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. 

My Get Out of Jail Free Card

I had another one of my truly sublime mother of the year moments yesterday.  The kind you have to later send an email for, apologizing for your behavior.  I finished work a little early and was able to get in for a much over due hair appointment before all the kids got out of school. I was just sitting up from my friend and hairdresser washing my hair, when the phone rang. It was the high school.

My girlfriend and I had just finished having a conversations about an issue she was having with her son's teacher, so my frame of mind was already agitated. The receptionist explained that Zach had lost his phone in class today and the teacher had to leave so it was available for pick up at the front desk until 3:30. I was annoyed! I heard he lost his phone and assumed that he had gotten his phone taken away from him and now he was up at the school staying after for tutoring and theater and I had no way to get ahold of him. It was 3:05, so I did the only "logical" thing I could do. I jumped up from the chair with the towel wrapped around my soaking-wet-dripping hair and ran (drove) around the corner to retrieve said phone. Did I mention I was annoyed and agitated??? 

I should have been annoyed with Zach for losing his phone, but instead at that moment that was not the receiving end of my crazy. Me and my towel- wrapped- soaking-head self marched up to the desk and with an attitude of a queen of sass loudly stated that I was here to gather my son's confiscated phone.  The next three events happened just about simultaneously: the three staff members sitting at the desk all stared at me dumbfounded and confused, the receptionist, who had stepped away returned to her desk and Zach's assistant principal, who I had spoken on the phone with many times, but never actually met, walked up.  To make sure you have this scene well imagined remember my hair is soaking wet, dripping down my face and wrapped in a towel, I am also agiatated...remember the poor Waste Management crew from a year ago...yeah, like that!

Poor Mr. Assistant Principal was trying to introduce himself while the receptionist was trying to explain that by lost she had not meant confiscated, but actually lost, like forgotten!  Oh...

What does one do in that moment other than look for the nearest hole to crawl into...and then send an email...

Well that was embarrassing!! Not my best moment!!

As I was recounting the story to a friend today, she of course laughed with me, but then gave me a lot of grace and reminded me that I still have a lot going on. That I was not expected to suddenly have all my stuff together. She joked that she had contemplated having some "get out of jail free" cards printed up for me. It's funny, but also not a bad idea.  I don't at all want to use my grief as a continued excuse, but at the same time I still do at times require a little extra grace. 

There are still a couple areas in which I would like the pass or " get out of jail free card".  Certainly for those towel-wrapped- crazy girl moments! There are also sometimes that by the end of the day I wish I could have the card for homework projects and paperwork for my job.  Church is also one of those challenging areas for me .  I have not been to church since November.  There are multiple reasons. For one this whole Monday to Friday gig is new to me, I'm used to working 3 days a week. Working 5 days is exhausting!! It's also really hard to get stuff done in the short amount of time of the weekend, especially as a single parent.  I have done a fair amount of traveling as well and we have been out of town for a few Sunday's. More than anything else though those things are just excuses for the fact that  I just don't want to go. 

My last good, healthy memory of Jake is him worshipping at church. He sat in the front row and  the guest pastor seemed to be speaking just to him. He told the story of how a 15 year old young lady was able to change legislation, allowing Bible Study in school. He encouraged the young people in the room to not let there age discourage them from doing something big for God. He worshipped that morning, like others before them with hands raised, surrounded by friends.  Sitting there now and singing the songs that Jake loved is painful. There are not words to decribe what it is like to sit steps away from where his coffin sat. I close my eyes and imagine him standing there with arms stretched wide worshipping and think about a time when I will once again be able to see him and worship Christ together.  My faith is strong. My love for Christ unwavering. But being there is hard. 

On top of all that there are people. People who I love. People I don't care for. And people I don't know and they don't know me.  Sometimes their words and actions hurt me.  I'd like to believe they don't realize that they hurt me, but my history tells me sometimes they know and they just don't care. 

Church people are very judgemental, I know because I'm one of them and I have been on the other end of judging someone before. I honestly didn't mean to be judgemental. I really believed that I was "speaking the truth in love". Unfortunatly I realize that while that may have been my intent, mostly I spoke arrogance in ignorance.  

I am still hurt and unfortunately the hurting is not just magically going to go away.  I know it's important to be involved in a larger body of believers, I know there is accountability and safety in the church body and that it's important for the boys to be connected as well. I know that "Satan prowls around like a lion seeking to devour..." But I also know that my relationship with Christ is secure and that my boys have a saving relationship with Him. I know that this is but one season out of a lifetime of seasons.  Healing will come, we just need a little more time, grace and understanding and that "get out of jail free" card...

