A Star is Born

Two nights ago we watched A Star is Born with Gaga and Bradley Cooper.  I had no idea about the ending - was not prepared for Bradley Cooper's character to hang himself.  In the previous version, Jackson Maine (played by Kris Kristofferson) died in a car accident (still sad, but more appropriate).

I enjoyed the movie up until that point, but when the character pulled his truck out of the garage and then walked back into the garage, carrying a black, leather belt, my heart started to pound.  No... no... no...    I could hardly breathe - definitely couldn't watch - couldn't listen - and couldn't escape.  Thankfully, Michael saw what was happening and fast forwarded, muting the sound.  All I could do was look at the ground and sob.  It's taken two days for me to be able to talk about it.

I plan for the big things - birthdays - holidays - events.  Even though they're painful, they're not a surprise.  I know I'll have to deal with them.  It's the things that show up unexpectedly - the surprises - that crush me and leave me breathless - searching for a way out - some way to avoid this shattering pain.  And there never is a way out.

The only way out - is straight through the middle of the pain.  I know it.  I'm just not always brave enough to do it - especially when it comes out of nowhere and slams me in the chest like a runaway freight train. My guard was down.  I wasn't ready.  I'll never be ready.

Why did the movie need to end that way?  The choice to have Jackson Maine take his own life is, in my opinion, a poor one.  With all of the substance abuse issues currently drowning us - with so many lost souls committing suicide - with depression running rampant, is it wise (or necessary) to romanticize suicide? The ending of this movie disappoints, to say the least - and causes me to relive the heartbreak of Greg's death.

You can  be sure that from now on, I'll check the spoiler alerts for the endings of any movie I see in the future.  I don't want to relive this.

My "go-to" guy

My garage door broke - again.  It's been repaired at least four times that I know of.  I know Greg fixed it more than once.  I think it's time to replace it and stop patching the problem.  So... who do I call this time?  Greg would know.

I can Google things like anyone else, but that won't really tell me who's good - who's reliable - who should not be called. Getting advice from Greg was way better than online reviews.  He knew!

And... I need stone (crush and run, I think it's called) on part of my driveway.  I don't even know where to begin.  Do the people who deliver the crush and run also spread it - or do they just dump it?
 
For any question - on almost any subject, Greg was always my "go-to" guy.  He knew more things about more things than anyone I've ever known.  Not just pretended to know.  He knew.  If he didn't know, he'd find out.

"Hey Greg!  Who do I call about crush and run - and what's the process?"

"Hey Greg!  I think I need a new garage door.  Would you mind taking a look?  Or tell me who to call?"

Greg would have an answer.  After talking to Greg, I'd know who to call.  I'd know where to start.

Today, I'm lost - overwhelmed by the tasks ahead of me.  (I know!  I know!  I overwhelm pretty easily these days)

I'll figure it out.  I may not get the best price - or the best person, but I'll get it done.

I miss Greg for more reasons than I can name, but today... I really miss my "go-to" guy. 

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.