Daily Struggle- grief post

 Many people know that September is a Challenging month in our house.  It marks the birth of our first Child, and then 2 weeks later marks the death of that child. Then September 30/Oct 1, marks the death of our oldest son.  This is the 22 year that we have been without Jillian.  She was only 2 weeks old when she passed from a genetic condition called Trisomy 18.  We only had her sweet perfect soul for 14 days, I thought my mothers heart couldnt break any more.  Every September 4 and September 18 a little piece of my heart breaks all over again.  But After 22 years it certainly has gotten easier. We have Family Day on those 2 days. We dont go to work, and we just spend time with our family. We talk about her and our memories we had with her for that short time. So for the past 19 years September was Jillian month, and we just tried to get through it best we could.

NOW.... 

This Sept 30/Oct 1 marks the 1 year anniversary of Peters passing (King Peter).  I spent so many years of my life and his life keeping him alive.  I spent the majority of his life taking him to dr appointments, specialists, procedures. After his heart transplant I spent hours making sure he was eating right, exercising, keeping his new heart healthy. We made sure he was able to live the life that he wanted to live. Made sure he got to see and do and experience as much as possible within his limits. I worked hard to make sure we had the money and insurance to see to his needs. I spent 19 years catering to his various whims and obsessions(The Wiggles, Bob the Builder, Cars, Thomas the Train, The Flash, Dr Who, The Avengers etc) I spent 19 years doing this.  When he died, i floundered.  A huge portion of my "why" was taken away. I spent so long being a protector and caretaker and organizer and advocate, that once he was gone I was lost. I felt like part of my identity was taken away and I didnt know what to do.  Who was I without Peter. I felt like a huge part of my being was wrapped up in being Peters mom.  When that physical part was taken away it threw me in a tailspin. The past year has been kind of a haze. I dont know how I have gotten through to be honest.

the weekend after Peter passed was a general conference for our church. One of the apostles got up and gave a talk about a woman who had lost her husband of like 50 years.  She threw herself into church work and service and a month later she told someone "I feel so happy! Is it bad of me that I am happy when I should be sad?" (or something like that).  Basically  the gist of the story was how the joy of the gospel can help lift us in our darkest times and by serving others we can increase our happiness. And I thought to myself  "EFF YOU ".  In my mind that lady was a terrible liar, she was putting on a brave face and trying to pretend that all was well because she had the gospel and a special light in her life and other bullsh--.( and made me feel less of a christian and upstanding member because I was not happy. )

When Jillian died I only had 2 weeks of experience and memories that I lost. It was devastating. I lost a year of my life grieving. That was only for 2 weeks. 

  Then I lost 19 years and it was soul crushing. I have tried serving others, I have tried immersing myself in the gospel and the love one another thing. I have prayed, I have tried to be happy and find ways to bring happiness. Guess what? I was still not happy.   

In the past 11 and a half months I have come to see that the timeline of events was heaven sent and the best possible case scenario. It still doesnt make it better or easier. I am still angry as hell, and sad and I still cry every single day.  It has been a little easier being away from NC.  At least here there aren't memories around every corner, and associated with everyone you see and meet.  We loved our church family more than we could say, but going to church was the hardest thing for us.  Everyone there knew and loved Peter so much and every person had a memory associated with them. It was just horrendous to go to church every Sunday and come home sobbing uncontrollably.  Every restaurant, every building, every street, every person.  It was unbearable.   A new location and new house and new job have helped immensely. Sometimes removing yourself can help a situation.

The closer I get to October 1st the more I have struggled, and I know it will be years before I am every fully "myself" again. And I dont think I need to hurry or rush the grieving process. I know if I try and "get over it" and force the process it will only make things worse in the long run.  I dont need to be the general conference lady, I can only be me and go through MY grieving process and timeline.

So I struggle, and I continue to struggle. And thats OK, because I know eventually as time removes us more and more from the situation that it will get easier and maybe I will have more peace with it. But right now I am not there.  And I dont apologize for that. I dont try and force things to save face or look better or be strong for others.  I can try and be happy, and I can try and find things that make me happy, but if I feel sad thats ok too.  I can go out and do unto others and do for others and help make the world a better place. I can  help others who are struggling by sharing my struggles. It doesnt mean I have to be over it or be OK with it. 

