Bridal shops, balconies, and big changes.

Here we go... first blog post of 2013.

And it's almost May. Oops.

I am a terrible blogger; it's a proven fact. But last summer, this blog became just the outlet I needed. A place to express myself, my feelings, my thoughts... and my sometimes bleeding heart.

It's been a long road since July 20, 2012. I've tried to travel it in running shoes, but even I can trip and fall in those. Some days are easy, some are so painful I'd think I'd gone back in time.

One of my best friends from college is getting married this summer. I'm in the wedding, which of course means I have to wear a special dress. I am a) a procrastinator and b) hate dress shopping because I always feel like the ugliest girl in the store.

Unfortunately, I waited until the last second and finally went to the bridal shop this week. I had the dress I wanted in mind, knew what color I wanted, and thought it would be simple. One problem. (Well, the first of several)

I hadn't set foot in this shop since July 20, 2012.

It sounds weird, I know. That happened to be the day my friend Sarah was going wedding dress shopping. I had called out of work (for obvious reasons), and another friend suggested I tag along on the dress search to get my mind off things.

It was okay - I definitely would've enjoyed it more any other day. I had recently said that I thought Jessica would be in my wedding (if by some amazing chance I do get married one day), so I kept thinking of what we'd lost instead of losing myself in the moment for Sarah.

I did a lot of crying in front of that shop that day. I sat in the parking lot and did a phone interview with a reporter from the San Antonio newspaper, I answered a few calls and messages from friends checking on me, and I broke down with my dad on the phone, who had just heard the news after getting off a plane from a business trip.

I didn't tell Sarah what had happened because I didn't want to ruin her day, but I finally just had to excuse myself because I knew I wasn't being fair to her or myself. I still feel bad about that.

Sarah, I'm sorry if I put a serious damper on what should have been an exciting day for you. (If it helps, I am really looking forward to watching you walk down the aisle in the dress you chose later this year.)

Fast forward to this week. I went back inside that shop, braved the brides and prom crowd, as well as my own fears of shopping to find a dress.

Of course, the dress I chose wasn't available in my color or size in time for Maegan's wedding.. and the only ones available were pretty much everything that I had hoped to avoid. I compromised, and picked one out that I have been promised will be in before I have to leave for Texas (barely).

After gulping over the price (which was higher than the dress I went in to buy), I walked out and peeked over at the spot where I'd cried to my dad.

It was strange. Somehow, I felt transported back to that moment... and in another way it seemed like another lifetime.

Just another first of many along the road I've taken since losing Jess.

My best friend Christopher (who is essentially Jess' male counterpart in my life) is convinced we're going to the Big House for the Michigan-Notre Dame game this fall. I haven't been to Ann Arbor since the last ND game there... with one Miss Jessica Redfield/Ghawi.

I keep trying to convince him that it's okay to go without me. I have no idea how I will react walking into that stadium, but part of me says I have to go. I've never been inside without her. And I know if I go she will be there, just in a different way.

So as I sit here, enjoying a cool spring evening on my balcony with a glass of wine and my laptop, I look around at the bright blue sky... listen to the wind chimes and the barking dogs in the distance... and think about how maybe she's just been right here with me all along.

Hope you enjoyed the ramblings - there's always more where that came from.

Happy Birthday, Jessi

To my dearest, darling, crazy redheaded best friend -

Your 25th birthday has finally arrived - HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I know, it's only 10:51pm Eastern the day before, but I think I can slide being just an hour early since you were born in Michigan. (And by the time I get through this, it will likely be nearly midnight.)

How is it that we've finally reached this milestone? 

I've looked forward to and dreaded this day for months. I still remember last November when you were home for Thanksgiving and begged me to come home so I could go roller skating with you. Unfortunately, I had to stay in South Bend and work. I wish I could've flown home.. even just to skate (and fall) with you for an hour or two.

