Merry Christmas

It has been so long since a post has made it from mind to computer to publishing, I feel like today is my first day posting. I apologize for my time away. I have probably a dozen articles half written. I am sure they will make it here eventually, and even if the time line is off, I hope you will understand. And if you don't, that's okay with me too.  Time seems to be accelerating and fast forwarding itself so much, I feel as if I do not have time to finish writing. To put things in perspective. To dig through the pain to form words. To feel.

I have made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas. Mostly on auto pilot with a lot of tears, frustration, pain and confusion. I am not sure there is really anything else I can say about that. It was just less. Less joyous, less fun, less heartfelt, less... everything. A lot of time gets spent avoiding the large void in the room. I try to skirt around it, as to not acknowledge it, for fear it will suck me in entirely. Christmas is no different. Another day. One less stocking to hang, one less person to enjoy, but all the while there is this horrendous vortex swirling through my life trying to make eye contact with me, trying to make me engage with it, all the while I refuse it.

The year is ending and I am happy it is. But I am afraid to let it go as well. I am afraid of what 2012 will bring. I am afraid it could be worse. And everyday without my son takes me both closer to him and further away. Its agonizing. I have done what has been asked of me this year. I have come to work, I have done extra projects this year, I have fulfilled my obligations, I have suffered through the "firsts." I have pretended through birthdays, holidays, vacations and every day life. I am tired, but there is no end.

But really, all I wanted to say was "Merry Christmas & Happy New Year"

Business of Death

I spoke about expecting too much from people last time, I believe. I have been saving these sentiments for a time when I was a little further from February, to make sure I was not completely fueled by raw emotion. Not that the emotion is less raw to be honest, but here goes anyway. Before the bitterness that follows starts, I would like to stop and say thank you to the people that did help, that were wonderful, caring and compassionate. I have not, nor will I ever, forget your hospitality.

I am well aware of the way businesses are run. Even the businesses of death. I understand these things, I get it. I am also aware that I have extremely high expectations of people, especially in a professional environment.  So with all of that being said, I have been absolutely floored in the way a lot of businesses handle grieving parents. Almost to the point of considering a career in the field so that people who are at their worst moment would not have to deal with the things that I find rude and unacceptable. Unfortunately I have no knowledge or interest in that field. I understand it is a for profit business, I am not disillusioned there.  I also understand there are things you have to be clear on and sometimes a little blunt. But if you can not gauge the reaction of people, if you can not be couth about it, if you have been in the business so long you actually become offensive, its time for you to step aside. Its time for you to cash in your own chips. Just a couple examples – the funeral director was in a hurry, he obviously had an agenda that was not ours. I understand you have to keep things on track, sometimes you have to say things bluntly so people understand. But there is a caring way to do this and a rushed, uninterested way of doing this. I felt we received the latter. The first headstone person we contacted made us go out to the cemetery weeks after burial, while she roamed around and inspected graves and asked us how we were related to so and so. I will never forgive her and hope God has some special punishment for her (even though I know that's not the way it works). And the one we finally went with has called my son by 3 different names, none of which was his. There are several similar occurrences that left the same foul taste in my mouth, some of which I have blocked, some of which I have let go, but none of which were good. People need to think, they need to care. I realize they cant get involved in every persons life, but they can at least be compassionate. They can be professional. If your business is death, you should be damn good at it, because it matters to the living. 

Unreasonable Expectations

I have probably always known this, but as of late, I have come to the realization that I simply expect too much from people. I expect organizations to be organized, companies to care about their customers and employees and offer good customer service, elected officials to not be greedy, immature brats, and people to be decent, intelligent and reasonable. That, apparently, in this day and age is too much to ask. Now, I must put my disclaimer in here. I am not perfect, nor do I think I am. I often fall short of my own expectations. Perpetually actually. I think its unfortunate that I both expect too much and that people rarely live up to my inflated expectations. I have noticed lately I really struggle with dealing with the disappointment and often find myself incredibly angry at small disappointments. It is very clear this has to do with loss, guilt, anger and grief. But is it so hard for people to try a little harder? Or are my expectations just completely skewed? Maybe I should work a little on forgiveness. It has come up a time or two; I believe I am incapable of forgiveness for certain offenses. Or maybe I just am incapable of calling it forgiveness.  If everyone always lets everything go, when are people held accountable for their actions? When are they called to be a better person? I understand it is not for me to judge, but expectations are not barbaric, are they? Either way, maybe the problem isn't that people disappoint me continuously or that I disappoint myself, but rather that I need to let that go. Insert internal struggle here.

Something, something?

I kind of feel this pull towards something I am supposed to be doing. I always feel that way, but since Austin died, it has gotten stronger. Maybe its just the feeling that life is too short and too tragic to spend time doing stuff you dont enjoy, but I do feel there is something around the corner. I just need to be patient so I can figure out what it is. Unfortunately, patience is not my strong point. Its right up there with expressing my feelings. I have thrown around a lot of ideas about what that "something" is supposed to be. Sometimes that feeling is so strong I feel like the answer is right in front of me and I just need to reach out and grab it and other times I can not feel it at all and I feel like I am aimlessly drifting and a little lost. So if you have found my "something" could you let me know?