"Chin Up, Shoulders back. Lets see what we're made of, you and I".  

Visions, Trips and Crowded Rooms

Watching a loved one die is a terrible thing to have to go through. In July 2015, after having severe pain in his back , my sweet father was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma. A scan showed lesions on his spine. At the time he was told "Oh it is totally treatable, this is something you die with, not from.  They have made such advances in medical care this is survivable..." 

A few months later as Chemo was taking it's ugly toll on his body, he would get so nauseated and couldnt drink or eat. This in turn caused his underlying heart condition (A-Fib) to flare up, making him even worse. He was in the hospital for weeks at a time, one thing after another. They would stop the chemo and other injections and after a week ro so he would feel better and get to come home. Then once chemo started back up everything would go back the way it was.  He lost 50 or more pounds, couldn barely walk from the kitchen table to the living room chair without passing out. He was a shell of the man I knew the past 40 years.   After spending Thanksgiving and almost Christmas in the hospital (AGAIN),  he and my mom made the difficult decision to end chemo and treatment.  For my dad it was quality over quantity, and he didnt want to spend the rest of his life in a hospital bed, poked and prodded by nurses and doctors. He wanted to be in the comfort of his own home with his family.   They arranged hospice service and the nurse would come in a few times a week, adjust any meds etc.  My husband and I spent many many hours over at my parents house, spending time with my dad, helping him with the most basic of tasks, helping my mom with things she needed to get done.  

Feb 2016 the Panthers were playing in the Superbowl. Now, living in Charlotte it was  a HUGE deal.  My brother and his family came over to watch the game, and even my oldest brother and his wife drove down from Cleveland OH to visit. They knew the end was getting near.  That night we watched our team lose, and noticed my dad was very lethargic and just not himself.  My mother noticed his urine output was very decreased,  and had been all day.  

The next morning hospice nurse came and noticed zero urine output, his kidneys had shut down and he had about 72 hours to live at most.

That night my brother and sister in law and I stayed in his room, just talking and being there with him.  He started to speak gibberish. In his mind it made sense.  As we were in there something changed.  He got a strange look on his face. He almost lit up and smiled.  He said something like "What a beautiful park!". he was talking about the most beautiful park he had ever been to, and he and my sister in law were walking in this park together and they came to a bridge.  She asked him to describe it, and he said there was a big bridge ad then he started waving around the room to people. He said "Oh my friends! My friends are here!  I havent seen them in forever! I want to go see them!" He had a huge happy smile on his face and started to wave at them. It was a burst of energy like he hadnt had in 6 months, and  he just looked so happy.  My mom came into the room and he was telling her about the park and the bridge.  He asked her if he could go see his friends, but they were on the other side of the bridge.  She said "Well of course you can go see your friends".  He got a very serious look on his face and asked in almost an incredulous voice "You'll let me go? It's ok if I go see them?"    It was at that very moment that I knew he was talking about more than just a bridge and seeing his friends.  This was more than just some deathbed hallucination.  My dads face was glowing with happiness and love. He was BEAMING!   He was asking my mothers permission if he could leave her alone in this mortal world and cross the bridge into paradise where his family and friends were waiting for him.  His mother whom he adored, his father that was a firm hand in his life,  his granddaughter that he only ever got to meet once, his grandfather who was a personal hero of his...and more. THAT'S who he was waving to, and those were the people welcoming him over.   He told his friends "Im coming!"

A little while later he fell asleep, and around 1 am we got the notice from my mom that he had passed. She came in to lie down next to him around 11pm, and at that time he had the horrible death rattle and almost a pained look on his face.  She kind of woke up at midnight and noticed he was in a deep sleep, nice even breaths, calm, no rattle, and looked peaceful.  At 1am she kind of startled awake, something had changed and noticed my dad had gone.  

I know that whole experience had changed his death experience from one of fear to one of peace and calm. I am convinced of the ministering of Angels.  

I am also convinced my dad was one who helped my son Peter to the other side.

A few weeks after Peter died I was having trouble sleeping, I was mad, I was sad, I was still in shock. About 3am I was up and just tossing and turning and crying. I was so worried about what Peter was feeling when he passed. Was he alone down in his room scared? Did he know what was happening? I was just a mess about it.  I felt a distinct calm come over me, almost a quiver and burst of energy and a radiating prickle over my whole body. I almost had a vision if you will. I literally  saw peter lie down on the floor and I heard my dads voice.  It was as if I was watching a replay and  he were in the same room, and it was clear as day.

