Beauty for ashes...

This past summer I had the amazing privilege of setting up a dorm room with a smart, beautiful young lady, who I pray I will one day call daughter.  We have gone shopping, had lunches, shared favorite Starbucks, gone to get nails done, tried on dresses at Dillard’s…and talk or text just about daily.  I have grown to love her with all my heart.  It escapes neither of us that she is less than a month older than Jake, that I am a mother missing a child and she is a child missing her mother. It would seem absurd to both of us to somehow wipe away the past, pretending it not there, and use each other as replacements.  She freely speaks to me about her loss, her mom, her sadness and I do the same. Having her in my life does not in any way replace Jake, it doesn’t make up for losing him or ease the ache of missing him.  At Christmas when Jake would have been helping me bake cookies and pies, having her there with me instead, will not in any way fill the gaping hole left by Jake’s absence.  In fact sometimes having her there accentuates the lose and later when I’m alone the tears fall harder.  I’m getting to share experiences with her that I will never be able to with Jake and I am also painfully aware of the grief and sadness that she must feel without having her mom present. It’s a position that neither of us wanted or asked for.  A club neither of us wanted to join.  In fact I told her the other day, “I feel so lucky to have you in my life.  I wish none of it had to happen, but since it did and we had no choice in the matter, I’m so thankful to get to be in your life.” I really am so very thankful.  It feels so good. And I love her, her sister, brother and of course her dad so very much.  I can’t imagine my life without them.  Our families just fit.

Saying all that about another child after losing one of your own is regarded as sweet and socially acceptable.  That’s not always the case when you talk about loving after losing a spouse and yet everything I've just described, I could say just as easily about her dad, Danny.  And I know it's how he feels about having me in his life. It's easy for me to see the parallel.  My love for Jake is not somehow instantly gone with the addition of 3 more children in my life. It’s not diminished in the least!  Neither then is a lifetime of love and devotion somehow cheapened or instantly gone for a widower who finds companionship in another.  In a similar way to the feeling of the infamous “they” thinking grief should some how have a time limit, there is also a public judgement of finding love too quickly.  It feels ridiculous that 2 grown people should feel that social pressure and give it any thought what so ever, but we do.  And it’s not just us.   A quick Google search results in multiple articles, memes and blogs on the subject.  I think it mostly stems from the uncomfortableness of death and dying.  In general, we don’t want to think about dying or losing our spouse or a child.  To think about it for too long is depressing.   Imagining life after lose is unthinkable.  Seeing someone else having to live their life after losing a loved one forces us to briefly look at that possible reality and we don’t like it.  It stirs up too many questions…. “how would I react”, “what would my husband do if I died”…the list goes on.

I can tell you with absolute certainty that nothing in your life will stay the same…nothing.  Everything! Every aspect of your life will be turned upside down and nothing will ever be the same. Most of your relationships will be permanently altered, some good, some shocking, but all of them changed.  People you thought would never leave, leave.  And sometimes the most least likely people surprise you by being there in ways you never knew you would need.

Losing Jake left me completely shattered and broken.  Being single at the time of his death, grieving his loss with the responsibility of still having to run a household and parent 3 boys also grieving their brother was overwhelmingly lonely.  It placed me in a position to have empathy and understanding for Danny.  We understand each other’s brokenness in ways few others can. In the same way that my love for all of them will never replace or diminish my love and grief for Jake, I will never replace or diminished their love for Kim.  Danny and his kids are not instantly relieved of their grief by our presence. We continued to grieve the lose of them both.  Their names are spoken freely, sometimes through laughter and fond affection and other times through tears. There are still days when grief strikes hard and feels all consuming and overwhelming.  BUT it’s also been incredible to see how God has moved 2 families together and is slowly bringing beauty from the ashes.

Isaiah 61 says of the Lord… He has come to “bind up the broken-hearted…to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve… --to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

None of us wanted this. We didn’t ask for it, but since it did and we had no choice in the matter…. I am so incredibly thankful that God has chosen to bring beauty from it…

It's not okay again today...

No, I’m still not okay, but thanks for asking.  For the most part I’m doing really well.  I have weeks, sometimes months when I go about my days without tears or any outward sign of grief, but there are still bad days here and there.  The thing is though that when those bad days come they are really really bad.  In a instant I’m back in a hospital waiting room, the quiet hum of a small room with a vending machine and a few small tables,  a young doctor staring back at me with the unspoken words, “I’m so sorry” written into her expression so clearly there was no need to put voice to the words.  The details of the day plays over in my mind and my heart gives way to the emotions that follow.  Those same raw feelings with the same intensity that I experienced them in those first moments.  I have noticed over the last 2 and a half years that stuffing them or ignoring them doesn’t work well for me for any length of time.  Ignoring the intense grief and holding back and stuffing the tears only delays the visceral response that must ultimately be dealt with.  I’ve learned, also, over the last 2 and a half years that most other people don’t understand that visceral response at all.  It’s too raw, too real for them to think about let alone witness.  As a result those of us who grieve do so alone…in the car, the shower, a bathroom stall, into our pillow, anywhere where our raw, horrific pain won’t be seen by others.  Chest convulsing with sobs, face contorted with deep sadness, tears soaking any fabric available, and congestion filling nose, sinuses and ears. It’s hard to breathe and its utterly exhausting, but it must be done.  At least that’s my experience.  If I hold it in too long I feel sick, cranky and irritable.  It becomes hard to focus or to get anything done and just about anything over my normal routine makes me overwhelmed. So I’ve learned to hold it in until there is an “appropriate” time to let it all out, but also to not wait too long before I allow my self the time.

