Category Archives: Family

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About Me

It has taken me a long time to find the strength to update my bio without including my role as a granddaughter. I grasp the concept that my Grandmother no longer answers the phone when I call, but her voice, her wit, her style and her legacy are with me each day. My days with her changed my life forever and she would want me to use that for good, for myself and for others. So, here it is….the updated bio about me…

Call me a wife, call me a mom, call me a daughter and call me a friend. I’m closing in on 40 and have reached that point in life where we look back at where we thought life would take us, compare that to where we are and focus our sights on what is next. My future holds the fast paced life with a high schooler and a high energy elementary student. Our boys keep us expecting the unexpected with their love of life and desire to divert from the crowd and be themselves. I am one proud mama!

I’m self-sufficient, independent and I don’t like change. I prefer the organized to the unorganized and I like to have a plan. Ten years ago, with 2 beautiful boys, our family was complete. I was ready to take on the next chapter in my life. I made my health a priority and rid my body of an unnecessary 75 lbs. I had a goal, I had a plan and I lost the weight…and I have kept it off for 9 years. After that, I decided to run a half marathon. I had a goal, I had a plan, and I ran 13.1 miles. Ready for more of a challenge, I decided to run a full marathon. Goal, plan, 26.2 miles; done. Clearly there was a consistency in my approach to life. I moved on in my career too. I was finally developing and running my own programs. I felt like I was on the verge of really blossoming in every area of my life. And then…I had to run an errand for a project at work. I walked into Target, and was later taken out on a gurney. I slipped and fell in the store. My head suffered the impact of my fall. I woke up in the hospital. That was the first of several ambulance rides that year. That fall was over 8 years ago. The results of my errand to Target will stay with me for the rest of my life. I was diagnosed with a Mild Traumatic Brain Injury and eventually developed Post Traumatic Epilepsy, both due to a simple fall in the trashcan aisle.

Since then I have learned to live without a plan. I have learned to live with the unexpected. I have learned there is power in asking for help and there is power in accepting help. There is a greater power in taking the difficult experiences, turning them right side up and paying it forward in a positive way. I’ve learned that adjustment is a necessity. Since that day in Target, I walked away from my career and embraced a life that is full of all that matters most. I flow freely between wife, mom and daughter. I have completed 9 half marathons and 4 full marathons. Through many of those races I raised thousands of dollars to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and the Epilepsy Therapy Project. I’m evolving into an advocate for epilepsy awareness by sharing my own experiences and learning from those who have been where I am.

I have a brain injury and I have epilepsy but they will never define me and they will not limit me from setting big goals. I have learned to adjust and I have learned to change. Change can be eternalIy powerful if we use it correctly. I have learned the positive value of embracing change and remind myself to be thankful everyday for the gift of seeing the sun in the sky and walking (even running) on my own two feet.

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© Gatewood Campbell, July 2013

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Anniversaries

Anniversaries… dates that we recall for some special reason. Typically I think we relate anniversaries to celebrations. Often they are attached to sad or traumatic events. Whether the occasion marks happiness or sadness I think it’s worthy of recognition.

As this week passed, the 5 month anniversary of my Grandmother’s death passed. As I look forward to the weekend our family will remember the 75th anniversary of my Grandparent’s wedding. For the last 17 years this date has passed and she could only look back to the years they spent together. This year, at long last, I find comfort and peace that on their Diamond Anniversary my dear Emmer and Weed are reunited. He has been gone for many years now, but she still talked of how she would awaken in the night and try to be quiet so she wouldn’t disturb Weed’s sleep. Then she would realize he wasn’t there. Night after night, month after month, for 17 long years, she never got used to living without her groom. This year, this special year, on their Diamond Anniversary, we can all celebrate that young love has been rediscovered.

After 5 months I still miss Emmer. I still think about her at 9:15 every morning and often reach for the phone to call and wake her up. Sometimes I replay saved voicemails so I can just hear her strong voice. I wonder who has taken her weekly Wednesday 10:30 hair appointment. In the same way that her daily routine revolved around what she was doing with me, my daily routine revolved around what I was doing with her.

Adjustments and a gracious learning curve…that is the gift I have given myself over the last 5 months. Emmer used to have a saying when anyone hit a bump in the road. “It’s not an arm or a leg so we move on” and she would sort of shrug her shoulders. I’ve repeated that to myself many times. I’ve wondered what she might say to me if she could speak to me now. You know, I think she would say the same exact thing. I haven’t lost an arm and I haven’t lost a leg (though sometimes it may have felt like it) so I must remain grateful in ALL things, for all that I DO have. I must remain grateful for the years and life that I had with Emmer. I must glean from those years all that I can and then press on. In her 97 years she said goodbye to a LOT of treasured and dear friends. I watched her weep in loss and heartache and then laugh and reminisce.

Memories have carried me through darker days and her unique sense of humor has carried me into brighter days. What’s next? It’s always the million dollar question no matter where you are in life. My life has already defied many odds. My Grandmother lived past 97, my Mother is a leukemia survivor and I live with epilepsy everyday. “It’s not an arm or a leg” and I can’t imagine that God has washed His hands of me yet.

Heartache is heartache, no matter the cause. In hindsight, I can share of so many things I learned through epilepsy and my brain injury. Everyone in my family experienced heartache during those first few years. I know that was part of God’s plan for gaining insight I would need later in my life as I became Emmer’s constant companion. When my injuries forced me to walk away from my career, I couldn’t imagine what God what do with me. I was heartbroken. He mended my broken heart and made me stronger. He has taught me great lessons in this heartache. He has been mending my brokenness and He will beckon me to His next purpose for my life.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.”(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, NIV)

So as we pass through a week marked with noteworthy anniversaries, I choose to focus on the celebration of reunions, the valuable lessons of heartache and the seasons of life God sees us through.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, June 2013

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…and Finally Going

God has been working on me, with me, and carrying me. His presence is evident to me in more ways than I can count. Honestly, sometimes the lessons are coming at me so fast and furious that it almost causes me to shut down because it’s more than I can swallow.