Back to School

Today is a sad day. Now, you are probably thinking to yourself that you are sensing a theme… But today would be a sad day for me in a year when my oldest son did not die. Today was the first day of school. I am extremely upset that our school board decided to start school the 12^th of August, but that is not why this is sad, nor can I complain about it anymore today. The first day of school is a time of turmoil for me. It is joyous to see kids excited to go back to school, to feel that this year might be good, to see new shoes and school supplies all lined up, but to me it is always depressing. It makes me realize how old my children are getting, how much I have not accomplished, how much I had planned on doing, how much I have failed in that plan and how much there is left to do with the realization that it will probably never get done. I realize that the little children that I rocked in my arms, that crawled around on my floors are growing up, that they need me less and less each year. My own feelings of inadequacy in preparing them for the real world set in as well, and make today extremely difficult.  There is the realization that at some point, my house will not be filled with children laughing; gone will be the days of them crawling up on my lap and snuggling in tight. And I am not ready for those days to be gone. I want to hang on, at least just a little bit longer. While I love the stages that they are at, it makes me sad that the littleness of them is gone. And I panic that I may not have done what needs to be done in order for them to be successful, well adjusted, well rounded adults. I feel the pressure of time beating like a heartbeat. Time passes too quickly and I need it to slow down. I feel as if I can’t keep up, it’s just moving too fast for me. And this year, is sadder still. It would have been difficult enough realizing Austin was an adult now and starting a completely new phase of his life, but it would have been filled with plans for college and life. Now there is just a gaping hole where all those plans used to be. There is no dorm room survival list, no college books to order, no planning and worry about how he will do away at college, no curiosity of where that journey will take him.  And that does not ease the pain of the day. 

Relax..No really, Relax.

It’s been a few weeks. Time seems to be passing, although nothing seems to change. I feel unable to express myself. I feel drugged, heavy minded, incoherent. There seems to be no time to feel. There are these moments of lucidity that hurt like hell. But the rest of the time, it’s just going through the motions - get up, go to work, take kids here, go there, make dinner, watch tv, go to bed, start over, try not to think of what was lost, why I am now doing things differently. There doesn’t seem to be time to let go enough to figure out how I feel, other than always knowing that I am carrying a huge boulder around in my heart.

I have always had trouble expressing myself, or talking about things that affect me. I tend to internalize things to the extreme. My massage therapist gets frequent visits because of the amount of tension I carry with me on a daily basis. I had been seeing a physical therapist for some knee problems. I previously saw her for the pinched nerve in my neck. She said to me, “It seems to me your real problem is that your muscles do not release the tension like they should.” I laughed and told her I think that described me perfectly.  My knee doctor says to me “Okay, relax your leg,” I say “It is relaxed.”  He says, “No, really relax your knee.” I tried to explain that this was as relaxed as it was gonna get, and he said, “Well, I think we found your real problem.” I don’t know how to release on a normal day.  And this is too great for me to even attempt. I cant “release” this. I cant let it go, I cant even tap into it. There is never enough time for me to break down because I cant just pick it back up and put it back together and go to work from there. In the mornings, while everyone is asleep, I sit in his room. And just sit. Trying to feel him yet avoid everything at the same time. Once I start to feel, I get up and get ready for work. Its really not a good way to start the day, but it doesn’t work better at bed time. And pretty much everything in between is filled with work or taking care of kids or the other thousand errands I need to do. I can not have a twenty minute cry and be over it. At some point this is going to come back and bite me. And I am ready for it when it does. Until then, its hard enough just to breathe. 

All the same

My entire life has been spent building walls. Never allowing anyone too close, never wanting to let anyone see that they could hurt me, or that they did. I have always been able to compartmentalize my pain and put a smile on my face and tell a good joke. That’s what I do. It may be the only reason I survive now. The last few years have been spent trying to break down some of those walls, allowing people in, allowing myself to feel pain and hurt when it occurs and deal with it. Now, the walls are back up. This time I have built them with a few people on the inside though. The pain is just simply too much. The smile is harder and harder to fake. For most people, the smile that’s there is enough for them to allow themselves to think that I am ok, that I am strong and courageous and amazing in some way they are not. If they were only to lift the veil in the slightest they would see the cracks. They would see the pain, they would see the struggle of trying to hold it all together while not exactly being sure why. Its easy for people not to dig a little deeper. Its comfortable. It leaves me feeling like a ghost in my own life. My doctor noted how well I have done. I don’t do well. I just go through the motions, trying to justify the necessity of that. Trying to find time to write is tiring. Going to work is simply exhausting. Trying to hold back tears every moment leads to even more headaches and muscle strain. And more tears. My chest has not stopped hurting in 5 months. My eyes have not stayed dry for longer than a couple hours. It really is hell. Before all of this, I had absolute faith that nothing would ever happen to my children, because God never gives you more than you can handle. And I knew I would never be able to handle that. Realizing you are vulnerable like that, does not come without a price. Realizing that the people you cried for and admired for getting through such a devastating loss are no different than yourself, is both humbling and traumatic. Knowing there is no secret is disappointing. I often wonder if the people that “make it” are just better actors. They are just able to suppress enough to function. The people who don’t, well, they are just more honest. 