Jess, I've tried so hard to be strong over the last few months. Sometimes I'm just not sure how a 24-year-old is supposed to handle something like this. So tell me, "Mom", you're the older one in this relationship - how am I supposed to get through losing my best friend? 

There are days when I feel like I can take on the world.. and others where all I want to do is curl up and cry because I can't call you. Overall, it's getting easier, but I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. No one understands my breakdowns and ridiculous moments quite like you.

This was supposed to be our year. The year where we stood up and ran things like we owned them - showed the world that we are as good as we think we are. The year that we start to really earn -- and get everything we wanted. We worked so hard to get to this point. And now I'm trying to keep going, because I know I have to do it. 

I've busted my backside to prove I can do the job I have. Some days I feel amazing, and then there are others where I'm pretty sure I fall flat on my face. 

But I did it, Jess - I won my first Emmy. I called my parents from the ceremony and as soon as I hung up, I called your mom and proceeded to cry over the phone. It was like sharing the moment with you. She was so proud; she reminded me you're proud of me too. That meant the world to me.

I launched this pretty cool project for your birthday. I just wanted to celebrate the beautiful gift that you were to the world - because you are far more than what happened in the moment that you left it. And it's turned out pretty well so far.. even Michelle Beadle took a picture for you! You have J.C. to thank for that, not me - but it doesn't mean I'm any less excited over the addition.

As the clock ticks down to your actual birthday, I can't help but wonder what we would've been doing right now. Would I have come to Denver to see you? Or would we be laughing over something silly on the phone? Or talking about how ridiculous this NHL lockout nonsense and how you're distraught over Notre Dame being number one? (By the way, I still have not worn any Irish gear, thank you)

Things are changing.. I've learned to dance to "Chelsea Dagger" again. I've gone back to the movies twice. I've taken on my one-hour show at work (even though it's proving to be a challenge). I don't have to cry every time I see your picture.

That doesn't mean I don't feel the pain. I still spend time looking through our photos. I listen to the videos of you on my phone just so I can hear your voice one more time. I can spend hours reading your texts, just so I can laugh and see where you said "I love you."

It's been a whole half hour since I started this and I've laughed, I've cried.. sounds like a typical conversation with you. I miss those. I know I'll get to have them again, but it's not time yet. 

Thanks for surrounding yourself with such amazing people while you were here. I feel like you left me a bunch of presents - one named Bridget, one named Linda, another named Danielle.. and the list goes on. They've all been there for me at one time or another.. and I can only hope I've been able to do the same for them.

I know I can't hug you or talk to you face to face, but I know you're here with me in some special way. Sometimes I feel like you're in my car, or standing by me when I get ready in the morning.. or sitting next to me right now on my bed while I write this.

I love you so much. There is so much in my life that I couldn't have done without you - and so much more that I will need you to give me that little push. Thank you for being my best friend and now my guardian angel. Enjoy that big hockey rink in the sky -- and save me a seat in the press box, will you?

Who cares if it's only 11:25pm? Congrats, you get an extra 35 minutes to celebrate on me. Don't say I never gave you anything.

Happy birthday, Jess.

#ily

Project Mustache

I'm on a mission, friends - one that requires your help.

Jessi would've turned 25 on November 27 - that's one month from today!! For weeks, I've been trying to figure out how I can celebrate her birthday in a big way... and it finally came to me.

I want to start a social media project called "Mustaches for Jessi." The girl loved a good mustache, and what better way to celebrate her impact on the world than by spreading the joy via social media?

Here's how it works - and it's really simple:

Send in a picture of you/your friends & family wearing a mustache! It can be real, fake, a finger mustache - whatever works! The pictures will then be added to an online photo album for everyone to enjoy!

The plan is just to show how many people have been touched by Jessi - and of course, celebrate her birthday in a fun and creative way.

