Happy Birthday to Me.

Today I turned 34 years old. As a person with an almost-christmas-birthday its always been a sort of big deal to pay special attention to it, to separate it out from other holiday festivities. Growing up, my parents always held big parties for me and made sure the day was special, despite the "merry christmas birthday" cards or two-in-one gifts from aunts and uncles. My husband did this too- he always had a a pile of beautifully wrapped little gifts for me, each one thoughtful and special. The entire day was a celebration, from start to finish.

Going into this birthday without him was a little scary. I didnt know if I would be angry or sad. I didnt know if anyone would remember. I didnt know if I would get through the day easily or be miserable-as it turns out Ive been hovering somewhere in the middle.

When Rick first died I thought the entire world would stop, even if just for a minute. That everything should stand still because this amazing, beautiful, loving person wasnt in the world anymore. How could people not feel his absence? How could they just keep going about their daily activities? On a day like today, Im experiencing a sort of similar feeling- I want to shout at my friends, "How do you not feel this? How do you not sense how empty today feels?". Clearly its not their responsibility, and they certainly didnt forget. I got early morning text messages and beautiful flowers from my sister in law. Still, somehow, it feels...well, like something is missing.

There was no birthday cake today, but if I had a candle (or 34) to blow out, Id wish impossible things- to wake up in a place where Rick was present and healthy, to not celebrate my birthday without him, and for him to have more birthdays of his own to celebrate.

Call for submissions, urgent!

As many of you know, I have been working on a young adult cancer stories booklet and resource guide. I put out the call for your stories- those of you who are young adult cancer patients and survivors, or their friends, families, partners or caregivers. The initial response was wonderful, and a lot of people were willing to participate. With everyone's interest and support, I applied for and received a Seed Award from the Sprout Fund, and my dreams for this booklet were suddenly within my grasp.

Stories trickled in slowly and each one moved me. However, the trickle eventually stopped, and I have been trying to collect the last few straggling submissions. Ive pushed back the release date of the booklet, and have decided March would be the best time anyway, to mark the month of my husband's passing with something more than grief and sadness. Now, as deadlines are approaching and we have less time to get this thing together, I need all of you more than ever! If you are currently working on a submission PLEASE try to get it to me by this friday, December 18th. If you are interested in submitting a story, the same applies!

Grant or no grant, this booklet will not be possible without those of you who have a story to share. Your experiences, challenges and successes can help other young adults embarking on their own cancer journeys, it can ease the feeling of isolation, open up dialogues between young adult cancer patients and the people who love them and raise awareness of young adult cancer in our community. I know that writing about or sharing something so personal is no easy task. Submissions, around 1000 words in length, can be submitted anonymously if preferred. Writers who are ok with attaching their names to their stories can also include a 2 or 3 sentence bio.

Please contact me at BRICKSpgh at gmail dot com for more information, or to submit your story. Thank you to those of you who have submitted already, and I am looking forward to reading new stories!

O, Christmas Tree

On Sunday night my son and I finally decorated our christmas tree. Another in the list of "first time doing this thing without Rick" things that we've found ourselves having to get through this year. I knew it was going to be difficult. But Im honestly not sure I realized how tough it would actually be.

It took us hours. HOURS. We assembled the artificial tree, and I strung it with lights. Lights that worked prior to putting them on the tree, then, once deliberately and thoughtfully put in their place, didnt work. Well, some of them worked. But approximately one third of them, a random bunch in the middle of one string of lights, did not. Eerie. I'll admit, I "yelled" at Rick for leaving me with the task of doing the lights on the tree, then set about trying to fix them. Before I got the strand completely off the tree it decided to work, so I restrung them and we proceeded with the ornaments.

We got a few on the tree, then I came upon one that belonged to Rick, and burst into tears. Jaden came over and put his arm around me, and we sat on the floor together and cried for a few minutes. I wish I could say this only happened once, but it happened over and over as we decorated the tree. The ornament we bought in 2006, inscribed with Rick's name and the year, that we gave him as a present. He cried when he opened the box and saw the ornament, and when I asked why he was crying he said it was because he knew it meant we were a family. Seeing it this year made me cry. So did the ornament that said, on the bottom "Ricky 1980 Love Mommy & Daddy". And the ornament that Rick & I bought last year at Oglebay, where we spent my birthday. And on and on and on as we put the ornaments on the tree.

What some people may not know about my husband is that he LOVED christmas. He loved the decorations and the presents and pretty much everything about it. We hung his stocking this year, and his ornaments, each one a memory of a time we shared with Rick.

Im not sure how things will go once the holiday is actually here, but know we will be painfully aware of Rick's absence. I do remain grateful for the three wonderful, beautiful and special christmases that we had together.

Its whats missing that makes it awesome.

A bicycle. So what, you might ask. Well, look a little closer at that picture and what you'll find is a clever solution to a serious problem.

Ezra Caldwell is a 35 year old cyclist who was told, after a cancer diagnosis, not to ride his bike because the seat would put pressure on a tumor. Clearly not satisfied with that option, Ezra made his seatless bike. The bike is such an amazing way of managing a challenging situation while finding a way to maintain some normalcy in life while going through cancer treatment.

You can follow his story in his blog, Teaching Cancer to Cry and check out his work at Fast Boy Cycles.

Im hoping to bring Ezra to Pgh this spring to talk about his life and his work, so check back for details as I get that organized. His blog is totally inspiring (and the bikes are BEAUTIFUL), so be sure to check it out!

Come to a show tonight

At the Mr Roboto Project
702 Wood St Wilkinsburg, PA 15221
7pm
$5

with:
Onodrim
Birds & Wires
Blood Red

I will be there tabling about BRICKS and generally looking to talk people's ears off about YA cancer. Say hello. Hear amazing bands. Its a win/win situation!

Thanksgiving 2009

Lets just cut to the chase here- 2009 hasnt exactly been good to me. In a year when so much was taken away, its tough to try to find things to be grateful for at thanksgiving time. Its never been my favorite holiday, and try as I might to avoid the whole "list the things youre thankful for" trap, I found my thoughts going right to that place over the holiday weekend.

What I chose to think about was where I was over thanksgiving 2007. Rick and I took our "honeymoon" then- sure it was a few months after the wedding but thats just when it seemed to work out. We took a week and went to Paris, and its that trip I find myself feeling most grateful for. The more I thought about it, the more little things I could remember about our trip, tiny gifts that mean more to me now than ever before. It was our first and only adventure outside of the country together, and there were so many wonderful little moments to remember. And thats what its about, isnt it? What you do with the time you have, not how much of it there is.


Rick & Charissa Gribenas, Paris, France, November 2007

Electronic Saviors: Industrial Music to Cure Cancer

A couple of months ago I introduced blog readers to my friend Jim Semonik. Jim is a DJ, musician, and cancer survivor who has overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles and is now doing amazing things in the cancer community. Im very proud to be including Jim's story in the BRICKS for Young Adults cancer booklet coming out in March, and Im excited to pass along updates about his current project, the Electronic Saviors: Industrial Music to Cure Cancer cd compilation.

Check out the video teaser above then visit the Electronic Saviors web site for more information. The testimonials about Jim and the project are awesome, and really speak to his character and determination. More information will be posted about cd release events (which will hopefully include an appearance by yours truly!). If you are even at all interested in industrial music you should fork over the cash and pick this up- its got an amazing, AMAZING collection of artists and the proceeds go to a good cause. Its a win-win situation. You can even pre-order the comp at a special price.

Check back here for more info as the release event date grows closer!!