It’s been a hard couple days.  Part of it is kids getting ready to go back to school.  I’ve noticed that to be a hard event each year since Jake has gone.  It stirs up the “what would he be doing now” thoughts.  This year his classmates are beginning their senior year.  I’m so proud of them.  I’m so excited to see what the future has in store for them, his closest friends are so very precious to me.  It’s just also painful…for all of us.

Work has also been insane.  I love what I do, I like the people I work with, but we’ve been short staffed all summer and I’ve been working 50-60 hour work-weeks for too long.  I’m not handling the busyness well and the frantic pace doesn’t leave much time for grieving.

And then a phone call yesterday afternoon finished me off…  Life Gift called to say one of the recipients of Jake’s organ donation wrote us a letter. As with everything it’s bittersweet.  I’m grateful for a very sweet letter, but it stirred up a lot of emotion.

So today I’m sitting here on the couch writing when I should be working, tear-stained and exhausted not wanting to do anything but lay here.  According to my internal dialogue of the fictional “ people who just don’t get it”, I need to get up and go help train the new nurse that’s joined our team at work, but I don’t want to.  I’ll have to go eventually today. I’ll most likely put on some make-up, stuff my emotions for the afternoon, smile and get done what is absolutely necessary, but that will be about it.  No, I’m still not okay.  Some days, weeks and months are really, really good but then…well, then its not again.

Stronger

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger….

As a rule, I have come to despise clichés.  Mostly I have found that people say these things when they are at a loss of words as an attempt to fill the awkward silence.  Rarely…in fact, NEVER, have I found those words helpful or comforting.  A local Christian radio station here runs a campaign over the holidays using the words, “I choose joy.”  They use James 1:2 as their reference, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of various kind”, and although far from a cliché it began to grate on my nerves by the end of the season.  I think it was the sing-song attitude or perhaps because what was implied referred to the hectic stress of the holidays and seems so very trivial compared to all that I have been through. 

Besides the painfully obvious hardship of losing Jake, I really have had my fair share of hard experiences throughout my life.  A laundry list of things gone wrong, complications and loss.  I know I am not alone.  In fact tonight alone I have spoken with 3 friends going through their own “trails of various kind.”  One echoed sentiment I have thought numerous times, “I’m just so tired of everything being so hard! Couldn’t one thing just be easy?”  As a type another friend’s text asked, “Why does this have to be so hard?”   I don’t know… I too struggle to ease the awkwardness of the silence that follows those words… there is no easy reply and no words to bring relief.  In her case and mine the struggle is far from over.

I don’t know why but what I do know is that everything that has happened, all the wrong turns, complications and loss has made me who I am today.  And I like who I have become.  I am stronger than I was and I have many experiences to draw from to help other people facing their own struggles.  So the old cliché seems true and is authenticated by James when he says “Count it all joy…because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.” 

 I remember thinking back when my kids were babies that all the little random complications that happened to me throughout my pregnancies, births and breastfeeding were going to help me be a better nurse and at very least they did provide me some good experience and stories to share when I taught Lamaze classes.  I joked with one of my friends tonight, well at least we will have some good stories to tell when we are old.  As much as I joke, I know that at least in part that is the answer to the why…

Several years ago one of my dearest and closest friends made a comment that cut me to my core.  Her words hurt me deeply and despite a swift and sincere apology, I feared our friendship would never have the depth it had before.  I was right.  Our friendship now has fathomably more depth than I could ever thought possible.  She and I weathered that storm only to emerge stronger and more resilient, which not only positioned us to endure the coming hurricanes life would hurl at us, but also stand as a reminder that pain does not kill.  I could have easily let the pain of her words end our friendship forever but instead that experience has given our friendship a depth that has provided for both of us an anchor to weather the storms. She is my most precious friend.  I could not at the time count that wound as joy, but I do recognize the perseverance and joy it has produced.

James finishes that thought off with a promise.  “Blessed is the one who persevered under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.”

