Through the years...

Thirty nine years ago I started gymnastics as a tiny toe headed 4 year old. I instantly took to it and became a "Shooting Star" and on the fast track to skip the lower levels of team. My coach, Herb, at Starz Gymnastics in Orangevale, CA, made me fall in LOVE with the sport! He was downright awesome. I loved the days when he would put on Michael Jackson songs and let us make up our own floor routines like the big team girls. I would always throw my back flip in my tumbling pass. Never very well, mind you, but I was so proud that I could do it! My mom said I started to lose interest when my grandfather became very ill with brain cancer and our home life changed. I ended up quitting when I was in the 4th grade and then we moved to a different town. I still loved gymnastics very much and would do it in my front yard. I would drag my jogging trampoline and my toy box to the lawn and use it as a vault. I even did a floor routine for the school talent show.

Three years later, I tried out for cheerleading in Junior High and made the team. I tumbled at the games and continued cheering through High School. One night I walked into a new local gymnastics club, Tricks Gym, to take a teen tumble class and froze. I heard a familiar voice. I searched the gym looking for the person speaking and low and behold, there stood Coach Herb! I wondered if he'd recognize me! It had been 5 or 6 years! I signed in for the class and when Herb caught my eye, he grinned. He walked over to me and said "well if it isn't Kelly, one of my Shooting Stars!" He gave me a big hug and we started the tumble class. After class he kept talking to me and suggested I apply for a job. I had just turned 16 so I did just that! I applied and was interviewed by the owner, the amazing Barbara Jo. She hired me and I began what I didn't know would become my dream job and life dream! 

I coached for Tricks for just one short year and then followed Herb to a gym he was opening. It was a hard choice, Tricks and the owners were amazing, but I had such a fondness for Herb and loved new adventures. I coached for him my senior year and then off to college.

I coached all through college and graduated with a BS in Liberal Studies and minor in Creative Writing. I moved to Los Angeles, coached for a few months, then taught 6th grade in South Central and met my future husband. We moved to New York City, because, well, why not? And before I got a teaching job there, I coached in lower Manhattan. Neil and I moved back to California and got married in 2004.  We finally settled in Nipomo, California. I also started a gymnastics photography business and traveled all over California to take photos of gymnasts at their competitions. Did I mention I took photography in college, too? In 2005, we had our first daughter. I lucked out and got to be a stay at home mom for most of the time and photographed meets on the weekends. After we found out we were expecting another daughter, I decided to go back to teaching. I taught 3rd grade in Santa Maria the year I had my youngest daughter. By the Spring, I was missing the gym, so I also started coaching again. I became friend with a lot of the parents, one in particular, you know her as Awesome Alyssa! I coached her kids and we became friends. I told her that I wanted a gym of my own and she said she'd love to help me if I ever did that. I reached out to an old high school friend who was a gymnast and always super smart. Little did I know she became a Start Up Business Attorney! We met a few times and she helped me with all the confusing legal stuff! I found a realtor and then...Pacific Flips was born!

Eight years ago, we found a building on Huston Street in Grover Beach! We got our business license on 11/11/11. We held unofficial classes the week of the 21 and officially opened doors on November 28!

My husband, Neil, was a high school teacher in Santa Maria and coached basketball, golf and football. He helped set up the gym and would pick the girls up after work on days I had to work late. The gym began to grow and by 10 weeks we had 100 students! I hired a few more people who have become life long friends, Randalin, & Amber. Two ex-gymnasts that I knew who were 13 years old started popping in weekly, so we decided to train them to coach and they became Coach Molly and Coach Zoei. 

Life was going great! My dream gym was a reality. We had a small competitive team and over 100 kids by the summer. Then life for me, stopped.

Tragically in our 8th month of business, my husband collapsed in the night. It woke me up when he called out for me. Two days later, I had to make the decision to take him off life support. He had had an arrhythmia and his heart beat so fast it stopped. They tried to restart it, but it just wouldn't work on it's own. This turned my world upside down. My girls were only 4 and 6 and my gym was brand new. I coached every day and all levels. I am beyond blessed that Alyssa, Amber, Randalin, Zoei and Molly did not let the gym die. They worked and worked and worked some more. I later found out that they would take turns crying in the bathroom and then come back out to coach and run the gym. If you spot the daisy painted on the gym walls, that's in memory of Neil. He had 3 daisy tattoos to represent his girls, so we have him on the walls watching over us.

