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It’s been a rough few weeks for me.

I miss Mona tremendously. It hasn’t got any better…in fact it’s amplified. The loss has somehow become “larger” as the numbness of the loss wears off and life moves on.

I started several posts but was unable to finish most as they just kinda meandered and went nowhere.  And while that might be therapeutic in a way, it just seems like just a venting of random  things, not meaningful, and not really worth the time to put into a written form.

So it’s been quiet here. Not because of lack of thought, just because I haven’t been able to sort things out in my head to put things in writing.

Right now I’m in the middle of the “writing season” for me. Where I get to feed my artistic side and somewhat recharge my battery (while simultaneously depleting it…it’s complicated…maybe I’ll explain it sometime) through creation.

And it struck me…

I wouldn’t be doing any of this if it wasn’t for Mona.

She dragged me (LITERALLY) to a marching band practice almost 20 years ago now to just come hang out with her and watch her teach the colorguard and Independence High School.

Fast forward a few years and I was running the box and working with some of the best people I’ve ever met in my life.

I got to flex my creative side and learn how to write drill and then eventually staging for guard and have been exposed to so many amazing perfomers and fellow instructors, judges, and truly fine human beings through this thing.

And it was because she saw and KNEW it was something that I would truly love. She saw the passion there.

And now she’s gone.

It feels unfair to me. Like she bought the lottery ticket but somehow I’m the one that gets to  keep the money after winning.

It’s been a very hard challenge for me this season because I second guess EVERYTHING I write, and marching band is HARD because you have to temper the ability level and keep things POSSIBLE for the performers with your creativity.

Everything is measured and weighted.

Mona used to be my second set of eyes reassuring me that things would work. That a certain moment was really cool and had lots of potential…or wouldn’t work because of an equipment change….or reminding me of some idea I had casually mentioned to her on a car ride 2 years ago and she was actually listening to me babble…

“Remember that idea you had? I think that would work in this part don’t you?”

A true partner who had my back. And made me feel like I could actually DO this thing and not screw it up for everyone.

I miss that extra voice being constantly there. Being able to call over to the other room and have her roll her eyes and say…

“YES RYAN, it’s FINE..it looks GREAT….”

Or when I really got something right…

“Wow hon that’s really cool.”

I miss it very very much. It highlights the loss of Mona in yet another way that I wasn’t expecting.

And then I realize that this is just a small sliver of how she did that for me in everyday life. How her words of encouragement extended far beyond just pageantry, but to me as a dad, as a caregiver, as a man.

I feel I might have taken that for granted. And it crushes me to think of that.

Did she know how much I appreciate that?

Did she know that she gave me that gift of confidence?

I like to think she did.

I’m pretty sure she did.

I’d give anything to be able to hug her and tell her “thank you” for that gift right this moment.

So I try to sit here in silence and visualize Mona telling me these things. I don’t know if it’s healthy. I don’t care.

It helps.

I’ll take anything that does at this point.

It’s been a weird thing for me that since the day that Mona passed I haven’t been able to really see her face in my mind.

I get glimpses of it…like something you see out of the corner of your eye…but not clear. Like a will-o-wisp that taunts you and makes you think you’re seeing things.

It’s actually been quite frustrating and a point of sadness for me because it’s one of those old tropes you read in books and hear in movies about not being able to hear loved one’s voices, or forgetting their faces over time.

Pictures are one thing, but memories are another…and even my memories have had Monas face blurred and unclear.

I’ve tried to figure out what this is. Is it my mind protecting me? Or my heart?

Today that changed for me in the oddest way.

Miriya has this water toy that she got at a friends birthday party. It’s a simple device…you pull a knob back and it sucks water into a chamber and you push it and it shoots water out. Fun times.

Well, Miriya has had it in my car for weeks and on our way home from the dance concert tonight she had it pressed under her chin and was pulling back on the knob making it suck on her face.

I told her…

“If you keep doing that it’s going to give you a hickie!”

I then had to explain to my 11-year-old daughter what a hickie was.

I just went for it and told her the truth.

Hickies come from lying to your dad and not going to bed on time.

She didn’t go for that so I told her a neutered down version of the truth and warned her that I could see hickies through clothing. It’s a special power that dads have.

She might have bought that.

Anyways, Miriya pulled the toy off of her face and as I thought there was a small purple welt under her chin where it had created the tiny little bruise from the suction.

I told her “SEE LOOK!” ..and she saw it in the mirror in the car and promptly started to freak out. So much that when we went to Chipotle for dinner she was covering it with her hair.

Over the course of the evening apparently, she forgot about it (and so did I).

She came into my room to ask me a question about something and I immediately noticed it had quadrupled in size (now about the size of a quarter from the size of a pea) and started laughing…

And that’s when it hit me…

A huge flash of Monas face…clear…healthy….laughing….and her voice saying

“Oh my god girl…what did you do to your face???!?!?”

Followed by the huge laugh that Mona would have when something truly amused her…her eyes wrinkling and her smile…so clear…

And I just laughed with Miriya and told her how much I wish her Mom was here because she would have laughed so hard at this…we both would have….

