Stories of Hotchie

One of my all-time favorite stories of my dad is actually one I wasn't there for, but perfectly illustrates the #relationshipgoals I got from my parents. My dad was diagnosed with terminal stage 4 stomach cancer in June 1999. He lived 10 months with this horrible disease. Despite the severity of his disease and the battle he faced, my dad and his crazy driving antics never faded. 

We nicknamed my dad Cruella De Vil based on her driving scene in 101 Dalmatians. He never drove with his hands (he learned this when he served in Vietnam and drove tanks with his legs and shot guns out of the top because he was so tall). He was always looking around and pointing out things going on around you, speeding, switching lanes without looking, he was nuts. 

One time during his 10 month battle, he drove my mom and friends Mr. Chris and Ms. Beth (I was raised in the South and you show respect by calling adults Mr. And Ms.) to the Atlanta airport. If you've ever been to Atlanta and have had to drive to the airport, you know how much it sucks. I don't care what people say, Atlanta has the worst traffic ever. This is how the story goes...

My dad drove his 1994 Grand Marquis boat (with no power steering and terrible horse power) through downtown Atlanta like a maniac. Everyone in the car was scared because he was driving the whole way down by speeding up, slamming on brakes, switching lanes without looking, being the typical terrible driver he could be. My mom, Mr. Chris and Ms. Beth all periodically throughout the drive told him to slow down, calm down, etc. 

And, finally my mom looks at my dad and says,"Hey asshole! We all know you're dying, but the rest of us aren't. Slow down." 

Boom. My mom delivered the ultimate line. I still chuckle thinking of it, and every time they tell the story, I laugh out loud so hard. My mom was the only person who could stop Hotchie right in his tracks. This story perfectly fits their relationship and is how I learned what love is all about. The good, the bad and the absolute funny. 

10 Tips on How to Survive Grief from Someone Surviving Grief

I recently came across a Buzzfeed article featuring a cancer survivors business for empathy cards that speak the truth people want to say and hear during their fight. 

It made me think about so many thoughts about my dad, losing him and all the recent friends who have lost loved ones.

When I scroll through Facebook and see someone's post about losing someone close to them, I get this horrible gut-wrenching sorrow for them. Why is my feeling different than all the people outpouring their condolences on the post? Because I've been there. The moment your whole world stops. There is nothing worse. I want to tell them so many things, but when it's someone you haven't talked to in nearly 10 years, where do you start?

You start by sharing what you know. Here are my words of "wisdom" from one survivor of tragedy to someone just putting on the shoes to walk the journey of grief.

1. Grief is messy. Period. Trying to be "strong" and "fine" will not help you. Fall apart, be mad, cry, laugh, do it all. Only when you go through all the emotions, can you start to heal.

2. Time helps. I don't remember much about the funerals or the hospital. My brain has helped me not remember those parts because it's too painful. Through all the losses of my life one thing I've known is to give things a year. There is something about a year. The pain doesn't go away, ever, but life balances out more. New routines are established, and a new normal exists. Just know with time, comes more peace.

3. Nights are eerily quiet. I wouldn't sleep in my room for nearly a year after my dad passed. Later in my twenties, when I was all by myself in my apartment, hundreds of miles from my mom for the first time in my life, I couldn't shut out the fear. I eventually found the best thing to help me fall asleep: audiobooks. The Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum books saved my life! Audiobooks helped me drown out the complete quietness. They were monotone enough to fall asleep to, but they had enough noise to distract my thoughts. Seriously, download an audiobook.

4. Panic attacks are normal. I didn't properly grieve. I was a teenager who jumped right back in to life, and never slowed down for seven years. Between high school and college, I bypassed most of the stages of grief. They hit me like a ton of bricks when I moved to Ohio at 23-years-old. I couldn't hop in the car and be with my mom. I was living completely alone. Outside of my cousins, I knew no one in this new city. So my body went into panic mode. My stomach would get queasy. This warm, tingly feeling would start in my head and go all the way to my feet in seconds. My heart would beat so fast, and all of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. After six months of tests, an endoscopy, and many doctor visits, my nurse practitioner said I was suffering from panic attacks. Which, by the way, are apparently very common in young women. Who knew? This leads to point number five...