I have no idea why life seems to be so hard sometimes.  I don’t have any good answer to the troubles my friends are currently encountering.  I do know that even in the darkest moments of my life when I feel completely and totally broken I still have HOPE.  Sometimes it feels barely recognizable but it’s always there…

…we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And Hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit… (Romans 5)

And cliché aside…stronger.

 

Life Abundant

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.  I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.  (John 10:10)

About 5 years ago today, I was riding in an hour long commute back from our mission site in Jogoo, Kenya back to our hotel in Nakuru, sitting cheek to cheek with my friends, 4 of us on a seat designed to fit 3.  We had just finished our week of service to the people of Jogoo, sharing the Gospel and providing vision care and were looking forward to going on safari the next morning before we headed back to the main mission site in Nairobi and ultimately back home.  As we drove one last time down and out of the village on quite possibly the bumpiest road on the plant, we offered up our prayers of Thanksgiving for those we were able to serve in Jogoo.  I concluded the prayer with a request, “and as we go on safari tomorrow Lord, if it’s not too much to ask I would really like to see a lion; one would be awesome, two would be a blessing and three, Lord, would be abundance.” And as I have shared in previous posts you know that God indeed lavished abundance on us that day with 3 juvenile male lions all laying together in a clearing together.  I wept.  I cried because in that moment I felt the overwhelming love of God directed fully on me in a very deeply personal way as if God was saying, “No baby girl that’s not too much to ask because that is exactly how much I love you, abundantly!!

So much has happened since then it could easily feel like a lifetime ago.  I came home from that trip to an already crumbling marriage and within slightly more than 3 years my whole world would be turned upside down.  It would have been very easy for bitterness to have slipped into my heart, but I made a conscious decision after the divorce to not allow bitterness to take root. I did not want to be like Naomi, from the story of Ruth and rename myself Mara.  Instead, I frequently look back to that moment with the lions and I am reminded over and over again that despite all that I have been through that God loves me abundantly.  And in case I had any doubt that His feelings toward me had changed since then, God sent me another encounter with 3 dolphins last November to make sure I didn’t forget.

Missing Jake has not changed significantly over this last year.   It feels like yesterday and forever all at the same time and the intensity of the loss does not become any less over time.  It really, really sucks!!  It is very hard to explain because the intensity of missing him and the hurt seems to grow stronger with the passing of time but there is also a seasoned experience that comes along side of the tremendous hurt.  The seasoned experience coming alongside the hurt as if to say, “it hurts like hell, but this will not kill you and later you will be okay.”   This year has been challenging.  Life continues to deal harshly with us and we’ve had our fair share of trials and loss this year.  So much of what the kids and I have been dealt has been beyond our control, it would be very easy to let bitterness or anger sink in. Honestly, it’s a daily struggle at times, but something I feel strongly about.  I do not want that for me or my kids.  I refuse to be a bitter old woman!  I want that life that Christ speaks of in John 10:10, an abundant life.  I wish that “abundance” meant that nothing bad would happen to us anymore, I wish that in that abundance all our hurts would magically be gone, like a spiritual lottery suddenly all our problems solved, but I know that is not truth.  The truth is life is life and being a Christian doesn’t make me immune to it.  For me, life abundant is experiencing the love of God in the midst of the trial and the hurt and God has also been teaching me that life abundant is also allowing my heart to be open and vulnerable to the people He puts in my path.  That sounds like an easy thing to do, but when you have experienced profound loss that can be challenging.  The risk of opening up your heart is that you can get hurt deeply again.  After Jake died, I didn’t think I would ever be able to let someone new in my life.  A new “someone” would never have known Jake and that was unthinkable to me.  Tears flow freely even thinking about that now.  Jake is so much a part of who I am, how could  I share my life with someone who has never met him.  But God once again ever so gently reaches in and begins to unfold truth so that I might have that life abundant.  God makes a way where there seemed to be no way and I felt Jake speaking to me across time to say that in the realities of time and Heaven, he already knows the someone new.

 As Zach and I were talking about that possibility the other day he said he was afraid to get attached to anyone because they may not stay and I was faced with the reality of my own fear.  Opening up your heart to someone after losing a huge piece is terrifying.  Life is still life, loss will happen again.  It will hurt and there is no magic balm that will fix it, but I feel the Lord leading me in life abundant, I know He will not fail and I trust Him.

The World We Do Not Share

Have you ever cried so hard that you felt your eyelids could turn inside out? Your ears and sinuses so full they no longer drain and you've saturated towels and sheets, soaked through with your tears.
In that moment you feel as though you will die, your heart broken beyond repair and you're not sure how you will survive to breath your next breathe.

Every cell in your body cries out missing him and the longing to have him near, to hear his voice and to touch him overwhelms your soul to the very point of death. In fact you long to die, just to be able to see him again. And nothing eases the ache. Not a single. solitary. thing.

