2009 July « Tra and Glenn Make Ten.

Drizzle

Life is full of ups and downs, but the downs are much more intense. I liken it to weather. If you think back to some of the nicest weather you have ever experienced; likely it was warm, sunny, and if you are like me, it was on or near water. Nice, pleasant memories. Now think back to the worst weather you have been in. I am willing to bet it is a much more intense memory, rain, wind, lightning; I bet you can still hear it, smell it, perhaps taste it, but definitely re-live it, and if you are like me, likely it was on water which makes it much much much worse. I bet if you think about it long enough, you will feel your heart pitter a little.

It is my observation life is the same. I can think back to the highs of my life, the good weather, and there has been a lot of it. When I think back to the storms, there have not been nearly as many of them, but they have affected me much more adversly. They have left life long impressions on my mind, heart and soul. Today was one of those storms, and this my friends was a catergory five, one of the top five of my life, and I would venture the same for Tra. Today at 5 pm we drove to the gas station 1 mile from our house, like we have for years. Poignent to the day, it was raining, not a hard rain, but a consistant drizzle, the worst kind. There we met the man that was to take our daughter away from us forever.

The day was Sunday the 19th of July 2009, a day that is now forever seared in my heart. I should have known when I walked out to start my car and it was dead, and the van was dead, with the jumper cables already at church with Tra. Apparently an air-soft battle the night prior had resulted in the cars being used for shelter, with the windows rolled down and the keys left on all night. An hour later I was finally able to get my hands on some cables and got the cars running. I knew it would be an emotional day. I had felt from the time I got out of bed that my head was in a fog; sounds were distant, thoughts unclear, numb and trying not to think about 5 pm.

In church, Pastor Steve called us forward to pray for our family, which pretty much emptied all our tanks and the tanks of all those praying for us. It was a strong, deep emotional time. In some small way, it was reassuring, but it did not take away the inevitable pain, it just unleashed it outwardly manifesting itself on our entire family.

The afternoon was spent with Jo time, coloring, building a rabbit, playing with a rabbit, eating bad food, crying, praying and much more crying. Then faster than a speeding bullet, it was 4:45. Tracy worked to finish packing Jo’s box, partially filling it with the salt from here tears. Our intent was to meet at the same gas station we always had, in two cars then off to church.

In my heart I prayed that his beat up old red GMC would not be there, but soon I knew that was not the case, and my heart and hopes sank. I pulled in, not making eye contact, me and my boys. Soon after Tra and the girls pulled in behind me. I knew I was on the edge of a breakdown, I could feel it in my stomach, knots, butterflies, vomit, pain, it was all there. As I walked back to her car I grabbed the blue tote full of Jo’s memories from our house. As I handed them to the man I said “here is her stuff” some of the last words I was able to utter. When I turned around around, Jo was locked around Tra’s neck, small tears flowing from here eyes, and sobs from Tra’s, I was soon to follow. Then it was my turn, and as she locked around me I could feel my strength releasing. I could see she was not nearly as troubled to leave me as she was her mom, but still visibly upset. As I gave her back to Tra, I fought back the tears, clenching my jaw and clearing my throat. I had talked to the man already explaining the huge responsibility he was now taking on his shoulders. I had more I wanted to say. I had big plans, perhaps one of my greatest speeches ever, filled with words of wisdom that would cause him to change his mind. But as I looked at Jo, now crying in his arms, the only thing that came out of my mouth was a moan. I ran back to my car not looking here nor there, managing to get out “you better take good care of her, bye I love you Jo”. Then I sat in my car in front of my boys and sobbed.

It was over, a day that I prayed would never come, and prayed hard. A day that dozens had prayed would never come, but it had. I felt anger, ready to punch a hole through a wall, but I don’t like doing sheet rock work, I felt betrayal, why had it come to this? It makes no earthly sense. I felt loss, loss of a child, loss of a loved one. I felt fear, fear for her and her life, but most of all I felt pain. Pain that she will always think we abandoned her, that we didn’t want her, that she was never “ours”. Pain of all the memories that we had yet to make, all the growth we had yet to see, and the vision of what God had planned for her. Pain for Tra, Pain for my kids Pain for me, but mostly Pain for Jo.

