogy.  7 months later and I can’t type those words without my eyes filling with tears.  

 

Navigating grief with a 13 year old is weird.  There aren’t big emotions like I would’ve expected.  Instead, there are quiet moments every single day when Jack will say “Kyle loved this song” or “You know who this reminds me of right?”  

 

“What color are we doing your braces this time?” they ask at the orthodontist.  

 

“Orange for my buddy Kyle”.  

 

Every.  Single.  Day.  He is here with us.  He’s in our house.  He’s coming through our radio in the car.  He’s at sporting events.  He’s ever-present.  Everything is a tribute to Kyle.  They knew each other for what, 6 years?  8?  Doesn’t sound like a lot, but that was most of their lives.  I’m 45.  That would be like me losing a friend I’ve had for 30 years.  I’m not even sure I have a friend I’ve been close to for 30 years.  

 

The imprint that Kyle left on Jack has forever changed his life.  The person Jack became the minute Kyle left was a version of himself that he may never have known otherwise.  Kyle’s service was Jacks first experience speaking publicly.  He had been solid as a rock until we sat down and the music started playing.  Moments before it was time, he started to get cold feet.  Nevertheless, he somehow mustered the strength.  

 

As he stood there, shaking in his shoes, he  managed to share what he wrote in front of 1000+ people.  That wasn’t just Jack up there.  That was Jacks big heart filled with Kyle’s charismatic spirit.  That was my shy boy being lifted up by the mayor of Rocky Hill.  Jack will carry Kyle in his heart forever.  And I can’t help but be reminded of the EE Cummings poem that Cameron Diaz reads to Toni Collette at the end of “In Her Shoes”.  

 

“…(Here is the root of the root, and the bud of the bud, and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart. 

I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart.”

 

I think if you knew Kyle….if you taught him, coached him, played a sport with him, babysat him, trick-or-treated with him, went to a game with him, hiked with him, laughed with him, or simply were on the receiving end of questions from him (“Mr John…?) then chances are you carry him in your heart too.  

 

 

The Teacher

One of my favorite things to do in life is to explain things to people. And not in a condescending way, but in a teaching manner where people can understand and, in some instances, take ownership of their actions. It's one of the reasons I gravitated towards coaching and certain professional leadership opportunities over the years. Yes, I have personal goals, but if we can all learn the right way to do something, then a rising tide raises all ships.

I often comment that if I had to do it all over again (and it paid well enough) I'd have been a teacher and coach at a high school level. 

I've said before that the thing I miss about Kyle is his voice. I miss talking to him. I miss arguing with him even. And I miss coaching him. And not just in sports, but in life. 

Upset with your mother? I had some advice.

Pissed that you committed an error? I had a drill I could show you.

You think a girl is cute? Talk to her like a person and ask her a ton of questions. People love to talk about themselves. 

Last month we took on a pretty aggressive renovation project in our backyard. We hired a team to demolish our deck and replace it with a stamped concrete patio and new landscaping. And mind you, this wasn't a two bags of Kwik-Krete and two mums sort of job - half of our backyard was a giant dirt and rock pile for almost a month. By the time they finished the grass was so tall I was convinced rat snakes were lying in wait for our dog as he took his morning bathroom break. 

But I digress.

In light of this project I was instructed by the landscaping contractor to water, baby, water until my utilities bill was higher than Billy Joel's cholesterol. And even with all the rain we receive in East Tennessee every year, a giant patch of seed and hay needed to be turned from its current muddy, sinking mess* into green fescue grass. So, I have been meticulously angling and moving our oscillating sprinkler for the last three weeks with pretty good results. Growing grass on this giant patch has seemingly become my life's work and I stress about this much like I assume Beethoven did over his 5th or Michelangelo did over the Sistine Chapel. Only I assume they both produced without the assistance of Coors Light and Zyn.

I'm digressing again.

Yesterday our hose started leaking at the faucet. I messed with the hose bibb, the hose and the sprinkler head. I checked for any kinks, tightened the screw in the hose bibb and it still leaked. It's then I realized that a small rubber gasket that fits inside the female end of the hose was missing. I took one randomly located in my toolbox, used the dull edge of a knife to nudge it into its housing and reattached the hose to the faucet. And guess what? No more leaking and no more wasted water. During this entire time I was speaking out loud to no one about what I was doing step by step. It didn't even dawn on me that I was talking to the air, but then it hit me. I was talking to Kyle. I was teaching him how to do something, giving him advice. He's gone, but my desire to teach my son new things is not. I became so conditioned to raising and schooling this young boy on how to grow and be a man that, even though he's gone, that part of my brain hasn't shut down yet. It's still humming along like nothing ever changed. 

You see people driving their cars nowadays and it's obvious they're on their Bluetooth speaker phone. 20 years ago you saw someone speaking in the car without any passengers and you assumed they were crazy. Now it's widely accepted. And sometimes, especially in parking lots, you sit next to someone and you get to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Hey lady, I'm glad mom's test results came back negative, but will you turn down the volume, please?"

Next time you encounter this scenario on the road maybe you won't assume they're on the phone. Maybe they're talking to a missing loved one about their day. Maybe they're looking for guidance or protection or both. Or maybe they're talking to their teenage son about the importance of keeping their hands at 10 and 2. 

* By the way, as a child of the 80's was there anything they tried to scare us more with than quicksand. The rankings of "Irrational Fears of Children Born Between 1979 and 1985  Brought On by Overbearing Mothers and Newscasters" is as follows:

1. Quicksand

2. Acid Rain

3. Kidnappers

4. Drug dealers looking to give away free drugs**

** Not what one would confuse with a profitable business model, which is why I called BS on this by my 8th birthday