RIP Kim Alyce Boulanger-White

Beloved Daughter, Sister, Friend, Wife and Mother.

Kim Alyce Boulanger-White

July 12,1959-August 24,2009

Holy Crap. I am so devastated deep in my soul. Deep places in my very solar plexes in spots where I didn’t know I could hurt. I think I know, actually am more acutely aware of what it feels like to have your heart being ripped from your chest. An ache I have never felt. Like part of me is being shredded apart.

My oldest sister (and Mom figure) died on August 24th. Yes. If you are keeping up with these things 2 major relatives in 5 weeks. I am still so deeply mourning my Father. I miss him so much. Sitting here typing about him makes me tear up. I have realized something. My children have maybe seen me cry 2-4 times in their whole lives. I’m not a crier…. I wasn’t until now. My tears are always sitting on the rim of my eyes. I cry for no real reason. I think of something I want to tell my Dad and each time the memories flood right in. Like every time I have to relive the fact that he isn't in my house, on my land and I can't crawl up on his bed and just sit and hold his hand and talk about the stupid parts of my day. He always wanted me to tell him about the puppies and the Mom's. Tears are everywhere. I feel like since my Father and sister died I’m a walking zombie. I can’t focus, I can’t concentrate.

My sister, Kim, Kenny (the groom) and Michael my brother-in-law

Kimmie dancing with Kenny. She was so proud this day.

I’m so alone. No one left who understands what being a Boulanger is. Boulanger is not simply a name. It is a way of life. It is a doing word. Boulanger’s always show up. Boulanger’s always come together during any crisis no matter how much we might be mad at each other. For all intensive purposes “Boulanger” is a verb. I tried talking to my youngest sister, Bonne about our heritage. She was too young. Boulanger means nothing to her. I don’t think it is something you can make another person appreciate or understand. I can tell her what it means to me but she won’t feel it in her core like I do. It seems like when I try to convey to the kids about my Mom there is this mist in front of their eyes. You can read about someone but unless you hear their laugh, or hear them talk you are missing the essence of the person.

I wonder if this is how it is supposed to feel when you are really old (not young like me of course) and everyone you love dies before you?? My sister just turned 50. That is young. Really young. Her big thing was that she out lived our Mother (died at 45) and she made it to the age of 50. Her second wish was that she could dance at her son’s wedding which she did. July 25th she danced. She danced with her son and she danced with her husband.

You know, I’m having a serious crisis of faith. I wonder why God would allow this to happen.?? Then I think about people who lose their whole family in fires or car accidents and I understand that is worse for sure. My beef is the amount of family I am actually left with. Not much. There are 4 Boulanger kids left. No Mom, no dad and No big sister. The older sister I’m left with, now that Kimmie is not here, has no morals and we don’t speak. Not every family is perfect I know. I’m certainly NOT perfect but I do like to live my life as if “I’m better than that” philosophy. My brother, Tommy lives in Renton, Washington and has 3 kids and 3 grandkids. We don’t get to see each other often enough.
You know the 8 nights I spent in the hospital’s parking garage left me A LOT of time to think. No Internet and no computer left me with nothing else to do but think about stuff before my 4 Tylenol Pm’s would kick in. I’m sad. I’m sad that my Mom didn’t get to see any of my kids, I’m sad when people have a Mother and chose not to be involved with her. My sister’s passing has taught me that I always need to end every conversation with people I care about to say “I love you” before hanging up.

I was Kim’s last phone call. Happened the night before her heart attack. She phoned me at 11:40 ish. She phoned me because she was frustrated that the nurses “had not given her anything for her pain” and she was greatly distressed and in agony. My final words to her were “What room are you in? I’ll take care of it.” She then told me the nurse was there and she would call me in the morning when she woke up. I didn’t tell her I loved her, not because I didn’t. I just assumed this hospitalization would be like all the others. She goes into the hospital they pump her with antibiotics and she goes home until MRSA gets her again. I know that regrets don’t fix things. But my regret hopefully will be turned into an action. Never finish a call without saying “I love you more.”

If you know me you know I’ve been dreaming of my tattoo. The one I can’t get and stay married with.. I have decided I don’t want it to say “Love never fails” because it does all of the time. Instead… I want my tattoo to say simply “I remember.”

Kimmie with her best friends, Ziggy and Harley

Rest in Peace Kimmie. I remember...

What being a Boulanger means to me.