Grass.

For those that know me, reading the title, I am sure you are thinking I am going to make a bunch of off collar remarks about marijuana. But really, this blog is about grass, real green grass that we spend a lot of time trying to mow down. And how grass resembles people.

I was sitting outside yesterday for the first time in what seems like years. Just sitting. Not doing anything while I was waiting for the burgers to cook on the grill. The kids were occupied, Kevin was reading, I was on my back step just being. It’s been a really long time since I have done that. And it felt really good and really scary. To be left alone with my thoughts, to be un-preoccupied is a very scary venture. That’s when my inner voices are the loudest. It is what I have been avoiding of late. As I was sitting on the steps I was looking at the grass at my feet. I had just walked across the lawn. I had stepped on these blades of grass and they were laying there flat and depressed from my shoe. But as I stared at them, they started moving around, a couple of them sprung back up right away, others, that were affected more by my touch, took their time, slowly bending from the root, the weight of gravity holding their tops down, until they finally were strong enough at the base to stand up tall again. I think the human spirit is a lot like grass. (Ha! Things I never thought I would say). Sometimes when something crushes that grass for a long time, parts of it die, but once that painful barricade is removed, the grass grows again, standing tall, not always the same, but still growing. I think when we are injured, emotionally or physically, we are a lot like that too. We stay down, sometimes shortly and sometimes for long periods of time, until our core is strong enough to let us stand tall again. 

Nosy?

I have a person in my life, someone I have known from the beginning, who wants to know every detail of my life and wants me to talk about deep personal things every time I see them. And usually when I see them, it is a day that is not a day I want to think about deep personal issues. It is a day of celebration or good family time. But they don't get it and I am not able to tell them in a way that is not hurtful. It makes me want to not talk to them at all. I don't want to be asked the questions I don't want to answer. It was recently pointed out to me during one of these incidents by a third party, that all this person was really looking for was a good story about vacation or something to help gauge how the trip really was. But I was incapable of understanding it. I am incapable of saying, I had a good time on vacation, because all the great stuff is tainted now. Its just the way it is. And having to relive these things on demand is too much for me to handle, so I avoid it all together. The thing I try to do most is not think, not feel. Its quite exhausting. There is this very powerful river flowing deep below in my emotional state. I can only stick my toe in every now and then, because it is just too powerful. I am not only afraid it will whisk me away and I may never come back, but I am also afraid it will drown me. It is just too painful. I don't want to dip into it at all. And I think its unfair for people to assume that I want to just so they can feel better about themselves. So they can rest their minds that they asked and that everything is wrapped up in a pretty little package and I will be ok. I will not be ok, not ever. They get to go back to their world where they can occasionally think of me and shake their heads about how sad and tragic it is. I don't get to go anywhere. I have to live here.

The End/The Beginning

I have been concerned with my last two posts. That they really didn't seem to fit my writing style. Then I realized I don't really have a writing style. I write in the same fashion in which I live. All over the place. Not that I live in multiple locations, but that I am all over the board. I think someone who really knew me well would be hard pressed to describe me. I am sensitive and heartless, I am funny and serious, I am both angelic and devilish, I am crazy and rational,  I am, well.. all of those probably sum it up. It makes me the unique individual I am, so I am going to try not to apologize for that.

This has been a rough couple weeks and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. Of course I know there will never be an end. People tell me that it will get easier, but I don't really believe them. Nor am I sure that it should. The way that I love my son, all of my children, the impact he had on my life, the difference he made in this world are not things that should be shed lightly. I feel as if most days I am able to function, now. But not usually for the entire day. I get frustrated when people think I am strong or okay, because I am not. I am just breathing. I am just going through the motions, hoping one day it doesn't hurt quite so much.

When my oldest son was in 5th grade, we moved to a different town. I still live in that town. When his dad and I divorced, he moved to the town we were originally from. During his sophomore year, Austin decided he wanted to go back to that school, especially to play football. It was a very hard thing for me to take, thinking he wouldn't be going to school in the town that I lived in, I was his mom, etc, etc. But I felt that it was right for him and let him go. We still saw each other every other day at least, well, at least until he got his drivers license and sometimes needed to stay a couple days away. We had a large fight the beginning of his senior year, typical stuff that I will forever regret.  A lot of this plays into the guilt I have as a mother, and a lot of the anger I hold. It just didn't have to be like that. But that is not what this post is about, so I will move on.