5. Take the meds you need to balance out. You've suffered a tragedy. You're body and mind are out of whack. I went on an anti-depressant. It made the neurotransmitters start firing correctly again. It helped me learn how to manage and control my panic attacks. I also found that having a few Xanax pills by my bed made me more calm. I never took them except when I couldn't calm myself down from a panic attack through my breathing technique. I found that counting to five as I was breathing in and out would help me calm down. There is no need to be ashamed of needing something to help you. By speaking out about it, I found I knew so many people who used them too.

6. Read "A Grace Disguised." This book is SO helpful for anyone going through a loss. My favorite point he makes in the book is, no matter what the loss is someone is experiencing, it's a loss. A break up, divorce, death, it doesn't matter, it's all loss. Make sure you read it.

7. Write down your memories...now. It's so painful to do this one. You want to run away and escape the reality. However, memories fade. I have the hardest time remembering all the stories of my dad. 15 years later, all I want is to remember everything about him. Make a memory box. Put in all the cards and memos you get during the loss, pictures, cards from the person, anything that keeps their memory alive, put it in there. As humans, materialistic things that belonged to the person help us heal.

• Also, make a scrapbook when you're ready. It's incredibly therapeutic. I made one for the 10th anniversary. I look at it all the time, and it is my most prized possession.  

8. Ask for help. Tell people what you need them to do. Most people have no idea what to say or do, but they want to be there for you. If you need something to eat, or you just need them to sit there with you so you don't have to be alone...ask. Trust me, they want to be there for you.

9. Don't let anyone dictate how long it takes to go through the stages of grief. "It's been a year, get it over it." If you hear this one, tell that person to kiss it. Who are they to tell you how long it takes to get over the loss? I will NEVER get over losing my dad. Do what is best for you, and don't worry what others think about how you're handling your grief.

10. Grieve the person any day or time you need to. Yes, the dates (birthday, anniversary, holidays, etc.) are awful and sad, but when you need a moment to break down, do it! If a song comes on, a butterfly is near, the clouds break and you get a glimpse in to the heavens, remember that person then and there.

Make sure you tell their stories, keep their memory alive. You will find a way to navigate through life without them here, but you will be forever different. Accepting this will be so helpful.

Again just remember, grief is messy. Period.

15 Years

As I sat in bed at 4 a.m. today with my baby who woke up from the thunderstorm, it hit me, that exact moment 15 years earlier, I was in the hospital with dad as he was taking his last few breaths. It seemed so unrealistic to think how the little girl I was then handled such a big, drastic moment.

My favorite picture of my dad and me.

That whole day is a blur minus just a few moments. I remember the moment it happened, the nurses coming in, and how his whole body changed colors once the blood stopped pumping. How I got to the lobby to see my friend Lori who was on her way home in the wee hours, I don't remember. My only other memory of the entire day that changed my life forever is going through the Burger King drive-thru with my dad's friend, Rick. I needed breakfast. Such a normal thing that just a few weeks before I was doing with my dad, I realized in that moment I would never do that simple thing ever again with my dad. I almost felt guilty that I was already moving on. The way you process things at 16 is very different from how I would have felt if it happened now at 31.

When I was living through the loss, it was hard to imagine that I would get to this moment. It seems life will never go back to "normal." What I discovered is that it is a new normal. I think about my dad almost everyday. And the way my daughter sometimes stares up makes me wonder if he is visiting her. He is the reason I am here, which is the reason Charlotte is here. It is so special and amazing. Just a few weeks ago, we stopped in Canton on our way home from Cleveland and I took her to meet her grandpa. She played with the grass and I had to snap a memory of this special moment.

To me it meant life had come full circle. All those worries and tears led me to the life I have today with my amazing husband (that I know dad hand picked for me from heaven) and beautiful daughter.

As I grieve today, I also know that he made this life I have possible. For that, I am eternally grateful. I miss you daddy and love you so much. Until we meet again...

Celebrating His Memory

When we got married nearly three years ago, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to honor my dad's memory.  How do you fill the shoes of such a big personality? You want to honor and remember them, but you don't want the moment to rain on the parade of such a happy time. Also, as sad as the moment was for me to not have my dad walk me down the aisle or dance with me, I didn't want it to be a continuous shrine to my late father. As big as the loss was, I didn't want to take away from the losses Casey had or depress the mood of the party.

