The thing about grief

The thing about grief is that it never really goes away. Even if it hasn't shown up in a really long time, it can sneak up on you and show up out of nowhere when you least expect it. It happened to me today.

My mom recently gave some of Mark's old shirts to Pat in case he would wear any of them. Some of them he kept, others he didn't. One of the shirts he kept was a t-shirt that Mark wore often.

If ever a shirt could summarize a person with only three words and a stick-figure drawing, this shirt is a perfect representation of Mark Yarman. The stick figure on this shirt is a man playing a guitar with a big grin on his face and the words "life is good." A perfect illustration of Mark's love for music and passion for life.

This morning, as I worked my way through a pile of laundry, this shirt appeared in the mix. Without even thinking about it, I instinctively lifted the shirt up to my nose and inhaled deeply. What happened next I didn't expect. The shirt still smelled like Mark.

After all of these years, I could still smell him on this shirt. It was the closest I have felt to him in the six years since he's been gone. The emotions I felt hit me like a ton of bricks and were completely overwhelming. It made me miss him so much.

It made me grieve for him just as hard as I did six years ago when we lost him. It made me want to bottle that smell up so I would never lose it. So I could smell it whenever I want to feel like he is still here.

It made me wish I could hug him one more time. It made me want to talk to him again. It made my heart ache so much that it completely consumed me. It made me cry. Hard. The uncontrollable "ugly cry" that comes from deep within. It made the lump in my throat reappear. The lump that I only get when I am very sad.

It made me wish he could have been a part of my kids' lives and made me want to tell them about him.

Today I was reminded that you are never really done grieving for someone. I realized today that grief is both a blessing and a curse. It is a painful sign of how deeply you still miss someone you lost and a warm reminder of how lucky you were to have had that person in your life.

Today I am remembering how lucky I was to have loved Mark and to have been loved by him. I am reminded of how much he taught me throughout his life, and also his death, about living life fully.

Today I was reminded that life is a precious gift that shouldn't be taken for granted. I was reminded how much I still miss Mark and that my grief hasn't gone away. And I am thankful it hasn't because when grief comes to visit, it brings more than just sadness. It also brings memories of love, happiness, and thankfulness.

Today I was reminded to be open to unexpected visits from grief and the lessons it brings with it.

And as I continue to smell this shirt and inhale deeply, I will also be exhaling gratefully.

Thank you for the memories

"You're a wonderful daughter.

The holiday season brings to mind memories of you and the fun and happiness of past Christmases.

Sometimes it seems like it would be nice to go back and relive those days, but seeing the person you've become brings more joy than 'going back' ever could.

Thank you for the wonderful memories and for being such a wonderful daughter.

Merry Christmas with lots of love.

Mom and Mark."

I received this card from my mom and Mark last Christmas, December 2010, Mark's last Christmas with us. My mom said she and Mark both thought it was the perfect card for me and really described how they both felt.

At the time, I had no idea this would be Mark's last Christmas with us and I certainly didn't know it would be the last card I ever received from him. But reading it now, I think it was a great way for Mark to say goodbye to me and thank me for the "wonderful memories."

Although Mark was very sick and very weak last Christmas, he still made sure to get out of bed long enough to open gifts with us. He put on a happy face and acted like he felt fine. I'm sure this was more difficult for him than I could ever imagine.

He was so appreciative of every gift he opened. In true Mark fashion, he had to shake each box and guess what gift was likely inside before he would open it. He was really good at that, actually. He was almost always right.

He told Betsy and me that we have always given him such wonderful gifts and that some of the nicest clothes he owns came from us.

Before Mark went back to bed, I gave him a big hug. It was at that moment that I realized how skinny he actually was. His big beard and baggy blue pajamas had kept it hidden until then, but while we were hugging, I could feel every single bone in his body.

That was the last time that I saw Mark before his stroke. It was the last time I hugged him while he was still able to talk and use both of his arms to hug me back.

This is the first Christmas since I was eight years old without him. And even though it's been a year since he died, I am still having a hard time accepting what life is like without him. I still miss him every single day.

But as the card states, all I can do now is be thankful for all the wonderful memories and "the fun and happiness of past Christmases."

Some days, it rains

I haven't written in Mark's blog since the day after his memorial service, on January 30. I also haven't watched the video tribute I made since that day, either. I have thought of doing both so many times but to be honest, I was afraid to unleash the pain. This isn't to say that I haven't been feeling pain, because I have.

I still think about Mark every single day. Most days, I still cry when I think about him. Some days, I still can't believe he's really gone. Other days, the reality of him being gone from my life forever is completely overwhelming. Some days I'm really sad, some days I'm happy for Mark and his life free of cancer and then other days, I feel a lot of anger for all that Mark went through and the fact that he wanted more than anything to live a long life and he was robbed of that.

I'm going to be 28 this summer and I've experienced more than my fair share of death in those 28 years. No, I'm not opening a pity party for myself. But you would think after losing a brother, a grandma, a grandpa, a great grandma and now a step-dad that I would be "good at grief." But each time I experience a death of someone close to me and feel this great amount of pain, I am only reminded of the fact that no death ever feels the same and that you never really know how you're supposed to act or handle the pain.

I can't tell you how many times over the last few months (today is exactly four months since the day Mark had his stroke), I have second-guessed how I was feeling and wondered if I was grieving normally or if I should be further along in the healing process than I actually am. I don't know the answer. I don't know if I should still cry as much as I do. I don't know if I should be to the point where seeing pictures of Mark or hearing stories about him make me laugh and smile instead of cry, but I'm not.