I would pop in here and there and bring the girls for gym or just some gym therapy. It was my happy place, but it was also very hard to do the one thing that I loved so much. Eventually, we hired more and more coaches, Coach Daphna, who was one of Neil's students and golfers. She spoke at his funeral and I instantly knew she'd be a part of my life forever. She is now on her 7th year and the Grover Beach manager.

Luckily, three years ago I met a man who was not afraid of my story. A busy widowed business owner mom of two. Sean has been a rock and helped me and the girls heal from our loss. He also has helped with the challenges that come with owning a business (and parenting teens.) I am so incredibly lucky to have found him. 

Two years ago our Huston facility was sold and was being turned into a cannabis dispensary. Exactly what we needed! Ugh! We had over 500 gymnasts and had to start looking for a new gym fast! Sadly, due to the cannabis companies moving into the warehouses, everything was over $2/sq foot so we had to settle for a smaller facility on Grand Ave. It would definitely do the job, the location was great and the ceilings were high, but it was small and we were growing! So we thought long and hard and decided to chance it and open a 2nd, bigger facility, in Santa Maria. So, last year we opened the doors to Pacific Flips South.

Now we have the little one in Grover but still able to coach almost all levels. Competitive Team has to move to Santa Maria after they compete a couple levels, but the beginner team can still train in Grover. We also have an in house team and pre-teams at both gyms. The preschool and recreational programs are doing well and this weekend we have our very first North vs. South Competition in Santa Maria! 

I want to thank each and every one of you who has had their children in one of our classes! I am so appreciative and can't thank you enough for still being my happy place. Now I get to choose which happy place to go to! Thank you also to my staff who are always there for me when life throws curve balls and requires me to be home with my girls. 

Happy 8th Birthday Pacific Flips!

Thoughts & Emotions...

I'm having so many emotions. Fear. Guilt. Appreciation. Sadness.

Fear that the events happened so close. Guilt for said fear because why would I be so scared when I wasn't at the concert? Appreciation because I wasn't at the concert but then also guilty for being so thankful that I'm safe and others weren't. And sadness for the entire thing. My heart hurts for everyone involved. It feels broken. Again.

October 1. The night Las Vegas was forever changed.

I was in Vegas that night. Next door to the shooting. I was inside, but still felt so close. I was scared. I was worried. And then again, it felt like a dream that I was watching from the outside. A nightmare in real life. I didn't see any blood. I didn't even hear the gun shots. I just watched and listened and reacted.

Sean and I were having a fabulous Sunday. We watched football almost all day, had drinks with friends, played a little video poker, then ate dinner at the MGM and were now sitting at a Roulette Table in the Luxor, where we were staying, when people started running into the casino yelling that someone was shooting a gun. I assumed it was a crazy drunk guy with a hand gun in the street. We had no exact details, just that our roulette dealer cashed us out with shaking hands and locked the table down. We were told to get down. We did. Then we were told to go to the other side of the casino. We ended up in the long hallways towards The Excalibur. It was so weird. Some people looked worried, others did not. I wasn't sure which way to go. I was leaning a little more towards the worried side. Sean was not. He was SO calm. Too calm. Part of me couldn't stand it. But the other part was appreciative that one of us was less emotional. Then I remembered that he once told me the worse it is, the calmer he becomes. I remember tears coming out at some point and him hugging me and telling me I was fine. We sat down at a few slot machines. 

At some point, I walked to the bar to get some water, turned around and Sean was gone. I didn't bring my phone that night so I couldn't text him. Then a line of police officers came jogging through the Excalibur, yelling, "Get your hands in the air!" I froze. Everyone just stood there. Was this really happening? Is this a drill? What is going on???

The casino was almost completely silent with only the background music and a few people quietly talking. No happy buzz of people on vacation in Sin City enjoying a few drinks while gambling. The bars stopped serving alcohol, the tables locked down. People were sitting on the floor in each direction. They started to corral us to an upstairs conference room. But where was Sean? I didn't want to go upstairs without him. I froze again at the bottom of the escalator. The room was emptying and I was still standing there, searching the room frantically with my eyes to see if I could spot him. I turned around just as he was coming down the stairs towards me. He had gone up to the conference room looking for me. Ok, I could breathe again.

