Mother’s Day 2013

 Mother’s Day 2013. What a bittersweet day for me. It was too emotional to write that day, although that is when my creativity flows the strongest.

On one hand, I am extremely blessed. I have been a mother for more than 20 years. I have given birth to 3 beautiful, healthy children that have taught me so much, given me so much joy and filled my heart with more love than I knew physically possible. I have felt the sweet snuggles of babies, the joy of first words and steps, the pride of seeing my child do the right thing, the sweet sticky hugs that never go away, and the life lessons. On the other, I have one son who will never call on Mother’s Day. Or, any other day, for that matter. And while it is apparent every day, special occasions are harder to ignore. I have felt the pain of loss so intense my heart still hurts every single day. I have felt the detrimental ache of what ifs and if only’s. I bore the weight of knowing I will never see my oldest son do any of the things he should have done. I have heard things I have never wanted to know, and seen things I never wanted to see. And yet, I am still breathing.

But this post is not really about my bittersweet day, it is about something else entirely. It just happened to manifest itself on that day. I have been thinking about how I can get involved with helping an organization that I felt passionate about. Perhaps something with kids, self esteem, teenage pregnancy, suicide, something along those lines? Something I knew a little something about, and could give back from the hard lessons I have learned in my life? And I kept looking at my calendar, thinking I was unsure how to fit it in, but not letting that deter my thinking. However, I was unable to settle on a “cause”. And then I received this message in my inbox from a very special girl in my neighborhood. And she shared with me her post about Mother’s Day. And seeing me through her eyes was the most wonderful gift I could have received that day. It truly touched me. And as I was discussing this with my husband, after I was done crying, of course, he said to me…"Laura, maybe the problem isn’t really what organization you should get involved with. Maybe, looking for a cause is not the right thing. Maybe you need to realize that living your life every day, and being you, touches more people than you could possible realize." (This is paraphrased, he words things much smarter sounding than I). So after I picked myself up from bawling again...I realized I had lost touch with the original idea of this blog, this purpose I have. It was the very reason I had set out on this blogging journey. For myself, and for all of us to remember that each and every one of us has the power, every single day, to give, to make a difference just by being you. You may not realize people are watching, or even realize they know you exist. But they do. And you freaking matter. A lot. 

Happy Birthday, son.

Honestly, I have no words. I have nothing new to contribute or even say. I tried to write a poem to read tonight as we released balloons in my son's honor. He would have been 20 today. But no words came. I posted words that were inadequate on Facebook. I sat and stared blankly at the screen waiting for some poetic words to come to mind to share with friends tonight. I sat and stared while trying to write something meaningful here today. I am spent. I have nothing. There are no words of encouragement, no words of regret, no words of sorrow, no words of understanding. There is just nothingness.


I scanned pictures to Facebook of birthdays past. We only got to share 17 of them. I looked at his smiling face, searching in his eyes for when something changed. I looked for demons, I looked for sadness, and I looked for answers I knew I would not find. And I was right. I found nothing but the beautiful face of my son. I felt anger for things I would never get to know. Things that I must know, but can not. I watched us sing happy birthday to him and heard his beautiful laugh and saw his smiling face. And for just a moment, it was as if he was here, and never had gone. But then he blew out the candles and the picture went dark. Never had there been a better scene. No director could have timed it so perfectly, no writer could have written it better. In one moment, we went from happy, joyous moments of smiling people and love filling the room to utter darkness.

Numb, please.

