Go Team Plumtastic

The kids and I are all doing very well. Our school morning routine is turning into a well oiled machine! It feels good to be in a more "normal" routine. Have no fear, we have found many things to keep us busy. We're heading to Ohio next week and I'm off to VEGAS with a girlfriend (Hi Stacy) at the end of the month. But the one thing we are very excited about is the Wellness House 5K walk we'll be participating in. If you want to learn more about it, check out our site;
http://www.events.org/sponsorship.aspx?id=9984

The Ultimate Do Not Call List

Ok, so for many reasons, being a new widow is not fun. There is the hurdles you jump through when changing health insurance to the COBRA benefits, the new widow box you have to check every time a form needs to be completed, there is the painfully visible absence of Dad on the first day of school and the annoyingly stinky garbage that needs to be taken out each Sunday night just to mention a few. But every once-in-a-while you come across a hidden benefit you never expected.

Today Amanda answered the phone for me, Chloe and Evan are battling strep throat and a nasty fever that won't seem to go away so I was busy tending to them. I could tell by the caller ID that it was an 800 number and was just about ready to tell her not to answer when I heard her sweet voice say,

"Hello, who is this? My name is Amanda." (We've been practicing our phone etiquette) Then just as sweetly she says,"Sorry, he's dead but you can talk to my mom".

Now before you start to think how sad, let me just say that before I could put the phone to my ear the line was, for lack of a better word, dead too. I guess we just enrolled ourselves into the ultimate "do not call list".

I hope you too will be able to find humor and gratitude in silver linings today. No matter what the situation, God always sends one. I think it's his way of reminding us we're not alone and he is in control.

We're all doing well here, except for being sick. KONE came today and picked up Eric's car. It was sad, just another reminder that he's not coming back. Every time I walk to the garage, I'm reminded again. I suppose buying a sports car isn't the solution but it seems like a good idea right now! I'll keep you posted.

Blessings to you all!
Amy

Well I was returning an email from my pledge mom in college and It occurred to me that you all might enjoy an update too. So, here's a snippet:


All in all, I think we are doing pretty good. Amanda and I have had a few moments this last week, one in particular with the two of us sitting in Eric’s closet smelling his clothes. The tears were flowing because we could still smell him on some and could no longer smell him on others. This mourning thing is quite sneaky that way. Evan is being 3 which in itself is annoying! We’ve been working on better ways to express our anger than yelling at the top of our voice “YOU’RE MAKING ME ANGRY!!!”. You want them to be able to express themselves but really...there must be a better way. I remember when he was littler he used to just hit. Later he would say in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, “I’m going to hit you now” and then hit. It took a while for me to not burst out laughing before I could remind him if he hit, he’d get in trouble. Fortunately, it passed, I’m sure the anger yelling will too. As for Chloe, she’s excited about starting school tomorrow but while she won’t tell me, I know she’s secretly scared as well. She doesn’t particularly like new things. We are always stretching her, Amanda and I. Unfortunately, Amanda has strep throat and won’t be going to school the first day. It’s going to be interesting tomorrow at the bus stop. I’d say it’s a 75% chance of tears and a 50/50 chance she actually gets on the bus with out some physical help from me.

I'll post a picture tomorrow!
Blessings to you all,
amy

Well we are here in Florida and while the weather is hot and steamy we're still having a great time! It's funny, in Illinois, there are very few memories of Eric lurking around the corner waiting to surprise me. Here, there isn't just one but many at each turn. I went out this morning to turn in my safety deposit key and barely made it out of the bank before the tears starting rolling. I remember the day Eric came home from the bank, so proud of himself that he'd rented a box. The truth is we never put anything in there! Just seeing his signature, made the memories come flooding back.

I have not been looking forward to my trip to the jeweler to have my engagement ring cleaned and checked. Eric had developed a friendship with the owner while buying my ring. After every child was born, he bought me a present and himself a new watch. I so didn't want to have to explain one more time the particulars of Eric's death and sickness. Additionally, I know the day will come when it is time to take my rings off, but I am not ready yet. It is not lost on me the provision of God these days. He has in many ways, taken care of those things I wasn't sure I could handle. Today is no exception. Our dear jewelry store was just an empty store front with a for rent sign in the window. While I know the irony is thick, I am ever more grateful for the hand of God working visibly in our lives.