Yet somehow. Quite miraculously you don't die. You rend your soul completely. Your body, spent from the horrific sobs, stills and your breathe settles again into a quiet easy pattern. The ache remains, but the intensity fades as sleep overtakes you.

You'll wake again ready to pick up where you were before the grief once again consumed you. Still broken. Still longing. But able to carry on...until the next time.

This is a price of love. This is the burden we carry. This is the world we do not share and pray you will never know.

The Second Easter...so now what!?!

It's Easter...Resurrection Sunday. The day on which the Christian faith hinges.  "Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here!"  The tomb is empty. The grave clothes are folded and neatly left behind. He was dead, but not any more! HE. IS. ALIVE.

The One who was without sin, took the sin of EVERY man upon himself. He died a criminals death. Taking the sentence of death for you and for me, He was remanded to Hell, in our place. BUT death could not hold Him, the grave could not keep Him and Hell did not have the last word!! Christ has risen from the dead! Because He lives, everything has changed! Death has been overcome. The curse of sin no longer holds our destiny. The blood of He who has no sin has paid our debt forever!  And because He lives I can face tomorrow!

Because He lives, I know exactly where Jake is...Alive! He's not gone forever. He is not in purgatory or sentenced to Hell. He is not ashes in an urn sitting on my piano. Because Christ lives and because Jake  trusted in Him and in His promises, Jake also lives! And that is the sole reason I am still breathing. Without that blessed assurance, I have no idea how I would have continued.

Easter has always been meaningful and the Sunday I look forward to most. Peeps and chocolate bunnies aside, even from a young age I looked forward to loudly proclaiming, "He has Risen!! He has risen indeed!  Hallelujah!" every Easter morning at church. Trumpet fanfare and singing "Jesus Christ has risen today", "Crown Him with many Crowns", I loved to think about what it will be like to worship the Risen King together around his throne one day. Honestly that has always been my favorite thing to talk about, study and sing about!

I'm having a very hard time this Easter. I'm not sure I can fully put into words why that is. I'm not mad at God, my faith if anything has been made stronger, but my heart hurts and although I'm am not without hope, I am just so very sad. I am stuck in this gap between Heaven and Earth, one foot in each place, not really able to be completely present in either.  There is a line from the  Apostles Creed    that reads, "I look for the  resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come." That pretty much covers it for me. I'm trying so very hard to be present here and now, to live and enjoy this life, but my heart longs to be in Heaven. I'm balance in this place wondering how long can I possible sustain this and asking, "Ok God... Everything has been turned upside down, so now what!?!"

I can't help but think of the  disciples, having just witnessed Jesus' ascension into Heaven, standing there looking up at the clouds and wondering, well now what!  I wonder how many times they, like me, just wanted to be done and be with their Savior.  Heart-broken and uncertain. I wonder if they, like me, felt the future just a little daunting.

I think also about the children of Isreal, having come through their first Passover in the wilderness. No doubt the events of the previous year fresh in their mind, but facing an uncertain future following the cloud and pillar of fire through the desert. I thought a lot about them this week, this being my second Easter without Jake.  It's different this year than last year. Last year was still so very raw and his death so fresh in my mind. I found myself, last year, focusing on His death. This year I'm struggling with the gap of time, between now and when I can see Jake again. I have no idea how long that will be but with grandparents having lived well into their 90's, it will likely be awhile.  I feel a bit like those wanderers only 1 year into their 40 year trek.  I have to say I am  now much more understanding of their grumbling.  I can understand why they might have looked back to the comforts of Egypt. As I was thinking about this weekend and trying to make our plans for Easter, I too wished I could go back. I miss my church. I miss singing and worshiping with my friends. Having 4 baskets to plan for...Going back to the past is not an option, but it sure would be nice to have that comfort of "home" again. I can't remember at what point they realized it, but Moses and the adults who left Egypt never made it to the Promised Land. They left the comforts of Egypt to follow God and did not see their final destination here on Earth, their Promise Land awaited them in Heaven. I feel like that is my future. I am ever aware of God's presence and provision, but it will never be complete this side of Heaven.

I have struggled a lot this week. Just getting the baskets out was difficult. Missing him never gets easier and putting his basket next to his urn on the piano was just weird, but something I felt compelled to do. Nothing is right. Everything feels temporary and turned upside down. I couldn't even decide what we should do to recognize Easter this year, nothing felt right.

I am so thankful for friends and family, especially for Ray.  In the midst of indecision and tears this morning, he was able to help me find my anchor once again. He likened my journey to a ship in the middle of the ocean. "Going in circles, you will get no where," he said. I know he's right. Like the children wandering in the desert, it's easy to lose a sense of direction if you are constantly looking back from where you've come from. In a sense you will just ended up going in circles. Thankfully for them they had God's physical presence to guide them onward. I am thankful that just like he so often does, God spoke to me through Ray today to compel me forward. So instead of spending the day longing for the past, I began the process of setting some  new traditions. We made lunch and had friends over, broke confetti eggs on each other and emptied several cans of silly string.  And even though next year is sure to look completely different, we have set down small traditions to carry us into our future.