That was yesterday, and the pain remains. I imagine with time the pain will subside. But we will still pray, day and night for Jo, we will be thankful for the great weather we have had with her, her three birthday parties, our trip to Orlando, picnics, fishing on the boat, picking berries,tea parties, building bears, Christmas’s, sledding and so much more. But we will never be able to forget the storm we have just experienced. Do we still have hope? Yes. Do we still have faith? Yes, but probably not as much as we should. As I look out my window I see the drizzle still falling and I know the worst thing about this type of rain is that unlike a torrential down pour, it tends to last for a long time.

July 20, 2009 | Categories: blog, Family, JoJean, Kids | Tags: adoption, Jo, JoJean, large families | 2 Comments »

Wi Filess

We have been without Internet for a week. Therefore, I have not been able to update the blog. We still have no Internet, well I guess that’s not 100% true. We have my wireless card that gives us very minimal Internet, and of course we have our iphones.

So now a quick update. Grandpa’s funeral went very well, as well as a funeral can go. The weather was beautiful, the service was great, and we got to see some long lost family. The bad part; Jo was very sick, sick enough that she threw up no less than a dozen times and gave me a reason to take my sport jacket off. The reason, well let’s just say it was the opposite of vomit and it ended up on my nice jacket. We eventually had to take her to the emergency room on Sunday night, the night she was supposed to go back to Jerry’s house. Instead, she stayed in the ER until about 2:30 and came home with Tra. Needless to say it was a rough night, imprinting an everlasting memory on our minds. Now we are in the final weekend with Jo, but we are still believing for a miracle, and if it doesn’t happen, we will trust that things are as the Lord wants them. Tomorrow we are having an early birthday bash for Jo, and I can’t wait. We pray for good weather and great times with friends. I will have several normal blogs soon with pictures and everything, just as soon as we get some wi-fi back in da house!

We are extremely grateful for your prayers!

July 17, 2009 | Categories: blog, Family, JoJean | Tags: funeral, grandpa, Jo, JoJean, josi, update | Leave A Comment »

My favorite story teller

I need to vent, and when I vent I usually like to write. So you all get to be the brunt of my vent.

First, this week we heard from OCS ( for the first time in forever) that Jo will be leaving us forever on July 19. This news came out of the blue and kind of took the wind out of our sails to start the week. If you don’t know, Jo has been our child since before her first birthday. In a couple weeks it will be her fourth birthday. Now they tell us she will no longer be our child. As you can imagine this has been an emotional nightmare for our entire family. We have been praying and praying and praying more for Jo to be with us, and right now we are in the 12th hour and barring a miracle, it does not look good. The last few years, our time with Jo has been an emotional bungee jump. I will not go into everything as I have bore my heart about her several times on this blog: That\’s what I (don\’t) love about Sunday & the one that started it all… At what cost. If you want to read the whole series, just click on JoJean in the category cloud to the right. Needless to say this has been like ripping our hearts out of our chest, and frankly I have been numb all week. Yet we have no choice but to be strong because we have 7 other kids that need us.

Then today at 3:05 Tracy calls me at work to let me know that my Grandpa just died. What? Is this some kind of joke? Now I must point out that my Grandpa has not been well for a while, but he was one tough hombre and every time we thought he may not make it, he pulled through and was sometimes better than before. Nonetheless, it hurts, and it hurts bad. I feel for my mom, my aunts and uncle and very much so for my Grandma, and for our family. I spent a lot of time with my Grandpa growing up. He taught me so much without trying. He taught me work ethic, perseverance, strength, fire and desire, he was instrumental in teaching me how to be a man. Something that a lot of this society now lacks. He didn’t set out to “teach” me these lessons, he was just himself.

I commercial fished with Grandpa since I was about 5 years old. I spent all my summers on boats out of Kodiak, and I took my first steps on one of his boats. I have so many memories, some hard, some bad, some tiring, but many great memories that are almost surreal. He showed me how to work a seine, how to drive a skiff, how to dig claims and fish for halibut. He showed me how to shoot deer, catch shrimp, carve, and much to my Grandma’s horror, how to chew snuff. I remember he used to smell like skoal and coffee as I sat on his lap on the flying bridge of his boat, just me and him traveling along somewhere away from anywhere, and I would revel in the smell. That smell was my Grandpa. It was with him I caught my first king salmon, my first halibut, drove my first boat, learned how to play cribbage and pinochle, all before the age of 10. All these things he did not set out to have me experience, I was just there, part of his life, and he was happy to have me there.