Easter came and went and we made it. I have been counting down the days until Mother’s Day, anxious for it to arrive and anxious to get through it. This was always Emmer’s special day where we rearranged our day to be with her however she wanted. With three generations of Moms now at two, it fell on my shoulders and Mom’s shoulders to decide how to celebrate Mother’s Day, which included remembering all that Emmer was and will continue to be through our lives.

The weatherman predicted rain, but as usual, he was wrong. It was a gorgeous day with sunshine and just the right amount of wind to keep it cool. Johnny grilled fabulous pineapple teriyaki burgers and shrimp skewers while we munched on Emmer’s favorite cheese straws. We topped off dinner with Hershey’s golden nuggets. For all who knew Emmer, I suspect you have already pictured in your head the small delicate gold basket that always held just a few chocolates which she always offered anytime you visited. We made it, and I think when I fell into bed Sunday night I finally felt myself exhale.

Yesterday I felt like I was ready to turn the page to a new chapter and take another step forward. Moving past Mother’s Day had given me strength. Running has been my “go-to” for almost 9 years. But I hadn’t run since Christmas. I had been out of town and then Emmer got sick. After she died, for a lot of reasons, I just didn’t want to run. Life and a busy sports schedule are keeping me at the ballpark every Saturday and the road had no appeal. A bit of fear about a seizure while running alone was creeping in as well. In my Mom’s ever so subtle way of encouraging me to run again she gave me a new pair of running shoes for Mother’s Day. Yesterday I decided my shoes needed breaking in. I laced them up and put on my new running shirt Mom bought me from the Boston Marathon Store on Boylston just a week after the bombings. I headed out the back door and hit start on my watch. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other. After about a half mile it began to feel a bit familiar. My goal wasn’t speed and it wasn’t distance. My goal was to just get the feel of the pavement. A little over 3 miles later I was back home. My shoulders felt a bit lighter and I think I may have been standing a little taller as I walked down the driveway cooling off.

I won’t promise myself or anyone else that I will be on the road today, but in time I will have the strength and the desire to return to regular programming. Yesterday’s run was a step in that direction. Grieving, growing, grooming, and now finally going. I’m not going to rush anything, because that accomplishes nothing. I’m taking my time, learning as I move forward and making sure that I take steps forward in my time the way that I need to. Emmer was a tremendous source of strength for me. Her loss is huge but I’m learning each day how to channel her strength and use it to propel me forward.

Grieving, growing, grooming and going. One day at a time, one step at a time. It’s all progress.

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Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, May 2013

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It’s About Perspective

Sitting here on eve of Mother’s Day, I can’t really fathom what tomorrow will feel like without Emmer. I can’t imagine not eating lunch at the Pines. I can’t remember a Mother’s Day that I didn’t spend with my Mom and my Grandmother. We will miss her, no doubt.

I’m finding great joy in knowing that Emmer will celebrate this Mother’s Day with her own Mother! What joy, what joy! I have a feeling of how much she has missed her Mom all these years and I can’t imagine the celebration surrounding their reunion.

As Mom and I continue to figure out life as two generations instead of three, we draw on the strength we were taught from the best. Lunch tomorrow won’t be the same, but in her honor we will enjoy a few of Emmer’s favorite treats and we will celebrate the joy she is experiencing with her own Mom.

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So thankful for a wonderful Mother’s Day Celebration last year!

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Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, May 2013

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She Was Exceptional

I know loss gets easier with time. I also know that I have to go through the painful emotions, both happy and sad, to get to the easier side. She has left an emptiness that will take time to fill. Her petite stature held together a much larger figure that embraced and experienced life in ways we will never fully comprehend.

She was my grandmother, my confidant, my best friend.
She was our matriarch, the queen of our show, the caller of the shots.
She was my link to our past, my purpose in our present and my hope for our future.
She was a quiet strength and calm in any storm.
She loved a long dinner with her special friends.
She loved to play bridge, and she really loved winning the pot.
She loved fine classical music.
She loved to read good books.
She loved to learn.
She loved Hershey’s chocolate nuggets.
She loved a good manicure with clear nail polish.
She loved a glass of wine in the afternoon.
She loved cheese biscuits.
She loved salmon colored geraniums on her porch in the summer.
She loved homegrown tomato sandwiches with mayo on thin white bread.
She loved to laugh until she cried.
She told you what she thought, yes indeed, she always told you what she thought.
She believed a lady should always be prepared to host guests.
She believed in the value of the past and the power of the future.
She taught me the importance of a proper handshake.
She taught my boys how to properly make up a bed with hospital corners.
She taught my boys to pull out a chair and assist women as they are seated.
She taught them the manners of waiting to sit until all the women were seated.
She taught them never to eat until she had raised her fork at the dinner table.
She taught me to look past the outside and peer into the more valuable inside.
She taught me to speak less and listen more.
She taught by example.
Her selflessness was limitless.
Her determination was unstoppable.
Her strength was constant.
Her eyes and her emotions told stories words could not tell.
She loved her family with every ounce of herself and then some.
My life, and the lives of all who knew her are forever better having received her love.
She was exceptional, though she didn’t think so.
She was just herself, nothing more and nothing less.
Plain and simple and absolutely exceptional.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, March 2013