Easter Past

Interestingly enough as I plan an Easter Quest with my quickly growing kids who are nearly too old for a traditional Easter Egg Hunt, I am sober...thinking of an Easter past...1997...the only holiday I spent with Kristofer. I think I am having these sullen type feelings because his anniversary is on Good Friday this year. I can still see his smiling face in front of me at my ex-mother-in-laws. I can hear his laugh and I can still feel his warmth on my chest as his tiny baby breaths rise and fall. Amazing how 14 years flies by in a flash and how quickly I can be transported right back to that time. In the business of life, there are admittedly days where my angel baby does not cross my mind, although he is always in my heart. Fourteen years later, I don't think the hurt will ever go away. I was woken by a voice in a dream this week...it was a boy calling out "Mommma"...I think it was my Kristofer. The voice was loud. It sounded so real. It shook me a little as I listened into the night for my Noah who was sleeping peacefully in his own bed in the room next door. I was left wondering if there was something that he was trying to tell me. Tonight I hug my earth bound babies a little tighter as I am so very thankful for everyday that I have with them.

Blackbird - A Labor of Love

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night...take these broken wings and learn to fly...all your life...you were only waiting for this moment to arrive...blackbird singing in the dead of night...take these sunken eyes and learn to see...all your life...you were only waiting for this moment to be free...blackbird fly...blackbird fly...into the light of a dark black night." - The Beatles

Nearly 7 years ago this song was played as our wedding march. Then the lyrics had a different meaning to us in our lives as a young lesbian couple facing a world of adversity. It reminded me then of how to keep going and pick up the pieces. I guess it still does but for different reasons. Although I am very passionate about gay rights, particularly marriage equality, it is not the be all end all of my existence as it once was. I find smaller ways to make my mark on the world. Smaller more important ways that I hope open people eyes to see that Amy and I are just like any other couple, we are normal. We face the same kinds of ups and downs that any couple also endures. We face the same kinds of parenting struggles that all parents face. We just go on about living our lives and raising our amazing kids to show the world that we are the same as everyone else.

The last year and 5 and a half months have been some of the most trying ones of my life. There have been some highs and a lot of very low lows. There have been times when I thought the end of the greatest deep love relationship was near. It sometimes felt as though we were in such a deep hole and so far apart from each other that it seemed as though we could not see our way out of the mess we had made of our relationship. There has a lot of deep soul searching for the both of us. A lot of learning has occurred. Re-learning how to communicate with each other. Re-learning how to listen...really listen. Re-learning how to speak to each other. Re-learning how to love each other. We have also learned that our relationship is a work in progress and we really have to work at it for it to work. We have learned that we are most important. If we cannot function together, everything else suffers...most of all parenting humans and animals. We have learned that we have to take time for us. We have learned to "take these broken wings and learn to fly." We have learned that we have to keep learning how to fly "all your life". We have learned that we have to "take these sunken eyes and learn to see"...see each other. Blackbird singing in the dead of night is not really about facing adversity and surviving anymore. It's about running a marathon. It's about getting through the highs and lows of our relationship. It's about getting through the really bad stuff to get to the next level. It's about evolving within ourselves and with eachother. I am certain that we will sustain more broken wings and have to learn to fly again and again. We will be waiting for this moment to arise. As stated in my Valentine this morning, "I am so happy that we continue to work on us. We are so worth it." Yes we are my love. We are so worth it.

Patsy's Gift

In the wake of getting a new dog at Beagles Rrrrrr Us, I find that my little beagle is filling my heart with joy. "Winnie" came to us as "Little Wolf", but she quickly told me she was NOT a "Little" and she was NOT a "Wolf" or "Wolfie" and she would not be answering to either of those names. Amy and I sat in the car with her on the way home from the rescue and tried several names on her...none of which fit...until I said, "What about 'Winnie'?" Amy liked it and so did she...her head and ears immeadiately went forward. She readily began answering to it. So we have our "Winnie the Pooch", as Amy's sister likes to call her, or as I prefer, "Winnie the Wonder Pup"...but whichever way you like, she has crawled into that 'Dog Gone Space in my Heart' and claimed a piece of it for her own. She has many Pasty-like qualities and I find my heart jumping for joy, while relishing in the study of all her quirks, and I find my heart filled with sarrow at the same time as I am still missing our Patsygirl so much and I am wishing that she was here to enjoy our Winnie with us. Winnie was never a replacement for Patsy only a refocus...a little piece of joy to get past all the saddness and the lonliness in a world without the sweetest Golden named Patsy in it. With Winnie here, I am able to focus on the happy memories with P-dog and be happy that I had them with her. I am able to get beyond all the questioning of did we do the right thing at the right time with her...did we wait too long? did she suffer too much? could we have had one more glorious day? Putting a dog down has to be one of the single most difficult decisions someone has to make in their lifetime. It is heart wrenching and heart breaking. The saddness and lonliness that is left behind are insermountable and I found to be unbearable. So as we begin to make memories with Winnie, I give you a few memories with Patsy that I was able to write down today with a light heart as I remembered the things we had done together.