The dreaded date is upon us. Only a few more days until the day marks 2 years since my son died. I have been playing a losing game of cat and mouse with the acknowledgment of this fact. In the last two years I have been trying to work on so many things. Forgiveness, mostly of myself, understanding, love, growth, tolerance, etc. But there seems to be no end in sight. It seems when I get over one hill, there is another large hill behind it that I didn't quite see. In two years, I have lost a son, gained really great friends, lost friends who I thought would never walk away, learned to depend on a man who has yet to let me down, gained a husband (the dependable man and the husband are one of the same), taken two great trips, had my world ripped apart again and again, been attacked by words of people who need to tear people down, been harassed and misunderstood. And loved. I have been loved. And I have tried to find those bright spots in the world, in each day. Because they are there. And they are magnificent, even through the pain. I have tried to smile. I have loved a little deeper. I have tried to brighten someone else's day and try to remind people how much I care. If anything else, to make sure I avoid so much guilt, next time.  But as this week approaches, all I want to be is numb. I don't want to feel anything, I don't want to be. Even my body knows it, with its aches and pains and crushing gravity. It has been incredibly difficult to get out of bed each day. Perhaps I should just acknowledge my pain and the date. But its an odd thing. Why would this date hurt more? Every day my heart hurts. Every day. It's unlikely that it will hurt more on the 24th. But the approach of the date brings the flashbacks a bit more prominently to mind, and as much as I try to avoid or deny it, the date is significant. I remember the day the world stopped turning. Even if I don't want to. I remember what I was doing, where I was, and every event after that. I remember the searing pain in my chest. Because it is still there.
For someone who is sentimental and feels the passing of time like a huge grandfather clock echoing in her ear, the date is crushing. It forces acknowledgement and remembrance of things I would like to forget. I don't want to forget he lived. I just want to forget he isn't still living. I almost wish I could go absolutely bat shit crazy and invent a nice little story. That would hurt a lot less. I'm angry, and in constant turmoil, and in constant pain. I really cant relinquish, quite yet, to submersing in that feeling, because, as always, I am afraid its not one I can come back from. There have been so many things that have happened, in the last 6 months even, that I can not comprehend. And I am tired. I am so freaking tired of aching. And trying to understand. And trying to go on. I just really could use a rest. Maybe in March I will feel better. Or perhaps not. His birthday is the 26th. He would have been 20. Perhaps April? Perhaps I can just plan to live from April through Thanksgiving. And then from the holidays through March 31st, I will just exist. My entire life has been spent smiling through the pain, but I fear my smile is broken.

Quit wishing away your time

Every day, during the week, I count down til Friday. I always say there is a 10% mood increase each day. So Monday I come in and I am at 50%, Tuesday 60%, Wednesday 70% etc, etc. Saturday and Sunday are at 100%. Somewhere between 9pm Sunday night and 5 am Monday morning we reset to 50%. Today, 9 days away from the 2 year anniversary of the worst day of my life, that has shattered my world and left a gaping hole in my heart that will never heal, I realized that is such a stupid way to live. I am wasting every day waiting for the weekend. I am wishing away most of my life. Those are times I can not get back, not ever. I am working towards changing the part of my life that makes me most miserable (the things within my control) but it will take awhile. And that is how it will be. But it really is a sad thing to just wish most of your life away because of your circumstance. Work on changing it, yes! Start today, yes! But most of all, enjoy all the in between. Because that is where life happens and memories are made. They aren’t only made on Saturday and Sunday. They aren’t only made when you are not burdened. They are made every minute. Every moment, so enjoy those times. It will be what carries you through the bad. It will be what lights the darkness, even if its just a little. Trust me.

Dear Blog...

Dear Blog,

Please quit nagging me. I know you are here. I know you are being neglected. I know the moments have passed and the words and their insightfulness have died while you were waiting for me.

In December, I was going to write about the tragedy in Connecticut. Even though every person on every soap box was also writing about it. I did not want to write from a political point of view, or even from a loss point of view. More of a simple statement, said with love. Which is get off our soapboxes and love. Make better people, not better rules. Then I decided the issue was too raw so I would write about family and loss during the holidays. Then it was a reflection on the year. Its major blissful events, and its turmoil, its losses, its abandonment. 2012 was a busy year. Engaged, starting a business, kids, work, getting married, going to Ireland, renewing great friendships and having ones end unexpectedly. Then it was a lengthy discussion of what a parent is supposed to do when a member of her bruised and broken and hurting family, tells her he does not want to live anymore. The tremendous pain and anguish, of knowing what is on the line, of being fearful that every day, maybe one of your amazing, brilliant, absolutely beautiful persons who you love more than anything in this world, may not wake up, because they chose not to.

But it was all too much. I used to wonder if people who went crazy knew they were going crazy. The answer, in my most humble opinion, is yes. They see it, they feel it, but there isn't anything they can do. Just as no matter how much you love someone and how much you want to fix everything for someone, you just cant make them do what you want. It is all still too much. Every day I work on trying to find purpose and energy and POSITIVENESS. Every single day I try. So the problem now, you see, is in order to be POSITIVE, I do not know how to balance the things that I need to write to you about. It causes me to avoid you like the plague (funny how people use that saying still today in 2013; I mean, really, the plague was over 600 years ago). I have always struggled with middle ground. Meaning I do not have one. I do not know how to balance.

So, you see, dear blog, it is not you, it is me. I hope to return to you soon, as I do so miss you.

Your's Truly,

Laura

Thankful.