Somehow, in some way, he and his buddy got us back to the Luxor. The tunnels were empty. It reminded me of driving to work on the morning of September 11 up the PCH with not a car in sight. We ended up in our hotel room safely. Still not knowing exactly what was going on. I grabbed my phone and started texting people. My sister, my parents and close friends. I knew two of my gymnasts were here with their families, AT THE CONCERT! I wasn't friends with their moms on Facebook yet so I immediately sent friend requests. Within seconds, they both accepted and we began chatting on where and how everyone was. Luckily, they had flown home earlier that day. They were ok.

There was word that there was a suspicious car in the Luxor parking lot. I just sat there and prayed that it wasn't a bomb. Please don't explode. Please don't be a bomb. What will I do if it does explode? We started to get tired and needed to sleep. There was an announcement with about 8 loud ringing beeps through the rooms intercom system that said the Luxor was on lockdown and to stay in your rooms until further notice. At some point after that, I fell asleep. At 5:00am I was awakened by the sound of another 8 beeps and intercom announcement. They were letting people leave out the back door. The news said the gunman was no longer a threat. It was now safe to leave. Safe? What is safe anymore? 

I am constantly telling clients and friends that you can't live in fear. Even with what I've been through, losing Neil and Brooke within 6 months of each other, I try so hard to live each day not being afraid. Unfortunately, I'm not always successful, but I do try to focus on the good and happiness around me. Some parents won't let their children climb trees or play on monkey bars because "Little Susie" did once and fell and broke her arm. That's not how I live. And people tell me I have every right to be afraid. I'm afraid that someone I love will die again. I know that is something that will eventually happen. I hope not for a long time, but I know it'll happen. And more than once. I'm also afraid of cancer. I'm afraid someone will collapse in the middle of the night calling out my name and being put on life support. I'll admit I'm terrified of those things. But if they happen again, that is what I will have to deal with and learn to work through.

I am also trying hard to not go down the "what if" aisle. This one is really hard right now. I love country music! I didn't realize Route 91 was going to be the same time we were there! We were in Vegas to go to the Depeche Mode concert on Saturday night because it's one of Sean's favorite bands and he had planned it months ago. But what if he was a country music fan also? I most likely woulda begged him to go to the last day of Route 91 because we weren't scheduled to go home until Monday.  I had even seen  tickets for sale in the Luxor. What if the gunman turned and started shooting at the Luxor? It was just as close to the Mandalay Bay as the concert venue. What if we were outside at the time? What if my little gymnasts were there and hurt? What if something happened to their parents? What if something happened to me? What would happen to my girls? It always ends up at that what if for me. I'm sure it does for all widows. I'm trying to stay thankful that the what ifs are just that, what if. 

Which brings me to this question. Am I ever going to be comfortable going to another concert, again? Or any festival for that matter? I know many, many people are wondering the same thing. I was talking to my "brother" who goes to tons of concerts and sporting events each year today and he said, "It will effect many other events that are meant to be a getaway and a release from day to day life. It sucks." It does suck. 

So, with that all out of my head now. What next? Go to bed. Get some sleep. Get up and shower and live tomorrow as if the next day is not promised. Because it never is. Life has taught me that. 

Oh Holidays...we've been waiting...

Guess what?? It's Fall!

And I just have to say...

I'M EXCITED FOR THE HOLIDAYS!

Wait, no. That's a lie.

A big

               fat 

                           lie. 

And I'm pretty sure, I'm not alone.

I've come to the realization that I WISH I was excited about the holidays. I really do! I even start October excited! Excited about everything that's to come! Everyone should love the holidays right? I wish and pretend and suck it up and probably fake it so well that no one realizes how much I dislike this time of year. It's crazy just how much it exhausts me to my core.

I want to be excited about it. I want to love it. I participate in all the activities. I dress the part, I go to the parades, I decorate. I smile. But it's JUST NOT THE SAME. It never will be again. I know this. I do. But as the season has already begun, the ache in my heart is definitely here, reminding me of what I have lost.

And this year seems to be the hardest one yet.

You see, we are approaching our 5th holiday season without...

Without Neil.
Without daddy.
Without my husband.
Without a Christmas Santa shopping partner.
Without the warm legs to stick my cold feet under.
Without a football watcher on Turkey Day.
Without the home feeling as cozy as I want it to.