DAD: Come on Slick, it's time to go.

PETER: What? WHat do you mean it's time to go?

DAD: It's time to leave, we need to go.

PETER: But my mom is going to be so sad if I go.

DAD: I know, but she will be fine. You have to come with me now. 

PETER: ok .

At this point the playback stopped and I went back to my regularly scheduled fits of sleep and crying. But after this incident, I felt strangely calm. I knew what I had seen was truth.  I cent describe how I know, but I just do.

My dad would call people "Slick" as a nickname, something he called me when I was younger and he would call the boys as a loving gesture.  Like "Whew slick, those shoes are FAST!"   I think he used the name Slick so Peter would know it was my dad, kind of a code word, kind of a way to let him know it was alright. 

I was crying, but still strangely comforted by this experience.

About 2 months after Peters death,  a friend lent me a book.  She was a volunteer for hospice and attended some training. She took me out to lunch and presented me with the book. She thought I could really get a lot out of it.  It's called 

VISIONS, TRIPS AND CROWDED ROOMS: WHO AND WHAT YOU SEE BEFORE YOU DIE

By David Kessler.

This book completely solidified and validated my experiences. 

From Amazon: "David Kessler, one of the most renowned experts on death and grief, takes on three uniquely shared experiences that challenge our ability to explain and fully understand the mystery of our final days. The first is "visions." As the dying lose sight of this world, some people appear to be looking into the world to come. The second shared experience is getting ready for a "trip." The phenomenon of preparing oneself for a journey isn’t new or unusual. In fact, during our loved ones’ last hours, they may often think of their impending death as a transition or journey. These trips may seem to us to be all about leaving, but for the dying, they may be more about arriving. Finally, the third phenomenon is "crowded rooms." The dying often talk about seeing a room full of people, as they constantly repeat the word crowded. In truth, we never die alone. Just as loving hands greeted us when we were born, so will loving arms embrace us when we die. In the tapestry of life and death, we may begin to see connections to the past that we missed in life. While death may look like a loss to the living, the last hours of a dying person may be filled with fullness rather than emptiness. In this fascinating book, which includes a new Afterword, Kessler brings us stunning stories from the bedsides of the dying that will educate, enlighten, and comfort us all.

As I read this book, I was brought an immense amount of comfort in knowing that my dad was not alone with he died (Spiritually and physically), and in knowing that Peter was not alone when he died.
I was so happy that she thought of me. 

Death of a loved one is never easy. Sometimes it may feel a relief, but it is never easy. There are always so many questions, and the more you think about it the more discouraged and sad and depressed you can become.  I found that after watching my dad and son pass I questioned my own mortality and eternal worth. Was there a heaven? What if we are all just fooling ourselves?  What if there isnt anything after we die, whats the point.  But the more I read these experiences, I saw the common link through it all...we have a loving father in heaven who will not leave us alone or scared when it is our turn. You just have to read it and have a permanent member of your bookshelf !   It is a great collection of experiences and stories of those who have gone through the same thing, the same thoughts, felt the same way. It is a quick read as well.  Death is one thing that unites us all. We all die. We all have loved ones that die.  This book helps comfort us in knowing that when we die we are NEVER alone. 

I HIGHLY recommend this book, the stories are collected from hospice workers, nurses, doctors, and loved ones who have experienced these phenomenon . It indeed educates, enlightens and comforts. I

Bite me September.

"Wake me up when September ends"...

 I always liked this title. Green Day had it right.

September is a rough month for us, and every year it seems to come around faster and faster. 

Today my Jillian would be 22.  She was born after a LONG 4 days of labor.  She came barreling into the world at 4# and 17" long, club foot, bent fingers and an extra 18th chromosome.  We were told " If she actually survives delivery, you probably want to just keep her in your room with you because she probably wont survive the night. "     You see, we had an ultrasound that detected she was abnormally small and club foot, so 2 months before she was born they sent us to a specialist for an in depth ultrasound, just to make sure they knew what was going on. They weren't sure what exactly it was, although they had a good idea. They gave me an amniocentesis,  and within a week had our devastating results. Trisomy-18.   I remember sitting in the neonatologists office with my husband and my parents and getting the results. I was just stunned. I remember crying and hugging my dad who was at a loss for words.  Emotional outbursts weren't his strong suit and it was difficult for him to see me like this and it was difficult for himself to feel some sort of way too.

