46th Birthday

Today would have been Greg's 46th birthday.

I don't go out to the cemetery often.  So far, just twice a year.  I go at Christmas because Scott buys a tree (live) and takes it to Greg's grave.  He had hoped that everyone would go out and add something to the tree, but as I've discovered, we are not a "come together" family. No one was willing to participate, so Michael and I put ourselves in charge of decorating the tree.

It's hard.  We both cry.  I buy the decorations - all kinds. I write messages to Greg on the little Christmas balls.  Michael wires the decorations to the tree so that they don't blow off.  We leave heartbroken and disconsolate.

I'm glad Scott buys the tree.  I wish more people participated.  It would make it easier.

Greg was Christmas itself.  He and I shared a crazy love for Christmas and all its traditions.  We felt the same way about so many things.  He was a kindred spirit - a bright light in my life - truly born of my spirit and wrapped in my love.

I don't feel close to Greg at the cemetery.  I don't "feel" him there.  I feel him most on the front porch or in the basement where he created a beautiful business area for us.

Greg had a heart that was open to all - with a huge capacity for love.  Animals felt that gentle side of him. It was an other-worldy thing to watch.

Which brings me to the 2nd time this year that I visited the cemetery - Greg's birthday.  I gave Greg a birthday present every year of his life.  I can't stop now.  The cemetery is the only place I know to take him a gift, so I take it there.  Last year it was a big pinwheel.  This year, it was.... the following.

Say "hi" to Freddy!

When Greg lived here the summer before he died, he would go outside after dinner, sit on the porch and smoke a cigarette.  Very often, I would to with him to sit and talk.

One night we were sitting there and a big old frog hopped around the corner and sat on the porch floor in front of Greg.  Greg talked to the frog, Freddy (I think is what he named him) and the frog sat there and appeared to be listening.  Soon, Greg and I went into the house and we watched the frog hop around the corner toward the garage.

Greg (and I) went back out to the porch later and shortly after sitting down, around the corner came Freddy and sat, once again, on the porch facing Greg.  When we went back into the house, Freddy again, hopped around the corner toward the garage.

This went on all summer.   Greg talked to Freddy - Freddy listened.   Greg would reach down and pet Freddy with his index finger.  Freddy just looked up at Greg.  I just sat and watched, mesmerized and feeling privileged to watch them.  I called Greg the frog whisperer.  He loved it.

This year for Greg's birthday, I took him the garden frog in the picture above (he looks like Freddy) and left it on his grave. I wish the cemetery would just leave it there, but they won't.  So I got a second frog and I'm going to put it in the flower bed at the edge of the porch - where Greg used to sit.

When Michael and I got to the grave, it was evident that Scott had been there on the 4th and left a small pinwheel that was moving like crazy in the wind.  The headstone had also obviously been cleaned within an inch of its life.

I texted Scott and told him the pinwheel was spinning like crazy, how great the headstone looked, and I thanked him for taking such good care of Greg's grave.

"What makes you think it was me?" Scott asked.  It was the first time I laughed all day.

"Who else?" I asked, laughing.  This was definitely Scott's M.O.!

Some people show their love by spending time with you.  (Richard will do that) Some people show their love with gifts.  Scott shows his love in service.  Yes, this was definitely Scott's work.

Some days I feel that I should go to the cemetery more often.  Most days I just feel I can't.  Maybe that will change.  I don't know.

He knows I love him.  He knows I'm looking for signs of him everywhere and anywhere.  He's always with me. 

Graduation

Today Greg's 2nd oldest (I hate the phrase "middle child") graduated from high school - without his father.  Tragic.  What does an 18-year-old do with that - in his heart - in his head?  How does that affect his life from this point on.  

I didn't go - wasn't physically able to go (or invited).   Graduation was at "the Bob" (Bob Carpenter Center at the University of Delaware - a multi-function arena named after Bob Carpenter, a benefactor and trustee). Parking is horrendous - a lot of walking - bleacher seating - just too hard for me - plus - my heartache would pollute the happiness and pride that Amy and her sons shared today.  Amy was wise not to invite me.

