23 months

Today is the 4th.  23 months.  1 month short of a year.  It's been almost 2 years since Greg died and the pain still cuts me in half - like a sword - clear through my bones - I bleed tears. 

I still don't understand.  I'll never understand.

I looked in the mirror today - it doesn't happen often - and all I could see were purple circles under sad eyes.  Is that who I've become?

I don't have the energy today to be more. 

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" 

Forgiveness?

Helpful therapy today with WooWoo. 

Have I mentioned that I tripped over the edge of the carpet and fractured my shoulder?  It's a bad break that needs surgery to repair it - nuts, bolts, and screws - that kind of break.  Unfortunately, due to lung issues, I'm not a candidate for surgery.  So.  It is what it is - and it will heal - or not heal. 

The break has caused a permanent loss of mobility in my arm - limiting my life in more ways than I could possibly have imagined.

I only mention it because it's another layer of pain - physical and emotional - on top of everything since Greg died.  There are days that it all feels like too much.  On those days, I swallow some of the pain that I don't feel able to deal with - and put it off for another day. 

The pain of missing Greg is one of the things I've been trying to swallow.  It's useless, of course, but at times I try anyway.  Sooner or later the pain refuses to be denied and it always comes back stronger than if I'd dealt with it at the time I chose to swallow and not feel it.

I'm just trying to stay on my feet. 

The pain is chasing me down and I am overwhelmed.  One of the things that haunts me as a Christian, is if Greg is okay. 

Part of the reason I worry (I realized today) is that I'm used to worrying about Greg.  I've worried about him for a long time.  It's what I do.  Is he okay? Is he not okay?  What can I do?  How can I help? 

I watched his drug problem get worse and worse and felt helpless that I couldn't do anything to protect or save my child.  It was heartbreaking.  I tried.  I couldn't stop it.  All I could do was to worry.   I tried to trust God and not worry.  The evidence before me told me that I should worry.  This was my child who I loved more than life.  I couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

And so... as hard as I tried to trust... I failed.  I worried.

I've also had more than one person tell me that Greg is not okay - that he's suffering - that he's being punished for taking his own life.  I don't know what to do with that.  At least I didn't - until today.

I believe in the God of the Bible - and the Bible tells me...

^{Romans 8:38-39
38} For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,^[a] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, ³⁹ neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.  Nothing.

Some people have told me that Greg could not be forgiven for taking his own life because it's a sin for which he could not repent.  

1.  Is it true that there was no time for repentance?  In a previous post I mentioned survivors who jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge and said later that they regretted it the second they jumped.  There may have been time to repent.

2.   There are always things that we do wrong that we aren't aware of - sins that we commit without thinking or without awareness.  I am surely not perfect and never will be.  If I were, there would be no need for Jesus' forgiveness.  Can anyone die without having something for which they haven't asked forgiveness - or for which they're not even aware that they need forgiveness?

I guess what I'm saying is that as of today, I'm going to attempt to put this worry to rest and trust God.  God tells me that nothing can separate Greg from God's love.  Nothing.  Not a suicide.  Nothing.   

As much as I love Greg - God loves him more.  

I love you, Greg and I miss you every day.  My heart aches - for all you suffered - and for those of us who are left without you.  But I'm going to trust that you are safe with God - and that I don't have to worry any more about whether or not you're okay.  

Thank you, God, for loving my boy. 

Jen's mom

Jen's mom died this week (let's call her Judi).  The viewing and service were today. 

Judi was having pain in her stomach and so, decided to go to the doctor.  At first, they couldn't find anything, but eventually they discovered that Judi had cancer and that it had spread.  That was in March.  And now, she's gone.

Jen was a friend of Rich and Greg in their teen years - and a particular favorite of mine.  Greg was close to Jen's family, especially Jen's dad (Let's call him Larry).  They treated Greg like one of their own.  He would be devastated today.

He would also have been the family's best support.  He would have been part of every arrangement that they'd let him be part of.  He'd be a rock for the family.  And he would hide his own pain.

Larry was a contractor who was an enthusiastic and loving mentor for Greg. And Greg adored Larry.   I think my favorite story was about Larry teaching Greg to drive a stick shift (truck).

Greg came home after a day working with Larry (at Larry's house) and told us that he had learned to drive a stick shift that day.

My memory isn't what it used to be, but it seems to me that Larry wanted Greg to take his truck to Home Depot or somewhere and pick something up.  Greg got in the truck and yelled out the window to Larry, "It's stick shift!  I never drove a stick shift before."

Greg said that Larry laughed and answered, "That's okay, Greg.  You'll figure it out before you get to the end of the driveway."  (Thankfully, they had a long driveway.)   There was no more instruction. 

Greg said he stalled the truck; he ground the gears; the truck lurched; and by the time he hit the street, Greg knew how to drive a stick shift truck.  Larry's confidence was affirmed.

I cried today for Jen.  I cried today for the rest of the family.  But I cried the most because it brought back so many memories of Greg.

Today is one of those days that make me wonder how I will go on without him.  There are still so very many of those days.

I miss my son.

TV Triggers

So... tonight we're watching a Netflix series about a family - or what's left of a family - father, son, two daughters.  The mother died from a very aggressive cancer and the family is lost - grieving.  (Maybe not a great series for me to watch.  The NCAA tournament would be safer.)

The family moves from their home in Boston to the family's previous small rural hometown, Turtle Island Bay where the sister of the dead wife lives.

Anyway... tonight the sister called her deceased sister's phone and listened to the voicemail message - and cried at the sound of her sister's voice - listened again to the voicemail message - and cried - and yet again... listened to the voicemail message - and cried.

My chest tightened - I remembered the voicemail message of Greg's that I saved - and I sobbed.  I don't need to listen to that voicemail.  I hear his voice in my head all the time.

It just makes me miss him more.