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

                                                                                          

Wearing Black

When did the tradition of wearing all black while in mourning end? Why?  While I don't love the idea of wearing nothing but black for an extended period of time, I do think that perhaps it would be helpful to the outside world and the sensitivity of ignorant people.  I think the tradition of wearing black helped other people realize the wearer needed extra care and understanding. Even if that behavior wasn't always offered, the grief was at least recognized and acknowledged, and when in a moment of grief, the wearer overreacted to stress or an insensitive comment at least it was well known the reason behind the outburst.

As a population now we have very little tolerance for such things. We expect people to act a certain way and respond with pleasantries when greeted. In general we do not have time for other people's problem, we have more than enough ourselves!  Empathy? What's that??? We have lost the art and skill of caring for people. We don't even know what that is supposed to look like.  Our ability to put ourselves in someone else's shoes, as a population, has more or less become a thing of the past.  And we ask a lot of stupid questions!!! Someone recently actually asked me, why the holidays were hard.  And followed it up, " I mean was it just because your son died and wasn't there?"  My "wtf" face must have said it all.   

By far one of the stupidest question has got to be, "How are you?"  What reply other than, "oh good, and you?" do people actually expect?  I get it, it's something we say without even thinking about it, but that question puts those of us who are grieving in the very awkward position of either having to be real and make the conversation completely uncomfortable or give the fake response of "oh good and you?" and shove our grief away for your comfort. 

There is nothing comfortable about death or grieving. There are no words that will fix things; no pill to magically make pain leave.  Simply acknowledging that fact is okay. "It is so good to see you! I have no idea what words to say because I know how hard it must be, but it really is good to see you". Saying something like that gives acknowledgment to the grief, then if you have time to listen, you could ask, "how are you doing?" and if you don't, don't. 

One week away from the first anniversary, none of us are okay. We are all back to not sleeping well and being more irritable and sensitive than usual. The huge gaping hole of his absence offers a glaring and terrible reminder that life will never go back. The reality of life having moved on without him hits hard.  And if you think it is hard on me, imagine how hard it must be for my 14, 12 and 11 year old. I try to be okay for them, but sometimes I can't and the sobs come anyway. My strong, protective boys don't know what to do and I can't imagine how hard it must be for them to hear me soak my pillow with tears. 

My friend, Dianna, lost her son suddenly on New Year's Eve.  I do believe that if there was a limit to the amount of grief one person should have to deal with in a lifetime, she has met her quota!! She is in "the fog" right now. I remember that well. Your brain shuts down and damage is done. You literally cannot function normally. Anger flares can happen at any moment and your filter is either completely disabled or severely malfunctioning. You feel completely crushed and broken and it is hard to even imagine how you will keep breathing, let alone survive until the next hour. "The fog" does slowly ebb away and the broken pieces of your life begin to rearrange and life slowly but surely settles into a new routine. The deep aching pain that was once raw and all consuming, sinks just below the surface, always there, but not quite so raw. It becomes a faithful companion, your loved one's permanent place of remembrance. I'm beginning to see that we are likely going to be knocked back to those first foggy days for the anniversary, but I suspect that the healing steps we have taken to this point will carry us through and we will be doing better again after.  

I have come to know and understand that grieving mothers are THE strongest people in the world.  We have to be because otherwise we would die. We want to die and yet we continue to draw breathe.  Also, by and large our journey is one taken completely alone, even when there is support right next to you, you feel completely and totally alone, with no one or no- thing having the ability to give relief from the hurt.   The hurt we endure every day is unthinkable. With the latest storm in my life, I've had to interact with many new people. People who are there to do a job and have very little concern with emotions and little if any sympathy, let alone empathy. Someone one actually told me the other day, "you have to understand, no one is going to put themselves in your shoes." I know she is right, because mostly people just don't give a shit! But as I sit and ponder that I realize it really is more that no one wants to put themselves in my shoes because then they would have to feel the pain I endure. They would, if even for a moment have to feel the weight of a heart broken into a million pieces, desperately trying to stay together and continue beating.  I'm glad they don't know that pain and I wish I didn't, but it would sure be nice if they could at least acknowledge how hard every day must be, because it is. 

Our family is going through the motions of life, from the outside we look like we are doing okay, but by evening we are all exhausted from the work it takes holding it together. Hopefully by mid-February we will all once again be able to operate without quite so much effort again. Perhaps by then sleep will once again come more easily and keeping up a good face won't take so much work. Until then maybe we'll try wearing black...or not, people will just think we've gone goth!