My Relentless Sorrow

My Relentless Sorrow

How do I describe this loss I have suffered?  How do I describe this heartache that has devoured my every thought?  How do I describe these emotions that hang over my head dictating my every move?  How do I describe what it feels like to sit in my corner unable to move due to this all too consuming sorrow that has completely taken control of my life?  And how do I describe this feeling of being bound so tight by the invisible strings of my sadness?  There are many days I feel as though I am alone and suffocating, and no matter what I do I just cannot get enough air to fill these lungs.  I wish I had all this strength...you know, this strength that everyone around me seems to think I have.  Oh my, the things I could accomplish with this strength everyone see in me.

How people have come to a conclusion I am a strong woman is beyond me.  Would a strong woman such as myself…be able to move forward even in the death of her child?  I wonder how many countless women of strength have endured this very pain.  I wonder how many of them have completely shut down, as I have.  If only they knew…how strong do you suppose everyone would think I was if they knew how many hours I spend in a day sitting in my corner unable to move, unable to function, unable to do the things in life I have always enjoyed.  One of which was getting up early…4:30 am.  This was my usual time to get up in the mornings, rain or shine, weekday or weekend didn’t matter I have always gotten out of bed this early.  I think I initially started getting up early because it would be my time alone to think and enjoy a cup of coffee…you know, before my family got up in the morning.  I am a very sequential person, some might say I have a little OCD going on but who knows.   

Everything I have done in life has been on a schedule, everything.  I always wake between 4:00-4:15 am.  I wait until the alarm goes off, I get up turn on the coffee, raise the thermostat on the heater and jump in the shower, same routine for many many years.  And everything I do has a time limit.  So many minutes to lay in bed once I am awake, so many minutes to shower, so many minutes to enjoy coffee.  Everything I have always done has been on a schedule, breakfast, lunch, dinner, everything.  And now, I still wake at the same time, I still wait for the alarm, I still get up to turn on the coffee, and I still turn up the thermostat, but now I also come back to lay in bed, not to sleep but just to lay there.  I don’t think about anything other than trying to force myself to get out of bed.  I don’t know how to explain this thing…this grief.  I feel this grief has taken my body hostage and has imprisoned me.  It is sort of like, me not being able to do the things my mind is wanting me to do. I know this is ridiculous, but I cannot move. How strong do you suppose people would think I was if they knew how many countless days I have had to drag myself out of bed at the last minute…to go to the work in the morning…without bathing, and pretending nothing is wrong?  Now I have no schedule, I rarely cook, and if I do it is never on schedule.  I am always hurrying out the door in the morning instead of taking my time as before.  All because I cannot get out of bed.  Not because I want to sleep in…but because I am just lying there in bed.  There will be those of you who will say, “What is wrong with that, I see nothing wrong with lying in bed.”  But to me…this to me…is not normal.  Am I still a strong woman? 

The other morning I was talking to Dwaine about my memorial garden.  A garden I am in the process of planning for this spring, (I actually started the beginnings of a memorial garden last summer but could not function well enough to physically or emotionally finish it).  Dwaine is my friend and the person closest to me right now.  He has helped me more than anyone emotionally after losing Jeff, and he more than anyone knows how very much I suffer.  At least I thought he did...I didn't know how else to describe it and even Dwaine looked a little startled that morning we talked.  I told him I sat in the corner most of the time and was unable to function. I thought he knew I was always in the corner.  That morning he asked about my saxophone lessons and how my playing was coming alone he seemed to be surprised when I said, “Dwaine, I sit in my corner.  I paid for 5 lessons thus far this month, I have taken two lessons, and I have canceled two lessons.  I have not yet opened my case to practice my playing. Don’t you know, I thought you knew I am stuck in my corner?”

Dwaine looked at me in disbelief, “Olgie, no I didn’t know. I thought you were doing better.”

Although I did not say it, I thought to myself, “Better than what?”  I thought, “You thought I was doing better than what?”   I said, “Dwaine, I really am trying to push forward.  Some days are better than others, but the majority of the time I am stuck in my corner. This grief has an unrelenting hold on me and there is nothing I can do to fix it.” 

How could Dwaine or anyone else not see this…my house is a pigsty…I am always home.  I never get dressed, I run around in sweats (even at work I no longer dress up in anything other than jeans), I have gained weight due to my inactivity.  Although he said he understood I could see he was not fully convinced.  I cannot explain it…perhaps it is a selfish need of mine to wallow in my own self-pity.  I mean, what the hell...after all I did lose my only child!  Am I not allowed to muddle in misery?  A friend of mine, who lost her newborn son several weeks after Jeff passed, has just given birth to a baby boy.  Less than a year later, God has given her a second chance at being a mother.  I am happy for her and her husband and yet at the same time I am jealous of their new found happiness. How can I be so cruel in my jealousy of their happiness?  I am not the kind of person who envies others…all I feel is jealousy for their happiness.  The same way I am jealous for Jeff and Steve being together, I find myself jealous for the happiness of these two beautiful people. What does this say about Olgie? Knowing this is wrong, what does this say?'     