The graduation was streamed live - so I was able to watch the live feed and see the graduation (incredibly good quality on the live feed).

Another milestone missed.  

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day - my second since Greg died.   Last year was hard.  This year is harder.  A lot has happened since last year - cancer - a life-changing fall - a spirit-crushing experience with someone who owns a large part of my heart.  It's been a spiritual valley that challenges my willingness (and ability) to fight on.

Greg was great at remembering Mother's Day.  He chose a card carefully, happily came to visit and spend time - and often brought one or more of his children with him.  I could count on him.  I knew he would come.  I knew that he came because he loved me - because I was a joy in his life - not a duty (although doing something because it's a duty is not to be underrated - or underappreciated)

I loved his company.  I loved his mind - and even more, I loved his heart.  He was my counsel - my problem solver - my friend - my heart - my son. I loved seeing his truck in the driveway.  Strangely enough, he appeared to to enjoy my company as much as I enjoyed his.  I saw him and/or heard from him often.  I miss the calls. I miss his visits.  I miss my son.

The last two years before Greg died were hard.  He accused me of hacking into his phone - of sabotaging his life in more ways than I can count.  Because I always told him the truth, you could see and feel the conflict between what he thought was happening and what I told him.  His reality was so skewed by drugs that his daily existence was painful beyond measure.  I wanted to help.  I tried to help.  I wasn't able to help. 

On Mother's Day (and every day) I remember it all. 

International Bereaved Mother's Day

Tomorrow is Mother's Day and I'm a mess.  I still look for Greg's truck - still listen for that rumble coming up my driveway - still can't imagine that I won't see him tomorrow.

Mother's Day is another "event" that screams Greg's absence.  With every event, it's not just the day of the event, holiday, birthday, or whatever else that is so painful - it hurts in anticipation of "the day" and also after "the day".

Mother's Day is hard because not only am I missing a child, I have two other children who are precious to me and who I love beyond words.  I don't want grieving for Greg to diminish the joy of Mother's Day with my other two sons.  I want to be 100% present with them.

I recently discovered that there is an International Bereaved Mother's Day (and Bereaved Father's Day) that occurs one week before Mother's (and Father's) Day.  

I'm grateful that a day exists to acknowledge this strange and awful mother/child relationship that exists when your child is no longer on this earth, but in heaven.   I'm grateful for a day that I can think of Greg, speak Greg's name and embrace the son who won't be with me next weekend.

 

"Some mamas will be drawing or painting hearts on their hands and writing their missing child’s name inside as a beautiful outward testimony to an inward reality.  Every day we carry our missing child in our hearts" 

2nd Christmas

I know I've been absent.  I'm sorry.  I have notes.  Over the next week or so, I'll post what I have from the past month.

Today was a good day.  We had our family Christmas here today.   Years ago, my oldest grandson (who is now 19 years old) dubbed this family holiday, "2nd Christmas".  The title is perfect.

On Christmas day, I go to their houses to visit and enjoy part of Christmas day with each of them  (It's been several years since I've been invited to Greg's house). The Sunday after Christmas, they all come here to receive their gifts from me - and to enjoy each other for the day.

It's been at least five years since Greg's wife was here and at least three, since any of his children have been here.  There are many theories, rumors, and misconceptions about why, but there are no answers.  Many times, the truth is hard to find in this tangled mess.  I've given up trying.  At this point, it doesn't matter.

Today Greg's oldest (19 years old) and youngest (13 years old) sons came for 2nd Christmas.  The middle brother (17 years old) has been sick for two days - too sick to come.  He and I texted and he told me how disappointed he was that he couldn't be here.  I would have loved for him to be part of this year's family day.