There are several way to share your snapshots:

Send them through Twitter: @mustaches4jessi
E-mail them: mustachesforjessi@gmail.com
Share through the online photo album: http://mustachesforjessi.shutterfly.com/

Please share this with your friends, family, favorite celebrities, whoever you like! If all goes according to plan, this will be *almost* as big as Jessi's personality... so the bar has been set pretty high. Thankfully, we're heading into "Movember", so there should be some great submissions.

Looking forward to seeing your pictures!

#ily

Seeing green, gold, blue, maize and red.

It happened.

Last night, I went to my first game inside Notre Dame Stadium. The same game that would become the last thing Jess and I would ever talk about.

And nearly two months after that conversation, I'm finally feeling some of the peace I've been waiting for.
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"If you're originally from Texas, how the heck did you get to be a Michigan fan?"

"That's a long story."

If you're reading this, you know most of the story already. Honestly, I liked Michigan before I met Jess. I got a chance to sing in Ann Arbor about five years ago and loved it. I remember being disappointed that I didn't get a chance to go inside the Big House, but I knew I'd be back.

Thanks to one crazy redhead, I've been back. Twice.
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It was always the plan - she would come back and stay with me in South Bend so we could go to the game. The day she died, I realized it was just one of the many plans that I would have to carry on myself.

Thankfully, I started twisting my general manager's arm for tickets back in April or May.

He gave me a pair on Monday. Yes, I started crying. To be honest, I'm not sure if he remembered Jessi before he decided to give me the tickets or not. I'm just thankful he decided to let me have them so I could be there to finish something else we started.
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I tried to take things slow getting ready for the game so I wouldn't overwhelm myself into an emotional frenzy. I had tickets, a mini of Crown (if you knew Jess, you know this was a must) my Michigan gear and finger mustache tattoos. I thought I was ready.

Then our friend Darrel asked me about getting a tattoo/sticker for my cheek like the ones we had last year.

For some reason, I'd decided to stick mine to a bin in my room. Guess what?

I'm wearing the exact same sticker in both photos, one year (and two stadiums) apart.

(more pictures are on the way, will be in a separate post when I get them)              
           
I had a little more of Jess with me than I thought.
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The friend you see with me in the first photo is my co-worker Heather. I invited her to take the other ticket after our (mine and Jessi's) friend Larry was unable to make it up for the game. Heather's a Notre Dame fan, so she was thrilled to step in and take Larry's place, but she's also gotten me through so much this year. I was happy to have her there.

We stopped by our GM's tailgate before the game and things were going great until "If I Die Young" started blaring through the loudspeakers.

I hadn't heard that song since Jess's memorial. So I bolted.

Of course, Heather found me crying - this just two days after she talked me out of my breakdown at work on the two-month anniversary of Jess's death.

The best part? (Yes, there's a good part) It launched one of the best heart-to-hearts I've ever had in my life - right when I needed it.

Heather was one of the only people I told about Jessica's brush with the Eaton Centre shooting - the day it happened. She met Jess once in passing, but she's heard so many of my stories. Just in talking for the two hours leading up to the game, we realized so many little moments and things that just reminded me that Jess is still here - and her spirit isn't going anywhere.
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It turned out our tickets were on the edge of the ND student section.. so guess who took a little verbal harassment for my clothing choice? Thankfully, I'm from Texas and I'm used to taking it and dishing it out. No harm, no foul.

I eventually shared my reasons for being a Michigan fan with those around us - some not in detail, just enough to say that I lost a close friend recently who was a huge Wolverine fan.

That got me a thumbs up from Notre Dame students. Seriously.
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Yes, I watched Michigan lose a tough game to the Irish. Yes, I cheered "Go Blue" and got a few dirty looks and even some "Shut your mouth", but all ended in a smile for one intense northern football rivalry that I've fallen for in the last few years.

I still think Jess had something to do with Everett Golson throwing a pick on his first pass of the game.

But something amazing happened.

I walked out of the stadium feeling more at peace than I have in weeks. Maybe it's because I've stopped stressing about how to get tickets for the game. Or because I was incredibly tired.

