The Wall

Grief, when it comes, is not gradual. It hits like a tsunami, unexpected and violent. Suddenly, we are in the deepest, darkest pit with no way out. What we may not realize is that we are on a slide, falling to the bottom. When that bottom comes, it is as sudden as the grief for there is a solid wall waiting at the end. Some of us have hit that wall. We cannot go any deeper and there is no ladder leading back up ... loss of hope, joy, purpose.

A while back, I slammed into that wall. If not for the perception of family and friends, I would not be writing this right now, or ever. That last day is etched into my mind as permanent as granite. I won't go into detail as to what happened but I will say this: We learn to hide our pain and in doing so, we also hide deeper troubles. It's not a deliberate thing for we don't see, from an outside view, just what is happening to us. We do not know when grief trips over into sever depression. To us, we are still grieving.

I believe that true hell is what we suffer here on earth. Maybe we will be one of the ones who come through that place and are able to look back from the other side. Some of us won't. I can look back now and see what happened, see from many angles the path that was took. My feet were not set on that path with conscious thought, but still, it is where my sorrow lead me.

When one is tempered by the fires of grief, they come out different. They see the world and it's people different. There is no going back though we will try to for a while. Part of our fight is against ourselves for we do not want to let go of who were were. Problem is, who we were is gone. We have to learn to accept who we are becoming. I will always be Tim's mom, but now, I am his mom without him. That hurts and the anger I feel because of it is what I have to let go of. It will not change the fact that he is gone.

When I look back over the last 22 months, it is painful. I see so much more now then when I was living it. I thought I was handling it well, only to realize that I was not handling it at all. I went though each day wrapped in a cocoon of grief that was not easing but becoming a shroud. We think that we will do this alone, that we don't need any help. I know I thought that. Turns out that, for me, this is not true. We are hard-wired to seek out others like ourselves, yet we fight it every step of the way.

One of the truest things about life is death. There is no natural order to it, no parent before child, it has no preferences. Of all the things we will deal with, death is the hardest. It leaves us helpless, hopeless and joyless. We can do nothing to change it, make it different or fix it. It stuns the mind, freezes the heart. It will destroy us if we let it. It is a time in your life when you are beyond exhaustion, unable to think about anything else, unable to function. All you can do for a while is cling to that buoy until you find the will to swim.

I am one of the lucky ones. Strange to think that way when I have lost my son, but it is true. I am lucky that there are those who care enough to see what was happening and act on it. I am lucky that I am loved beyond measure. I am lucky to have the family and friends that I do, for they were there when it mattered the most. I am lucky that I have come out to the other side of this. That does not mean I love my son any less or miss him less. It means that there was a ladder in that pit after all and I have started to climb. It means that I can tear down the wall that I hit so abruptly.

I guess that what I am trying to say is ... don't go it alone. You do not have to be alone. Seek out grief groups where you can actually see the people you are talking to and they can see you. Find a place where people will look you in the eyes with understanding because they have been where you are in some form or another. No one will ever know your pain, but they will know your grief. Step outside of your comfort zone before it becomes your prison cell without a key. Not all of us will hit that wall, but many of us will. It is scary and can be fatal. "Forever Mom."