Part of me has been dreading this flood of memories. Now that I'm here, I've decided to try and cherish them instead. I'd like to say I drive around town looking for them (it would sound so healthy of me), but the truth is, I'm just not griping the steering wheel anxiously anymore. It's a start.

People keep asking me how I'm doing these days, I've been thinking about saying hopeful. I'll leave you with a quote from our bible study again. Hope you like it, it is a reference from Jeremiah 17:5-8.

Hope grows best in the soil of faithfulness. As we live our lives for God, loving his law, doing his will, immersing ourselves in his Word, believing he is who he says he is, and worshiping him together with his people, our hope will grow stronger, and we will be like the tree planted by water, whose leaves are always green and supple

I don't know about you, but I'd like to be forever green and supple. It reminds me of the palm trees here. They bend and sway with those hurricane winds but rarely break. I can't wait to see many of you on Friday at the service. Bring your best stories, we'll have a great roast!

The last week has been quite busy. Busy with all the things of a spouse dying they don't bother to show you on "Steel Magnolias" or "Terms of Endearment". Things like visits to the bank and the health club to close accounts. I sat in the Social Security office and was just struck by all the papers strewn about on the desk. To them that is who Eric was, just a bunch of documents. My sister reminded me, he was so much more than that. But reality had already struck.

Eric's ashes arrived yesterday. It was a strange moment in that they also delivered the tie Eric wore. His mom wanted to keep it and so the tie was removed after the funeral. I just stood there with the tie in one hand and the urn in the other. Talk about the irony. I'm not sure you could have scripted a better scene. The only thing missing was a sad background song about the finality of it all.

I did a Beth Moore study this spring and one of the sessions talked about how God sings over our lives.

Zephaniah 3:17
17 The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing."

Eric and I had a long talk about this, it was one of the last God talks we had. He loved the idea that God sang in general but specifically sang over us. Beth Moore reasoned God must have taught the stars and angels to sing (Job 38:7). How else would they have known? She went on to say that "our salvation experience is accompanied by music". God and the heavens singing over us when we get it right, singing over us when we get it wrong, singing over us when the music's qued for the sad background song. I suppose because Eric loved music so much he cherished the thought of God singing over him. We never talked about what those songs would have been. I wish now I would have asked. He always had a soft spot for the heavy metal hair bands. Beth Moore made the joke that when we got to heaven, Jesus would meet us at the gates with our own personalized CD. A compilation of the "greatest hits" of our lives, all sung by God himself. I sort of hope that one really happens.

My dad's brothers & wives gave us a gift certificate for the local nursery. I had a tree delivered this morning and planted in the back yard. It is a beautiful tree about 17 feet tall already. In it's prime it should be 60 feet tall with beautiful orange/red fall colors. Seemed like a fitting tribute. The kids and I sat in it's shade this morning. When you live in a new subdivision, shade is a valuable commodity. I've been trying to think of the appropriate song for our soundtrack. The only one I can think of is Coldplay's "fix you". I'm pretty sure God's up to the challenge. What's God singing over you right now?

I've finally got the details ironed out for the service in Florida.

Friday August 15th, 5:30pm
Christ Church UM Gym
4845 NE 25th ave
Fort Lauderdale
954-771-7300

I added the picture of the kids at the funeral. I hope you like it!

Treasures

The last week has been the strange dichotomy of a whirlwind and moments that lingered. I am so grateful those of you who were able to make the pilgrimage and pay your final respects. The sheer number of people, and so many that we not only knew but were dear to our hearts, who came on Friday and Saturday was overwhelming. Eric was always the life of the party. He would have been so pleased to draw such a crowd!

I've been trying to savor each moment. Our pastor reminded me last week of the passage in Luke that speaks of the visitors at the stable on the night of Jesus' birth. It says, "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart".

