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A Mother's Search for Her Son. . . part III

The first year of my son's passing was a time of going from shock to unbearable pain to intense anger and back to shock. I became obsessed with having to know every detail of Joey's sudden death. Every moment had to be accounted for; every fine point regardless of how hard to hear had to be processed and listed. I don't know why I did this. Maybe because my out-of-contol guilt for not being able to save him had to be faced, maybe I was trying to be with him or walk in his shoes, relive his last minutes.

I began reading every article, blog, story and book I could find on death's journey. Every  reputable book I could find on the Afterlife and Near-Death-Experiences was read and re-read. Joey had been leaving little signs letting me know his essence was still with me; I, however, wanted him home mind, body and soul!!

He is my child! He grew within me from a few tiny cells, he was birthed, loved, nurtured by me. Fed, clothed, sheltered, cherished by his father and I; how dare this life take him! I remember screaming at the ceiling "he is my child!!", as if the ceiling was listening.

In early spring I went into the backyard with my dogs. Everything was gray, the sky the earth, gloomy! Without a moment's thought I said out loud "Joey help me, how am I going to do this?" My eyes were closed and I was breathing deeply, beginning to feel tears when I heard Joey's voice in my head say "Live in the moment Mom, live in the Moment."

Shaken, I opened my eyes to find the sky was blue, the earth was beginning to turn green, it wasn't gray or gloomy. I still had tears running down my cheeks but they were thankful tears. I was thankful to my Joey, my boy, he was right there with me. My Boy!

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About the Author

An unusual occurrence happened in my life over the course of three years, three horrible years. My youngest son Joey, my Father, Mother, Uncle, Aunt, two cousins, my BFF Judy, my hermit friend Vern, and my little dog all died. I became a different person, in many ways, over those three years. Grief for my parents, relatives and friends seems to be going through proper stages and moving along; however grief for my son never quiets. It seems to live in my mind, body and soul, active and on the edge at all times. It is a wonder to me that I did not die with my son. It seems so cruel that parents suffer this pain; and then I think how cruel it would have been for my other three children if they had to mourn a brother and a mother. No, better I grieve the rest of my natural life than have them hurt any worse. Life goes on each day and I live it in moments, walking in both worlds, this one and the next. I seem to find my way ok, stumbling now and again but surviving. Writing and sharing helps me along my way, so thank you for reading this and sharing a bit of my story.

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