And life carries on and on and on...

As I type this post the lyrics to Peter Gabriel's song, "I Grieve" come to mind.

I think of all that my family has been through in the last 15 months - changes I would wish upon no one. And yet there has been wonderful things in the midst. And within those changes are Vic and Nicole Kinnunen. Vic just completed Ironman St. George as part of the Triabetes team.

This was an EXTREMELY emotional moment when Vic received the "Cure Jesse" award.... Vic's daughter, Nicole, who is standing with him was also diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes a couple of months ago (his son, with the red shirt, is in the photo also). The "Cure Jesse" award was started in 2008 as the first team of Triabetes embarked on Ironman, awarding it to Jesse & I. It's a beautiful thing to watch new people carry on this tradition in the memory of Jesse. I want to thank all of the athletes for dedicating mile 23 of the run in Jesse's honor. I know he carried you all through.

We all go through many changes in our life, some good, some unimaginable. As I type this I'm embarking on my own life changes of a new house and a new future once again with my amazing kids, Samantha and Joey, starting a new chapter. But life carries on and on and on...

Peace and love my friends.

the latest Dlife column- Making your worst your best

When Jay Hewitt came to town recently to talk to a group of diabetes educators I was lucky enough to have a seat. I couldn't help but remember the above photo of Me, Samantha, Joey and of course Jesse, as they crossed the Ironman Finish with me so many years ago.

I hope this column inspires you.

http://www.dlife.com/diabetes/type-1/michelle_alswager/diabetes

How to Celebrate Jesse's 15th Birthday

In 2005 I met a young man named Sean Busby. A professional snowboarder, Sean had recently been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. A story all his own (and can be read at www.ridingoninsulin.org) Sean was determined to find good in his diagnosis. Sean and I worked together to bring Riding on Insulin to Wisconsin in the Spring of 2005. Jesse participated in that first camp and every other Wisconsin camp after that.

In 2007 I started working at BRAVA Magazine. I met our fashion editor, Mollie Shambeau. We had a different way of working with one another (i.e. LOUD) and over the years developed a strong connection. In that time Mollie would receive several text message "merks" from Jesse. For those who don't know, a "merk" is kind of like a 1980's "made ya look". Mollie and Jesse met for the first time in November of 2009. The merks continued.

In that time Mollie had never met Sean.

When Jesse died it was never a question to me that Sean would deliver the eulogy. Over the years Sean became family to us and a big brother to Jesse. It was then that Sean and Mollie met for the very first time coming together in a time of great sadness.

Flash forward to June of 2010 when Mollie packed up her bags full of scarves and shoes and moved to nowhere, Utah, to live with Sean. Since then they have traveled the world literally...and while on an expedition in Iceland, Sean proposed. (Photo above)

While driving to this moment in Iceland, "You and Me" by Dave Matthews Band came on - a song that meant a lot to Jesse & I. Signs were everywhere.

Today I received a voicemail from Mollie checking in and "Oh, by the way, Michelle, mark your calendar, we are getting married on 9/24!" What an indescribable feeling to realize as it came from my phone...that Mollie & Sean had picked Jesse's 15th birthday for their wedding day - without even realizing it.

I believe as I've said many times that death did not silence Jesse's soul. Sometimes a solid sign from him - like this - is enough to keep me smiling.

There is no doubt to me that Jesse will be there on 9/24/2011 to celebrate both his birthday, and their new beginning.

JDRF Ride to Cure Diabetes - the official 10th ride....

I could blather on, but I already did on my JDRF Ride to Cure Diabetes Fundraising page. You know why I ride, please join me, or join me in the fight for a cure.

http://www2.jdrf.org/site/TR/Ride/JDRFNationalRides?px=1268074&pg=personal&fr_id=1472

Jessepalooza Rockfest set for Aug. 6th

Mark your calendars for the 2nd annual Jessepalooza - a rockfest honoring the life of Jesse Alswager and celebrating all he was - and is. We are very proud of all we have seen in this world due to his life and the loss of him. We continue to honor Jesse in the way he would love most - rockin' out. Join us at KEVA Sports Center in Middleton, Wisconsin on 8/6. Proceeds benefit JDRF and the Diabetes Research Institute. And if you have a bicycle...more info to come!