I will always treasure the moment I heard Chloe's sweet voice singing "I Can Only Imagine" just in step with Joe. And the fact that our three children took their first communion at their fathers funeral. It isn't traditional church doctrine but I believe it made God smile.

I think about each and every one of the seven, I know, seven eulogies. I thought it was crazy too, but Eric insisted and he was right. Each one of you spoke of the man I loved with such beauty, love and respect. I couldn't have asked for more. I remember my dear aunt who flew in from Florida just to arrive for the reception. And my father and his four brothers who lost their father when they were children and yet, despite the painful memories were there to support us.

I so enjoyed seeing Eric's ties on all the speakers and pall bearers. It was as if every time I turned around, there, was another memory to greet me. I am grateful for the phenomenal music, which was such an important part of Eric's life and consider it a blessing to have had our pastor from Florida make the trip. I had forgotten our original conversations with Alex concerning Isaiah 41:18-20;

18 I will make rivers flow on barren heights,
and springs within the valleys.
I will turn the desert into pools of water,
and the parched ground into springs.
19 I will put in the desert
the cedar and the acacia, the myrtle and the olive.
I will set pines in the wasteland,
the fir and the cypress together,
20 so that people may see and know,
may consider and understand,
that the hand of the LORD has done this,
that the Holy One of Israel has created it.

As you did, we always wanted the work of God's hand to be evident in Eric's healing. But in that moment, I could see God had done what he promised. For each of you who stood by Eric's casket and told me of how our journey had strengthened your faith, I was a witness to the pools of water in the desert. When you came and told me our blogging had made you reconnect with God, I saw in you, those tall pines rooted in what once was wasteland. And while each and every one of you thanked me for our blogs and what they had meant to you, I must say just as verse 20 did, "see and know, consider and understand that the hand of the LORD has done this". Eric and I were just the unlucky couple with cancer who were honored to share our lives with such wonderful friends and family.

I know I will treasure many more memories but am grateful I captured one in a photo. The sight of our three children singing and dancing to the mountain song Eric sang so many bedtimes. Your presence at Eric's funeral was a blessing to us, I pray it was a blessing to you too. I am certain when I say, "Eric was well loved".

Amy

Condolences- 10 Years Later

Earlier this spring, Eric and I had begun having more talks about life without him. One of the things heavy on my heart was the weight of responsibility associated with remembering him not only for myself but for the kids. Eric found this article in the April 21, 2008 edition of NEWSWEEK. He left it on my bedside table one evening. While he said he thought it might ease my mind, I think secretly, the fear of being remembered was equally heavy. I've kept it in my bedside table since then, just a little note for a rainy day. I hope Katie Couric won't object to my reproducing it.

Even the word feels clunky and uncomfortable. "condolences." No wonder so many of us are at a loss when dealing with loss. The right words can be such a salve for raw, unabating pain. So why is our biggest goal simply to fill up a note card or piece of stationary with enough words to get the whole exercise over with? The next time you put pen to paper to express your sympathy, focus on a simple story, recollections of a brief encounter, a loving or funny memory. You will find a grateful recipient at the final resting place of that correspondence.

I commemorated a sad milestone a few months ago. It was the 10th anniversary of my husband, Jay's death, which seems as inconceivable as I write this now as it did on that Saturday morning in January 1998. My daughters and I always remember the date in some small way. Whether it's just talking about their dad, looking at photographs, sending a helium balloon to rise nonchalantly toward heaven; each year the date stands out somehow. But this year was different. First of all, there is something especially significant about a decade. Second, it was the year I decided Ellie and Carrie, now ages 16 and 12, were old enough to read some of the hundreds of letters I received after Jay's death. Because of the public nature of my job, I received many letters from total strangers.

But I also asked those attending Jay's funeral to write the girls so they would at least get to know their father posthumously. A few years ago I tentatively dug into the boxes with a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension. The man I was dating at the time agreed to sort through and organize them with me. As I read letter after letter, tears flooding down my face, I told him it must have been one of the weirdest dates he'd ever had. "Not one of," he replied, slightly bemused. "THE weirdest." Three years later, on the anniversary that traditionally requires exchanging gifts of tin or aluminum (here's a roll of Reynolds Wrap, honey!) - I traced the narrative of a man's life in sympathy notes. We would have been married 19 years this June.

