I am not a Survivor

I read the words 'Survivor of Suicide' 'Survivor of death' alot. I don't consider myself a survivor of anything. Not while I live in the hell of death and loss. I did not survive that night, I died that night. The 'who' I was. I wish I was still that ignorant of what true pain and sorrow is. I wish I was still like others, going on with my life, clueless to what others are suffering. I wish I was still blind. The world I see now is so different from the one that was. The effort to live hinges on the mood of the moment. Did his life depend on the mood of the moment?

Sometimes, I still feel deeply sorry for myself. My loss, my pain. For a while, I felt guilty that I was so selfish, thinking only of what I was going through. What he went through before the end. I don't feel that guilt anymore. I don't because everything is different now. Different world, feelings, thoughts. I look at people as I pass them in the store or on the street, looking for that tell-tell sign of sorrow. It is there, but only those who see it in the mirror can see it in the eyes of others. When I see them, I feel sorrow for them. I don't say anything for what is there to say? They give me a look also and we silently acknowledge that we belong to the same club. It makes one sadder somehow to realize that so many walk among the normal, unknown except by ones like them. The change is deep, profound and complete. There is no going back.

Each morning, when I wake, I have to reaffirm that Tim is gone. I don't like to sleep for the waking tears me wide open all over again. That is not a survivor. That is learning to survive. It doesn't take much to make the tears fall, to feel your heart shatter again. A smell, a word, a song, so many things that it is a daily obstacle course. I was born and raised in Colorado, so was my son. Every where I go, I have memories of what we did in this place and that place. They make me cry. I fight myself to leave my house for I know that I will pass many places with many memories. Still, I force myself to go out. I hope that the sudden impact of memories will not be so harsh if I face them head on. Something will always sneak up on you though. There is nothing you can do about that but weather the emotions when they come, wait out the storm and hope it is a short rain shower. Learning to survive is a constant battle.

Over the years, one makes many wishes, the biggest one being that you wish you could take on the pain your loved ones suffer. You would much rather have that pain then to see them so devastated. That is why I am learning to survive everyday. Why would I give those who love me the pain I have suffered? I could walk away from this earth so easily. To do so would bring to them what was brought to me. I will not walk away. I will never be a survivor, for it is a constant, moment by moment struggle. When you kick drugs, you are called a 'recovering' addict. Not a recovered addict. It is a lifetime addiction. Death is a lifetime of learning to survive.

I wear dark glasses so others cannot see my pain. I have learned to hide a lot of the emotions until I can get someplace alone and let them loose. It does not help us to bottle that up inside for it will explode at the most unexpected moments. It is another thing we learn, how to hold those feelings and hide them from others. Why do we do that? I think we do that for ourselves more than to save others from us. We grow weary of trying to explain ourselves to those who have never been here before so we hide it all so we don't have to try. It does not mean that the words don't slip out now and then. We still want our loved one to be remembered by more then just us. We want to validity to their lives, no matter how they left this world. We crave to hear their names, stories about them from others lips, a memory. But we learn that others do not understand that need. We learn to go silent.

This is a confusing, painful world we now live in. We have to learn to survive and change the colors of gray to the colors of the rainbows we remember. So much to do, so little desire to do it. Learning to survive. I am not a survivor. I am a mother.