The 15th was high school graduation for the town where I live. I have become very close with a lot of the students in the senior class. They were his friends, all through middle school and half of high school. I felt I should go to see them graduate. Maybe to help prepare myself for what was to come. I thought it would be easier to handle as I knew he would not have graduated with this group of kids anyway. But as I watched them cross the stage, I realized how much all of them had been a part of Austins life. How I had watched them transcend from annoying little fifth graders into the young men and women crossing the stage, many of whom I feel blessed to know. I was very proud of them, but I ached for the things they would do that my son would not. I ached for the loss of life that should not have occurred. I cried rivers because they got to go on to the next phase of their lives, they got to step up on their stage and make their parents proud. Their parents received their sense of accomplishment knowing they raised their child. My heart broke knowing I will never feel that sense of accomplishment with my first born child. I will not know that all that we went through was worth it, and that he became a great man. I will not know success in knowing I did the best I could to prepare him for life. It is just another part of my life I was unable to finish.

Last night we gave out a scholarship to my "insert word here". She is like my daughter. I have loved her from day one. We are not related, I am not a godparent, I am a close family friend. But none of that sums up what I feel for her. Someday, on a laughter day, we will make up a word. I would take her in or help her if she ever needed it without hesitation. But she wont need it. She is an amazing person that I thank God for letting me know. Standing before the crowd last night I was glad to have something to pass on to her, in memory of Austin. With her, she will take him with her wherever she goes. She was his very first friend. But it was hard. It was hard to know that I am not the one sitting in the audience watching my son collect an award. We will give out another one tonight to a dear childhood friend of Austins. And Sunday is his graduation. We will accept his diploma on his behalf because he cant be here. Its alot for one week. I hope I can make it through. I am already struggling.

But its really after graduation that is starting to concern me. What then? Everybody just moves on with their life. There is nothing more to do, no more ways to honor him in the community (I know there are ways, but hear me out). And part of me being able to function is knowing there are things to do, that we have upcoming events that I have to make it though. When those are over, then what? Whats going to keep me moving along then? Brandon and Carissa will. Kevin will. But there will still be that deep pain, that gut wrenching fear, that panic, that emptiness and loss. Everyone else gets to move forward, but all of that stuff just stays with me. I really don't get that option. And that really pisses me off.

anger: noun

1: a strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism

2: rage  

pain: noun \ˈpān\

2 a : usu. localized physical suffering associated with bodily disorder (as a disease or an injury); also : a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action  

2 b : acute mental or emotional distress or suffering : grief

heart·ache: noun \ˈhärt-ˌāk\

: anguish of mind : sorrow

 

busy: adj \ˈbi-zē\

1a : engaged in action : occupied 

2: full of activity : bustling <a busy seaport>

3: foolishly or intrusively active : meddling

4: full of distracting detail  

 

ex·haust:verb \ig-ˈzȯst\

transitive verb

1a : to consume entirely : use up <exhausted our funds in a week> 

1 b : to tire extremely or completely <exhausted by overwork>

3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely

 

 

 

Yes. This pretty much sums it up.

Snippets

Last week we went to Florida. We did six parks and the beach while we were there. It was rewarding and exhausting. We had planned this trip for five in January. Only four of us made the trip. It was necessary for us to go as our younger children never questioned whether or not we would. It was time we needed to have new experiences and bond again as a family. It was extremely painful.

In a land that is built on imagination and ideas, where everything is made to look like a book, a movie, or an idea. It took me by surprise that I would find everything there so much more surreal. That life is wacky and crazy and twists and turns and is not what you expect. But there, it is safe.  In real life, not so much.  Existing in the imagination world when life already feels like make believe, in an imminent doom sort of way, really messed with my head. So much so that I am not sure I can write about it well. So I am choosing to do one to two sentence snippets to describe what I saw and what I felt. I reserve the right to revisit one of these thoughts at a later date. I hope you understand.

The enjoyment of being away from home.

Standing on a beach, looking at the vastness of the ocean.  Feeling small and insignificant.

Watching my children’s eyes light up with joy and fascination at silliest of things.

Being able to be silly and laugh.

Wondering how a 4000 lb mammal can reach such high speeds and fly out of the water.

The amazement at all the animals God has put on this Earth and how they are instinctive by nature.

The adoration I feel for my children when I look at their faces.

The exhaustion at the end of the day.

The hope that I wont forget a single moment.

The respect and amazement at the amount of work that is put into a cartoon.

The repulsion from overhearing the way people speak to one another.

The thrill that I still feel in the pit of my stomach.

The sadness that devours my smile.

Standing at It’s a Small World and feeling like an alien, not only among the characters but among the humans.

Fascinated with the details that people put into their work for the delight of others.

The exhaustion that occurs while trying not to cry.

The pain and relief that come with the tears.

Impressed with how many times I can say no without freaking out.

Admiration for the ease in which children make new friends.

Trying to squelch the panic that forms around my heart and in my stomach as I watch my children play in the ocean, praying silently that He will not take them too.

Confusion on why my oldest son is not there.

Grief as I look at the empty plane seat next to me.

Riding the Merry-Go-Round, feeling a little bit like the sad clown.

The loathing I feel watching a mother yanking her child's arm while screaming at her.

The envy of the family who is utterly joyful.  