I picked four letters, and we read them at the dinner table. One was from a lawyer in Birmingham who, like my husband, had gone to Washington and Lee University. He had written a hilarious account of one of their football games and the role Jay's hairstyle had played. After Jay caught a pass and was running to the goal line, "Out of nowhere, a defender caught hold of that damn ponytail and pulled Jay down denying him a touchdown. All of us laughed so hard, we had to call a time out to gather ourselves." Another was from a lawyer who appeared with my husband when he provided legal analysis of the O.J. Simpson trial on FOX. He wrote about Jay's willingness to brief him about everything that day and laughed when the attorney had repeated one of Jay's observations on the air. He also told my daughters of the kindness Jay had shown his. She had some developmental issues, and also wrote a note that read in part, "Dear Miss Couric. I think your husband was a very nice man. The reason that I am writing you is that last year he signed his name in my autograph book as OJ Monahan and I thought you would get a kick out of that." My sister wrote several typed pages that began, eerily, with this: "Dear Ellie and Carrie, I am writing this on February 18 1998...I assume that as you read this it is the year 2008 and you have grown into fine young ladies." She wrote about Jay's intervention when she and I had a fight because her two teenage sons and husband had eaten all the leftover Thanksgiving pies for breakfast the next day...an incident we laughingly now refer to as "piegate". In the process of selecting the letters, I opened an entire series of tender and funny snapshots of a single life, recorded in sympathy cards, on Crane stationary and simple loose-leaf notebook paper. Some are from well-known names: John F. Kennedy Jr.'s neatly written, monogrammed JFK card expressing sympathy for "the far too early passing of your husband" and remembering Jay's mischievous twinkle and penchant for dressing up in period garb as a Civil War re-enactor. "having gone through a few losses myself, the challenge is to find meaning in what has happened," he wrote. There are other letters, almost confessional in tone, from those who wanted to share similar experiences. Reading through many of them on this sad anniversary, I had a strange impulse to call or write the senders, and yet I know I never will. How is the warm and wonderful mother of two girls who had lost her husband, Tom, to colon cancer a year before Jay's death? What do the little girls in the photograph of the once happy nuclear family look like today? Her letter was so loving and intimate for someone I had never met. Is Jay's college friend still practicing law in Birmingham? Does he have any idea how I treasure his simple story of a college football game? Does Nancy Mathis, the local news reporter whom I competed against when we both were on the "night beat" in Washington, D.C., have any idea that 10 years later, her note recounting the night Jay picked me up on the Mall where we were covering a story to whisk me off to a Willie Nelson concert made me smile and remember?

These letters are a gift, in boxes and bundles still to be put in some orderly, sensible chronology. For me, they ignite memories that have long receded. For Ellie and Carrie, who were just 2 and 6 when their father died, reading about those moments from his childhood, college years and career, recounted through so many different prisms, will allow them to know Jay's life story. And, in this era of e-mail, long after the glue has worn off the envelopes, they will have that story at their fingertips, as well as tangible evidence of the love, care and effort that went into writing every one.
-Katie Couric

It is my prayer, that you all might do me the same favor, lifting some of the weight and responsibility of remembering Eric. After reading this article, I imagined boxes of letters filled with photos and memories. Enough to paint a picture of the man we all knew and loved, that would stand the test of time. I hope for those of you making the trip here to Chicago will bring your letter with you, and for those of you not able to honor Eric with your presence at the funeral, you might take some time to invest in his children's memories of their father sending a letter in your absence.

I know this is not an easy thing to ask, but also know Eric left many markers to be repaid. His love for friends and family was never ending. But I don't need to tell you that. I look forward to opening my mailbox in the weeks to come!

Chloe, Amanda & Evan Plummer
2340 River Hills Lane
Bolingbrook, IL 60490
Do not open until 2018