Hebrews 11 has the words "Hall of Faith" penciled into the margins of my Bible. It's a listing of those men and women throughout Bible history that stepped out in faith to follow God, blindly trusting in Him and his promises. The children of Isreal are included in that listing along with many others. Verse 39 says  this, "These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them recieved what had been promised."  So I am not alone, no doubt many of those listed in God's Hall of Faith have had their own "so now what" moments. Thankfully, like the cloud and pillar of fire in the desert, God gives a clear answer to that question. Hebrews 12:1 say, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith..."

I have no idea what the future holds or how long I will be here balanced between here and Heaven. I feel certain that my life between now and then will be filled with many more bittersweet moments and missing Jake.  My race is not over, God has more for me to do and I'm sure there will be no lack of "so now what?" moments filling that time. But I also know that God will lead me every step of the way and for that I am thankful.

Happy Easter! HE HAS RISEN!

Miracles from Heaven

There is a new movie out called Miracles From Heaven. It looks like a great movie and the real-life story behind the movie is an amazing testimony, but I don't want to see it. It's a story of an impossible healing, a life saved and answered prayers. I can barely make it through hearing the commercials on the radio without crying and becoming just a little bit mad. I don't want to be mad or angry, but hearing about someone else's child that was healed and is still alive, hurts. Deep down even though I am beginning to accept this reality, I would still have given anything to see a miraculous healing in our story. It makes me wonder things like:  Why her and not Jake?  Why did that mom get her prayers answered? Was my faith some how found lacking and her's not?  Of course I know that is not the case. Her story is not my story and mine is not hers.  Her daughter was healed and got to stay with her family a little longer and Jake...

The problem I have with healing testimonies is that for as many of those amazing stories there are many more stories of loss and unanswered prayers. I have witnessed healing, I've seen it first hand. I believe that God is still in the business of miracles, big ones! The kind movies are made about and even some no one would dare to believe, including testimonies of people being raised from the dead. Unfortunately God gives no explanation to us about why some and not others. He is God and I don't really expect an explanation, but I have to admit it would be nice. A quick Google search of "why God heals some, but not others?" gives several explainations:  failure to ask, lack of faith, unconfessed sin, a higher purpose, God's glory and God's timing.  As a mom whose prayers were not answered the way I wanted, those explainations suck!! I asked! My boys asked! My family and friends asked!! Random strangers from around the country and globe asked!! My faith was unwavering! And frankly though I am far, far from perfect I do not believe for one second it was a result of any unconfessed sin on either my or Jake's part that blocked his healing. The truth of the matter is that it was God's sovereignty.  It was clear to me from the very beginning. In fact I remember when everyone was arriving at the hospital, that I was nervous that my dear friend Vicky might be upset with me for accepting so quickly that Jake was going to die. She has been blessed to witness some of those "big" healings that I mentioned before. In fact her own son was miraculously healed through prayer. I was relieved when Vicky also sensed God's sovereignty at work and as I mentioned in other posts, both Vicky and I believe that Jake was given the choice and it was Jake's choice to stay with his Savior.  It certainly doesn't answer all my questions and it doesn't make me want to go sit through that movie, but it does shift my thoughts.

Sometimes miracles from heaven are spectacular to view from this side of eternity. A horrific fall and blow to the head results in miraculously healing. A child in chronic pain, unable to eat is suddenly healed. Cancer once deemed terminal, now gone! Other times miracles from heaven are less  ostentatious in the here and now. Sometimes we have to look hard for the miracle. I'm positive that if you asked Jake, he would tell you he has gotten his miracle!! He was completely and totally miraculously healed. Restored the moment he passed from this life into the next. My youngest son, Nate, wrote in a note I found a few weeks after Jake died, that Jake WAS the miracle that we prayed for. And for me I have seen miracle after miracle since Jake left...none of them the one I prayer for specifically, but miracles from Heaven none the less.

  A dear, sweet woman I met last summer,  lost her first baby after she was born extremely premature. Adija and I became almost instant friends, understanding each other's pain and grief in a way few others can. I was her nurse and saw her weekly through her second pregnancy and celebrated with her the milestones of reaching viability and then reaching term and I rejoiced with her as she prepared blankets and clothes for his arrival. I don't have that type of bond with every patient, but this was different, it was deeper because of our mutual loss. I had planned to go visit her and the baby after they came back home, but before I had the chance her sweet baby passed away in her arms only a few weeks after coming home from the hospital. I was devastated to hear about her loss and angry that she was once again robbed of her miracle.  As I was preparing to write this post, I contacted her to ask permission to share her story and she reiterated what Nate had said and echoed that Baby Jack was her miracle. And while I believe that both Jake and Jack along with all children are miracles, in this case, I believe,  Adija is the miracle. She carries a burden few others can imagine every day. She and I, along with all the other moms who live with hearts here and in Heaven are miraculously still alive, functioning with missing pieces that threatened to undue us. I consider it a miracle that I am here and able to write coherent sentences. I am astounded daily at the mircalous ability God has given us to continue in spite of horrific loss and I am profoundly thankful for Adija and the other miracle moms that God has placed in my life. Miracles from Heaven are all around us every day. Sometimes they are huge and screenplay worthy and other times they look ordinary like a mom, who no one would blame if she stayed in bed for a year, but everyday instead is still choosing faith and life.