Great bands, great food, great Wisconsin beer - cya there!

Jen Davino graces the March issue of Triathlete Magazine

As if the news of Triabetes Captain Tiffany Heindel sporting the cover of Ohio Sport & Fitness magazine this month wasn't enough comes the news of Jen Davino's amazing article in the March issue of Triathlete Magazine. Not only am I proud to see Triabetes getting all of the attention it deserves, but two LADIES in a row - woot woot!

Congrats Jen!

/blog/2011/2/11/triathlete-triumphs-over-diabetes.html

More Lasagna Please - the last chapter

Today marks one year since we lost Jesse. So much has happened in the one year that is positive. It has made me realize the amazing friends I have in this world. It has brought people together that wouldn't have (Sean and Mollie). It has changed the course of people's lives. It has made me realize that I didn't have a CLUE what real grief was and that I never really did completely understand the loss of a child for others until my own loss. I wish I didn't know or understand what they feel. But I do. I stand in awe thinking of how many people rushed to be my side - people I didn't expect to help, helped. And sadly, a few people I thought would be there to hold me up, failed the most. Sad but true, but as Jesse reminds me - I cannot expect some people to be capable of something they are incapable of. It is their loss.

I have spent the last year continuing to advocate in Jesse's honor. Today I announced the 2nd Annual rockfest - Jessepalooza - taking place on Saturday 8/6 in Madison Wisconsin (jessepalooza.org). Its a positive vibe on a day that is very hard for us - the one year anniversary of his death.

I have watched others this year lose their children to type 1 diabetes. So many that I sometimes even forget their names. Some of them (those who have lost) have become some of my closest and dearest friends and today I also think of them. My text messages, emails and facebook has been an outpouring of love and support. And instead of crying most of the day I have looked at the messages and realize how many people Jesse touched in his lifetime - and now beyond.


Jesse is a testament that death does not silence the soul.



I have spent the last year writing a book on grief called "More Lasagna Please." The lasagna represents all the love that pours into your house when you lose someone. They bring you lasagna (love) and your freezer is full. It is to remind people that we do not need a freezer full of lasagna, we need lasagna brought to us for the rest of our lives. It is about the real grieving process not so much about God or life after death, but about tying your shoes, people who tick you off when they mean well, and just getting through Tuesday. It is meant to be read by the person who just experienced a significant loss AND the person trying to help them. I wrote my last chapter today and I leave you with my last chapter rough draft:
-----

Wednesday is Just Wednesday – 1 year later

When I started this book a year ago it always occurred to me that while I really wanted to focus on the first six months of grief, I would want to follow up on the exact date of our first anniversary. I know when this was all happening to me I wanted someone – anyone – to tell me that I would feel something other than pain.

I hope some of you have skipped ahead to this chapter to see that indeed there is some relief.

As I write this today there are reminders everywhere of that fateful day. I had wondered how horrifying this day would be, how I would spend it, who would I spend it with. I knew I would not be spending today reliving that horrible nightmare. No, that slideshow still resides in the back of my mind trying to ooze out throughout my days but today cannot be a day to torture oneself or torture those around me. And strangely I find today nowhere near as bad as the hellish month between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Interesting to me – and surprising.


Instead I spent the day reflecting. In the past year I discovered the color blue is the color of God. Oh, man, did you just wince? Don’t wince! I’m not a person all wrapped up in bible thumps. I’m a person who on this one year of journey has discovered little touches of beauty. When referring to blue I recall thinking at one time stating that grief is like going through your whole life without seeing the color blue but now blue is everywhere. When I said that I meant metaphorically that blue is everywhere – grief is everywhere – but until you truly have to fathom the unimaginable, you can’t possibly understand other people’s grief. Not really. You can try but I’m here to tell those of you who are helping others through their grief that you are right when you wonder if you know what we are feeling – no way. And God help you, I hope you never do. But later I was interviewing a wonderful woman from a national radio show who remembered seeing my story time and again on the news and while telling her my blue reference she said, “You know Michelle, blue is a reference to God.” So is it ok for me – and you – to see a little bit of God over this last year? For me that is ok. For you it can be whatever you need – I don’t judge!