Without without without.

Jeesh, that's a lot of withouts.

SO, in true Kelly fashion, I try to find the joy within all my "withouts." I remind myself that yes, Neil's still here with us, even if only in spirit. Yes, I have plenty of shopping partners, yes, my dad loves to watch football with me, too and yes, I have a very cozy home. I see that. I know that. I force myself to see all this happy through the sadness.

I have been blessed with some pretty amazing friends who've helped me through the years, probably without even knowing just how much! So here's a few ideas for you to help a fellow holiday struggler get through this wonderful time of year.


1. Have patience. For the love of everything that is holy, have patience with them. There are so many triggers this time of year, it's an accomplishment just to get through a week without some sort of breakdown.  Sometimes it's difficult to smile. 

2. Offer to go Christmas shopping with them. A little back up doesn't hurt and shopping is always more enjoyable with a good friend around.

3. If they have children, offer to take the kids shopping for a present for them. Especially if they're not old enough to go off on their own. 

4. Invite them over for dinner. And if they refuse, don't be upset and don't stop inviting them. This goes along with the patience. Have some. They should come around eventually. 

5. Invite yourself over to their house for dinner and help them make it cozy.

6. Visit them if they are out of town. 

7. Invite them out for a visit. Even if they say no, letting them know they're wanted is huge.

8. Help them start new traditions. Find a local "Turkey Trot" or "Christmas 5K". Go to the light festivals or holiday parades. And don't forget to take tissues. 

9. Help them find some joy. If they're your friend, you should know what makes them tick, help them keep ticking. 


Good luck to everyone out there who struggles just a bit more this time of year.
You can do this.
You will get through this.
Take one day at a time, one step at a time, one breath at a time.
In through your nose, out through your mouth.
Ok?

Ok, so here we go. Let's do this.

Happy Holidays 2016!

Four

Four.

Four years.

He's been gone four years.

These are the words that go through my head when it's quiet.

P was four when he died.

She's eight.

P has now lived the same amount of time without him as she did with him. Actually, she's lived longer now. 

Ugh.

That one's hard to swallow.

July 26 came and went this year and we, again, got through it with family and friends.

I am well aware of what the date is and when it's coming but somehow without announcing it to my children, they know, too. They are a tad crankier. They are more emotional during the days. More attached to me during the nights. It's like their little internal clocks know.

And like every year so far, the week or two leading up to it is usually tougher for me. Those are the days that have the good memories.

The good memories that now start with "The last time..."

The last time we went to LegoLand. The last camping trip in Northern California. The last visit to Disneyland. His last golf game.

And then the memories for me turn to July 24.

This is the day he began dying. The night I found him.

To the 25th....

This is the day we spent in the hospital by his side praying he'd show some sort of sign that he was still in there.

To the 26th....

The day he left this earth and became an angel. We call it Daddy's Angel Birthday.

We bbq'd for Daddy's 4th Angel Birthday this year and invited both old and new friends to join us.

We were surrounded by so much love and the day will forever be etched into my memory. I am so thankful for everyone who has helped us along the way on this journey without Neil.

If this week were to be remembered by your loved ones with "The Last Time..." what would you do different?

The Last Family Photo

The Last Vegas Trip

Surreal

Surreal: adj. marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream;
also : unbelievable: very strange or unusual : having the quality of a dream

I often find myself describing life events as surreal.


Like I'm living in a dream.


Not always a good dream. But also, not always bad. We have our good days. We have our awesome days. And we have our not so good nor awesome days. And sometimes the not so awesome days turn out to be good.


I was just given some DVD's of Neil's college days. I was home alone recovering from the stomach flu and decided to watch one. First of all, maybe not the best idea! I felt like crap and was emotional as it was, why not watch a video of my husband when he was full of life and energy? So, there I was, alone, weeping on my living room floor watching him play basketball. Playing the sport that I knew he was good at, but also knew he lost the passion he once had for it due to coach who couldn't control his temper. As I sat there, I listened to the commentators rave about Neil Reed, then a Junior, and how great he was. He was looked up to for his leadership on the team, he was a great 3 pt shooter, he was tough and determined. It was, well, pretty surreal to see this.