I really think Jess is just proud that I was there - that *we* were there.

Just like we'd always planned.

#ily

I sing because I'm happy.

I totally blew an audition today. With a capital B.

For those of you who aren't singers, trust me when I say the National Anthem is a difficult song to sing. 

I had it in my head. I knew the words, knew the right note - and yet I still completely screwed it up. 

Okay, so I'd only decided to audition about 24 hours' prior to the moment I stepped in front of that poor panel of judges and tried to sing.. but this is one of my worst moments. And the only reason I'm sharing my embarrassment and failure with all of you is because it's actually funny.

One of the local radio stations is looking for someone to perform the Anthem before its big concert bash this weekend. I have tickets to said concert and heard about the audition last night.

Now seeing as I believe I was completely overlooked by a certain local baseball team for a shot to perform this past season, I decided to go for this opportunity. No matter that I had a big day ahead already with our new shows (more about that in another post - tomorrow?) or that this is a big emotional day for me - no, I just had to pile on. 

Heck, I can't even remember the last time I had a live audition. And that's saying something, seeing as I have done quite a few in my 24 years on this earth.

I left work with the belief that I wouldn't make it in time to try out. The station was only offering 60 audition spots -- and I was already 45 minutes late. 

Nonetheless, I walked in - picked up my #27 sticker - and prepared to sing a capella as requested. 

There were several kids ahead of me, along with several stage moms. No matter how long I've been away from the audition process, some things never change. I just laughed it off and tried to focus on the notes. 

I've done this before. Auditioning is nothing new, and neither is singing the Anthem. I managed to walk in and belt it -- and it started out fantastic. The judges seemed pleased.

Until I hit the key change. I knew I'd screwed up. I started too high - rookie mistake. Too bad, since I was a rookie about 20 freakin' years ago. 

So I cracked. Not once. No. Twice. And I still smiled. Heck, I wanted to laugh. Those poor, poor judges.

Everything in me said "STOP." But that's not how this works. You just keep going and push through, because the show must go on. I knew what would happen before it happened.

I think I owned the rest of the song. Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself I didn't blow it as badly as I might have this time. Hey - at least I got the words right!

The last time I auditioned to sing the Anthem was for that one team - and it was on video. (In ONE take, thank you) Believe it or not, I sent that to Jess after I sent it in for consideration. She said it gave her chills. Let's be honest - today's rendition would've given her the giggles.

Bad moment aside, it really did feel good to really sing again. I haven't done that in ages. To think - I used to spend hours singing in college. And then it all went to the wayside for journalism. Now I don't really talk about it. Yeah, people know I can sing - or they've at least heard the rumor - but it's not a huge part of my life anymore.

I love my job - really, I do. But something tells me it's time to find my voice again. 

I just hope I can leave the cracked notes behind. Ugh.

Suck it up, buttercup.

I honestly do not know my own strength.

This isn't to say it's astounding by any means, but I have gotten through more in the last month or so than I could have ever imagined. And maybe it's not really my strength that I'm learning about, but a reminder of God's strength and power at work in my life.

Things are getting ready to change for me at work.. and I'm nervous. This is usually when I would pick up the phone and call Jess so she could reassure me that everything will be fine. 

"No, Emily. You're not going to screw this up."

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."
Joshua 1:9

I've not been to church in a while.. not because I've lost faith, but because my schedule wasn't the most accommodating. Yes, it's an excuse. And I'm working on it.

The other night, I found my soul in serious need of spiritual help. I started reading Scripture online - yes, on the internet.. twas a bit surreal - but it helped. The words began to fill the emptiness I've felt for what seems like forever now. 

So I've started reading verses to remind myself that I'm not alone and that God has a plan for me. I'm not sure what that is -- or where I'm going to end up. 


"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart."
Jeremiah 29:11-13


If you know me, you know I am a pro at stressing out. Everyone loves to tell me not to worry about things, just go with it. I think my favorite quote on this is probably from Mac.