Fall Walks. Last fall, shortly after Patsy’s hemangiosarcoma diagnosis, she and I were on a walk down in the gardens. There we met up with Jim and Fred Jr., a best dog friend of Patsy’s. Jim and I walked with the dogs and talked. I love talking with Jim. I love listening to his life experiences. I told him of Patsy’s diagnosis and that we were now living on limited, borrowed time with her. Jim told me, “That’s the problem with dogs, for all the love and companionship we have with them it is devastatingly painful to loose them. They just aren’t here long enough with us.” He then proceeded to tell me that he knew that Fred Jr. would be his last dog…for when Fred died he would go too. It may seem a little morbid, but I understand his line of thinking. Jim’s best companions have always been his dogs. They give him so much joy…as much joy and love as he gives them. I don’t know how old Jim is…but I think he was around when God was a child…so I can understand his knowing that Fred Jr. will be his last dog companion and that when Fred Jr. crosses the rainbow bridge he will too. So Jim and I are walking and talking with Patsy and Fred on the trails in the gardens, and Jim says to me, “Why don’t you let her off leash? Amy does down here.” I hadn’t let Patsy off leash down in the gardens since she was 6, shortly after Amy and I began living together. I knew there were times when Amy would let her off leash, we were with Fred and Jim, so I let her go and explore with her fellow doggie friend. Patsy and Fred were sniffing together. Just happy to be in each others company…no rough housing or playing…just exploring. We came to a divide in the trails and Patsy and Fred were sniffing the corner bush. They both emerged from the bush with bumble bees on there noses. They were sneezing and dancing around…playing with them. Jim and I removed all bees from there noses and moved on. Although neither of the dogs got stung, Jim did. On the trail back up to Hiawatha, I put Pasty back on her leash. We said goodbye to Jim and I vowed to cherish every remaining moment I had with Patsydog and try not to linger the short amount of time she had left with us. This was the first of many mid-afternoon off leash explorations with Patsy down in the gardens last fall.

Off leash. I hadn’t let Patsy off leash when by myself before my walk with Jim very often…or at all really, since letting her off leash down in the gardens shortly after Amy and I began living together when Patsy was 6. Patsy and I had been on an exploration of the garden trails and I decided I would let her go to explore a little on her own…always keeping her in full sight and calling her back to me often. We emerged from the part of the trail where there is a nice wide opening, where it is not just a trail anymore but an open green space. There in the green space was a family having a picnic and there was Patsy SO happy she had found them! She began romping and playing, greeting the whole family with hot pants and tail wags. Needless to say the family wasn’t very happy. Also needless to say, Patsy was having too much fun and didn’t want to come back to me to be put on her leash. The whole fiasco only lasted about 2 minutes and I am sure that she and I ruined that family’s peaceful outside picnic but she and I laughed about it all the way home. I couldn’t be mad at her…she was just being Patsy…full of life and always looking to have fun.

Christmas Cookies. Christmas cookies were Patsy’s favorite. Patsy loved Christmas in general. She loved the smells of all the baking and she especially loved all the gatherings of people at our house during the Christmas season. When I say Christmas cookie, I mean a sugar cut out cookie that is only made a Christmas time. Although Patsy loved ALL cookies, the sugar cut out with home-made icing, was her favorite. She would do nearly anything for a Christmas cookie. Several Christmases ago, the family was over on Christmas Eve, everyone was talking and laughing, the table was full of food, and the cookies were on the three tiered plate at the edge of the table with above mentioned Christmas cookies on the bottom plate. Patsy was so happy that everyone was there, of course to see her, but she was also thankful that everyone was distracted with talking and laughing in the living room. Patsy was sometimes an opportunistic dog…looking for the right opportunity to snatch some food or…a cookie. Amy and I look over and here is our beloved Patsydog craning her neck, tongue strategically placed trying to snatch A (because I am sure that it would ONLY be ONE) Christmas cookie. We quickly scolded her and told her lovingly that she was a “bad dog”. We all laughed about it and let her have her Christmas cookie.