Missing Jake

It has been 1 year and 29 days without him. That is 394 days, 56 Thursdays. One school year has come and gone and another is about half over,  that's about 215 school days.  For the record, for most of that I had to do some math. However you mark the passing of time, that is  394 days in our home of day to day living; getting up in the morning, eating meals, keeping the house in order, participating in life, doing homework, completing projects, having friends over, getting ready for bed, sleeping, not sleeping, laughter...lots of laughter mixed with a fair amount of tears, all of it, missing Jake.  Every day is different and missing him takes on many forms, but there is not a day that goes by that the gapping hole in our family goes unnoticed.

The one year anniversary has come and gone. The days leading up to it were aweful and intense. Everyday I felt like I was reliving each moment again with Wednesday being the absolute worst, but by Wednesday evening that week, most of those intense feelings of panic and grief had passed for me and an odd but comforting peace carried me through that weekend. The experience was different for all of us and the boys struggled a little more on the actual day and my previous post of it being two different days for me proved less true for some of my boys. We spent Wednesday night in Galveston and went to our favorite place to eat and then tried, unsuccessfully, to release a fire lantern on the beach. The 29th we were surrounded by family and friends. The day ended with more laughter than tears but I think we were all relieved when it was over.  

It has been another 29 days since the anniversary. February is mostly over and we are doing alright. The fog that once again consumed us in the days surrounding and leading up to January 29th have subsided again.  We still have some bad days, mostly bad nights, here and there but for the most part I feel like we are doing well. 

It still baffles me that people are so ignorant about death and grieving.   More than once, I have found myself trying to explain or defend why we "still" have bad days. I'm not sure where it comes from exactly, but there is an overwhelming sense of pressure to hurry up our grieving; that a year is enough time and you can't continue to use his  death as an excuse for bad days.  I think it's even worse for my boys than for me. I have been able to make adjustments to my life and change jobs to better suit our needs, but the school calendar and those demands are not as forgiving. When I have a bad day, I can bring my make-up bag along in the car and freshen up between patient visits. If I have a hard moment I turn on the radio and allow myself to cry.  The boys are at school so on a bad day they have almost 8 hours of putting on a good face to maintain until they get home. Maintaining a good face and not breaking down is exhausting.  Explaining that to people is challenging.  

There are not as many bad days as there were even 3 months ago, but they still happen.  Triggers come out of no where and there is no way to really predict what will cause them or when they will hit.  Just as an example, last week I went to Orlando with Ray and his sister, Layla, to run in the Disney Princess weekend 5 K.  We had a wonderful time. I have never been to Disney and it's been a life long dream to go.  I was like a kid again as we ran (well truth be told, walked) through Epcot Center. There were Disney character scattered for photo ops throughout the park and we stopped frequently to take in the atmosphere. About three quarters of the way through the race, there was a young man dressed in a gigantic Sebastian, the crab from Little Mermaid, costume. I can't even tell you what it was about him, but he reminded me of Jake and I started to cry. It was just a couple tears and an aknowledgement that I was missing him, but in that moment, my mood began to shift. Usually when I go on vacation without the boys, I'm fine.  I don't want to sound like a bad mom, but I don't worry about them when I leave  and I don't miss them much.  I know they are in good hands and I love them more than words can say, but having a break is healthy and greatly needed some time.  I will usually bring back little gifts for them and this trip was the same. Except it wasn't... I was already missing Jake quite a bit when I started looking for the gifts to bring home and not buying him something too was overwhelming.  I was in the middle of Downtown Disney and it wasn't a good time for weeping.  By the time we made it to the airport several hours later, holding back the missing him and the tears was begining to make my head hurt and when we finally made it through the flight to Houston and back to the car to head home the tears could no longer be contained and were streaming down my face.  I usually save my sobs for behind the closed door of my bedroom when I am alone.  I have only broken down in front of someone else on a handful of occasions and it has never felt okay.  In that moment, with tears streaming uncontrollably, Ray looked over and I couldn't even speak to explain what was wrong.  Holding back sobs constricted my throat in such a way I couldn't even form speech. We made it home and I fell into bed too exhausted to do much more than just go to sleep.  Those day don't happen often.