I don't know if avoiding writing about Mark, avoiding writing in this blog and avoiding watching Mark's video is normal or unhealthy, but today I had an urge to do both. I watched the video again and cried just as hard as I cried when I watched it at his memorial service. And in a strange way, it felt really good. It felt good to see the pictures of him, to be reminded of how much he lived life to the fullest. Don't get me wrong, when I watch the video it makes me extremely sad, too. It even brings out some jealousy and anger about how good he was with Max and the fact that my children will never get to experience that.

But more than the sadness, jealousy or anger I felt when watching the video, most of all, it felt really good. It felt really good to be reminded of why I miss him so much. He was such an amazing, special person and I feel so blessed that he was brought into my life.

Mark was special to all of us in some way. How are you doing with your grief? Have you watched the video since his memorial service? If not, I highly recommend it. It was really good therapy for me and hopefully it will be for you too. You can watch the video here.

I think one of the greatest ways in which we can pay tribute to Mark is by making sure we never forget him and to make sure each of us is living our life fully in his honor.

Mark's memorial service

I'm sure Mark would have been very touched, and humbled, by the amount of people who came to the calling hours and memorial service yesterday in his honor. I was humbled for him by the amount of people he touched along his journey just by being him; the fun, happy, hardworking with a smile, Mark.

He is going to be missed by many, many people and that became very obvious yesterday. Someone said to me, "There will be a hole in the community without Mark." I thought that was so touching and I know Mark would, too.

I wanted to share the words I said on Mark's behalf and the video we made for his memorial service.

There are so many things I could say about how sad I am and how much I already miss Mark. But in honor of my step-dad, the eternal optimist, I am going to try and keep this positive. This will also increase the very small chance of me getting through this without crying.

I was eight years old when I first met Mark. They were having band practice in my mom’s art studio. Mark had a long ponytail in the back, which in my eight-year-old mind, meant he was a criminal. Before they started playing their music, he said, “Let’s get funky.” I thought funky was the F word so needless to say; the eight-year-old Emily did not have a very good first impression of Mark.

Of course that all changed. The ponytail was cut off and Mark quickly became one of the most important people in my life. He spoiled me rotten, more than I ever deserved. Dinner was always based around what I wanted to eat, and unlike my mom, he even omitted the ingredients I didn’t like.

Mark shared my love for animals and I could always count on him to help me when I thought an animal was injured or needed help. I remember finding a bird that I didn’t think could fly and Mark came home on his lunch break to help me. I don’t remember exactly what happened after we trapped the bird, but I’m pretty sure it ended up flying away on its own.

Mark wasn’t quite as much of a softy when I would bring stray animals home, at first anyway. I hid a kitten in my room for over a week before I got caught. As soon as Mark found the kitten, he took her back to the park where I found her and dropped her off. I cried and cried until he finally went back to find her and brought her home. She still lives in their log home today.

Mark was “living like he was dying” long before he was ever diagnosed with cancer. He would never miss an opportunity to try something new or do something fun and adventurous. When we went on a cruise in 2001, we went on a snorkeling excursion. It might not seem like a big deal, but for Mark, who couldn’t swim, it was kind of scary! Out of the nearly 60 people who were on that snorkeling excursion, Mark was the only person who put on the big, bright orange life jacket, on top of the black ones they provided us with. And he wasn’t embarrassed about it all. I certainly was, but he wasn’t. He didn’t care what people thought of him, it was more important to him that he didn’t let fear keep him from trying something new.

If Mark would have only lived the six months he was originally told he would live, he never would have met Pat, he wouldn’t have been Grandpa Mark to Max and he wouldn’t have been there to support me on my wedding day.

I think many people know that it was the clinical trial in the summer of 2005 that ultimately kept Mark around for almost six years after his diagnosis. But what I don’t think a lot of people realize is that Mark found that clinical trial himself. No one recommended that he go to the James Cancer Hospital in OSU or that he enroll in that clinical trial. Mark was his own patient advocate for the entire six years he battled this disease. He did all of the research online, found the clinical trial and found Dr. Kendra and knew that is where he needed to be for a chance to live. I think that says a lot about Mark’s character and his passion for life.

I’ve spent the last few days re-reading all that I wrote in Mark’s blogs over the last few years and something occurred to me; I don’t think I ever really took the time to think about what this battle must have been like for Mark until now. He was so brave and positive through it all that I never thought about how hard it must have been for him. I think we all got so used to him just bouncing back, that we took for granted how very difficult and how much work bouncing back must have been for him.

He truly made it all look so easy, I think we actually believed that it was. Spending the last week or so with Mark in the hospital, gave me my first real, up close and personal glimpse of what this battle must have been like for him (and my mom). I spent the last six years thinking about myself; how much I love him and how thankful I was to still have him in my life. I’m just not sure I ever thought about the toll it was taking on him, and my mom, to keep going. To keep fighting. He deserves peace and happiness more than anyone I’ve ever met, and now he has finally found it.

Mark Yarman: A Vision of Hope from Emily Robinson on Vimeo.

God's gift of time

Words are so powerful to me. I received a really nice card in the mail and the words perfectly describe how I'm feeling. I wanted to share them in case they could be helpful to you, too, as we are all mourning the loss of Mark.

We all need a time to grieve-
quiet time for reflection
to sift through memories
and come to grips
with what has happened.

We all need a time for tears,
not for the one who is now
at peace in heaven,
but for ourselves as we realize
that things will never be the same.

We all need a time to just "be,"
when we can open ourselves to God
and let the reassurance
of His everlasting love
start to heal our broken hearts.

Videographer loses fight with cancer - Mansfield News Journal

A very nice article about Mark in the Mansfield News Journal.

Videographer loses fight with cancer

Mark featured on WMFD news tonight

WMFD - Mark's employer, did a really nice video piece and written article about Mark for the news tonight. It brought us all to tears since we haven't heard his voice since the stroke. It was so nice to hear it again! He was such a special, special man.

Read the full article here. Watch the video below.