Bread Oven. One last memory that came to me today as I was making Catie some toast for breakfast and inadvertantly dropped a piece of bread on the floor was Patsy and the bread oven. In our kitchen, we used to have a floor to ceiling cabinet that had an oven in the middle. We never used the oven as an oven. We stored bread in that oven...hence the name of the bread oven. Patsy LOVED bread...almost as much as she loved Christmas cookies. When you opened the bread oven, it made a very loud SCREEEEEEEECH! No matter where Patsy was in the house she would immeadiately get up and come running in hopes that she would get a piece of bread. When we took that cabinet out, Patsy didn't always know when we were getting into the bread because there was no more SCREEEEEEEECH. I know she missed that sound.

Patsygirl, I know you are listening to my heart when I say this...Thank you for sending us a little beagle named Winnie...she helps my heart more than you know.

Dog-gone Space in My Heart

Somehow, without me realizing it, Patsy created this vast space in my heart for dogs...who are faithful companions providing unconditional love and ears for endless listening. Somehow, I had fooled myself into believing that I liked dogs but only really loved Patsy and when she was gone I would be able to go about my daily living without a faithful companion until the time would be right to add another. What a foolish thought. My grief and emense saddness in the 5 days since having lost our beloved Patsy-girl is not for being sad for her because I know that she is in a better place. She is now residing on the other side of the rainbow bridge where her joints no longer ache because they are restored to their youth so she can freely run and jump with ease. She is no longer tired and plays with all her Golden happiness. She eats popcorn and there are pleanty of ice cream cone ends for her to finish. She cuddles and watches over our baby angel, Kristofer and has greeted Amy's Grandma Pete with her wet nose and tail waggs. She is happily passing the time playing with her other doggie friends who have crossed the rainbow bridge before her. They run through woods and laugh and play in meadows while chasing squirrels, bunnies, and birds who are sometimes caught only to be released for the chase again. She is passing the time until she will greet us again. So my saddness is not for Patsy...she is in a happy place...my saddness is for the vast empty hole that has been left in my heart because my companion is gone. Patsy created this huge space in my heart for dogs and she decided that it would only be fair for her to hold a small piece of it for herself. Patsy knew when we were sad and although she did not like saddness, her way of helping us feel better was to be with us...the same way she loved to be with us when we were happy. I know in my heart that Patsy doesn't want us to be sad. She wants us to have another companion to share our love with and give a happy life to. She also told me, "No puppies." I agree, Patsydog...no puppies. She says we should make a life better for someone who has had it kindof rough. I used to wonder how someone could go right out and get another dog after just having lost their companion...I don't wonder anymore. I foolishly thought that maybe our life would be easier without the responsibility of a dog companion once Patsy was gone. Now I am finding life to be much harder without one. So 5 days after our sweet Patsy-girl has left us here for a happier place, we have filled out an application to adopt a beagle from a rescue. I trust that Patsy will help guide us to the right companion for the next stage of our lives.