In the 6 weeks leading up to her birth, we had prepared ourselves as much as we could, learning everything we could about Trisomy-18.  one extra 18th chromosome in her cells that absolutely wreaked havoc on her entire body.  We read story after story of people who had gone through the same thing. Baby lived 1 day.  Baby lived 2 hours.  Baby didnt survive delivery.  But there were the few and far between bright spots of child lived 5 years, or child is still alive at 8. they had severe limitations and couldn't walk or talk, many were blind or deaf or had cleft palates.  Some had seizures. Some had feeding tubes. BUT THEY WERE ALIVE and their parents loved them!

She survived delivery and she survived the night.  They didnt mince words with us and they didnt keep her needlessly in the hospital. There was a do not resuscitate for her, and we had made plans of what to do in case stillborn or death after delivery. So  we got to take her home and enjoy what  time we had with her. 

She was gorgeous.  She had dark hair, and the smoothest most delicious skin (she was kind of tan!) and amazing violet eyes.  She was probably blind and deaf, and even preemie clothes swallowed her whole.  She refused to sleep in the cradle, her place of choice was between me and Charles in our bed.  She would coo happily and almost smile at us.  If she was in the bassinette or cradle she would just fuss and act all offended. 

To the doctors surprise she had a small sucking reflex and was able to eat from a bottle with bigger holes cut into the nipple, so I would pump and mix a little formula with it to supplement calories.   I thought "It's a miracle! We are one of  lucky ones! We might get one of those babies that defy all of the odds and do well!" 

She did well for about 10 days.  Then last 4 days of her life were my own personal hell. Charles worked for a bank in Cincinnati that didnt give a shit his daughter was dying and expected him to be at work. After all they had graciously given him 3 days paternity leave and she seemed to be doing well, so no need for him to not come back to work, right? (Im looking at YOU Star Bank) I was at home by myself with her, and then it started.  She started having seizures and would quit breathing for what seemed like an eternity.  She would turn bright purple, then blue and I didn't know if that was going to be it or not.  Then she would relax, all color would return and she would be fine for another few hours.  As the end got closer she would have more frequent and longer seizures and quit eating as well.  I carried her around everywhere, refusing to put her down in case it was the last time. I was so scared of her dying on me I even prayed that it wouldn't go down like that. I didn't think I could handle it emotionally. I would call charles in hysterics and he would have to find a way to come home, (bearing a look and lecture from his manager).

2 weeks after her birth she passed away.  It was about 1am on September 18th,  Charles had gotten up to feed her.  She didn't have a seizure, she just looked at him and almost smiled and shut her eyes and went to sleep calmly and died in his arms. No locking up, no turning purple, nothing devastating or traumatic. Just peaceful.

I remember Charles waking me up saying,  "Sarah I think Jillian just died".   A hole was torn out of my heart that day and has never fully recovered.  Every September 4th we have a family day.  I refuse to work on that day. Boys never went to school on that day, and we spend time together as a family. Every September 4th the gloom descends for the day and we cry, we look at pictures, we go out to lunch or do something fun.

   It gets easier, but September still sucks. 

Every year I think "What would Jillian be doing this year".  A few years ago it was sweet 16 and drivers license and dating.  Then it was graduating High School, then college.  Then it would have been graduating college or returning from a mission.  This year it's marriage and maybe starting a family of her own.  This is the 22nd time I have asked myself that question and the answers get harder and harder.  I am sad for all the mortal milestones she missed, and  I am still sad for me for all the mortal milestones I didnt get to help her through.  I am sad her brothers never knew her, and I still grieve for my loss 22 years later.

Grief isnt something that just goes away. It is always with you in some way or another. SO every year when September rolls around I just want to throw the covers over my head , stay in bed and eat a gallon of ice cream.   

wake me up when September ends...

KING PETER

I havent written in almost 2 years. 
I have been so busy, and 2019 my life was flipped upside down.

