It's Hard to Live


Yeah, those of us who are in this boat together know those thoughts, words, feelings. It's hard to live without your child when all you really want to do is lie down and quietly, without fanfare, join your child. We can't do that though. There are two many who care what happens to us and do we really want to put anyone through anything even close to what we are going through? No, I don't think so. In the beginning, it doesn't matter so much. The pain is more than anything we have ever felt before and we just want it to end. It's hard getting past that point, but it can be done. This is where we learn to be strong. We didn't start out strong as people are so fond of saying to us. We have earned that badge in the deepest, hardest way ... one step at a time, one moment at a time, one day at a time. We fall down so many times, it seems as though we will never get up again. We go along for a short while feeling a little okay and a truck falls on our head, a sudden reminder, as if we needed one, that our beloved child is gone.

Last Sunday was Tim's 42nd birthday. He has been gone almost 8 years now. I wanted to cry, lock myself in my room and just be alone. That didn't happen as we now have his son with us on his birthday every year. I cannot allow myself to break down where he might see, so I bucked up, pulled up my 'strong', and spent the day with him. It did not make me miss Tim any less or even think of him any less. It did help me get through the day. I had only one wish I could not fulfill and that was to be with my daughter that day. Maybe someday she will feel she can. I know she misses him as much as I do, just in a different way.

We do a lot of things that are hard now. Just getting out of bed is a trip through agony, but we do it. Believe it or not, we are stronger for it. Each time we pull ourselves back up we are a little bit stronger. Our whole lives have changed and we will never be the same, we will never be the person everyone knew. Some will accept us that way, others will walk away. That's okay, they may have become toxic to us anyway. It is hard to let people leave our lives, but what can we do? We are not that person anymore that they so want us to be and they can't understand why we haven't gotten over this sorrow and returned to our old selves. Sound familiar? I grieved losing myself, the life I knew, the feelings I had. The world became a stranger. Sometimes, it still is. I have no desire to go out into that world. I have many triggers that can set me off into deep sorrow, so I avoid what I think might do that. There will always be something that puts me down, but I draw on the strength that I had to build as time went by. It's still hard at times to realize that my son is really gone. I try not to play the game of maybe he's in another state, alive and well. That only brings you more pain when the truth jumps up.</p>

Losing him will always be hard. My heart will always be broken. But for him, and for those who love me, I will go on. If you are new to this pain, try to remember that it does change with time, the sharp edges dull a little. You will probably always hurt for them but it will be different. You may feel you are the only one who remembers them, but honestly, that is not so. There will be friends around a campfire telling stories about them or their girlfriends will remember the silly things they use to do. They are remembered in so many different ways. Yes, it's hard to live, but learn your strength and use it. Cry when you need to cry and scream and shout and whatever else you need to do. Don't hold back because people might be offended. If they are, they can leave. Don't worry about those that have left your life, it is probably for the better in the long run. Baby yourself, take care of yourself, you have earned that right by love. It's so hard to live, but we will do it anyway, we will survive, we will learn to be strong. Know that you are loved and there are people out there that care. All my love to all of us who are broken. "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.'