So, I wanted my dad to be there as I walked down the aisle. We came up with an idea to release 12 white balloons as I came down. My cousin, Lauri, told everyone the plan while waiting on the bridal party to arrive. I had friends and family who knew my dad hold and release each balloon as I walked past them. It was so special and I really feel like he was walking with my mom and I.

At the reception, we had a memory table set up with pictures of all the loved ones we had lost and scrapbooks of our childhoods set out.  We also lit a candle that said, "For those we have loved and lost along the way, a flame to remember them burns here today."

And, we also had Casey and his mom dance beside my mom and me. Though, the best moment of all, was having my dad's brother, Paul, dance with me. It was simply amazing. I really feel all of these gestures honored the memory of my dad and our grandparents at our wedding.

Now, I will leave this post with this picture. You cannot tell me we didn't have angels watching over our special day with a beautiful sunset like this behind us.

Revival

It's been a few years since my last blog. Ok, four years actually, but who is counting? So much life has happened in those few short years! We got married (hello, Mrs. Ackerman!), I switched jobs, joined the 30 and over club, bought a house, bought two new cars, had a BaBy and added a new puppy! It's been a lot, to say the least. So many happy memories have filled my heart. Yet, lately, I've come to realize that in a month 15 years will have passed since my dad left. 

When we found out he was sick I was 15-years-old. It hit me, I've literally lived an entire life since my dad got sick. For as many years as he was on this earth with me, he has been gone the same amount. And, since most of my memories are that of a child, I can't seem to remember him the way I used. The stories are fading, and so are the people in my life that knew him (and the old me). All the steps of grief have come back, except for denial, I know he's gone. Mostly, I've been in an anger rut. A continuous, "why me?" 

I feel a lot of this stemmed from the birth of our daughter, Charlotte, this past June. She is growing up in a world without him. And to me, it seems completely unfair to her. I've accepted that it is my life story, but I cannot get past the resentment I feel for her loss. She never even got a chance to know him (unless she sees him, in a way I can't. I know kids have a way of seeing those who have passed that as adults, we simply cannot.).

My cousin, Molly, gave me such a great help with this "why me?" recently. She told me she believes God has this deck of cards full of bad situations that he has to hand out. When he saw the deal my family received, she believes he knew we were the only family strong enough to come through this, and still be good people. It was simply amazing, and just what I needed to hear. She said she believes the reason "bad things happen to good people" is because God knows they will still be good people after the bad thing happens. 

So, last night I got this feeling, and I couldn't fall asleep. I've been trying to figure out for all these years why this happened, and I knew a part of it was to get to this exact point. I needed to revive this blog and share my story. So, here we go...

Hotchie's Daughter

Hotchie's Daughter might seem like an interesting title for the blog, but for those who know me knows that it holds a dear sentiment. I lost my dad at 16 to stomach cancer. You could say that it was the moment that changed me forever. He was my the first man to teach me everything. He was full of life, and was always willing to share his philosophy on everything about life.

He earned the nickname Hotchie as a child. He played softball all his life, until he was too frail to do it anymore. It all began on the softball fields in Richville with his brothers. They're still there today, and I pass them every time I visit my Grandma Quinn's house. As the story goes, he was trying to say "Watch it!" -- but he couldn't pronounce his "W's" correctly, so it came out "Hotch it!" The rest was history, as people say, and he was always known as Hotchie.

Throughout my life, even since his death, I am introduced to people around his hometown of Canton, Ohio as Hotchie's daughter. Naming the blog after him is just one way for me to keep a part of him alive.

Death played an important part of my life from when I was 12 - 18 years old as every two years someone I was close to passed away. I lost three Grandparents and close family friends all in that short time frame. What I have taken from all of it is that life is short, and I make it a point to spend as much time with my friends and family as I can. I still am trying to deal with all of it, as I feel I didn't really do that very much at the time. It is really tough, and knowing that in April it will be ten years since I lost the most influential man in my life, I am trying to find ways to share my story with others.

I know now that it is ok to admit that you never truly heal from a loss of that magnitude, and it is a process to move on from it. I am sure that many more posts about him will be prevalent on this blog because he had such an important impact on me.

For Hotchie -- always loving and missing you!