The feeling of being glad to be home.

The compassion for the family that was on a Make a Wish Vacation.

The annoyance I feel for other peoples children. Why aren't they teaching them better manners, anyway?

The emptiness I feel and the way my heart aches.

The way a word can make you relive the worst moment of your life.

The way an email can trigger a conversation that you wish you never had.

The way a text from someone you love makes you wish things were different.

The ability to see the type of people my children will one day become and the pride and joy that goes with that.

The amazement that you can fit that many people in such a small area.

The irony of being preached at through films about conservation and saving the Earth by a company that does everything in excess and literally has a parade made of lights.

The joy I feel at the seeing the characters I have loved for so many years.

The happiness I feel knowing my children are happy and healing.

No Time for Grieving

These last few weeks have been so completely consumed by things to do that I feel completely beside myself. I have had to go back to work full time, which is a regular shift plus being on call. "On call" means I have to be available 24/7, but can work from where ever I am on what ever problem they are experiencing. My co-worker and I switch on-call responsibilities every week. He has been on call since the end of February (poor guy). It is my turn now that I am back full-time. Working 8 hours a day, plus being on call, plus running a thousand different places for my kids has taken its toll this week. The migraines (which I suffer normally from) have returned and are in full force. Apparently my reprieve has ended. What I find the hardest, is not that I can not go to work, not that I can not be moms taxi, not that I cant cook dinner or do the hundred million other things in life, but that I do not have time to grieve. I do not have time to think thoughts, or sort through memories. I do not have time to put away the pictures that have been sitting on my dining room table since March 1st. I do not have time to do the things that I need to do. Like take 10 minutes and cry loudly and uncontrollably. Like walk past his room and talk to him. Like write down how I feel and what I think. My mind is so busy worrying about what I have to do next, I cant seem to grasp the grief. What I find myself doing is sitting in my cube at work, realizing I have been zoning out for the last 20 minutes staring at something I struggle to care about, and then I cry. Silently at my desk, hoping no one will walk by and see me, praying that I will not make a noise. The experts say getting back into life is the best thing for me. I completely understand this line of reasoning. I don't know that I will ever be ready or feel that it is helpful. I don't know when I will ever get all this stuff done either. I feel stressed out all the time because I am trying to hold it together, because I have no other time to grieve. I have no time to cry, to let loose. There is work to do and things to get done.

Happiest Place On Earth

In December/January we planned a trip to Disney. Five tickets. This was going to be our last family vacation before Austin left for college. There might be more, but not while we were all in the same house, none ever quite the same.Now, nothing is ever going to be the same. How can we still go? I have asked myself this a thousand times. And I know the answers, I understand them. My two children never questioned whether we would go. This is for them. The 4 of us need this vacation. We need to have a little fun. We need to get away from here. From daily life. We need to be together and make some new memories, some happy memories. But how can we go to the happiest place on earth when life is so unhappy? When we can barely breathe in? The answer is because we have to.Life goes on, whether we want it to or not. Because there are 2 beautiful, wonderful, funny children who didn't ask for this misery. Who need to know it's ok for them to live and enjoy life even I feel incapable of doing that. This is for them. And we will gain from it as well.
I have an eternal struggle raging . Do we grab life by the horns & live to the fullest with the weighty knowledge that today could be our last day? Or do we cautiously enter the world, knowing it's full of pain and sorrow, trying to minimize the pain as much as possible? Feeling the pressure from every angle? For my children, I want them to LIVE! Feel it all, taste it, experience it, love it passionately and let go of their anger and pain. I currently do not feel capable of fully grasping and engaging this philosophy. I still feel like I'm walking through hell. And while I feel like I am doing the best things I can for my kids, I make mistakes. And right now, I am not trusting my parenting so much. All along, I thought I was making mistakes, but overall, doing ok. And now, I am not sure that belief holds true.

A long, long road

Dreaming can be so hellish, so bizarre and so enlightening. 

I was driving on the interstate, all alone, it was very dark. No other cars on the road but me. I had my phone in my hand, and I was crying. I was thinking of my son and how much I missed him, really lost in the emotion and grief. I dialed the phone, like I've done one thousand times before. I just needed to hear his voice again. I heard his voice mail pick up, I cried harder, knowing he would never answer it again. Then my phone rang. It was one of his friends. I am not sure which one. They  told me they had just talked to Austin and he needed me to go pick him up and he wanted them to make sure they told me he was ok. I do not remember where the "place" was or how far away, only that it was a considerable distance. It would take me a significant time to get there. I cried and cried. I couldn't figure out why his friend would say this to me? They are such good kids, it would not be likely for them to hurt me like that. I called his phone again, there was no answer. But I couldn't ignore the feeling that I needed to go. What if?  

