Staying Home

Quite a few years ago, in the days of little Joshie and Sophie, I stepped out on our way to church to find that our water heater had flooded our garage.  With Kevin at work saving people’s lives, I knew the task was mine to save the garage. A neighbor soon knocked on our door offering his assistance.  He told me he was concerned when he still saw my minivan parked in the driveway at 9:15 am on a Sunday morning.  That taught me a valuable lesson: never skip church, because the neighbors ARE watching. (or at least have the sense to pull my car into the garage) Well, twice a year we get to legitimately skip going to church.  Our church holds a broadcasted General Conference, which translates, we get to stay in our pajamas all day long and watch church on tv!  Honestly, they are the best two Sundays of the entire year!!  Yes, the talks from our church leaders are awesome, but isn’t everything more awesome when you’re in your pajamas? They are always held the first weekends in April and October.  Last year, we were in Salt Lake City for both.  In April we had scrapped our Washington DC plans, and traveled to SLC instead to be with family after Kevin’s recent diagnosis.  In October we returned to bury him.  In my mind, General Conference has become “book ends” - marking the beginning and the ending and the incredible everything that happened in between.  

So what are we doing this Conference weekend?  We are staying home.  We’ll be watching conference and thinking about Kevin; but it will be extra nice to think about him because we will be wearing our pajamas.  And I’ll make sure I pull my minivan into the garage.  

Milestones

Milestones.  Events that mark a significant change.  Kidney stones.  A hard mass formed in the kidneys.  Miles apart in meaning; but both can be painful to pass. 

Today marks 6 months.  Odd to think we have been without Kevin the same number of months he was ill.  Not sure which 6 months felt longer; guess it depends if you ask me, or Kevin.  Since September 20th, we have been hitting some big milestones pretty fast.  The first one was three days later to be exact.  We celebrated Ben’s 10th birthday at the beach the night before Kevin’s funeral.  Then came Sam’s 8th birthday and baptism.  Survived Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s, but what I dreaded most was that special holiday in February . . .President’s Day.  We are so passionate about George and Abe that every year we celebrate their births with a ski vacation.  Kevin loves this vacation.  We escape to the Utah ski slopes where we spend our days skiing and our nights recovering.  Kevin is infamous for his ski lift interviews.  Any one who has the pleasure of riding the lift with Kevin also has the pleasure of a video camera in their face.  That night we would watch the video and laugh and holler at Kevin for his ridiculous footage which usually showed more sky or snow than skiiers.  

Fortunately, we have friends who really liked Kevin, and kind of like the rest of us, who invited us for a President’s Day ski weekend.  Three days of skiing, snowmobiling, sledding, ping ponging, eating, playing, and very little sleeping - My kids loved it.  Kevin would have loved it.  I imagined Kevin with the video camera.  And even though there was still a lot of snow and sky, I know his eyes were on us - watching me drive his big manly truck in the snow, and his four kids carving (& falling) down the ski slopes; and I know we made him happy because we were doing something he loved.  

Looking ahead to the next 6 months, we have some big milestones.  And though feeling a little apprehensive, I need to remember, that just like kidney stones, “this too shall pass.”

Celebrating Ben's birthday with a new board and Uncle Andrew
September 23, 2011

Sam's baptism performed by his big brother Josh
November 5, 2011

Sophie rhino riding & dirt biking with cousins in St. George
Thanksgiving 2011

Temple Square Christmas lights in Salt Lake City
Christmas 2011

President's Day ski trip in Brian Head, Utah
February 2012
(also pictured: my 4th son, Tanner Maready)

SUPER Premium

One of the stark realities of losing a spouse is the weight of feeling like now you’re IT - you’re all your kids have. This feeling prompts you to invest in life insurance; enough life insurance that your kids won’t burden someone else, but not enough that they will be tempted to kill you. Part of the application process includes a physical; nothing alarming expected.  In fact, it was predicted that due to my “good Mormon living” I would most likely achieve “premium status.” When the home visit EMT strapped my arm in the blood pressure cuff, pieces of a conversation I had with my dad about “failing a blood pressure test and needing to take a prescription to help lower it before taking another blood pressure test” flooded my mind.  I started to panic.  I tried deep breathing and calm thoughts.  The lady looked at me very strangely.  Trying not to break into a sweat, I asked her if anything was the matter.  She said, “Is your blood pressure usually this low?”  I didn’t have the heart (ha) or the desire to tell her that my heart had recently been broken, and was actually quite relieved with the news that it was still in fact beating . however slowly.  Well, my slow beating heart and my good Mormon living earned me not “premium” status, but “SUPER premium” status! I didn’t even know there was such a thing. Here are a few of my super premium secrets. 