On good days, and there are more of those than not, missing him is subtle. On good days it's little things like running into the store and thinking about what everyone might like for dinner, those mental lists moms make... "Maybe I'll just make pasta tonight- Nate will want straight noodles, Jake will want Alfredo sauce..." He is still included in those lists and on a good day, I may pause and sometimes a couple tears may escape, but I grab the tomato sauce, leave the Alfredo and move on. 

We have a lot of good days and I can't speak for Zach, Ben or Nate, but what I observe is that their missing Jake, though very unique to each of them, is similar to mine.  They have mostly good days.  Days filled with school, homework, friends and social lives, friend drama, and brothers being brothers. They move in and out of their days with thoughts of Jake that are unique to them and their missing him is mostly quiet, with occasional somber moments when I can tell they miss him more than what has become normal.  Other times their missing him is loud and comes with laughter as they remember out-loud and recall an event or story about him. And lately they have been tattling on him more and more, so I'm hearing stories I haven't heard before.  I've tried to explain to the boys that there are some stories moms are really never supposed to know, but they just laugh and continue with the tales.  I love that we can talk about him and laugh and that we have so many wonderful memories with him. I'm glad that only one year out from his death, we are able to laugh and remember the good stories, because that is not the case for every family who has lost a child. We really are doing exceptionally well. 

I am by no means an expert, but I think part of the reason we are doing well is because I have made time and allowed us to have bad days.  I took 4 complete months off of work and am still not back to full-time and the boys have missed more school days than some people would like. Though there is no handbook on how to handle being a divorced, single mom of 3 grieving sons, I am confident God is directing us through it and I have made a conscience decision to allow myself  and the boys to feel the horrific ache and talk about it.  I have given all of us permission to have bad days.  Holding it  together and putting on good face is appropriate at times and a skill we are all working on, but that is exhausting and will also take its toll if we ignore our grief and just push through.  Taking our time with grieving and allowing time for bad days now is moving us toward deeper healing.  One that will serve us well in the years of ups and downs that are sure to be in our future as we move through life missing Jake. 

Dear Recipient

One year ago your life was changed when my son saved yours.  One year ago, anxiously awaiting a phone call, you didn't know if you would live to see your next Christmas. On what was the longest and hardest day of my life, your phone rang.  No doubt your minded swirled with a mix of emotions. The joy of long awaited, answered prayers coming to fruition, mixed with the knowledge of what that meant for someone else's family. That family was mine. 

There are actually 3 of you...Jake saved 3 lives.  At 15 years old that was never something we even talked about and everything happened so very fast he had no way to give me any input, but I know my kid and had he been able to, he would have freely chosen it.  He was the type of person who was nice to everyone, he had a sweet, genuine, kind, warm spirit. He was that person who noticed someone sitting alone and went and invited them over to sit with him. He wanted to make sure everyone felt included and went out of his way to be a good friend.  If I had let him, I think we would have sheltered every stray animal in the area, he was even hit by a car once while rescuing our neighbors’ dog. Given the choice, I have no doubt, he would have chosen to help you. 

He didn't get that choice, by the time we realized how sick he actually was he was already incoherent. He woke me up around midnight with a horrendous headache and less than an hour later he could not tell me his name. By the time the transport team came to take us downtown to the pediatric ICU it was almost over. He went into shock on the ride down and by the time they got him settled, CT confirmed his brain had herniated. That was Wednesday morning.  It would take a couple more hours to confirm that he was in fact brain dead, but I knew.  In my heart I know that God gave Jake a choice to stay with Him or to return and I believe with all my heart that it was Jake's choice to stay with his Savior. Maybe you were on his mind when he made that choice. 

I'm a nurse, so it was by instinct that I asked about organ donation. You see nurses have a crisis mode when emergencies arise. We have check lists to help us stay focused so that we can remain on task when our hearts threaten to get lost in the emotions of what is going on around us. I was in nurse mode and Life Gift was a check point on my mental list. Now granted I had no experience with them or the process, but it was on the list and by golly I needed that list!!!

