On my darkest, loneliest days – Charlie never leaves me – my spirit animal lifts me up – just by curling up next to me (and snoring a little)
Sometimes, I feel like I am in love with a porcupine, a very cute porcupine. This porcupine has some very, VERY good qualities and a good heart. But it is covered in sharp, painful quills. It just seems like every time I let down my guard and get close – OUCH!!
I want to trust the porcupine – OUCH!! I get stabbed by the LIE Quills.
I want to believe things will change – OUCH!! The addiction quills!!
But I still love the porcupine.
Is it his fault for hurting me, or is he just being what he is?
Is it my fault for trying to love a porcupine?
Or do I just need some sleep?
My mind is rambling today – I just miss my son so much – it is hard to rein in the thoughts. So I am just going to let them run.
When my son was 11 years, he was diagnosed with a condition called mid-aortic syndrome. This is a very rare, dangerous condition that required a complicated and dangerous aortic implant. He was in surgery for over 16 hours and my husband and I spent this time on our knees or pacing about. Unfortunately, there as a problem with the implant and after only a few hours in recovery, Jay was rushed back to surgery for another 4 hours.
I wanted to call my prayer group and tell them to pray harder, but I was out of coins for the phone. Yes, this was back in 92, and I needed coins.
A custodian walked by, busy going about his duties, yet he stopped to notice my tears and care. Without a word, he stuffed a handful of quarters into my hand. I tried to thank him, but he just gave me a hug and a bright smile and strolled off. I did call my prayer team and they did pray harder and my son began to grow stronger. Today I am grateful for the 24 additional years we enjoyed together, and for the act of kindness.
I do not know the kind gentleman’s name and I did not see him again – but he is always in my heart. His small act of kindness is burned indelibly into my memory. There is power in kindness! Just like the loving woman who washed Jesus’ feet, the kindness is remembered.
Today, my husband and I are letting the grief take over – we are just letting it flow. As we do – my mind rambles about. When we first learned we would be parents, we were filled with joy. When we first held our son, we were filled with love. When we lost him, we were filled with pain and sorrow. But, broken as I am, I know I still have value. I can still serve a loving GOD by being kind. Even if it is just some small gesture, a quick smile – I know kindness has power, lifting power that touches everyone, even those who just witness the kindness.
We need the power of kindness in this world today, more than ever – more kindness to all living things.
This question is so natural this time of year – a simple question really. “What are you planning for the holidays?” In my head, I answer: Isolation. Pain. Sadness. Darkness. Anguish.
My son loved Thanksgiving. He just loved Turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffing – the whole menu. I would roast a huge turkey, just to make sure he had plenty of leftovers. He always said the leftovers were one of his favorite parts. Now, I don’t want to roast a turkey, smell a turkey, or even see a turkey – maybe never again. It hurts too much. I miss him so very much – always.
Instead of happily rushing into the holidays, my husband and I are bracing for the overwhelming pain, loss, and grief.
Many friends and relatives extended invitations, sincere and heart felt. We declined them all.
Not because we do not appreciate the invitations. We do.
Not because we do not love the people. We do.
In fact, it is because we love them. I don’t want to drag down some one else’s holiday. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable. And I just don’t want to pretend I am OK when I am not. I don’t want to put on a happy face – when I feel like crying. This holiday, I need to be able to just “BE”
BE sad or BE broken or BE still or BE hysterical or BE nostalgic or BE in communion with GOD or BE …. whatever I need to BE.
If I am around others, I must consider their feelings. I must conceal my pain and put on the smile facade. I always feel like I need to BE what they need.
So my husband and I will stay home over the holidays. We will BE with each other. We will remember. We will sob. We will pray. We will BE.
I miss you, Jay.
It was a very emotional day. I rode my WildFire on the beach, even a few steps into the Atlantic Ocean. I missed my son so much. He loved the ocean. Our last days together, were spent by the ocean. I wanted to call him, to text him photos – to hear his laugh – instead, I searched the sky for signs. I believe he was there with me.
I used to be afraid of flying – never wanted to look out the window. But, since I lost my precious son – the worst has already happened to me. I just don’t have the fear anymore. Maybe I just don’t care – but here I am looking out the window (Sorry, it is a dirty window). I am looking for you, Son – signs, anything. Each cloud formation, each ray of sun – I search. Is that you? I miss you.
I am afraid I do not know the name of this purple flower, but I love the colorful blooms. It is a hardy, tall fellow – standing up to Virginia drout and sun. My husband and I sat on our “memory” bench and enjoyed the last of them
Now there is a huge dragon fly in our living room. I believe this is a powerful, positive blessing and we will help guide our little visitor safely outdoors.
Holidays and Parties – for me – are definitely on the casualty list. I used to love parties and family gatherings. In the fall, we would always build a huge bond fire and invite family and friends to the farm. We would eat my husband’s chili, roast hots dogs and marshmallows – just enjoy.
I have not hosted or attended a party since losing my son – I just struggle being around groups of people. Truthfully, I cannot get “in the mood” to host a party and I don’t want to attend some one else’s party and bring down their mood.
Has anyone else experienced the awkwardness of the grief journey? The isolation? When I encounter people, acquaintances who either do not KNOW or I do not see on a regular basis – there is an awkwardness in our interaction. I can tell it is on their mind and they feel uncomfortable – and I feel uncomfortable. Conversation just feels “forced”.
Holidays and party days are ahead – AGAIN. If I muster the courage to accept invitations, will I would be socializing with people I have not seen since my son’s memorial service? Will they feel uncomfortable? Will I be a dark cloud on the party?
I cry privately. I grieve privately. I work to always maintain my composure in any public situation. I do not want to burden others. What to do? Go? Say no?
Met a new friend scurrying down my drive way. Don’t worry. I gathered my little friend up and moved him to safety. As a child, I remember my Mom telling me these little Woolie worms could predict the severity of the weather based on their color. Can’t remember exactly, if it was black or orange that meant a bad winter. Maybe it is silly to stop my car to move a little fuzzy caterpillar, but – hey, GOD made caterpillars too – and besides, it is healing to stop and visit with nature for a little while. The grief is always with me, but moments like this strengthen me. Does anyone know what kind of little critter this is??
I teach an evening class. By the time the class is over, it is near the end of a very long day. As I walked to my car last week, I was mesmerized by the night sky. At first, I saw a turtle looking at the moon. Then I saw a dragon, trying to swallow the moon. That is the enchanting beauty of the sky, we can all see something different.