It's weird to learn new things about the man I married and had a family with after he has gone. Deep down I knew these things about Neil. I knew he was good. I just didn't know he was THAT GOOD. We hadn't met until way after college and he was as far removed from the sport as he could possibly make himself. He never talked about it unless asked and even then, he said the bare minimum.  Aside from playing the sport, all of the qualities that he possessed as a player, stayed with him into his later life. He was a great leader. The hundreds of high school students who showed up at his funeral can attest to that.  And he still could shoot. I was always amazed at his hand/eye coordination and how he never missed his target whenever he threw anything. 

The first time I brought him home to a bbq at my sister's house, he stood out back with all the men drinking beers and talking. Eventually they started shooting a dog toy across the backyard to try to make it into a small flower pot on the other end. We could hear loads of laughter with each failed attempt and then there was an uproar of cheers, yep, Neil made it in the flower pot on his first try. And then again on his second. It was then, that he was "accepted" into the family by the men. The greatest thing about that, was they accepted him for his dog toy toss, not because he played college ball for a certain famous angry coach and was in the news for what that coach did to him. They liked him for him. And so did I.

It's pretty cool when other people see the video of Neil playing basketball and they comment about how much they see Mar or P in him. Or, I suppose, they see Neil in Mar & P. From how much Mar hustled on defense in her first year of basketball or P's comedic facial expressions and endless joking around. He really shines through his little girls.

Some days, I feel like this whole journey is just a dream. I will soon wake up to Neil snoring ever so peacefully next to me and life will go on as planned. He will get up and go to work and I'll take the girls to school and head to work myself. Maybe on my way, I'll call Brooke from the car and we'll catch up about how much our kids are growing and when her next trip to Cali will be. After school, Neil might pop by the gym and watch Mar practice or take P to whatever activity she's interested in that month. 

But, of course, life doesn't work that way. Luckily, I get to see him every day in both of my girls. And in the reality of this crazy life, it's kinda surreal.  

Trauma, Fear and Happiness

A widower friend of mine posted this and it really hit me hard. And only after I accepted that I quite possibly have been through a traumatic experience, it made a lot of sense.

I believe that I was remade into something more than I was before July 26, 2012. But here's the kicker, I have never thought that I was one who was traumatized. When I hear PTSD, I think of soldiers in war or victims of horrendous crimes. I don't put myself into that category.

But why not? I guess one would say that waking up to a thud at 2 am, hearing your husband saying your name while struggling to breathe on your bedroom floor, calling 911 and praying your two little girls don't wake up to the paramedics shocking him, knowing his heart stopped 6 times before being put on life support, sleeping on the waiting room floor with your best friend who's dying from cancer, having to be the one to decide to take him off life support, watching him take his last breath, and having to go home and tell your babies that they're daddy died might count as a form of trauma. And then six months later spending a week in a hospital with best friend while she is in a coma, spending endless hours with her children and family and then watching her take her last breaths. I guess I need to be a little kinder to myself and accept that yes, I've been traumatized. I've experienced some things that some people may never have to go through. 

PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder. Ok, so I've been traumatized. Accepting that helps me figure out a few of the struggles I've had since that day. At first, it seemed silly to me to think that I may have some trouble, I'm strong, I know that. Everyone who knows me knows that. And they constantly remind me. 

So maybe if I talk about these fears, I'll be able to face them better. 

Coaching. What? But Kelly, you've coached for over 20 years and you're so good at it! Yes, I know that. And I do LOVE it. A lot. But it's something that is difficult for me to really get back in to. I subbed for a coach the other day and had the absolute best time. I got a lot of compliments from some of the mom's and even some of the coaches said they loved hearing me out there again. They always tell me I bring a different vibe to the gym. So, why don't I do it more often? Why don't I make myself a coach on a class every single week? I teared up as I talked to Alyssa in the office about it (which is huge because I rarely cry). And I think I had a breakthrough. 

I'm terrified that my world will crumble all over again in front of my community. The last time I coached a lot and truly enjoyed it, I lost a good chunk of my life. And this happened in front of a LOT of people. It wasn't a quiet moment in my life. Neil was a big presence in Santa Maria and I was fairly well known in the town my gym is located. It was in the papers, on t.v. and all over the internet. 

I've come to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, I'm afraid to let myself really truly enjoy coaching again, and possibly become too happy, because then it won't hurt nearly as much if my world crumbles again.