I want to remind you, my dear friend the reader that as you get through your first days, first weeks, first months and you wonder, “Will I ever breathe again?” I’m here to tell you that unfortunately, your breaths are still sharp with pain and reminders of your loss are everywhere. That is a harsh reality. But I can tell you that while those first weeks I couldn’t get through “Wednesday” because “Wednesday” was a deafening reminder that my son died a week ago, two weeks ago, 3 weeks ago. And now? Wednesday to me is just a Wednesday. So I’m here to tell you that after a year there IS relief even if it is in small steps.


My friend Laura who you learned about so early in this book who’s words and guidance got me through those first days, those first months and this first year just popped up on my facebook with the words, “I love you Michelle who sees Blue now and is beautiful and loving and full of light!” It makes me reflect that just like as he did in life, in death he brought me beautiful people, amazing growth and a year more of my journey. If Jesse were here physically there would be no Laura in my life and she is a gift. I think about the other families I have met this year who lost their children to diabetes. These parents are strong fighters filled with so much love that I can’t imagine my life without them. The community that I was once part of – the huge diabetes community – embraced me rather than discarding me when I thought most I no longer fit. Instead I became someone they came to for advice no matter how strange I thought they would want advice from the woman who’s son died, not who lived. A gift from them.


The odd moments continue but they are easier to handle. Today I had a new intern start at the magazine under my guidance. Jesse’s death remains an awkward thing, I mean, am I supposed to fully disclose his death right away? Do I not mention it? What’s the right etiquette? In this situation my intern popped in today and we were talking about event planning. We started talking about kids and what kind of music they listen to. I started to talk about how my daughter prefers new music and that my teenage son “liked” heavy metal and that my youngest son was still forming an opinion. It lured us into a discussion of video games while I sat uncomfortably feeling almost as if I was lying to her by not telling her that my son had died. She was after all standing across from me listening to me detail all three of my children’s musical taste and now video gaming. I said, “I have this event in the summer in honor of my son called Jessepalooza. We gave away a private tour of Raven Software.” Without a blink but with quite a bit of obvious misunderstanding she said, “I bet he just died when he got that!” I knew this moment was going to be more painful for her than me. Split second thinking and me blurting, “I’m so sorry, and please do not feel horrified, you couldn’t know, but my son Jesse died a year ago today.” Horrified she was. I’m afraid our uncomfortable moments will continue until someone writes more clearly about death etiquette.


I think of my family. His death brought us together, tore us apart and today I am happy to tell you that my family is intact once more. We realized through this year that we needed each other and no matter what you have to stick together. I’m grateful for them.


My kids. What can I say here without choking up? My 17 year old daughter has shown so much grace, strength and love that I am in awe of her. Don’t get me wrong I don’t want to ever portray a teenager as perfect, I think that might be against the law, but her view on the world overwhelms me sometimes – not jaded and sad, but full of life and memories of Jesse. My 10 year old son who has gone through so much in this year, my silent one who held all that pain inside. I hope he continues to journey in the right direction and hope that he continues to remember his brother through stories, videos and good times. Maybe you are reading this early in your grief and I hope this brings you some comfort as you look at your children and worry about their future and immediate pain. You will help get them through, keep trudging.



I wish I could tell you that you’ll be truly ok. I do. But I’ve learned that grief is a son of a bitch. It bites you right in the ass when you least expect it and sometimes you will have to keep it in line all by yourself despite all the best intentions by friends and family because only you, my friend, stand in those shoes. I’m still healing every day and I wish you the same healing strength. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet again in 5 years? I’ll bring the garlic bread – you bring the wine."


Love to you all, and thanks for sticking with me.



Michelle