LOVE NEVER DIES... BOULANGER

I have tried my best to explain what being a Boulanger has meant to me and David just doesn’t understand. He can’t figure out why I can’t/don’t embrace the Christian name like I do the Boulanger name. Boulanger is where I come from. Christian is who I am now. I want so badly to get a tattoo on my foot that says “Love never dies” Then underneath it the name Boulanger. My way of reminding myself of how important it has and is in my life. Getting a tattoo is where my husband apparently “draws the line in the sand”. So, all the crazy stuff I have done doesn’t warrant a threat but marking my OWN body is where I get a divorce?? I wonder to If my desire to get a tattoo is to distract me. I don’t know anything really right now. I know I’m mad at God . Why did I have to be one of the people who doesn’t get to grow old with their parents? My kids know their grandpa and I’m so blessed for that.

When I try to talk with my kids about my Mom and how dynamic she was and that I’m a lot like her they act like I’m trying to teach them about history and some person who didn’t exist. How can I tell your kids about a woman who made me into the Mom I am now? She was the best Mom ever.

I'm going to work in my yard.

Have you ever felt like hiding or running away?? I have hid from my whole family and crawled into the nursery and hid with a blanket when I have been overwhelmed. I have dreamt secretly about driving away. You know how sometimes you read about people who just drive away and don’t look back? I have thought about it myself. I could never bring myself to do it but I have sure thought about it plenty. Raising 4 kids is hard work. Home schooling even harder. Making sure the kids had what they needed education wise was an arduous task but well worth it. My husband going back to school and being stressed out has made me ponder divorce a lot. I have actually told him that it is “Good that we are poor otherwise we would be divorced.” He doesn’t believe in divorce unless of course I get a tattoo. Stupid. But who is the stupid one? You ever dream of running away or is it just me?

Right now I’m sitting in a ferry. I’m headed somewhere in Canada with David. We have already been on a ferry today and it was okay. Then we got to the next ferry and have had to sit around in the car and walk around Port Angeles all day. I’m becoming irritated by all the chatter.

<---The Ferry people

There were people who got out of their cars in the staging area and began chatting each other up. It annoyed me. I mean really annoyed me. They are never going to see each other again and they are practically pulling out their hibachi’s and cooking hot dogs together. I sat in the car playing solitaire on my phone. I thought to myself I could make friends like that too. What is the use tho? One of the strangers ended up trying to sell the other one something. Like a true car salesman. I laughed when I heard the word “sell.” David spent his seven hours having dinner with me, walking around this town and then cleaning out the car. Gotta keep things tidy.

<--BUTCHART GARDENS

I am looking forward to being alone tomorrow when he goes golfing. I will have 5-6 hours alone time. I have not been alone (cept for toilet) since my Dad died. Like I’m being monitored almost. Crazy thing. Sunday was Erica Barcus’ birthday. She turned 20. Her Mom texted her. Her dad called and told her he was sorry but had been too busy to send a card. Not so nice I’m afraid. When did birthdays quit mattering? This poor girl has parents who aren’t parenting her. She deserves more.

I told you I was on vacation right now right? Well, when David was in the planning stages I told him to make all the plans and I would go. He planned it for “US” at a golfing resort. Did I mention I don’t golf? I watch it on TV with him but there is no allure for me. Chasing a ball …. Not so much. Soon as he takes up scrap booking, beading, cross stitching I will take my first golf lesson. I like the hobbies I do. I also like researching stuff on line about dogs. Always starts and ends with dogs for me.

Speaking of dogs my Dad’s dog, GIGI is so sad. She goes and lays under the covers in the room she shared with my Dad. It breaks my heart to see her scratching to get in there. I know she knows he is not here. She smelled him and kissed him goodbye before I let the morticians take him. It was so hard to give my Dad the last kiss I will ever give him and never be able to look into his eyes and know he knows exactly what I’m saying with just my eyes. Who does that? Me and my Dad. We shared the same history, I was “his girl” as a young girl. Went everywhere with him. Had a few bad years with him during teenage years and then nothing but sharing our coffee every morning with creamer and whipped cream?? No one likes coffee like we do. Haven’t perked a pot since he passed. Don’t want whipped cream. This part is going to seem creepy I think but I have slept in his bed for 4 nights. Once I’m in the room I don’t ever want to go out into the main house. Once I’m in the main house I don’t want to walk past his room at all. Wish I could unbuild it. I don’t exactly know what is going on but that is what is happening with me. Maybe I am insane?

I tried to be the best daughter, care giver I know how to be. I still have regrets. I wasn’t with him when he died. He died all alone. I would never want that for anyone to die alone. I sat in the room with my computer blaring music and playing on Face book until 3 AM. I was singing my heart out loud. He didn’t complain. I put the baby monitor right by my head and laid on the couch. I fell asleep and slept until 8 AM. I hadn’t slept in weeks. He had been so antsy. (A week earlier he had fallen out of the bed.) He died without me by his side. I let him down. I will never get over that. I should have been there. I should have been holding his hand, singing, praying instead of sleeping.