Our oldest son, Peter McBride (KING PETER) passed away.  He was 19 years old.
As many know Peter was blessed with a 2nd chance of life in 2005 with a heart transplant.  The first 5 years of his life were basically spent in a hospital, or sick and not feeling well, tired, blue, and lots of other trial and tribulations.  After that transplant he was a new kid. We had 14  more AMAZING years that we thought we would never get with him. He had a few minor bumps in the road, but all in all he had a whole new lease in life!

In June of 2019 we noticed his feet started getting some pretty severe swelling, we took him to his cardiologist several times but all the EKG and labs would  came back normal. They would have us increase his lasix, or make sure he wore compression socks, or cut out salty snacks, or drink more water or elevate his feet at night.  These measures would help a little bit, but then he would go back to the pitting edema.  We went on vacation and noticed he was tired, he couldnt hike as much and as long, and wasnt his usual chipper self.
In August we had his yearly cardiology appointment and biopsy/catheterization.  They found that his descending aorta was narrowed to the size of a dime and had to go in and do a stent.
 His poor body could barely handle the stress and anesthesia and he was in ICU for a week.
He was finally released and given strict instructions of light activity only, extra lasix to get all the extra fluid off and lots of rest.  We did all that. 
At that time we were told his heart (which was received in 2005 as a transplant) was going through transplant failure and we would need to hold onto it for as long as possible but it would need to be replaced. We were to start the transplant evaluations and told he had a few hurdles to overcome. He had pretty deep scar tissue from all his past surgeries as a baby and from his first transplant. Because of multiple blood transfusions and immunesuppression medications he has been on since he was a baby, his antibody levels were maxed out. (which means if given a new heart his body would immediately attack it). He was prone to arrhythmia (as was evidenced in his ICU stay). 
But we were going to go ahead with the evaluations and see what we could do, all the while taking care of what we had left in the meantime.

September 30th. He had a cardiology appointment.  Dr no longer used the word "Hurdles" when talking about transplant approval.  He specifically used the word "obstacles". He then mentioned that Peter was at a high risk of sudden cardiac death due to the type of arrhythmia that was common in transplant failure.  That was a complete SHOCK to say the least.  that was the first time that was even mentioned to us.  We didnt say anything to Peter, didnt want him to worry. 
 (When we started the transplant relisting process I kept getting the nagging thought "What if he isnt approved"? 
Every dr visit I would feel more and more discouraged and I would feel like a 2nd transplant was going to be an uphill battle. In the back of my mind I always thought  "what if".
I never made that admission out loud except to my husband who would always say "I dont know. Im not going to think about that until we get there".  SO of course I felt like the Debbie Downer every time I would think it.)

That cardiology appointment was his last, They had scheduled a CAT scan to see how bad his scar tissue was and then we were going to start the other dr visits etc.  I wasnt feeling very well, so That night we ordered takeout, he had a good dinner that he enjoyed.  We watched Masterchef together (something we did every night). He hugged me goodnight and went downstairs to his bedroom.
The next morning his brother went to go get him up for early morning seminary. He screamed the most heart wrenching scream, a sound I will never in a million years be able to get out of my head.  "Help! Help me! No no no no no! Hellp Help!!  Charles rushed downstairs and yelled up "CALL 9-1-1!!"
I said what happened, whats wrong?
"Peters dead!"

Apparently he had passed away sometime in the night. He had his laptop set up in bed to watch videos for a little bit like he did every night, he was undressed. But he was on the ground.  When it got hot Peter would lay on the floor and cool off, and it was unseasonably warm that week.  He had this little wooden step stool that he would use to get into bed and he was laying on the ground with his shoulder on the bottom step and his head on the top step.  He hadnt fallen, he was in a natural, graceful position like he had purposefully laid down. The rigor mortis was such that I assume he passed away very shortly after going to bed that night, maybe 11pm? It was 6am when he was found.

The rest of that day was a total blur. I dont remember much of anything.
We received an email from his cardiologist that he was almost positive that Peter passed away from an arrythmia, and had Sudden Cardiac Death. it would have been painless and fast.
In doing research SCD is fatal if not caught immediately. People who have survived say that they felt super tired and next thing they know they were in a hospital bed.  I think that Peter suddenly felt tired and didnt have the energy to hoist himself up into his bed, so he just laid down on the ground like he would do on occasion. I think he just fell asleep and died peacefully.