Why is God not helping me?  Why has he forsaken me?  What does that say about God and my doubts in asking for his help?  He gave this young couple a new life to hold, to love, and all he did was take from me.  How much more will he take from me?  This almighty God...what more will he take from me?   

February 18, 2014

Hi Doob,

The closer I get to your 1^st anniversary the darker my world is becoming.  I lay in bed every night wondering what happened.  I lay in bed thinking of when we will once again be united, and how we will reunite.  I wish I had just one word to describe these past months without you in my world. I have none.  There are no words to describe your absence.   I know in time this pain will subside…subside…not go away but diminish a little at a time.  The thing is I am not dealing in time...I am dealing with 'in the moment' emotions.   I sit in my corner baby…that is what I do, when I am not with Tina or Dwaine I sit in my corner.  My house, looks ‘like a Mexican joint,’ and I don’t even care.  That alone should tell you something.  I made it through everything alone these past months, my birthday, your birthday, Mother’s day, the holidays…oh my God! The holidays!  They were excruciating for me.  When I say I am alone, I mean alone, without you here with me.  And now there is the anniversary of your death...I do not know how I can do this.  Help me baby.

The other night I was home alone and up late…again…trying to figure out what happened.  You were supposed to let me know when you were ready to give in to your body...what happened?  Even though you have been away from me all this time…my mind still has not fully accepted you will be gone for all time. Isn’t that foolish?  I lay in bed and still hope the stupid phone will ring.   I still lay my phone on my bed every night, so when you call I can pick it up on the first ring…so it doesn't wake anyone.   I lay waiting for a stink’n miracle...a miracle that I know will never come.  I sit in my corner and I watch TV…that is all I do baby.  I so want to call you so we can watch TV together, so we can play poker together.  I talk to you out loud while I watch TV…and then I answer for you. How stupid is that?  This is what I do, I sit in my corner and I talk to you aloud.  I am just lost…I am just lost.

What happened baby, that last year?  What happened?   One minute you were here and the next you were gone.   It’s the story of my life…one minute someone is here and then they are gone.  I have gone over our conversations over and over in my mind.   Our conversations…from the time you started babbling to the very last conversation the day before you died.  All the memories I have in my head…will never be enough.  Because the memory of Seb’s phone call is all I think of.   I keep trying to remember every word he said to me that day.  I don’t remember all the words.  I can remember all these conversations we had together when you were a little baby to the day before you died…and I cannot remember all the conversation of the day you died. I can remember conversations I had with you while I carried you.  I called you Jeff, even before you were conceived your father and I were working on making Jeff.  We never called you the baby while you were in my womb...you were always Jeff.  Did we ever tell you that?  Jeff is moving, Jeff is kicking, Jeff is getting really big.  What the hell happened?  I need to remember the details of the day I lost you…I need to remember.

I am trying so damn hard to keep moving…but the truth is…the longer you are gone…it is just getting harder and harder for me to stay above ground.  Some days the agony of my loss is so intense I am afraid…afraid I may not have it to make it thru the day baby.   Or perhaps I should say it is getting harder for me to remain sane, because the very thought of you not being in my life for the rest of my days is at times making me insane.  It is way too much for me to grasp, to accept. I try hard not to dwell on those thoughts…those are the days I find myself talking to the therapist.  She at least listens…I guess this is what they get paid to do.  They are professional listeners.   They don’t have the answers I need but they at least let me dump on them.   Which is way more than the few people who are left in my life are doing right now.

How do parents live through such a loss?  Could that be the answer baby?  I just wrote parents…as in two parents.   A couple. I am no longer a couple…perhaps that is why this is so damn hard.  I do not have your father to share this loss with me.  Your father is already there, where ever there is…he is with you. Could this be the reason I cannot fully accept your loss?  No, I don’t have your dad here with me...but honestly…it is probably just as well, because your death surely would have killed him just as it is killing me.

I feel so empty inside Doob.  Empty, void of emotions, void of any love, void of a future, void of giving a shit about life itself!  I feel I am at a standstill.  And God...where the hell has he been through all of this.  I think you were right all along, perhaps there isn't a God for us.  God is not here for me.   I need your help honey.  I am in such a dark dark place right now.  I need your help. You have always been my light..without you I have no light.  Help me baby.

~Mom