And then out of my hilarious laughter, the sadness came. A different strength and angle from the laughter…maybe not as strong…but it tried to ruin that moment for me.  Trying to sucker punch me as I was distracted.

And Miri laughed with me.

It tried to taint that true moment of joy.

And it lost for a moment. I dodged the full punch initially.

I’ve never felt such intense emotions so close to each other in such a short period of time.

I pushed back and just kept laughing and seeing Monas face through my tears. Laughing and thinking of how funny it would be to be able to tell her…

“Remember that time that Miriya put the water toy on her chin?”

But that Memory won’t be shared with her. It was just between Miri and I.

When she left, the sadness lingered after the joy was gone.

The punch had landed after all, I just didn’t feel it until after.

Mona’s face has become blurry again as I try to recall it, as it has been.
But it was clear for those few moments.

A gift.

A shred of hope.

I gladly pay the price with the tears I have in my eyes as I write this. With the ache in my heart. With the doubt I continue to hold as to how I do this. How I continue.

A memory I will treasure.

It’s tradition for Filipino Catholics to hold mass and celebrate on the 40th day after a loved one passes.

This is said to mirror the time that Jesus spent after his resurrection with his disciples before he returned to his father.

So today we had the 40th day mass at the house here.

It was interesting because it was partially in Illicano (A filipino dialect) and partially in English.  And while I didn’t understand every single word I did understand the intent of it all.

The father who presided over the mass was also the one who anointed Mona with the Blessing of the Sick…and it was comforting to see him again. He did such a wonderful job when he came those months ago.

The father shared a story of his childhood with us that resounded with me so massively.

He spoke about how when he was young he always asked his mother questions….and one of the questions he asked was when looking at gravestones there would be the Birthdate and the Death date on the tombstone with a – in between those dates.

He asked his mother what the “-” meant….

His mother told him that while most people focus on the dates, the most important part was the “-“.

When he asked why, she explained to him that it was because the – represents the LIFE of the person between those two dates.

It’s the culmination of what they did while here with us amongst the living.

I will never look at a – the same ever again…for it’s true. That tiny little mark is indeed the summary tucked between numbers or letters.

He then looked at me and said Monas – must have been amazing…because the amount of people he saw at her services when he came to them was staggering.

And that’s our job…to affect one another. To hold each other up and pass on the good that we know.

I miss you Mona. Incredibly.

11/2/74 – 6/8/17

I’m not altogether sure how to start this thing.

It’s been said it’s best to start at the beginning…but that’s a lot to cover in a single shot here…so I’ll start in the now…

Today is 39 days from the day that my wife Monalisa Schlieper left this plane of existence…planet…mortal coil…or however you choose to define what exactly our physical presence IS in the “real”.

It’s been 39 days of ups and downs.

39 days of moments of gratitude contrasting with absolutely unbearable episodes of despair, regret, guilt, and doubt.

This battle is really about my cognitive and my emotional states beating each other into submission.

The cognitive knows that we did everything we could. We had amazing treatment. We had amazing results. We had a lot more time than many people in the same situation had.  We didn’t make mistakes. I know that…in my heart of hearts I know that…and yet my heart is betrayed by the emotions that bubble to the surface…

What if we had tried some other treatments?

Why did you lose your temper that one day?

Why weren’t you around even more than you already were?

Why did you fail Ryan?

Why couldn’t you save your wife?

Why couldn’t you take her place?

Why weren’t you stronger for her?

Each one of those thoughts razer sharp and narrow, easily sliding through the joints of my cognitive armor cutting the exposed raw emotions underneath allowing doubt to ooze out and fester…turning to guilt…..

Guilt for being the one left here.

Guilt for being the one that gets to “go on”.

Guilt for being the lone parent to the daughter we created and brought into this world together.

Guilt for the one that has a chance to pursue those goals WE set together…that now seem unattainable.

And do I even want to attain them without her by my side?

Do I even have a right to?

And the battle swings again as thoughts of what she would tell me if she were here come into focus…

You didn’t fail Ryan.

You heard the nurses…you were amazing.

You heard the doctors…this wasn’t something that could be beaten in the end. We were buying time. We were buying memories. We were taught that the future is not certain and that moments are truly what mattered.

You heard the people as you became my ears when I couldn’t hear anymore…my hands when I couldn’t use my fingers well anymore…my voice when speaking was simply too much for me to bear.

You know this you dumbass. You’re so stubborn you just can’t see it. You won’t allow yourself to feel it because you feel you failed me…but you didn’t…I told you this time and time again…

You gave me a daughter. You showed me love and never left my side. You were the knight by my side and never my squire that you always said you were.

This was your fight as much as mine. And now it is yours and our daughters.

You have to go on now for both of us.

You can. I believe in you. You’re stronger than you know.

….

She believed in me.

When I had no belief in myself.

She valued me.

She forced me to value myself.

She made me see the world through drastically different eyes.

I don’t know if I can do this without that constant belief being reinforced with her voice.

But I do know I have to move on…I can’t stay here.

Here is impossible.

Here is unbearable.

Here is relentless.

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how I CAN do this.

I don’t know WHERE I’m going.

So for now…

It’s wherever from here.