In the past 6 months I have come to finally accept that he is gone.  Sometimes it feels like he was hardly even here at all. I think back and it is hard to remember . He was like an angel that was sent to us to teach us a lesson and then he left and we cant remember him being here.  Sometimes it hurts so bad I cant breathe.  Sometimes I will find something random that reminds me of him and cant help but smile. I am a jumbled bag of emotions. I miss the king so desperately sometimes.  Other times I am okay because I know he is in a better place surrounded by his loved ones.

I look back and I can see the signs. I think I had been mentally preparing myself because I couldnt shake that persistent feeling that he wouldnt be relisted and we were going to lose him.  I think Peter sensed something as well. After his stint in ICU we had a month of a completely different boy.  He was so loving, and wanted to be with us all the time. He wanted to play games and spend as much time with his family as he could. He was wiser, more serious, took his responsibilities more seriously. He had matured almost overnight.  He made sure to hug and kiss and say I love you more often (this was NOT a huggy kissy kid). He made his last month worthwhile. 

I miss King Peter more than I can say.
Over the next week or so I will be typing out all the words that were spoken at his memorial service.
RIP King Peter, you are one of the noble and great ones. I love you! Til we meet again.

A Huge Thank You

I just would like to say Thank You to all of you who left such kind and encouraging comments and heartfelt words on my blog the other day.
It really helped. More than you can know.

Jillian

Ok so the past few days I have been MIA from blogging.
I just have had a rough couple of weeks and needed a little mental break to just stay in bed and cry for a little while.

September 4th was my daughters 10th birthday.
September 18th (yesterday) was the 10th anniversary of her death.

Not a whole lot of people really know that Charles and I have a daughter as well.
Her name was Jillian. She had Trisomy-18, or Edwards Syndrome. Trisomy 18 is a rare chromosomal defect, causing the cells of the body to have an extra 18th chromosome. So instead of having two, she had three. This is a fatal condition. We did not expect her to survive delivery. She lived for two weeks. She was the joy of our young married life, and even to this day love her as much as we did then.
She was born at 39 weeks weighing in at 4lbs 2 oz. She was only 17 inches long and the preemie clothes we bought for her were too big. Even those teeny tiny socks were like giant combat boots on her. She was beautiful.
We knew ahead of time that she had this condition. We knew she would be blind, deaf, club foot, and severely mentally retarded. They told us she wouldnt be able to suck or swallow. But she did. They told us to spend time with her after she was born because she wouldnt survive the night, and what would we like to do with the body... She went home the next day from the hospital eating, pooping and doing "baby things".
But our joy was short-lived. We knew it was only a matter of time before her body would stop understanding the messages her brain was trying to send. She started having apnea and seizures.
the day before she died I prayed that I wouldn't have to be the one there when she passed away.
I prayed that God would help me cope. I begged that it would be quickly and quietly.
The next night Charles got up with her at 1am to feed her. She ate. She opened her eyes and looked at him and passed away calmly. He came in and woke me up and said 'I think she is gone". It was so peaceful compared to the awful brutality of the apnea and seizures. It was exactly as I had prayed for.

She was buried in Colfax, North Carolina 3 days later.

For a year i cried. I didnt go to church. I visited her grave regularly. I cried some more.
I looked through her little basket of clothes and her scrapbook. I hated the new moms at church with their perfect babies who walked on eggshells around me. Their babies would start crying and they would give me a scared look, like i was going to go apes*** and take out the entire congregation with a bazooka. It just wasnt worth it. I hated life.

The second year was a little easier. We had moved. We had new jobs that kept us busy and a week after the 1 year anniversary I found out I was pregnant again.

It has been 10 years. I still cry occasionally. But it gets easier.
The pain never completely goes away, but it does get easier to deal with.
We dont find the need to visit her grave as often. in fact we find that a few times a year is sufficient for our family.
The boys know all about their sister. They know she died. Finn will use that as a shock tactic to get people to feel sorry for him. It is actually kind of funny.

Occasionally something out of the blue will take me by surprise. At Christmas we were decorating the Christmas tree. Charles picked up an ornament from out of the box and unwrapped the tissue paper. It was her dove ornament that the hospital gave us when she died.
He broke down crying. He hadnt suficiently prepared himself emotionally to see it.

Every September a gloom and stormcloud descends, usually directly over my head, and it really hits.
So to quote Greenday, "Wake me up when september ends"