Conversations with Patsy

Some of you may know...others may not...but I conversate with our Golden Retriever, Patsy...or I did. Last fall, Patsy's vet found a mass on her spleen that was a likely Hemangiosarcoma, and after 9 good months post diagnosis Patsy slipped away from us as she crossed over the rainbow bridge. Patsy was 6 when Amy and I began our life together, although I had known her and befriended her since she was a puppy chasing after her green tennis ball. Almost instantly upon moving in, Patsy and I began our conversations. Amy says she never knew what kind of potty mouth Patsy had before I moved in...I say she was just thankful to finally have a voice. I had this innate way of looking into her soul and feel what she was feeling in order to vocalize it. Sometimes the conversations were between Patsy and Amy, with me speaking for Patsy...sometimes they were between her and the kids...but mostly they were between her and I when we were alone. Patsy emitted complete happiness when she was with her people. Although she did have dog friends, her best friend was a black lab by the name of Fred Sr., she preferred people, their company, scratches, rubs, hugs, kisses, and general happiness to be in her presence. It's funny, Patsy was a people dog and we have a horse who is also a people horse...but Patsy did not really like horses. She felt that "horses are stupid." I think that she felt this way because the horses took us away from home where she was...also in recent years horses have taken over our lives more and more, in turn taking us away from Patsy at home. There were times when Patsy would go to the barn with us but she really wasn't a "barn dog" and really was just most excited about going home. Patsy preferred car rides that took her to the field to run or to Grandma and Grandpa's house so she could visit more of her people...and she really didn't mind going to the Pet People for a bath, as long as, she got to pick out her treats, a new toy, and then through Wendy's for a plain hamburger on the way home. In our conversations, Patsy was never afraid to tell me (or Amy) how she was feeling...bluntly. She also did not hesitate to tell us how much she loved us. I am missing also the silent times with Patsy when she would just be content to be lying at my feet. I am missing her smiles, her blissful looks, how she would shake her head and it would sound like a helicopter, how she would stare me down panting hard to tell me she needed her fan on, her peaceful, relaxed breathing as she would soothe herself while sucking her favorite wooby, her growling while playing tug of war, her pulling me to get to a squirrel in a yard, her searching for, finding, and carrying around her rawhide bone, which is more than 5 years old, after breakfast and dinner, her carrying around a waffle and whining with happiness, her sucking in her sides, groaning, and making herself look all swayback so she looked emaciated and pathetic so you would feel sorry for her and give her some of what you were eating, sharing the end of an ice cream cone after walking to Greater's or DQ on a summer's evening, listening to her crunch things...especially crutons, her anticipating the kids coming home every other Sunday and her worrying when they are late, the clicking of her nails on the hardwood floors, her slurping water and getting into the zone while doing it and forgetting to save some for the fish, but more than anything else I am missing my conversations with Patsy. The house is so quiet without those silly conversations.

The Miracle of Life - Clover Arrives

Wednesday, April 28th, 2010, my day began as any other day in which I have to arise at 4:25 am in order to be ready to begin performing my life saving x-rays at the Trauma Center. Mid-morning, which for me is about 9 am seeing that I wake so early, I received a text message from our barn owner stating that she did not need her glasses in order to see that Shiloh was dripping milk. Excitement filled me as I realized that our long wait for the impending birth of our foal was soon to be over. With that excitement also came the fear and feelings of hope. The greatest fears that had entered my mind in the final days and weeks leading up to the birth of our foal, was fear that we would not make it out for the birth and knowing with near certainty that Shiloh is a maiden mare at nearly 14. This fear stems from knowing that Shiloh was a performance horse who did hunter/jumper work for most of her adult career and had most likely never been around other mothers and babies. I feared that she would go into labor with no one around and once delivering the foal she would become frightened of the new being in her stall and not know what to do but in turn would step on him or not allow him to nurse thus ending up with a dead baby. This fear, I realized was the most realistic of all bad scenarios that I played through my mind. I did all the reading about what to do if and when the foal does not present in the "diver's position" (that is front feet and nose first) and quickly realized that those situations are few and far between. Although it is good to be armed with the knowledge of the worst case scenario, I was also realistic knowing that a breech baby or any other variation was highly unlikely. The realistic fear, however, of Shiloh being alone and fearing the baby and the baby dying because of her fear was of great concern to me. This caused me to have great emotional and physical stress, including bad dreams.

In days leading up to the birth, while I was tenderly grooming my very pregnant mare, I would speak to her softly. I would plead with her to have the baby soon. I told her over and over that I knew she was scared. I told her that she did not have to have this baby alone. I have written in past entries of the connection that Shiloh and I have...I truly feel that through her pregnancy our bond and connection has grown stronger than I ever thought it would. When I speak to her...if she's listening, she understands the words that I say to her. I told her more than once that she would not have to be alone during her labor or delivery. I know in my heart that she believed me and she wanted me to be there with her.

