Photographs and Memories

I am now into my 4th year and I still want someone, anyone to tell me it was just a nightmare, that it never happened. The loss of my son weights heavy on my heart every day. Some days it is not as severe, but then there is the day that is as raw as it was the moment it happened. Those are the days that I cry most of the day and wonder why I am still here. Why did I not just drop dead when he did, why?

When I got my cancer diagnoses last year, it did not affect me or scare me. My thought was 'well, what will be will be. When they told me my heart stopped on the operating table I only wondered why I did not sign the do not resuscitate. But I looked at those two who stood by my bed and knew why I was still here. I love them just as much as I love Tim. Each operation I had, my hope was that I would see him, talk to him, hug him. Did that happen? I don't know. If it did it was wiped from my memory.

The meds they put me on does not fill the hole that is in my heart, nothing does, it will be there forever and a day. But they do help keep me on this earth. There are days when I just want to leave that note, the one that says how sorry I am to put them all through this again. On those days I have to breathe through it and find something, anything, to keep my mind from it. How horrible to do to them what was done to me. It would be selfish and cruel with the knowledge of what comes after. I know too much to put them through it too. Too much. For they already have holes in their hearts too.

My friend lost his son over 10 years ago and he still grieves severely. He understands what I am going through just as I understand him. The day he found his son I prayed that it never happened to me. I prayed every day that it would not. Then it did and I lost my faith in the goodness of god. There was no mercy. My friend still suffers but he is learning how to keep himself from following his son. We are in the same boat, he has been in it longer than I but we still ride the storm at the same pace. There are calm days and then there are stormy days. One has to learn to ride them out until they become calm again.

I write today because it is a stormy day. Nothing brought it on, it was suddenly there, a squall that was ready to tip the boat if I allow it to. I am not allowing it to. I let the tears come and accept that there will be days that they pour out like a faucet left on full blast. It is almost impossible to stop the tears. If someone just looks at you wrong, or what you feel is wrong, they will flow. If words come from someone be they kind or not, the tears may flow. On these days, the mind does not see the world or people or words in the same way.

Into the 4th year, such a long time yet so very short. A moment ago, my son said he loved me, just a moment ago, almost 4 years ago. People think one should be over the grief of losing their child. They have not lost one yet you see so they have no idea, No idea that child loss is forever. There will be no new memories, we hold on to the ones we have,  We have to forget the future we hoped for them, the happiness we wanted them to find. Now, we have photographs and memories. It that all that is left? Yeah, it is but it is better than nothing.

I have so much I want to tell his son and daughter, but they are young yet. I have to wait to tell them until they hit an age of understanding. Another reason to hold on to this world. I have many reasons to stay and one to go. It does not make my memories of him less or my love. So, for now, the tears have stopped and I thank all of you for that because I know you are seeing my words and wishing me the best. I will hold tight to those photographs and memories and love those around me. Much love to you all from a 'Forever Mom.'

About the Author

 My son, Tim, passed on January 5th 2014 at the age of 34. He chose to end his life. So many things happened to bring him to that point. Believe it or not, I understand why. No matter how our child died, that is the keyword 'our child.' I wish you all gentle days and nights as you walk your path. Barbara, 'Forever Mom.'

I'm Grieving, Now What?