Talking to people and blogging have been a great source of healing for me, but not on this topic.  This has been very hard for me to talk about or even think about. It was by far the most painful part of his stay at the hospital. There are many reasons that is so. One of them being that ,as nurse I know some of the reasons why someone would need a liver or kidneys.  As much as I don't want to admit it, even knowing not every reason is self-neglect, I questioned you. Would you take care of yourself and recognize what you have been given?  Also just having the conversation about what Jake was eligible to donate and what all of that entailed was incredibly hard.  There is a hard and fine line when you talk about such things. It's incredibly difficult.  And to be very honest I didn't like the Life Gift Coordinator.  I'm not sure I could give a reasonable explanation.  I'm sure she is a nice person, but I didn't like the things she was saying, or how I felt when she said them and that colored the experience as well.  There are many reasons, but by far the hardest part was the waiting.  I had no idea how long the lab work and matching process would take. I had mentally prepared for everything to happen Thursday early morning, but by 3:30-4:00 in the afternoon and after hearing "just about 30 minutes more" for the fourth or fifth time I was about to lose it.  I really can't explain to you what it's like to know that your baby is gone, but is still with you, that there is no hope what so ever that he will ever open his eyes or smile even one more time. I was also terrified that he would code and my plan to hold him to the end would be taken away from me. It was really the only thing I had left. He didn't code and at about 5 pm I helped remove all the tubes and he was disconnected from the respirator and I put my ear to his chest. I held him and sang and listened as his heart slowed, he gave up his spirit and then it stopped. I stood up and kissed him before they rolled him away so he could save you.

It's hard for me to talk about, that’s  not likely to change anytime soon. I imagine it's hard for you too.  I can't imagine what you must have gone through.  Jake's gift to you was another chance at life but whether or not you realize it, you gave me a gift as well. You gave me time. Time, though extremely difficult, time, that I could never get back.  Precious time and moments that I will cherish for the rest of my life. 

Some day maybe we will meet, I'll hug your neck and you'll hug mine.  There will likely be a connection that neither of us will be able to put words to.  Until then, know that I don't regret a thing!  Nothing!  I am at peace with it all! It's not at all how I thought Jake's story would go ,but I am incredibly thankful for the time I had with him and so unbelievably proud to be his mom.  God has allowed me to see so much over this last year of the good He has worked from our agonizing loss and you are but a piece of that.   I pray that you are healing well, that you love deeply those in your life and hold them tight, that you are blessed with good health, that you have learned the value of every moment, as I have, and that you realize the gift you have given me. 

Most Sincerely,
Jake's Mom

It's Wednesday

What day is it for you? I had to ask that of Zach today because it is Wednesday, January 27, 2016 and that is 2 different days for me.   Grief is a funny thing, for me, it doesn't know a date, it remembers a day. At least that is what my experience has been so far this year.  It's Wednesday. Wednesdays are bad. Last year on Wednesday Jake woke me up around midnight and the longest and hardest day of my life began.  Wednesday morning my boys woke up to a tear stained face grandma, trying her best to hold it together.  Wednesday was prayer requests and phone call, ambulance rides, CT scans and horrible conformations. Wednesday was a tsunami of love crashing over us in a hospital waiting room, it was posters and cards plastered over our fence and filling our mailbox. For our friends and family, it was frantic driving and scrambling to arrange flights.  For my boys and many of Jake's friends it was a day of uncertainty ending in a good-bye they never anticipated having to say.

It's Wednesday. We have things to get accomplished today, patients to be seen, test to be taken, and school attendance to be counted, but it is Wednesday and we just can't...

Today is not a good day...

Today I want to die. Before you freak out and call for the straight-jacket or write and tell me I need medication, let me finish. I'm not suicidal nor do I have any plans for now or in the future to hurt myself. I just don't want to be here anymore. I would most prefer mass rapture that way no one would have to feel the pain of loss, but really I don't care, I just want to see Jake. It has been exactly 51 weeks since I was last able to hug my kid. It has been 360 days since I heard him say "I love you Mom."  I know exactly where he is, I just can't get there without dying, so I want to die.  I realize that is not currently the best or valid option. I REALLY do want to live, if not for myself, for my other boys, it's just the missing him hurts really, really badly today. 

I was right, fog-brain has returned. Panic attacks have reared their ugly head once more. The horrific wails of a broken heart once again keep me awake at night and I'm struggling not to go off on everyone who crosses my path. I'm irritated and angry. I feel horribly alone and empty.  Experience has shown me that this will not last. We are truly, incredibly designed by God to withstand more than anyone could fathom. Our brains absorb the trauma and although permanently changed, healing prevails.  Jake's favorite Bible verse is "I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made," and we are! I am amazed every day at what we have accomplished in a year, when 51 weeks ago I could barely fathom how we would make it one week. 

The horrible reality is that this will never end. I will never get over losing Jake and every year will present new challenges. 2015 was the year of firsts without him. 2016 will be Zach turning 15 and God willing, living out that entire year, completing things his brother was not able to. Ben and Nate will continue on in Jake and Zach's footsteps and 2016 will likely be the year when all my boys will be taller than me.  Friends will have birthdays and my would-be 16, going on 17 year old will not be there to see junior year and Prom or college visits. The weight of all that is too difficult, so instead I just breathe and look at my cluttered living room and wrestle with the thought of cleaning or just going back to bed...

This next week is just going to suck.  Like a toddler, I want to stomp my feet and throw a fit, but that won't keep the days from coming. So instead, like Dory, I'll just keep swimming. Doo-do-do-do-doo-doot-doot...and vacuum, maybe