Around 4:40 in the afternoon, Shiloh went down and rolled in the pasture, got up and ran to the gate. While at the gate she stared Corrine down and put her nose to her belly...as if to say, "Corrine, you need to call my moms. Something's going on here and I need them." Corrine brought her in and immediately sent both Amy and I text messages about what had happened. I spoke with Amy and we determined that Shiloh was in labor and that Amy should head straight for the barn and that I would leave work as soon as possible. We had traumas getting ready to roll in at the Center and I thought I could get through them but my whole being was nervous and filled with fear...I HAD to leave...my mare needed me. So I left work and walked the 2 and 1/2 blocks to my car faster than I ever have before and sped (as quickly as rush hour traffic would let me) out of downtown. On my way out to the barn, Amy called saying that she had arrived and that she thought Shiloh was definitely in labor but nothing much was happening right then. She said she did have what appeared to be amniotic fluid trickling down the insides of her hind legs and that her vulva was open. I then decided to stop and pick up a disposable camera and some Subway for us for dinner seeing that nothing was imminent. Even with both stops, I made it out to the barn within an hour where I could see for my very own eyes that yes my mare was definitely in labor. Upon arriving at the barn, Shiloh could hear my car pull up and was expectantly waiting, watching out her stall window for sight of me. Her look told me that she had been waiting for me to get there so that we could do this together. I spoke with our vet shortly after seeing for my own eyes the fluid that was trickling and her vulva was open. She was also groaning as she contracted. I could feel her pain. Our vet assured me that things would most likely be fine and not to hesitate to call him with any questions or emergency. I asked him how long I should wait seeing that I felt she was leaking amniotic fluid...he said a no more than a couple of hours and then call him back. Around 6:45, after Amy and I had eaten, Alan and Corrine began bringing the other horses in for the evening. With lots of commotion, Shiloh held onto that baby and held off her labor until everyone was settled and eating their evening hay quietly. Meanwhile, she nibbled at her own hay in order to calm her nerves. Around 7:15, Amy went out back with Snazzy for a grooming session since things were not moving along very quickly, leaving just Shiloh and myself in the barn. By 7:30 I was reading quietly outside her stall and listening to her movements. At 7:30 she began contracting regularly. Contractions were coming every 7-8 minutes. She would begin each contraction with a groan and then she would circle. She would lie down, groan and get back up again and circle. This would last 3-4 minutes. Then she would settle back into nibbling on her hay while waiting for the next contraction to begin. Just before 8 o'clock Amy came back in the barn and I quietly told her what had been going on...that's when we heard it...a gushing sound as she laid down and knew that her water had broken. Shiloh laid in straw manger with her back to us groaning and pushing. This is when we could see the first sign of her bag with a tiny hoof pressing through. Amy quickly called Alan and Corrine to let them know that it was time. We all stood watching quietly as Momma groaned and pushed and then got up and circled in order to lay back down to push some more. For what seemed like an eternity, Shiloh only had one hoof sticking out and we started to panic thinking that we may have an emergency on our hands. Amy quickly called the vet and while on the phone with him we finally saw another hoof and a nose. Thank goodness! A little relief settled into my brain and my heart was beginning to fill with hope. This baby was going to come out the correct way...one small fear defeated. Shiloh had once again repositioned herself in her stall and was again pushing but having trouble it seemed. Amy and I then decided that we would quietly enter her stall and see if she trusted us enough to help her deliver this baby. She only looked relieved as we entered and knelt down to assist her. We took turns applying a gentle pulling to the baby's front legs as Shiloh contracted and pushed. Within a few minutes of assisting, we were able to help her get the baby's shoulder out and I was able to remove the sac from his face. I then moved behind her to stroke her head and neck and give her soft and encouraging words as she pushed the rest of her baby out. Once he was on the ground, at 8:20, Amy and I removed the rest of the sac from his body and we began drying him with a towel. It was amazing to hear his first gurgley breaths as his body switched from breathing amniotic fluid to breathing air. He was amazing and beautiful and big. Once he was on the ground and breathing, Shiloh softly nickered to her colt. It was as if she knew in that moment that he was hers. Momma took several minutes to rest and catch her breath before carefully getting up. I was so proud of my mare as she ever so carefully stood for the first time...so careful not to step on her baby...softly nickering to him and pressing her nose to his. They were beautiful moments to witness. While he was lying on the ground, still in shock of being born, he was suckling on any part of mom that he could reach...mostly just her ankles. By 9 pm he was trying to stand...having trouble getting his long wobbly legs underneath him. Watching him take his first steps was like watching Bambi...wobbly and uncoordinated and amazing. By 9:30, he was taking wobbly steps all over the stall and Shiloh was trying to position herself for him to nurse but he wasn't getting it and we were all getting frustrated with me leading him around the stall suckling my fingers to lead him to Shiloh's udder. I was able to get him to latch on only one time and only for about 10 or 15 seconds. By this time the fear that had originally settled into my mind regarding Shiloh being afraid of her own baby had waned and a new fear had settled in...would our baby get the hang of nursing before he became too weak. By 10, our friend Julia had arrived with much more foaling experience than we had and helped get him positioned under Shiloh and put her teet in his mouth...he latched on again and drank that all important colostrum. We stood back and watched him in wonder as he staggered around the stall. He soon wanted and needed to nurse again but was once again having a hard time finding Shiloh's udder. Shiloh kept circling, trying to position herself so that he could nurse but he wasn't getting it. Eventually, we had to halter and hold her while we held the baby under her and once again got him to latch on. This was the point when I knew my mare was scared...every muscle in her body shook and she had a petrified look in her eye as we held her for her baby to nurse. I could also see the pain in her eyes as her uterus continued to contract with each nursing. Quickly she relaxed as she realized that what was happening was supposed to happen and this is why she wanted and needed us there for her. Soon we were able to let her go and she stood quietly with her leg cocked so her colt could nurse at will. Although I could see the tension in her muscles as she nursed him, she knew it was what needed to happen to keep her baby alive and healthy.