I DO NOT:

1. drink alcohol
2. smoke, chew, or like the smell of tobacco
3. use, nor ever did use,  any of Kevin’s fentinyl lollipops
4. drink caffeine, unless it’s diet and served over pellet ice
5. exercise, except walking my kids to school in my pajamas
6. go to bed without first having a bowl of icecream
7. stand in front of the microwave
8. own an iphone
9. snore
10. text and drive (duh)

Oh, it’s wonderful to be me.  Now I can look in the mirror, past what is staring back at me, and think about how I look from the inside . . and I look SUPER premium.  

Today, I laughed

My children know that there are certain things mom does not do.  Mom does not act silly.  Mom does not do extreme sports.  And Mom does not ride rollercoasters.  Yet once a year when Mom escapes for 3 days with 5 of her best friends from High School, they are forced to conclude that it’s not that Mom can’t do those things, she just chooses not to.  I come home not only with pretty toenails and stories of icecream and late night movies, but outrageous details of off road mountain biking, hiking in Zion’s National Park, cave spelunking at night wearing headlamps, and skiing black diamond slopes. And it doesn’t matter where we go or what we do, we laugh.  A lot.  The participants are all delighted with the evolution of the girls trip.  Long gone are the days that we left short novels of typed agendas for our husbands to follow.  A post it note with emergency numbers now suffices. With Kevin it didn’t ever really matter how many instructions I left. He did what all moms fantasize of doing - throwing out all scheduled activities, including school.  He would load up the kids and the next phone call I received would be from the middle of a Joshua Tree campground.  But last year Kevin had different plans.  He informed me moments before stepping out the door for my three days of freedom that he was going in for a little “procedure” to investigate why his back hurt so badly.  He assured me that he could drive himself, no anesthesia was involved, and yes, he would be home before the kids got home from school.  Three days later when I walked back in the door feeling “recharged,” my life changed forever.  Kevin told me that the “procedure” was in fact a biopsy which confirmed the cancer had returned.  First reaction - livid.  I was so upset that he had withheld this information from me and so guilt ridden (2nd reaction) that he had carried the burden of this news privately for 3 days. (3rd reaction - devastated)  I soon recognized that allowing me to go on that girls trip was perhaps one of the kindest and most unselfish things Kevin ever did for me.  It might have been the last time I laughed.

So now it’s time again for the annual girls trip. My mom flew in to watch my kids so I could escape to . . .Disneyland!  I suppose my friends thought a new widow and “the happiest place on earth” was a good combination(?)  Knowing my fear of rollercoasters, Ben asked me, “What are YOU going to do?”  I wasn’t worried.  I am very happy waiting and watching others torture themselves.  A day at Disneyland without children? There was no whining, crying, complaining, or “how much longer?”  There were still probably just as many restroom stops, but no one needed to be reminded to wash their hands.  We were indifferent to the length of lines as conversations remained uninterrupted whether standing, waiting, walking, or even riding.  The finale of the day was to be Space Mountain.  There was no pressure, prodding, teasing, or begging from my friends to join them.  Only acceptance.  I wouldn’t have expected anything different.  These are the same friends who I can honestly say never put me in a situation I didn’t want to be in during the tumultuous years of high school.  Maybe that’s why I decided to join them.  Maybe I didn’t want to sit through Captain EO again while I was waiting. Maybe I had a momentary lapse of good judgement.  Whatever the reason, I climbed aboard.  The ride started and the scream that escaped my throat could hardly be described as human. When I stopped screaming just long enough to take a breath I heard the friend sitting next to me say, “this is actually kind of fun.” “Could this actually be fun?” I wondered . .right before the ride catapulted into louder, darker, and faster.  The ride is all one big black and white blur.  I vaguely recall profanity flying from my lips but either it was absorbed by the deafening noise of the ride or my friends were laughing too hysterically to hear it because they made no mention of it.  I survived and emerged triumphant - my children’s hero. 

