Gentle with my heart

A friend said to me "I don't know how you do it". I told him "you just do". I have to convince myself that Andy is up there, over there, wherever he is and is rooting for me to go on. Pick myself up, dust off the dirt and get back on the horse so to speak.

I forgot I had a message on my phone from him telling me His son had been born. May 10th, he says "hello Grandma, it's a boy" I have not listened past that since he died and I only listened to that by accident. What a shock to hear his voice out of the blue. I slammed my phone shut and just stood there, not moving a muscle. Afraid if I did I would crack into a million pieces. About an hour later it hit me and I ended up in my corner on the couch with the blankets pulled over me completely except for a little space to see and breathe from.

I watch TV like this all the time. that way I can cry and no one knows (although my husband does know, he gives me that space and I appreciate that). I can think of a million things that I should have done, should not have done throughout the course of my sons life and I know that some of the answers would cause me great pain and guilt. But I realize that I have been through enough agony and sorrow that I really need to be my own best friend right now and give myself a break.

It really does not matter, there is not a thing in the world that can undo what is done and inflicting unnecessary pain is the last thing I need. I need to be careful, gentle with my heart, there is only so much a human can take before they begin to shut off the feelings and emotions that are hurting them. When that happens, you lose the innocence that we all have to start with.

Sure, throughout the years it gets whittled down a bit, but to lose it completely would be so devastating. I believe it's that fragment of innocence we carry through our lifetime that allows us to experience the things that truly matter in life, the simple things.

A beautiful sunset, a child's laughter, falling in love, a good belly laugh. Without that little part in us, where we can still be amazed or laugh with joy as well as cry in pain, without that we are cold, lifeless and I see it happen to so many people. And it's my opinion that I would rather be dead than live my life without that sparkle inside. I am going to refuse to allow that to happen to me, no matter what terrible tragedies I face. Life is ours to live, it's up to me to design it to my will, the way I want to live it.

I can let my son's death be my own or I can continue to seek the things that make me happy. What I am experiencing is what has been handed me by fate. I am a minority in the population of all the people I know. and like it or not I am setting an example for other parents. Because deep down they all know that this could be them and they will watch to see if I manage to survive losing my son or if I fall into batshit crazy.

I have the ability to inspire and soothe or terrify. It amazes me how many women/mothers who have reached out to me and said they have been impressed by the way I am handling the death of my son. They say, "I cannot imagine what you are going through". But little do they know that they are doing just that. I can sense them looking around for wood to knock on and that overall "there but for the grace of God go I".

I want to say to them "I know it feels like you would literally have to die if this happened to your child. But the weird thing is when it does happen you will get through it, you have to, the choices are very limited at this point. You have to experience all the emotions and you have to go on with your life and accept it as part of who you are now. Learn how to pacify the ache in your heart that has set up permanent residency. But we can and will live through this and with it. We may even become better from it, who knows? But I do know it is not going to take my life from me.

That's about all I do know. This is actually the best gift I have ever given myself. Acceptance.