Greg's wife was battling a broken heater and spent the day trying to patch together some kind of temporary heat until the furnace can be replaced on Wednesday.   We exchanged text messages and she told me how sorry she was that she couldn't come today.  I'm sorry for an additional crisis in their lives - and that she wasn't able to be here. 
 
 Anyway... I wanted to write about the positive and I'm starting to drift, so.... back to where I started.

It was wonderful to have Greg's sons in my home day.  The family closed up as if there had never been any holes. (At least it felt that way to me.  I hope it did for the boys.)

I feel so inadequate when it comes to talking to Greg's kids.  Do they want to talk about feelings?  Would they rather not?  I got the feeling from the oldest yesterday that he might want to talk if the opportunity presented itself.  I've been told how he feels - but not by him.  The only information that matters is what comes directly from him (or them). 

It's possible that I could help.  As Greg's mother, my perspective may be a kinder, gentler one.  I hope it might be a more healing one for them.  All I can do is wait - be available - follow their lead - and trust God to present (or not) the opportunities.

I don't want to tell them how to feel.  They are entitled to every feeling they are feeling.  I feel a wall between us.  Everyone is so careful.   There have been so many lies and half-truths passed around over the past few years, that trust is a major issue.  With all of the misinformation that they've been given in the past, the fact that they showed up today was incredibly brave of them.  I am praying that God will honor that courage. 

It's late. I feel quiet tonight - relieved this holiday season has come to an end.  Somehow we made it through.  I did a lot of leaning - and the support was there - every time. I am grateful. 

Stocking affirmation

Friday morning.

"Michael, I decided that I want Greg's stocking on the mantle with the rest of the stockings.  Is that okay?" 

"Whatever you want to do is okay.  I'll get the stocking out this morning." 

"Thanks, Michael.  I made a donation to Habitat for Humanity in Greg's name and I'm going to put the card in his stocking."

I feel better.  It feels like the right thing to do.

Before I know it, Brynn is here for her cookie baking day.  Chocolate chips today.  She's as cute as she can be.  Her energy and enthusiasm are catching. 

"Let's bake....... COOKIES!!!"

And so we do.  We bake cookies and more cookies and then... more cookies.  Finally, the cookies are finished and we head to the dining room to play a game.  (We love to play games!)

The mood is light, relaxed - easy.  We're laughing and talking and out of nowhere, the child who hasn't been able to say Greg's name for 6 months, asks, "Is Uncle Greg's stocking going to be on the mantle?"

"It is, Brynn.  How do you feel about that?"  I'm dreading her reaction - and surprised that this is on the radar of yet another child.  When Richard came to pick Kate up yesterday, he brought Brynn and Chase.  Michael told me later that Chase asked him if Greg's stocking would be on the fireplace.

"Uncle Greg will always be a member of our family, right?  Then his stocking should be there with the rest of the family.  Why wouldn't you put up his stocking?"

"I was afraid that it might make Uncle Greg's kids sad to see his stocking there."  (Sometimes I forget she's only 7 years old.  There is so much wisdom in her innocence.)

"I think it would make them happy to know that you didn't forget their daddy."

Sometimes she makes it so simple.

Michael found the stocking and put it in it's rightful place on the mantle.  He printed the Habitat for Humanity card for me and put it in Greg's stocking.  I cried - but I knew it was what I wanted to do.


***Added after our family Christmas on Sunday 12/31/17.

On Sunday morning, I was sitting in the rocking chair, in front of the fireplace.  Kate, Brynn and Bryce were running all over the house looking for hidden clues for their gifts.  Mason was opening a gift and Chase came over and stood in front of me.  Pointing up at the stockings, Chase asked...

"Grammie?," pointing to the stockings.  "Whose stocking is that with the 'G' on it?"

"That's Uncle Greg's stocking," I smiled at Chase.

Chase smiled back, and said, "Thanks, Grammie."

...and he was off to play with his new toys.

Stocking? No stocking?