So I drove and drove and drove, for hours, I drove. I was absolutely exhausted. I was a little ashamed that I was being so irrational as to drive so far for something I knew couldn't be true. But I still don't believe the current truth, so who is to tell me I am irrational? When I got to the destination I was given, it was a gas station (Heaven is a gas station?). I pull in, and there are people I know there, but they are not surprised to see me, as if I was just bumping into them at our local gas station. Good friends, casual ones now, but once really good, close friends. They smiled and nodded, but I didn't want to talk to them, I just wanted to get to my son! The gas station had really cheap gas, and was ultra bright. Bright, in a way that football field lights light up a stadium and everything around it. I parked my car and then I was in a really bright white room, just an ordinary square white room. Austin was there, and I got to hug him and touch him. It felt so good. So pure. So absolutely real. I still feel that today. He said, "Madre, I'm ok, it's really all right. It's good here." And he smiled his beautiful smile and held out his hand and said, "You can come with me if you really wanna." I held his hand. In that moment there was comfort, and peace and all was right in the world. Then I realized I had stuff to do still, that my family needed me. I thought of each of my children and my fiance. I hesitated. I couldn't leave them behind. And then he was gone. 

Of course now, I am still aching with loss and grieving for my young man who doesn't get to go forward, doesn't get to do all the things he was supposed to do. For just those few brief moments, I felt at peace. I felt absolute happiness for the first time. I  woke up a few minutes later. I was so so sad, and so happy all at once. I got to feel him, see him, touch him, but he was still gone. I also felt like I knew what really happened. I felt like I knew this for sure, like I had been there and it wasn't so bad. Now those good feelings of peace and relief are fading and I am unsure of what I felt or thought I knew, but it felt really good for a moment. I feel like he really was here.

I should feel better that he told me he was ok. It doesn't make me miss him less, or want him back any less, but I really do feel like he is at peace and he needed to tell me that. It was the kind of kid he was. There are a million things that I can take from this. There are a lot of funny anecdotes that fit in well here. Like how he said he would haunt us if anything ever happened to him. We had that type of sense of humor. But what I really felt was this incredible feeling of peace that I have not felt before or since his passing. You can rationalize that my subconscious is trying to quiet my mind, that I need to feel at peace with things, and that it is survival mode. But my mind does not like to be quieted, it really doesn't seem to care whether I need to get through something or not. It likes to find the truth. It digs and obsesses and analyzes until it uncovers the truth. It does not listen to things like that, so this to me is an unreasonable answer. Whether it be my subconscious or it be my son, or it be God, he told me he was ok. And he told me that he would be there waiting for me when my road ended. It may take me a long time to get there. It may be dark and scary and cold. But in the end, he will be there, and really its just a short amount of time. I could choose to live and take care of the people that take care of me or I could walk with him now. I know what he was trying to tell me. And I feel it. And I know now he did know how much I loved him. Still, my heart breaks.

How many?

I was asked how many children I have today. I did not know how to answer. I sat there for what felt like eternity trying to figure out how to answer and trying not to cry. What do I say now?
I could say:
I have three, but one died. This option is awkward and makes for much too serious of a conversation with the casual stranger. And it also opens the door for more questions I don't want to answer.
I have two. This option makes me feel like I would be ignoring his existence, and how he impacted our world. And feels less than honest.
I have three. The next logical response now is to question their ages. At some point, I will have two 17 year olds. It leaves me floundering around searching for words and explanations that don't come.
Some other creative "truth" or running away hysterically?
Its such a strange thing to think about. I believe this is the core of why people who suffer through tragedy & loss feel awkward and vulnerable in public. We no longer belong to that world. We don't know what to say or how to react.
And really, to the person who asked, it probably doesn't matter. I will probably never see them again. I could make up a story, saying I have 14 kids, 3 husbands and a monkey. They would be thoroughly entertained, but the question or the answer wouldn't matter to them. But it matters to me.

How are you?

Simple enough question. All of us ask it several times per day. Even though I hate it, I realized I asked it of a person yesterday, when I knew the answer already. They were not well, not alright, but I asked anyway. I personally try to avoid the question now. When people ask me how I am, I want to scream: "I am falling apart, I'm in hell. My son is dead. I don't know why! How do you think I am??????!!!!" But instead I just try not to cry when I say "I am ok." It would be unfair of me to scream at someone who inquired on how I was doing. Most people generally mean well, and the ones that don't, I really try not to speak to at all. What else do you say to someone who you know is hurting, who is just trying to not freak out every second of the day? What can you possibly say to let them know that you care and want to know if you are holding up? There is nothing. There is nothing anyone can say, because there is nothing I can say. At the visitation, people would say "I'm not sure what to say, sorry is not enough." I told them "I know, and its ok, there are no words." I could see the compassion and love in their eyes and they didn't need to say anything. I am still kicking myself for asking that person yesterday. What I should have said is, I know times are really hard right now, life sucks and its hard to even breathe, but I understand and I am here for you. I think that may have made us both feel better.

