Finding a way forward

Why is January like 3 years long?

Exactly a month ago today was my brother’s memorial/funeral. It feels like I’ve lived a dozen lifetimes since then.

On the 29th of December, he took his own life. He was 42 years old and the father of 4 children, ages 18-11.

I’ve thought a lot about writing in the past month. I write a lot in my head, but I’ve just been too overwhelmed to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. Which in hindsight might have helped with the overwhelm.

I want to say first, thank you for all the love and support and texts and messages you’ve sent me and my family over the past month. It really means so much to me. They’ve been little hand squeezes. Little hugs that have gotten me from moment to moment and even though I haven’t been able to respond to many of them, I’m here, and I’m grateful.

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It’s hard to know what I’m most sad about, and it’s not as if I need to know, it’s just that when I start thinking about it, there are competing feelings.

Magnolia and I went to Texas to attend the service, and Ben stayed home sick with my Mom. It was really sweet to get to spend that time with Magnolia. It was also really important to be with and spend time with my sisters and their children. Magnolia and her cousin Oona are just a couple months apart, and when they’re together they become really bold in their naughtiness. The 6 year old naughty twins. They’ve always been this way together, there’s just something about being 6.

At the Airbnb, the little girls shared a room with me, and they eventually ended up in my bed each night. The room had a really big and empty closet where they set up their own little camp. It shared a wall with my bed, so I would stay up listening to them tell stories and share their feelings with each other. They were probably the funniest and sweetest things I’ve ever heard. So much depth and sincerity, and also profound nonsense. It was wonderful.

My sisters and I drove to the Galleria and got haircuts. My cut, a month later, is still trying to find its way. It was a lot of money for an entire month of limbo… We also went grocery shopping at HEB which made me homesick for Texas, and I was able to get twice the amount of food that I am at home for the same price. This made me grateful and also very frustrated.

The day of the funeral I woke up early and started to get ready. I talked with my nephews about The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom strategy. We got pretty into it. I love being Magnolia’s mom, and I also really love being an Aunt to all these wonderful and amazing kids.

We had a family prayer with the whole family at the church before the service and I was just so happy, and also so sad to see my Dad’s siblings Amy and Roy. My uncle Roy looks and sounds just like my Dad. It broke my heart all over again.

My brother’s sweet boys spoke during the service. I still am having the hardest time with what he has done to them. The choice he made for them. To lose a parent is really hard. For that parent to opt out of your life feels harder.

Afterward I took Magnolia to where lunch was being served so she could get settled. When I came back into the hall I was embraced by so many people from our past life in Humble, Texas. I was shocked at how many dear dear friends from years ago came to show love to Luke, and loving support to us. Cried with us. Dearest friends from our ward/church congregation growing up. High school friends. Beloved teachers. Friends parents. Some of the best people we’ve ever known showed up for us on that day, and it has changed how I see our shared past.

We sat at a table in the cultural hall at the church and just laughed and laughed. Shared funny stories.

It was so unexpected, and it was actual medicine.

All of this has made me think of the people I grew up with. They were all just the same, in the very best way. These are people, some of whom, I haven’t seen since I graduated in 2003, and they showed up in our darkest hour. And it’s not that I had written them off so much as I just haven’t lived where I grew up for 21 years. I think there’s something about time and space that makes you think you’re on your own, or having a small child makes you really feel on your own, but the truth is there are people who you’ve loved and have loved you all along the way. I’m thinking of home differently. I’m thinking of being in Houston a little more than never. Not to move back, but to witness more people’s lives. I’m thinking of the other places I’ve planted myself through the years… Salt Lake City, Rexburg, Boston, Toronto, etc. How can I reconnect to all the people I’ve journeyed with? How can I more fully express that your lives matter deeply to me? Is this what Christmas cards are for?

That can’t be it.

It just can’t be that the only time we get together, or show and express love is at a funeral. Same with my sisters. We were only able to all be together because Luke was an idiot? That doesn’t work for me anymore. It makes me feel like I’ve been sleep walking.

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We all left the next morning. I wish my family had been able to stay together longer. I wish that Magnolia had been able to be with her cousins longer. I wish that Luke had made better choices.

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Immediately following the funeral I started to get dizzy. It felt like there was something off with my heart and my blood pressure. Luckily I had a high dose liposomal magnesium/calming supplement with me, which helped significantly, but it didn’t take it away. It got to the point that I was praying to just be able to get home.