I spend a lot of time being angry and disappointed about the things that were taken from me or that have happened to me. I think most people do not realize how INCREDIBLY thankful I am for the gifts in my life. I have never participated in a 30 days of Thanksgiving, but thought I would just see how long it took me to come up with 30 things I was thankful for. It took me 2 minutes to write 30 things. They are heartfelt and meaningful even if they seem vague. They all mean something very personal to me. I could have written 1000 more things I am thankful for. Every moment of almost every day. Childbirth, the good night kisses, footsteps in the hall, kids climbing into bed with you to wake you up, all of it... but here is what I came up with:


1 The chance to know and love my first born son, Austin
2 The chance to look at things through my daughter, Carissa's eyes
3 The wonderful

 humor of my son, Brandon
4 The reassurance and love from my husband, Kevin
5 The gift of good friends
6 The lessons from bad friends
7 Second chances. 
8 Family. With all the good, bad and ugly that comes with it.
9 The feeling of dreaming and possibilities
10 Sunrises
11 Sunsets
12 Birthdays (even though I don't like the age that comes with them)
13 Movies & books - the thoughts and creativity of others taking me into a different world
14 Music. Always music. For putting a beat and some lyrics to a feeling I feel. For making my heart happy with the right words and for pouring out my anguish I can not speak.
15 A home to call my own
16 My own creativeness, especially when it is expressed
17 Laughter. Without it, the world would be too cold.
18 The light in my child's eyes.
19 Sunbeams pouring through windows on cold days
20 Rainy days and a blanket
21 The world's beauty, it still catches my breath
22 Christmas Eve, when the world is quiet and full of magic
23 Christmas morning, the family togetherness and Christ
24 Good deeds done for people who need them the most, by the people least likely to give them
25 My children's smiles
26 The laughter of my loved ones. Especially if I was the reason they were laughing
27 Opportunity 
28 Forgiveness
29 Love - the really, really, really good kind.
30 Reminders to be thankful for what we have, always.

Searching for a face in a crowd

It has been an emotional month with getting married to this most perfect (for me) man and having a dream honeymoon to follow. Lots of love and emotion flowing, with an undercurrent of loss. Noticing there is someone missing at every major event does not come easy and without heartache even in the most joyous of occasions. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind there is a young mom screaming at me wondering where he is, how he would look and how he would be reacting. There is an old, tired mom telling her to shut up, for she can not take the screaming nor the pain. We are back to reality after a blissful honeymoon, which has been a very harsh adjustment. Trying to hold on to the strings of joy and happiness in a fast paced life is difficult. It seems as if people really try to rip that from you. Not wanting to let go of those good positive feelings but yet adjusting to everyday life again has been a challenge.

I have lived in or near a college town since I was 14. When I was young, it was cool, a little older - it was a place to party, yet older still - it was an annoyance to deal with people in MY town and now I just avoid that side of town. Its inconvenient with the masses of students and traffic it brings, but I have learned when to avoid certain areas. I really have never given it much thought, until yesterday. I drove to get some Jimmy John's for lunch (they are so freaky fast, but they don't deliver across town to my office!). I had a couple of stops to make, so the route took me through the campus area. I was, for once, enjoying my drive, thinking what a beautiful fall day it was. How even though this campus has been named one of the most dangerous now, it is still a small town, nice campus, where girls and boys (who look younger every year) can walk to classes in general safety and enjoy such a fine day with the leaves changing and falling and the crisp air in their lungs. And then it hit me. Like a Mack truck running me down like something out of Maximum Overdrive. My son would have been one of these kids. Not this campus, not this town, but he would have been one of them. I looked for the young men in hoodies and earbuds, slouching down the sidewalk without worry. I looked at every face I passed as the tears rolled down my face. I looked for him, knowing I would never find him. Not on this campus or any other. He would not feel the crisp fall air on his face. He would not have a conversation with the pretty girl walking next to him. He would not attend class, or graduate. Or go to keggers, or be part of a fraternity, or be part of anything but our hearts & memories. I had to pull over in the parking lot of the bookstore (where I worked when I was 15), where I bawled like a crazy person. I miss him so very much. Every day I can go through the motions. I can feel joy and pain, happiness and loss now. But I miss him with every breath. I feel robbed of my time with him and I feel so very sad that he did not get to experience these things. I feel differently about everything. But mostly, I just feel loss now, more than anything. Just a hole in my heart that will never heal. Wondering and searching, but never finding.

I do think that day changed my view of the campus. In the future, instead of being annoyed by these rowdy kids taking over MY town, I shall try to welcome them, smile at them and not be angry at their youth and ignorance (for I am not any more wise). They are far away from home, in new places with new faces, scared and excited about the future. I would want someone to do that for my son, so I shall try to do it for someone else's.