Fear

I feel like I am running out of things to say. Unable to find new words to describe my pain and confusion. But the days do not change or get any easier. Time seems to be suspended while flying by at the same time. I have no idea how this can happen, it is beyond my comprehension.
I read a blog today that made me cry, not as if that is a difficult task these days. This poor soul had lost two children within two years of each other. I can not possibly imagine how you could continue waking up in the morning. But it is something I fear everyday. I asked the question a couple weeks ago, "What is left to fear, if the thing you fear most has come true?" I didn't know the answer then, but I do now. What is left to fear is that you will have to continue to live it everyday forever. Or that something worse may happen. Its hard to believe there is something worse, but there always is. And I worry constantly there is more to come.An optimist might feel that if the worst has happened, there is nothing left to fear. That you should brave the world knowing you have walked through hell and are still here. That your job is not done yet, so hold that head up and carry on. I am somewhere in the middle. I feel this fire underneath me feeling like I need to shout out at the world and run bravely forward and throw all worries away, let God deal with them. And then I collapse again. Feeling vulnerable and small and like the world is on my shoulders and I can not hold it. Perhaps I am at a crossroads and only time will tell which path I choose. I pray for the strength to be able to run, to carry on. But I am not so sure God is listening right now, or taking any requests from me.

Unwell

Matchbox 20s "Unwell" keeps looping through my mind. It's strange how music changes meaning during certain times in your life. And how music is a constant. But my thoughts today are not really about music but about how unwell I feel. How pain & grief wash over me when I least expect it. How a person so young can be everywhere I go and in everything I do. How the world is so changed now. How ugly things like stretch marks can be so beautiful now. And how sunny days aren't as bright.
Someone said to me the other day they were surprised I could function. Honestly, so am I. My thoughts are unfocused, my brain is numb, my body doesn't know what the hell is going on, my faith is angry, and I just feel unwell. I continue to function but that's it. And then there are times when the clouds part and intense feelings of pain and loss wash over me and envelop me for a long time. I obsess about every single moment of his life and then stutter on several moments torturing myself with no reprieve in sight. And then, I'm working on a girl scout project or making dinner for my family, or checking in with someone to make sure they are doing ok and remember I love them and am here for them, or just trying to remember what I am forgetting. Grief is an odd thing. It's exhausting. It's excruciating. And it's constant. But life just goes on. Whether we want it to or not.

Humankind- Be both.

This saying is all over my middle son's school. And it always makes me laugh when I see it.

Through most of my life, I have not trusted people, or let them too close to me for fear of getting hurt. It has been my experience that people will let you down and hurt you. And its a cycle that feeds itself. I, on occasion, can be persuaded to drop my guard and trust. It has sometimes been a very good choice and I have been rewarded greatly. But its very difficult to persuade me. And while I will tell people to try to have a little faith in people, I do so hypocritically. Even through this experience I have cried several times for the really horrible things people have to go through and the tortured lives they have endured. That the people who were supposed to save them from the boogyman, become the monster themselves. I am still not ready to truly evaluate my opinion on people. I recognize it probably needs to be changed alot, however I am not strong enough to think about it completely yet.
What I will acknowledge now is how truly wonderful people can be. I have been completely overwhelmed by the generosity and thoughtfulness of people, most of whom I have never met. If this had been someone else's family, my heart would have broken for them, I would have thought "I wish there was something I could do" and I would have prayed for them. But other than that, I would not have reached out to them in the way that people have reached out to me. I have been truly humbled. It isn't just the friends I had from way back that still care and I didnt realize, or the good people I surround myself with daily, although they shine brighter now too. It is true strangers, stopping by to drop off a meal, or a random card in the mail. Or an offer to help with the memorial or other details that people shouldnt have to worry about during a tragedy. I hope that in the future, it will make me a better person, that I will remember to reach out, to do something, because it reminds you that the world isnt all bad. That one person can make a difference.
I listened to so many stories about how my son affected other peoples lives, sometimes by just a smile or silly joke. He had no idea of the lives he affected. How many days he made better for someone else. It inspires me to realize how we can touch peoples lives in a positive way through small acts of kindness and humor (for the record, I will always prefer the latter). I also came to realize that as we grow older, we forget to express how we feel and lose our ability to feel like we can impact our world. And I think that is so very unfortunate. We need to reclaim that. We need to not let life beat us down and make us feel helpless and alone.
I have been completely blown away by our youth with their caring, thoughtfulness, creativity and ability to express themselves. Never would I have believed that these loud-mouthed, arrogant, idealistic young people (remember, that's what we were not so long ago) could be so compassionate, caring, funny people and have the maturity to express how they feel. It was really enlightening to see this in their young faces and hear it in their words. I will be proud to hand over the world to the next generation! Perhaps they have something to teach us, if we would only listen!

Bravery?

