Breathe, Balance, and Joy

I'm at my parents' house for the holidays. The change of scenery has been good, especially now when it's hard to not think about what was happening at this time last year. I've been spending lots of time with family and old friends. I've already seen 22 children--cousins' kids, niece and nephews, friends' kids. So many kids!

It's been pouring rain pretty much every day in Southern California, but today the sun is finally out and I took a walk in my parents' backyard. Where Greg and I were married.

This song popped in my head:




Greg used this song when he proposed to me. I haven't listened to it in a while. The lyrics have taken on a different meaning.

So many memories. It's hard to believe it's been a year since he was taken from me.

I do hope he's a peace and not haunting me. I've been at peace myself, overall. No magical thinking for me--at least, not after the first few months.

Here are a few things I'd like to share, ways I've been able to honor Greg this past year.

On what would have been our wedding anniversary, I got a tattoo in his honor:

If you notice the necklace I'm wearing, it was a gift from my friend Rose. It's a necklace in the shape of Iowa, with the geographic coordinates of where Greg is buried.

It was such a touching gift, and I wear the necklace almost every day.

Speaking of touching gifts, my company, Hachette Book Group, who has been so supportive, gave me the gift of a paving stone in Central Park, where Greg and I were engaged, and spent a lot of time together going on walks during the summer he was first getting chemo.

It's on one of the bridges to the reservoir, around 85th Street on the East side. Go see it if you're in Central Park.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I decided to have Greg's ties made into a bereavement quilt. He had a lot of ties! He wore them to teach.

I found Rosie Rhine online, and will say that she does beautiful work:

I'm going to hang it in my new condo. (Did I mention I'm a homeowner now?!)

Right after my closing with my keys!

moving in

Oh, and I ran the NYC marathon! I do still intend to blog about it (I got a little derailed by the election results--more grieving!), but for now, here are a few photos:

Alvina's Team for Greg raised over $26,000 for cancer research! Thank you to all who donated.

Alvina's Team for Greg! Clockwise from left: Kate, Ellen, Kirk, Jackson, Frank, and me.

photo by Mariko Nakatani

(By the way, I'm considering running again next year, so let me know if you're interested in joining my team!)

It's been a challenging, but rewarding, and amazing year. A year filled with lots of tears, and laughter, a few breakdowns, incredible stress, work challenges and triumphs, therapy, new friends, old friends, family, travel, great food and drink, adventure, and love. Despite everything, I do feel that I have a blessed life. I wish Greg were still here to share it with me, but I know he's rooting for me.

When I packed and unpacked, I did unearth many more memories of Greg. He used to leave me notes everywhere. Here is one of my favorites:

My mantras this year were imprinted on my rings. Breathe, Balance, and Joy.

I've ordered three new rings for next year. New year, new mantra.

Wishing you all a happy holiday season, and a peaceful and joyful new year.

A month

It's been four weeks and two days since my husband died.

I know this year will be full of milestones that I won't be able to help but notice. One day. One week. One month. Tomorrow would have been Greg's 41st birthday.

I'm doing okay. I'm okay. A month feels both so long and so short. It passed in a daze. The pain isn't as raw now, but I still feel a little a bit in a fog, on autopilot, like I'm living someone else's life. Beauty helps a lot--the beauty of nature, the city, flowers, children, music, snow. In the past few years, while dealing with Greg's illness, because I didn't know what kind of future to plan for, I tried to focus on being present, on noticing the beauty of the world, and that habit has helped enormously these past few weeks.

For the most part, I'm doing okay. (Did I say that already?) I'm living a normal(ish) life. I see friends, I'm cleaning and organizing the apartment, I'm cuddling with Venus. I'm able to enjoy food and drink and company, TV and movies and music, I can laugh and sing and dance, and I can sleep. For the most part I can think of Greg without feeling sad. Remember moments and stories, talk about him without crying. And then other times I just feel irritated constantly that this is our my life, that he is gone, and everything makes me feel like crying.

We had a lovely memorial with our friends in our apartment in Brooklyn on New Year's Day. I spent a healing two weeks in southern CA, seeing friends and family and spending lots of time with children. In the middle was Greg's burial with his mother, sister, and extended family in beautiful Iowa. I feel good about his final resting place.

I'm planning to start working again tomorrow--I've completely checked out of work, and I'm thankful that my wonderful colleagues understand. I'll work at home for a few days, and then plan to go into the office for the first time on Wednesday. I can't say I'm ready to go back, but I'm not not ready either. I needed to just set the date, do it, and see how it goes. I think the routine will be good for me.

I wanted to say thank you--thank you to family, my friends, Greg's friends, our friends. Thank you to loved ones, acquaintances, to the publishing and kidlit community, to strangers. Thank you for your comments, your messages, emails, cards, letters, phone calls, donations for cancer research, stories, flowers, gifts, thoughts, prayers, help, and kindness.

Here are a few photos from the last month.

From Greg's copy of The Plague.

me and Grace Lin on New Year's Eve

mom and niece

niece Jessie. Lots of "kid therapy" in CA.

Greg's favorite tractor. In Harlan, Iowa.

me with Greg's mother and sister.

hiking with my dad

Lot of time and love with my niece Shoshana

A snowy night in Brooklyn

This is one of the songs Greg put on my mix that has been especially comforting. "You'll Never Walk Alone" by Gerry & The Pacemakers (and yes, he knew this from football/soccer, but it's still such a beautiful song):