I can’t think of better friends to ride Space Mountain with. Together we’ve survived and supported one another through a lot of ups and downs - disappointments, divorce, the loss of a parent, a child, and most recently, a spouse.  These are the friends who flew in for Kevin’s funeral, then packed up all of the photos and Kevin paraphernalia, and took it all back to display in Salt Lake City for the repeat performance.  They embody the very best qualities, but the thing I appreciate and love the very most about them . . .they make me laugh.  Maya Angelou said, “My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry.”  Not me.  I hope to laugh much, much more than I cry.  Stepping off that rollercoaster, I knew I had achieved what I thought to be impossible a year ago. . . .I laughed.  

Sheer Terror

Dear Abby

Today marks 5 months since the day Kevin left us.  The top question asked is: (head tilt) "How are you?"  The 2nd top question asked is: "Are you going to write the blog anymore?"

Honestly, the blog to me served a purpose - to keep friends updated on Kevin’s situation and to spare me the pain of having to repeat the details over and over.  But it became much more than that for me.  I discovered that writing about something that was breaking my heart, was actually helping to heal it. I’d love to keep writing - I just don’t know what I’d write about.  But a thought occurred to me last week . . . .

My parents thought ahead when they named me “Abby Cannon.”  That name provided some of the best campaign slogans in my running for office years.  There was the successful: “For a year with a BIG  BANG - Vote Abby CANNON” (6th grade school President - ka-boom) And the not so successful: “I just flew in from the ABBY” (cheerleader tryouts dressed as a flying nun) Although that one wasn’t the campaign slogan nearly as much as my inability to turn a straight cartwheel.  But the best one? “Dear Abby, Who should I vote for 8th grade Historian?  Signed, Uncertain.  Dear Uncertain, Abby Cannon of course!”  That one was sheer genius.  I have endearing memories of “Dear Abby” for several reasons.  On the night Kevin proposed to me he sang me John Prine’s song “Dear Abby” with his guitar.

“Dear Abby, Dear Abby . .

You won’t believe this

But my stomach makes noises whenever I kiss

My girlfriend tells me it’s all in my head

But my stomach tells me to write you instead

Signed Noise-maker

Noise-maker, Noise-maker

You have no complaint

You are what you are, and you ain’t what you ain’t

So listen up Buster, and listen up good

Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood”

Total classic.  He sang 3-4 verses and then wrote his own lyrics for the finale.  I wasn’t sure if I was saying yes to a rock star or a cowboy.  

SO. . this all has a purpose . . . Post a comment or send me an email (abbyhegewald@gmail.com)addressed to Dear Abby with a question that you would like answered about what life is like for the Hegewalds without Kevin. This will give me something to write about, as well as fulfilling a secret fantasy of writing an advice column. (not really) So, here’s your chance to ask that question you haven’t dared ask.  Just remember, there are no stupid questions.  Only stupid answers.  

Signed, abby

Pictures Worth a 1000 Words

I love this picture, and look at those amazing white flowers

Favorite picture of the day - Sam loves his dad

"Sweet is the peace the gospel brings"

Kevin's treehouse - a boy's paradise

It's not a party without shaved ice

Salt Lake City Cemetery - September 30, 2011

Love my kids.  Love the sunflowers.  Love Kevin.

A highlight - white pigeons released in honor of Kevin

Pigeons soaring to U2's "Beautiful Day"

And it was a beautiful day.

Hope

Hello to my curious followers.  I assume that if you are reading this you just clicked on the blog out of habit, or for old times sake, kind of like me calling Kevin’s phone just to hear his voicemail.  People have asked me if I was going to continue the blog, and I still don’t know.  It really was about Kevin’s journey, with all of us tagging along, and if I were to continue I’d have to change the blog name to: “This Mountain IS Too High.” However, I would like to share some memorial service highlights, as well as post the amazing DVD of Kevin’s life . . .but in the mean time, I’ve made an interesting discovery that I wanted to share (with the 3 of you reading this).  Sometimes I would write blog entries that I never posted.  The following is one of them.