I am not sure everyone understands the great bond between a human and their horse but I feel it and it runs deeper in my soul than words can explain. It is a relationship that is greater than love. Shiloh believed me when I told her that she would not have to go through this alone. She believed me when I told her that we would be there for her and in turn she gave the signs and called us when she needed us most. It is a relationship that is unconditional and trusting...I am amazed at the miracles that it has presented, including the hope of a new life. The miracle of the birth of her colt, Clover.

Angel

Thirteen years ago today began the first day that I would have to live the entire day with out my first born son. The devastation encompassed my whole being then and encompasses my psyche now but only on certain days of the year...mostly just on his birthday and then always, always on the anniversary of his passing. I can't believe that it has been 13 years...it seems like a blink and like 2 lifetimes ago all at the same time. Kristofer-Michael was an angel sent to me. A small part of my soul died with him on April 22, 1997. It was one of those events that would change the course of my being. I can remember very clearly, even now, our evening routines...me holding and rocking him in my glider while singing "Lullaby" and then gently placing him in his crib where he would sleep peacefully. I would wake up in the morning and happily enter his room singing, "Good Morning to You"...a song I still sing to his sister and brother each morning. I would reach in his crib and pick up his smiling face, kiss him all over and get his bottle ready. We would sit again in the rocker and I would rock and sing while he ate. I remember those big and trusting blue eyes staring back at me and in those moments all was right with the world. I clearly remember our last morning together. It was much like any other morning with me singing softly to him and Kristofer smiling back. I remember putting him in the car seat and handing him his favorite toy...a little stuffed lizard that still sits on my dresser in front of his picture. I can still hear his soft cooing as he waved his lizard happily and we put him in the car. I can see myself getting out of the car and reaching in the back seat to kiss him goodbye. I can still hear my voice telling him "Mommy will see you later, pumpkin." They were my last kisses and words to my son. I can remember being in the office at the McDonald's just before 2pm counting cash and getting a deposit ready when one of my crew members came back to tell me that there was a fireman here to see me. I can hear his hallow word as he told me I needed to leave with him. I can hear the panic in my voice as I ask what was wrong and what was going on. He just said that I needed to leave with him...that something happened at home. I called Mike...a police officer answered our home phone. I was told to just come home. I can feel myself walking through the parking lot at the McDonald's and the fireman finally telling me that there was something that happened with my son. I almost collapsed. He had to help me in the truck. We drove fast with the siren blaring...to this day emergency sirens will send me back to the moments that I keep locked in my heart and mind. I can still see the police outside the house and entering to see my mother crying and Michael holding my sweet boy who was now cold and unmoving. I can still feel the surreality of that moment as I stared in disbelief. I often wonder what Kristofer would look like today. I wonder what he would be into...maybe soccer or football or would he be playing an instrument. Yes, the course of my being was changed forever on April 22, 1997...I have not let it paralyze me but I also will never forget. Kristofer, I love you.