I'm So Sorry.

Eleven days have passed since the Boston Marathon bombings and today was the first day since the attackers were captured that I had the opportunity to walk back to Boylston Street.

Not interested in the media craze nor spectacle of people, the draw for me was from within.

Out the building I went.  Cold today.  A breeze too.  Glad I wore my vest.

I should have some lunch before I go any further.  Rebecca's Cafe.  Some soup.

Found a seat at a small table with a partial view of Boylston Street.  Outside, against a building, rested several pieces of crowd-control fencing/barricades left from the marathon.  Other than that, people bustled by, going about their daily business (just a block form the marathon finish line).  I became quite reflective and thought about how events like the marathon bombings and Sandy Hook shootings can be supplanted every so subtly.

I want to visit the memorial.  I should go to the finish line also.

Four or five large media trucks lined Boylston Street at Copley Plaza (the site of the memorial). As I drew closer to the memorial site, my attention turned to the large number of items left there - flowers, hats, sneakers, notes, flags, shirts...

For the most part, the people moved about the memorial in silence.  Many were taking pictures or videos.  Everyone seemed to be reflecting.

I didn't think I'd become this emotional. As my eyes scanned the uncounted messages that had been written, tears started to form.

A hand-written message written by a child caught my eye.  It read:

I'm so sorry.

                  -Emma

So true, Emma.  So true.

Marathon Monday 2013.

Monday of last week started like many of the Patriot's Days have for me over the past ten years or so.

I was working in the Back Bay section of Boston.  This particular job happens to be a temporary consulting position.  The other two jobs I've held in the past ten years were permanent, but also in Back Bay.  I was an Accounting Manager for companies located in the John Hancock Tower and The Prudential Center - both with views of Boylston Street.

I have completed the Boston Marathon twice, but I haven't run Boston in over 10 years.  But, as the saying goes, once you run Boston, it never leaves you.  If I get an opportunity to be "part" of the marathon, I take it.  My part for the past ten years has been as a spectator - whether I watch it on television or whether I take a break from the office and walk down to Bolyston Street.

Last Monday, at about 12:30, I left my desk and walked down Clarendon Street to the corner of Bolyston Street and watched as the runners who had completed their 26.2 miles did their cooldown and walked in the direction of the Public Gardens and Boston Common.  They had just completed the premiere marathon in the world.

Before heading back to the office, I decided to try to get closer to the finish line.  This meant walking back up Clarendon and then taking a right toward the Boston Public Library.  I walked behind the library and started right on Exeter Street toward Boylston, but it was packed with people.  And there was no sun and it was chilly (even for April in Boston).  I decided to head back to the office.

I spent the next hour and a half or so preparing for a 3:00 meeting while also checking on marathon news via boston.com.  Sarah was keeping me up to date on Joey McIntyre's progress.  LOL.

In hindsight, I heard the explosion at 2:50 while at my desk.  But, at the time, I thought it was an 18 wheeler driving by on the nearby  Mass Pike.

While meeting with this individual, his phone was buzzing off the hook.  Then, at about 3:30, he said "excuse me, I need to check my phone." He turned to me and said there had been an explosion at the marathon.  That is when the talk and speculation started.

I returned to my desk to 6 missed calls, a voicemail, and an email from Sarah.  Having told Sarah that I would likely walk down to check things out at the marathon, she wanted to know I was okay. She was relieved to hear my voice when I called her @3:50 pm on Monday, April 15, 2013.  It was about one hour after the moment our city would be changed forever.

It has been a week since.  What a week.  Too much to digest.  Too many emotions.  Too many questions.  Although difficult to do, I have been trying to focus on the goodness over the evil.  MOST people are good.  Most humans are kind.  Most humans love.

The gentleman in the blue jacket below has been in charge of the finish line for the Boston Marathon for the past 17 years.  He was also my senior year high school homeroom teacher.  He is one of the countless individuals who reached out to help those in need last Monday.  Thank you God for the goodness in the world.

 ONE BOSTON

Daddy - Daughter Dance.

Our town holds both father-daughter and mother-son dances each year staring with kindergarten-aged children.  So...this was the first year my girls got to take their daddy to the dance!

It was exhausting, and at times a little stressful (trying to keep an eye on 3 six-year olds), but a ton of fun. I couldn't have been more proud being the father of these girls!

It was also fun to watch each one of the girls connect with at least one friend during the night.  Simply adorable.  Especially Emily and her friend "S". "S" is a peanut like Emily. And they adore each other!  I think they held each other's hand all night long.

Here is a picture Sarah took before the dance.  She insisted the picture be taken outside (for the lighting) = why we look a bit chilly.

Just call me stupid?

Yesterday was the day which marked the one year mark of me leaving my former employer.  Maybe that is why I was so down (and still am).  I also received my grade for the fourth part of the CPA exam which I had taken late last month.  I did not pass.

I texted Sarah telling her I am an idiot and that I wanted to cry.  The whole job search and exam situation is wearing me down.  BIG time.

I am trying to be positive.  I want to provide income for our family (and my retirement).  I have over two decades of experience in my field and I feel like employers many times put me on par with someone with 3 - 7 years of experience. And they expect me to take a 25 - 30% pay cut.

Believe me, I am grateful for what we have as a family - not only financially, but in terms of love for each other.  Sarah works her *ss off each and every day, whether at the office or at home. She is good at her profession and gets compensated accordingly (thankfully).

Am I a loser? A loafer?  No, I am not either of those, but sometimes it just feels like I am.

Stillbirth. Help Break the Silence.

I was out running errands that Saturday morning when Sarah called me and asked me to come home.  She was a week beyond her due date and we were both anxious to welcome our first child into our lives.

Looking back, the drive to the hospital that June day in 2006 seemed to be a long one.  I honestly don't remember the conversation between Sarah & me. I do remember Sarah being tense.  But at the time, I figured it was just a "normal" nervousness.  I know now that it more was than that.

Within an hour of our arrival to the hospital, we were told our baby had died.

"The baby's heart stopped beating."

"I am so sorry."

What!?

No.

There must be a mistake.

Shock, disbelief, anger, grief, sorrow, more anger, followed by intense sorrow and depression-like feelings have been with Sarah and me since then.

Sometimes the feelings are overwhelming. Sometimes faint. But the feelings are always there.

We learned about stillbirth.  We found out it happens more than one would think.  BUT no one talks about it. NO ONE. It makes people uncomfortable.  People say some absurd things.  It hurts.

First Candle shared a video (link below) which I hope you will watch and share with your family friends.  I think it may help those who have not delivered a child sleeping (and those that have for that matter). 

Since Abigail, neither Sarah nor I have known anyone in our close circle of family and friends who have experienced stillbirth.  However, coincidentally enough, I received an email from my brother a day or two after I started to draft this post.  A friend of his, whom I had met on a couple of occasions, had lost his son to stillbirth.  His wife was in the hospital preparing for labor and their son died.

Please take a few minutes to click on the link below and watch the video.  And please also remember Abigail Ruth (June 4,2006), Robert and all the other children born sleeping.

http://gapps.org/index.php/advocacy/making_a_difference/break_the_silence_video/