My good friend Susie sent me a decorative letter “H” for my birthday.  That
“H” can represent a lot of things.  Obviously Hegewald. A name we will forever have to spell to others. But when I look at that “H” displayed by our family portrait, I think of Hope. Hope has had a special place in my heart, and near my heart, throughout this challenge.  My sister-in-law, Christy, gave me a necklace with the word hope. I love it and I wear it constantly.  I take it off at night, but part of my brush my teeth morning routine includes putting my hope back on.  What it stands for changes.  Somedays, I hope for healing.  Others, I hope for comfort.  Mostly, I hope for understanding.  Not only do I wear hope near my heart, but I wear it on my wrist.  The “Hope for Hegewald” bands were the most amazing and inspired gift ever.  This is the first time I have mentioned them on the blog, because honestly, they created such a fashion craze, I didn’t want anyone feeling excluded from wearing a little hope on their own wrist.  The bands were thought of by our neighbor Kelly, our church’s Young Women’s President, and designed by a few young ladies. Do you want to know why they are blue and green?  Kelly asked Sophie Kevin’s favorite color and she said blue.  She asked me and I said green. (Sophie was right) When I look at the blue and green, it’s perfect for Kevin because it makes me think of green mountains in blue skies.  Kelly first ordered 400, to be given to all of the youth in our church.  Kevin teaches and works with the 16-18 year old boys (young men really) in our church and they hold a very special place in Kevin’s heart. With friends, and parents, and leaders, of those youth wanting their own bands, a second order for 400 more was quickly placed and slowly received, literally, on a slow boat from China.  The reach of the “Hope for Hegewald” bands has been amazing.  I catch glimpses of blue and green on the wrists of church friends, neighbors, hospital coworkers, school class friends, Vista del Mar staff members and teachers, soccer friends, dear friends, friends we didn’t know were our friends. We sent bands to parents, siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews.  I doubt Kelly knew what the effects would be of such a band. It definitely is an outward expression of support, unity, and faith in hope.  What she probably doesn’t know is it became an amazing conduit to opening up discussions for my children during those first awkward weeks of Kevin’s diagnosis.  When asked about the band, they were able to say, “it says Hope for Hegewald - because my dad has cancer.”  It’s an awful thing to say, but it’s a much more awful thing to keep inside and not say at all.  Kelly, I am forever grateful.  It has been my constant companion for the past 5 1/2 months.

Now here’s my discovery:

I have become a student of Hope.  I figured if I was wearing it, I’d better understand it.  Bruce R. McConkie states, “Hope is the desire of faithful people to gain eternal salvation in the kingdom of God hereafter.  It is not a flimsy, ethereal desire, one without assurance that the desired consummation will be received, but a desire coupled with full expectation of receiving the coveted reward.”  What?@!  All of the sudden these “Hope for Hegewald” bands took on new meaning . . .what exactly were we hoping for here?  There have been 1,000 of Kevin’s best friends wearing “Hope for Hegewald” bands, who like me, have been hoping for a lot of things - peace, comfort, understanding, a miracle.   Did we inadvertently petition the Lord for something even greater than these? . .the “coveted reward” of  eternal life? The prophet Mormon states, “And what is it that ye shall hope for?  Behold I say unto you that ye shall have hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise.” (Moroni 7:41) I know that Kevin is one step closer to receiving eternal life. He was righteous, he was obedient, he was faithful, he endured to the end.

So, what are you going to do with your “Hope for Hegewald” band?  It would be ok to take it off and tuck it in a drawer.  Then one day when you stumble upon it you will be reminded of the part you played in helping Kevin achieve life’s greatest hope.  As for me?  I’m keeping mine on.  It reminds me of the AMAZING love and support of friends; and when my own time comes to return home,  I can only hope that I have as many friends petitioning on my behalf that I, too, am deserving of HOPE.