"Emily, telling you not to worry is like telling an ocean not to crash against the shore."

I want so badly to do what I can and do it well. I try to think about the fact that I've now been in South Bend for a year and a half.. and not only am I producing, but I have been given more responsibility. That has to mean they trust me and that I don't completely suck, right?

This big shift at work has me waking up in the middle of the night - at least once in a cold sweat. I've always said that I'm in a constant state of prayer, whether it be praying my lead story makes the top of my show or that I can avoid sticking my foot in my mouth on a daily basis.

"Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me."
John 14:1

For all my stressing, I know things are looking up. My pain is still there and I have my moments, but there are more good days than bad days. I know my favorite ginger is here, she's got my back. And lucky me, she brought some amazing people into my life right when I needed them.

I know she'll be in that control room with me when the time comes, pushing me to "suck it up, buttercup. Deal with it." And reminding me not to worry, because I'm not going to screw this up.

So I keep going.

I went back to the ballpark today - only to hear "Chelsea Dagger" again. But this time, I sang along with a smile on my face.

Going back and moving forward.

A trip to the movies is usually pretty simple.

You pick the flick, grab your tickets and refreshments and lose yourself in another world with different problems.

Going to the movies has been one of my favorite things to do for as long as I can remember. It was kind of like playing dress up without the effort - you just have to let your mind wander.

Three weeks ago, I sat in a movie theater.. excited to see the "it" movie of the summer. And I loved it. Couldn't wait to see it again.

Then Aurora happened. And it wasn't just the fear of having it happen all over again, but the pain of losing someone in a place that should have been safe and knowing that a movie theater is the last thing my best friend Jessica saw.

I told myself I would go back to the movies.. eventually. Three weeks later, I found myself walking into a movie theater of my own accord. Sure, I was encouraged to go.. but in the end, it was ultimately my decision.

I knew it would be like ripping the Band-Aid off a fresh wound. And it's definitely fresh. Just when things seemed to be getting easier, I was completely blindsided Saturday at a baseball game. I heard one of the songs I will always associate with Jess - "Chelsea Dagger". I went from excitement to tears in just seconds. Walking into a movie theater couldn't be any better.

Still, I bought my ticket and stepped through the doors of theater 9. Yes, the same theater number Jess was in - an irony not lost on me. My friend Monica was brave enough to go with me, knowing exactly what she might have to deal with.

I could feel the blood drain from my face when I saw the seats. I completely broke down.

Monica promised I would be okay, promised she would take care of me. She even offered to leave.

No. I couldn't do that either. I found myself eyeing the emergency exit, not out of fear.. just pain. That stinging reminder of what should have been safe.

I stayed in theater 9. I flinched when gunshots went off in the production company's intro and immediately looked right at the exit.. trying to convince myself it wasn't happening again. And it wasn't. It was all in my head. I watched "The Campaign", because I knew my first movie had to be something funny.

And I was okay. I got through my first movie - and in doing so, won my first battle with my grief and the gunman. I hope everyone who is going through what I am - loss, grief, anger, heartbreak - I hope all of you find the strength to go back to the movies. Because it's what you love to do.

As I've told myself every day for 23 days now.. I cannot let him win. He's taken enough from me already, I can't let him take more of the things that give me joy.

That's not how Jess would want me to live. 

And that's the point. I have to live. That means getting out of my bubble that I sometimes find myself wanting to create, because it's safe and I can hide and I can hurt without getting hurt. But that's not living.

One of the reasons Jess and I got along so well was because I understood her thirst for life. I'm much more grounded and Type-A, but Jess could talk me into almost anything because I wanted so badly to get out of my shell. 

I'm sure the term "my shell" makes those of you who really know me laugh, seeing as I have a pretty loud personality. But I've felt that part of me grow quiet since Jessi's death. And I have to bring that Emily back out, because that's who Jessi loved. That's who my friends and family love.

And thank God, because I'm still here. Alive. Living.

#ily