This subject is a land mine - and everyone has an opinion.  I tend to worry about everyone's opinion but my own.  I'm concerned about causing pain whatever I decide to do.  As a result, nothing feels right to me.  Nothing. 

Greg's wife said that they did not put Greg's stocking up on Christmas day.   His kids felt it would be too painful.  Greg loved Christmas (a repeating message) and he loved stockings and all the clever things that stockings hold.  He was a GREAT stocking shopper - and great stocking opener!   His children felt that seeing Greg's empty stocking would just be too sad, so they did not put the stocking up. 

I understand.  But I'm not sure I'm ready to put Greg's stocking in a box forever.  And I know I'm not ready to throw it away.  And I know I don't want a sad, empty, ghost stocking on the mantle in the middle of all the other stockings. 

Right now the stockings are up.  Greg's is not there and I can't stand to look at the mantle.  I can't look without crying. 

Kate is here today to bake cookies - the second year of what we hope will be a long-standing tradition.  We're busy and having a great day.  She is so smart - and strong - and sweet!  I am constantly in awe of her.  

The state of the stocking doesn't damper our day at all, but after Kate leaves, it buzzes around my head like a gnat.  It's just... there.  I feel a need to make a decision.   

Decorating the tree at Greg's grave on Christmas Eve was heartbreakingly difficult.  I did it originally for Scott, because he was thoughtful enough to provide the tree and no one honored his effort.  I felt I needed to do that for him.  After the tree was decorated and we were at home and I had more time to think about it, I was very grateful for Scott's thoughtfulness.  Greg loved Christmas so much!  Honoring his love of Christmas with a tree (with lights) was the exact, right thing to do.  As intuitive as I usually am, Scott has an amazing way of knowing and understanding these things long before I get there.  We did it to honor Greg's love of life - his love of Christmas (and all things that light up and sparkle at Christmas).  We didn't do it for Greg to enjoy out there at the grave.  He isn't there. 

I decided that in the spirit of honoring Greg at Christmas, to make a donation in his name.   I don't know if I'll do the same thing next year.  I'm just putting one foot in front of the other this year - operating somewhere between autopilot and numb - with an occasional meltdown to tie it all together.

This year I made a donation to Habitat for Humanity in Greg's name.  Greg was a builder and a problem solver - champion of the underdog - a helper of the helpless.  It seemed right to make a donation to an organization who does so much for people in need.  They (Habitat for Humanity) sent me a card with the donation information - the purpose of the donation - and the information honoring Greg.  I decided to put the card in Greg's stocking and put the stocking on the mantle with everyone else's - and hope I don't cause anyone pain in the process. 

I don't know how it will affect Greg's kids.  I worry about Brynn, who hasn't been able to say Greg's name since he died.  What about Kate and Bryce?  What about the littlest ones?  Will they even notice?  How much do they understand?

I've made the decision.  I'm going with the stocking on the mantle.  I just wish I felt better about it. 

Christmas Eve

Scott bought a live Christmas tree (with lights) for the Greg's grave. He hoped that Greg's sons would put something on the tree, but that didn't work out.

Greg's wife said that she would never go to Greg's grave - that it was meaningless for her.  I guess that they've discussed it at home and that the boys feel the same way?  I don't know, but I'm pretty sure no one from that end of the family has been to the grave.  

I wasn't so sure I wanted to go at Christmas - maybe more sadness than I could stand.  But I wanted to honor Scott's remembrance of his brother. 

Scott took the tree to the cemetery around the middle of December and I hoped to get some ornaments and decorate the tree long before this, but I've been really sick - upper respiratory infection and not allowed outside in the cold.  Housebound. 

I'm a little better today and it's Christmas Eve and I'm out of time, so Michael and I took ornaments to the cemetery to decorate the tree for Greg and his father.  (They're buried next to each other).