I have heard few better story tellers than my Grandpa. I am sure over the 10 or so summers I spent with him I heard all of his stories, and I would beg him over and over to tell me again. They were bigger than life, but all true. The details, until the day he died, they never changed, the names they were always the same. He could recall to the pound how much crab he had on board when it was rough that the waves took out his window. He could recall how much he got paid for loads of crab, and how he would get on Fish & Game’s case because they were wiping out the fishery. He could recall the looks on the face of the men in his stories, the crate of eggs the sea sick deckhnad sat on as Grandpa ate an egg sandwich in front of him for spite. And almost every story ended with laugh as he looked up into the sky, his piercing trademark blue eyes glistening with a slight tear; his mind back in his younger years and the multitude of adventures he had as a pioneer of the commercial fishery in this state. And I would be sitting on his lap or at his feet with smile as big as his in awe and wonder of such a man of strength and adventure.

I can probably write a book about my adventures with Grandpa & Grandma Gugel, but this is a blog not a book. Grandpa thank you for the stories, thank you for the lessons, thank you for the skills, thank you for the patience ( all though short at times, he was part German after all as he frequently reminded me) and all the experiences. But most of all thank you for being you and helping me to be the man I am today. You will always be a huge part of who I am and who I become and who my children become. You have left a great legacy. I know you are with God now telling him about the time you ate the maggot infested salmon; finishing, as always with ” and you know Glenn, that was the best smoked salmon we ever had”.

Grandpa, Jo and Glenn this past December

July 8, 2009 | Categories: Alaska, Family, Fishing, Traditions | Tags: adoption, bad week, grandma, grandpa, Jo, JoJean | 2 Comments »

That’s what I (don’t) love about Sunday

Sunday used to be one of our favorite days, now it is a painful day. You see Sunday is the day Jo has to go away for the week, every Sunday for ….. ever? We still believe that a miracle will occur and that she will be with us, but until then it is very hard to take a little girl you love with all your heart, who is crying and begging not to go, and give her to someone that you don’t think loves her as much as you do, or will care for her like you.

Yet every Sunday afternoon we do just that. It gives us a knot in the bottom of our stomach and a fist in our throat. We do our best not to think about it, but sometimes it just sneaks up on you and you realize the gravity of the situation and the pawns we have become in that struggle that is her life. Further, instead of getting easier as the weeks pass by, the pain increases, and the reality of the weeks and months that we have missed weigh heavy on our souls and cloud our minds.

We pray, try to lighten the mood, and encourage her telling her that she will be back, and maybe, just maybe next time it will be for ever. So from the time we pick her up on Friday to Sunday, we try to make the most of our time, and that is just what we did this Fourth of July weekend.

We started the weekend with a 2 hr. parade, yes 2 hours! An hour and a half of it were Harley riders and wrecked race cars. But the kids got tons of free candy, and after all isn’t that what Independence Day is all about?

Jo loving the deer. He better be glad hunting season is still a month a way.

candy hounds, this is how the spent 90% of the parade. I don't think they saw but 2 floats.

Jo took a picture of daddy

After the parade we boogied down to Clam Gulch and hung out at the beach all day. The weather was absolutely perfect and we staked claim to a great section of beach. The kids played in the freezing water, the miry clay, the unstable bluff and had a great time. If we hadn’t forgot the hot dogs, it would’ve been perfect. Good thing Tra thought to pack some meat for hamburgers and saved the day.

every day at the beach must include rock throwing

Ok, the water's a little colder than I thought

Hmmmm, looks like she does at home.

hmmm, looks like he does at home ( minus the cool shades & fire)

you know how I feel about cameras!!

I don't remember painting red, white and blue on my toes... I thought I went with striaght blue.

I don't remember painting red, white and blue on my toes... I thought I went with straight blue.

Olivia and Jake

Jake and Jo

The warrior with the farmer tan, Ben.

No hot dogs, no problem

From the clan of ignorant fools.

Sunday was another beautiful day, and after church and a fried chicken lunch, the slip-n-slide was calling my name. I didn’t answer it, but the kids did.