The other day I was told that someone admired my bravery. This struck me as extremely odd. I know what they meant. I know how they meant it, and I appreciated the compliment. But somewhere, deep in the recesses of my brain, this word kept bouncing around. At first, I thought it was my normal denial of a compliment, but then I realized that it bothered me because it didn't fit into my view of myself OR my understanding of the word. My view of myself, while I believe it to be an honest portrayal, apparently is flawed and will take years to alter. It is not currently in my ability to truly accept a compliment or believe that I am worthy of one. But the latter thought, is what I am choosing to evaluate. My understanding of bravery is that it belongs to someone who is courageous. Some one who sees an impossible task and refuses to see it as impossible. One who charges in knowing the dangers, but not fearing them. That is not me. I see the dangers, and they scare the hell out of me. They stop me from taking a step forward. I did not choose this path to go down. Never would I have said, I am going into this darkness and I shall not fear. I do not want this, I don't want life to be like this. I want my son to be here and I want all of the things that were supposed to happen. I do not feel brave or strong, only that I continue to exist. I should find comfort in knowing that people view me in this way, and that it helps them. But I feel like I am falsely representing myself to accept that I am brave or strong.
I always wondered how people could handle tragedies like this. I thought they possessed something extra and some of them do. But I think that most people, myself included, just continue to breathe. We continue to wake up in the morning and go to work and do life stuff, not always knowing why, never understanding, but we just do. Because we are the "other people". The people that stuff like this happens to, the people that "normal" people care about but never want to join. And it is all surreal.

Happy, Shiny People? I think Not.

Today, I was told that I should remember that I have two other kids and should crawl out of my hole. I am absolutely infuriated by this. Why? I know I have two other kids. And I love them as much as I loved my oldest. I worry about them constantly and smother them with hugs and kisses, I try to make their lives as normal as possible during the saddest time of our lives. And it has only been a short time, 39 days. We are continuing to live as hard as that is. Going to work and school and after school activities. I don't take well to being told how I should feel or how I should act.  But people that speak to me in this way, really just do not know. They don't know who I am or how I love or live, they don't know the absolute torture that losing a child brings. They don't know the guilt that comes with that, that you have somehow failed to save your child from this fate. That you tried, but you failed. And by saying you need to remember your other children, it puts me on the defense, and strikes my core fear that I am not a good enough mother. Is that what they meant? No, probably not. I should probably be the better person and forgive them, but right now, I am too angry. But it also lead me to the core of  my point that until now I was able to grasp. What  I want to get across to everyone is this: You matter, your feelings matter, tell someone how you feel, because you are worth it. You have impacted someones life in a way that changed them forever. Don't push down the sad, depressing thoughts to placate someone else. If my son had not tried to put on a happy face then maybe he would be here today. Because we would have seen. But I taught him how to do this. I taught him how to laugh and smile and joke when the pain is deep inside. I taught him not to let people in to help. I didn't mean to. But I did. And so for someone to tell me to post happy thoughts, I say "Screw you." Life is not always happy, but we go on. Life goes on. And it is okay to cry, to be sad, to miss, to mourn. And its okay to laugh and smile and have fun. Life goes on. But don't try to hide the way you feel, don't lock it up inside and throw away the key. Don't do that. The risk is too great. I spent my life dodging feelings and connections. The price was higher than I ever imagined.

Today is the rest of your life

Personally, this doesn't bode well for the rest of my life. Right now I seem to be suffering from writers block. As a rule, since my oldest son died, I have posted on his wall every night. But in the last week, I seem to have nothing new to say. I am suffering from no new prospective. So I suppose I will start at the beginning. Well, really the end of life as we knew it, but the beginning of the rest of our life.

35, Divorced, 3 kids, 17, 11, and 8. Beautiful, happy kids. Living with a wonderful man, who was able to break through my barriers, not let me bullshit him and love me for who I am.
My oldest son, was a funny and caring kid, who was bright and witty. He loved playing football and soccer.  He didn't get straight As, but things came naturally for him and he was happy with a 3.0 average. He was accepted to Bradley University and Arizona State University. We were waiting to hear back from University of Minnesota. But he was fairly sure he wanted to go to Bradley. We were waiting for the financial package to come back to lock in a decision, but he found the campus comfortable and they had a great Computer Science program. Wednesday night, he attended his younger brother's middle school play where he received an "Inspiring Person" Award. His brother had nominated him for this award. He was his hero. My two sons stood in front of the community and I sat in the uncomfortable folding chair in the hot, smelly gym and cried. I was so proud. So proud that out of all of the people in the world that he could choose to lean on and look up to, it was his older brother. And so proud that his older brother was someone worth looking up to. After the play, we filled out scholarship applications and we talked about his achievements. That night he left to go to his dads and that was the last time I saw him alive.
Thursday night is YMCA night, where as part of our new regimen of healthier living and increased activity, I take my younger two to karate while I work out. I picked up the phone to call my oldest son to see if he wanted to go with. And then I put it back down. He was recovering from an injury and I was afraid he would overdo it. I will never know if that call would have saved his life. The police and coroner ruled it an accident, but whether he meant to go through with it or not, I will never know. I will never know. But I never saw anything that would have even made him attempt something like that. Never. Never did I see that coming.

The high school held a memorial for him the Sunday before the visitation. My son had no idea how many lives he impacted. How many days he improved, how many people loved him. So part of my "new" life is for me to start to realize how much we all impact others. That we are all connected and what you say today may make the difference in someones life.

I will eventually explain more, but right now that's all I can do.