I do realize that that is not the way to live and that by even admitting it and saying it, I already feel better. So, just to let you know, I am working very hard at being out on the gym floor again. I've coached 2 days this week and the anxiety that comes along with it isn't there as of yet. I've decided that I will keep moving forward!

  

Now on that note. The fear of becoming too happy again is weird to admit, but oh so true. Because I feel like I am a very happy, positive person. How can I be afraid to be happy when I am always smiling? I'm definitely not sad or depressed all the time. But am I as happy as I possibly can be? Probably not. 

I recently read this blog post and loved what it said, especially this one, about happiness.

Let yourself be happier than you are comfortable with.

Too often, we sabotage our own happiness out of a reluctance to trust it. Rather than allowing ourselves to grow into bigger shoes, we declare our feet ‘not big enough’ and retreat. We have to start allowing ourselves to let go of guilt and self-doubt and start seizing opportunities as they arise. Even if we feel a bit out of our league along the way.


This past year, I quite possibly have unknowingly sabotaged some things that could've brought me happiness both inside the gym and out. I'm afraid to become too happy because I'm more afraid to be hurt.

I often say, "you can't live in fear" to friends who need advice or to my girls when they're trying something new. So as 2016 approaches, I've decided to take that advice, buy some bigger shoes and allow myself to be happy.

Dear Future Step Parents...

So, if you read my blog regularly or know me personally, you know that my best friend since birth, Brooke, died from Melanoma, 6 months after my husband died suddenly from heart complications. Needless to say, it was a hell of a few years. Brooke was diagnosed in the fall of 2011 and about 10 months later, my sister called her in Minnesota with the news that Neil was on life support because I found him collapsed on the floor of our bedroom in the middle of the night. Brooke, with chemo in hand, flew to California and was by my side as fast as she could get there. She slept on the waiting room floor with me and sat with me and held Neil's hands with me before we had to say goodbye. She was there in the blazing hot sun during his funeral and she was there via texts and phone calls every day after until she fell too ill to continue.

Ok, so what's this have to do with the title of this post? I'm getting there. Trust me.

A day or two after Neil died, I remember a conversation I had with Brooke. She was in my daughters' bathroom and I was standing in the doorway and we were talking. She said with tears in her eyes, "Kelly, this is your reality and it's my biggest fear. It's going to happen to me." She had Stage 4 Cancer and was fighting like hell, but... She never actually said the words, "I am going to die" to me, but I thought it. After she said that, we talked about our kids and how they shouldn't have to lose a parent at such young ages. My girls were 4 and 6 and her's were 6 and 7. It's just not fair. And that's what leads me to this post.

Her kids now have a step mom. A woman who knew their mom before she passed away. In some ways, she may have it harder than other step moms. She was Brooke's friend. I'm sure she has many discussions with Brooke about how to help their dad raise her children. This is what I would say if I were Brooke, or Neil.

This advice goes out to the friends or strangers who may someday bravely take on the job of a step parent of a child who lost their mom or dad.

So, here's what I ask of you. In no particular order.

1. Don't feel like you have to replace their parent who died. That's too much pressure. They have one, they were just taken from them too early. But please parent them and teach them what dad's and mom's should.

2. Love them! And let them love you back. Look them in the eyes when they say "I love you", (and knowing my girls, they'll say it, A LOT. Heck, P yells it about 4 times through the house after I put her to bed.) Let them know in some way, that you love them, too.

3. Take them out on dates. This doesn't have to be anything fancy, but spend some time with them one on one. They've lost out on a lot already and deserve to learn how a man or woman should treat them someday.

4. Love their living parent. Show them that their daddy, or mommy, can love and be happy again.

5. Don't be afraid to talk about their deceased parent. You don't have to discuss them daily, but acknowledging their existence is important. And someday, tell them that he or she would be proud of them. Coming from someone other than the living parent would mean a lot.

6. Let them hug you. Put your arms around them and hug them back.

7. Remember they are children.  Children who've been through hell. Children who might act up or drive you crazy at times, but they are still just that, children. And children who need guidance and reassurance that life is not always super sucky.

To all the step parents and future step parents, you've decided to take on a pretty big job! I praise you. Just the fact that you are willing to take this journey with a widow says a lot about the person you are. Keep going, even when the going gets tough, keep going. I'm sure the ride will be worth it.

Neil, Me, Brooke and Mike, Summer 2002