It persisted for about 2 weeks until one morning, I was sure that I was going to die, so Ben took me to the emergency room. I received an EKG and some fluids, they ran labs and they monitored my BP for a few hours. They said there was nothing wrong/nothing they could do for me and sent me on my way.

2 things about this. The doctor never put his hands on me. Never looked into my eyes or felt my pulse. I just got hooked up to a bunch of monitors. Care that I’ve received in the past, even in an emergent situation seemed more personal. I know doctors are trained differently now, in that moment it just struck me as odd.

The second thing. They told me there was nothing they could do for me. From all their readings, I was fine. I’ve thought a lot about this. From a certain vantage point, this gave me some comfort. I’m not immediately dying. Cool. From another vantage point, this told me that what I’m experiencing, they can’t fix. There isn’t a drug (not one that I’d take anyway) to resolve this perilous feeling I’m living with. It’s a ME problem.

Honestly, I think it was a combination of grief and shock. And while I could be present for the task while we were in Texas, the MINUTE the funeral was done and then coming home feeling my way through the aftermath proved really difficult.

I’m doing better. I haven’t had any panic attacks for at least a week and a half. Working on my Valentine sale helped so much. Thank you for that. It was so much work, but it kept me focused. It kept things light.

The things I’ve been trying to achieve schedule/health/family wise for a while now, I’m bringing to pass this year.

My schedule for the rest of the year is different than in years past. I’ve got Halloween fabric that we’re about to get strike offs for. That will be, I think, in the October catalog. I’m not designing more than a 2, maybe 3 patterns this year. I enjoy designing them, but the full execution of them has been an albatross around my neck. With all of the tragedy of this past year, I could never keep up. I’m happy to let other people work with my fabric. I think everyone will be happier.

From now until summer, I’m working on another fabric collection, a very big and very exciting project, new artwork, and being present for my family. I’ve paired things back to the point that I can just keep work hours to while Magnolia is in school.

This year I’m trying my Christmas/Holiday sale in July. It will be big and fun. There will be so many new skus, and original artwork too. This, I hope, will free up some of your own energy when the holidays come around. The reason for this is largely so we aren’t working in most of November or December. Since Magnolia was born I haven’t really been available to my family for the holiday season and I just won’t do it anymore. The new year starts and I’m totally burnt out. I need that downtime. I need to be with them. I want to be with them. I will be with them.

Following Christmas in July, I’ll be able to focus on new work, 2027 Valentines, more fun projects I’ve been wanting to work on, and traveling.

I’m really bummed that I couldn’t make quiltcon work this month, hopefully it will work out sometime in the future. We would, however, like to do one show this year, and we’re thinking we might apply for the NutCracker Market in Houston. This will let us see friends and family and participate in a historic show that supports the Houston Ballet. All things that I like.

This new schedule allows for planning, flexibility, new work that I want to be doing, taking care of myself and my family, and actual downtime. It’s what I’ve needed for years, and I just finally got to the point where I had no choice but to step off the crazy train.

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I know things are heavy right now. In our country, in the world, etc. But in this moment, it feels very much like so much of it is intentional and manufactured to keep us apart. To keep fingers pointed at each other instead of us asking the question why the chaos appears like clockwork on a two year schedule. I won’t do it anymore. Nearly half of my immediate family died in 2025. I lost my only Grandma in February, then my brother in December. My Mom was diagnosed with cancer this year, and couldn’t live on her own anymore. I lost my dad in 2022. Life is really short, even if you live long. My two sisters and Mom are all we have left. I don’t have it in me to hate someone that disagrees with me. Or dismiss someone from my life that has different lived experience than me. You know, sometimes you do need your circle tighter, I get that, but for me, for right now, I just want people to feel less alone. More worthy of love. More needed. More capable. Not isolated. Not unimportant. Not irredeemable. Not erased. More human. More beloved.

This life is fleeting. It’s gone in a second.

No one is all good, or all bad. My brother was an imperfect person. We didn’t have a strong relationship. He was cruel to me for most of my life, and still, I’m desperately sad about the choices that he made while he was here, in this life, and the one he ultimately made. I’m heartbroken for his children, I’m devastated for his wife. I’m sad for my sister’s who had a different relationship with him. I’m heartsick for my Mom, and for all the people who loved him. I’m so sad he couldn’t feel it, he couldn’t let it in, and he most definitely couldn’t let it change him.

In a strange way it feels like he killed all of us. Not just himself. That feeling is dissolving more and more with passing time, but it still comes back in waves.

I love you very much. Thanks for your patience with me.