My Father died. I'm totally alone now.

RIP

THOMAS GEORGE BOULANGER

MARCH 18, 1937-JULY 16, 2009

OMG I have just survived the most harrowing week of my life. My Daddy died on July 16th.
We knew this time he must really be dying. For the past two years we have been on the “death” watch as each time we left the hospital I was admonished to spend time with him because he was dying after all. Well, two years later and he did it. He died on me. I did not give him my permission. I didn’t want to be an orphan. That is what I am now. I have no parents. I am parent less. No more Father’s Day!! No more laying in bed with him just holding hands and reminiscing. Never again. That is so permanent.

I have no one left in this whole world who loves me unconditionally and that cuts me to the quick. Oh, those around me would say that they love me “unconditionally” but that is a lie. They might mean it, but I know that it isn’t true. I’m 45 I know the harsh realities. My family has all been keeping me busy reorganizing and cleaning and etc. I have cried a lot. But those tears are the ones that are “acceptable” tears. I haven’t had the good cry yet. The soul crying I know it is here it is always brimming up to the surface, bubbling and yet not allowed to be heard or seen. I need to do this in private.

David planned a vacation (during the time my Dad was put on hospice) for this week. He wanted to go to Canada. I didn’t plan to go. I went and did the passport photo’s and never really intending to go. If my Dad was alive I would stay home. He was going to be alive so all the cooperating with my husband was just my ruse. I was pretending to want to go.

My Dad died and now I’m on vacation. Does that make sense to you? My heart is broken and yet I trudge through all the tourist spots in Canada. I cry special tears because my Dad always wanted to come here. We talked about it a lot when I was a kid. He wanted to live here. It is gorgeous here. I feel a bit renewed. I feel sad too because I don't get to go home and tell him all about it. It crushed me one morning when I woke up and my first thought was "I can't wait to tell Dad."

I have been doing A LOT of soul searching this week. I go from guilt to sorrow to anger at my sisters and then back to the deep unending loneliness. I feel as if I have been set a drift. I have taken care of my Dad for over 7 years and just the past 2 years has he been really bed ridden. I could always use my Dad as an excuse for the in-law functions. If I didn’t want to do/be somewhere “MY DAD” worked. I am a hermit at heart. I love being home. I love it more than anything. I wish I never had to leave my home in reality. It might be a sickness but who knows. The only thing that would make me happier being home is if it took visitors to hop into a tractor to reach my home. No cars could go over the terrain. Alas, no tractors are needed.
I can’t remember if I blogged about my Dad’s premonition or not. I find myself thinking about my “home invader” and how I can best protect my family. Was it just my Father’s crazy talk, lack of oxygen or was it a real premonition and why would God warn me through him? Is something worse going to happen?

I can’t do worse. I can barely function in my daily activities. If it weren’t for my dogs I would lie in bed and not get up. My dogs still need to go out, they still need to be let in. I need to watch the Mommy’s and love on their babies. I’m an orphan dontcha know. I’m 45 and an orphan. I could feel sorry for myself if I allow it. Some people suck hard and they are still alive. My Dad was everything rolled into one person. My past. My history. Where I come from.

When my Mom died 22 years ago I was only 21 and didn’t even have any children of my own yet. I knew what her being dead meant. Nothing was to prepare me for my Father’s death. It is different this time. I know how permanent it is now.

My Father lived with me in my house with my family. Everywhere I went he went. My Father was my mentor, my guide, my companion and the best friend I will ever have in my life and now I have lost that. I’m not anchored. I feel like I’m floating. I wonder if this lack of connection is what a midlife crisis feels like. Haven’t had one. Never intended to anyway. I don’t want to seem like I’m not thankful for my kids and my hubby. I love them but now I’m rootless. I have no one backing me up from my past. My heritage, my people. My kids don’t appreciate what it means to be a Boulanger. They don’t appreciate it and aren’t willing to fight for what it stands for. Being a Boulanger means everything to me. I MEAN EVERYTHING. We are a dying breed, the heritage, pride and sense of loyalty is waning. I want it to mean something to my children. My sisters and I know that being a Boulanger means we can get mad at one another, swear them off until they call.

It is displaced loyalty where you know that NO matter what we have each others back. No matter what.

I don’t think I instilled that in my children. It is a feeling in your soul. Rest in Peace Dad. I will never forget you... I promise.