I bought some small blue Christmas balls (blue was Greg's favorite color) and wrote on them with a silver marker  -  things that would be meaningful to Greg (like his #7 that he was SO obsessive about in high school) - or that would be meaningful for his father.   I also purchased some small traditional ornaments (an angel, a star, drummer boy, etc.) that I wanted to put on the tree - and one big brass jingle bell with a red ribbon. 

Michael took wire so that he could wire the ornaments on the tree to keep them from blowing away.   I can't possibly describe to you the sadness of being at my son's grave - any time - but especially Christmas Eve.   It was impossible - and yet, I was there.  Michael and I both cried the entire time we were there.

I don't think I'm a cemetery person.  I don't feel close to Greg at his grave.  I'm engulfed by a tidal wave of sadness as soon as I pull into the cemetery.  At Greg's grave, I feel like I'm drowning.  There is no comfort for me at Greg's grave.

As hard as it was to decorate the tree at Greg's grave on Christmas Eve, I'm grateful to Scott for the tree - for the remembrance of his brother.  Greg's grave is a memorial to his life - and so, even though I find no comfort there, I'm grateful that I was able to help Scott honor his brother at Christmas.  

 you remember
what his laugh sounded like?
Yes.
Do you remember
what he looked like catching a ball?
He never caught the ball in his life.
But I remember.
That's because when God
takes someone away from us...
He leaves what's most important
about that person with us.
Right here in our hearts.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=preachers-wife-th

I'm sorry
about your friend, Hakim.
What if I told you...
that he's not really gone?
Hakim?
Did he run away and come back?
- No, he never left.
- Yes, he did. I saw him go.
Well, you know, my mother...
once lost someone
who was very dear to her.
He wasn't as young as Hakim,
but he was...
too young, just the same.
And she would always do something
that seemed to make her feel better.
- You want to try it?
- Yeah.
All right, close your eyes.
Do you remember
playing in the snow with Hakim?
Do you remember
what his laugh sounded like?
Yes.
Do you remember
what he looked like catching a ball?
He never caught the ball in his life.
But I remember.
That's because when God
takes someone away from us...
He leaves what's most important
about that person with us.
Right here in our hearts.
Yeah, but I still miss him.
Well, she still misses him too.
Are you all right?
Maybe you should close your eyes.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=preachers-wife-the

Do you remember
what his laugh sounded like?
Yes.
Do you remember
what he looked like catching a ball?
He never caught the ball in his life.
But I remember.
That's because when God
takes someone away from us...
He leaves what's most important
about that person with us.
Right here in our hearts.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=preachers-wife-th 

This quote came from the movie, "The Preacher's Wife"...

"When God takes someone away from us... he leaves what's most important
about that person with us.  Right here in our hearts."

I can close my eyes and hear his laugh.  I remember his many kindnesses - his sense of humor - his love of music.  I can see him playing baseball - and football.  I can see him sitting outside on my porch, leaning against the stone wall of the house, holding hi son, Alex when he was a baby.

That's where I feel close to Greg - that's where Greg will always be alive for me - in the memories.

Greg is gone from this earth - but never gone from my heart.

I love you, Greg - forever and always.

The day after - Thanksgiving

Today it hits and I'm overwhelmed with sadness.  I'm listless - no energy - emotionally drained.  My goal today is to let the tears come - keep breathing - put one foot in front of the other - and make it to bedtime. 

This day seems endless.

Thanksgiving

Thanks to Scott, Thanksgiving was okay.

We started the day at Bryce's football game.  (They lost, but Bryce played his usual, solid game).  It was a beautiful fall day.  The temperature was only 36 degrees, but the sun was bright and warming and there was very little wind.

Birthday thoughts

Today is my birthday - I woke up tired, discouraged, with a soup-thick brain fog.  This is sure not my happiest birthday.

I had an appointment with my rheumatologist this morning and an appointment this afternoon for a haircut.  Today was my first "I-don't-want-to-leave-the-house" day since Greg died. I mean I REALLY didn't want to leave the house.