How do I explain my first year of life without Jeff? I don’t think there are enough words to fully describe this journey I was forced to travel. This passage in time that was filled with not only all the usual holidays, but more important all the days that followed his death in the first year without talking to Jeff on the phone. All the days I have spent without talking to my son is like having to start life itself...all over again. Only this time...in this new chapter of my life I have no son to talk to, to hold, to spend time with. The anniversary of his death is fast approaching and I find myself trying desperately to stay out of that dark place in my head. How do I explain to you the countless hours I have spent wondering what happened to my once happy life? I wonder how many other women or men have walked in my shoes. How did they survive losing first their spouse and then their child/children, or vice versa? And then there are those poor individuals who lose everyone in their family at the same time in one incident. Wow, the suffering they must have endured breaks my heart.
Tina my step daughter moved in with me for a short while after Jeff died. I cannot honestly tell you if she just stayed with me at night or if she stayed with me 24/7…how is it that I do not remember that? I remember finding out she was staying with me to protect me from myself. But that is all I remember. I don’t remember how long she stayed with me…a few days, a week, a month? As I write this blog I realize there are many days that went by that I do not have any recollection…none. Hell until I started to write this past year I didn’t even know I was missing many many days in my head. I really had no idea I couldn't or didn’t remember. I remember we had a crisis after Jeff passed away, perhaps that is why I don’t remember things. In any event, a couple weeks down the road…down the road from Jeff’s death was when reality hit. Reality for me hit me various times throughout this past year.
The first time reality set in was because I had not heard from Jeff…my phone did not ring…for two weeks my phone had not rang. Let me reiterate…it rang but Jeff’s number was never on the caller ID. There was never a time when Jeff did not call at least once every few days. Even when he was at his worse, the most time would past when he didn’t call was three maybe four days. Here I was two weeks out from his death and there had been no phone calls from Jeff. I made plenty calls to his phone. I left messages. None of my messages were returned. I think that was when I realized he would not be coming home anytime soon. This reality still blows my mind...this reality will sometimes hit me like a ton of bricks. Know he will not be calling me ever again…is still to me, the most difficult aspect of my life right now. You see, our relationship, our day-to-day connection, was always on the phone...so still to this day there is at times that little doubt in my head. For many years I have slept with my phone on my bed every night. Quite honestly…to this very day…I sleep with my phone sitting on my bed. “Just in case a miracle happens.” I know this is ridiculous but it cannot be helped.
With every day that went by…every day without a phone call…was another day I had to admit he wasn’t coming home. Now this doesn’t mean I accepted he was gone for all time, this only means I wasn’t going to receive any phone calls from Jeff. This was all I was willing to admit…he wasn’t going to call me. His phone calls, or rather, his not calling me was the hardest thing for me to cope with. The phone calls were our connection, mine and Jeff’s connection, our connection was always on the phone. We spent so much time on the phone over the years that he and I would instantly know the other’s state of being as soon as we heard the voice on the other end of the phone. If I was not having a good day, if I was ill, if I was sad, if I was happy…he instantly knew my moods the second I answered and by the same token I would know Jeff’s pain level by the way he talked on the phone. If I heard him struggling to breath between words I knew his pain level was high. If there was a long pause between a question and an answer I knew his level of pain was excruciating for him. I knew if he answered, “Hi Mom,” he was having a good day. If he answered, “Hey, I’ll call you back tomorrow,” I also knew his day was filled with horrible pain.
After he died I logged Jeff’s absence by the number of days I had not talked to him. We talked on the phone so often…this was what I missed most about my son. Our phone conversations. Don’t forget he lived 900 miles from me…we connected by phone daily…some days hourly. The more ill he became the more time passed between our conversations. Instead of talking every day we only talked every two or perhaps three days. When he was having good days we talked daily or nearly every day. I miss Jeff’s voice. I miss the different sounds of his voice. His happy voice, where I could visualize his beautiful smile. I miss his laughter, I miss our time watching TV together, playing cards, playing dice…all on the phone. I miss going to a bar and playing pool with him on the other end of the phone. I miss us talking politics, current events, talking about work, or talking about the family. Politics, oh my, how he loved talking politics! Jeff believed the current administration was a joke…and never missed a chance to let me know this. I miss Jeff describing in detail the goings on of his children. I miss Jeff’s beautiful sense of humor. I miss his laugh.
I’d like to tell you how I survived Easter Sunday…but I have no recollection of Easter…none at all. I guess we did not celebrate Easter, I don’t know for sure.
Reality of Jeff’s death set in again the day I received Jeff’s ashes in the mail…IN THE MAIL. I don’t know what I expected, I never gave it a thought. I knew in advance the mortuary was to send Jeff’s ashes, I just was not expecting them to show up with my mailman. It is inconceivable to me that we cannot mail liquor, tobacco, drugs, or even money via the United States Postal Service….but it is OK to mail human ashes. I have to wonder what other human parts get mailed via the US post office. It boggles my mind to think body parts are probably mailed overnight express…and NO, Jeff was not mailed home overnight express.
I remember my knees buckled and I nearly fell on the spot when I realized the box I had just signed for were filled with the ashes of my first and last born child. I remember it took all that I had within me to carry Jeff into my house without falling apart right there in the front yard. I remember the incredible loudness of the screams that filled the room when I crossed the threshold into my house. I held my son as closely and as tightly as I could. I set the box on my coffee table and cried until my voice nearly went away. This box sat on the table for another couple weeks before I buried him. Every day I went to work and I could hardly wait to come home to hold this box filled with Jeff’s ashes. I would like to tell you I felt good or that it made me feel better to hold his ashes…but the truth is…Jeff was gone and nothing was going to make me feel better. I knew I had to put him in the ground with his father. I thought once I laid him to rest I would feel better but I was wrong.
The morning I was to bury him my emotions fluctuated like a bobber floating in the roughest ocean. There was no settling down that day. There was nothing calm about me that day. I was a mess...and nothing was going to make me feel better. After I laid Jeff to rest my whole world fell apart. It was only then that I truly knew I would never talk to him again. I had his voice saved on my cell phone. While we were in Colorado his kids had saved a few voice mails from Jeff and they transferred those messages onto my cell…unfortunately when I got a new phone his messages were erased. I must have heard his messages a couple hundred times in those first couple months, before they were erased. His voice was erased from my phone…not from my mind. To this day I have conversations with my son…only now these conversations are made up in my head...or they are while I sit in my corner...only now I answer for Jeff, sitting there. I talk to him and answer for him out loud.
When Mother’s day arrived I couldn’t help but wonder, “Is a woman still a mother when she loses her child? If a woman was only pregnant once in her life, and she loses that child…is she still a mother? I have asked myself this question many many times. I have no answer. Of course if I ask anyone they would answer yes…without hesitating they would answer yes. But really, would they be right or wrong? If there is no child, is she still a mother? Tina and I went through our usual Mother’s day rituals…but this year it was not the same..not for either one of us. We tried to make it work. Tina tried hard to make this nice for me…and I tried hard to enjoy it so she wouldn’t’ get her feelings’ hurt. Mother’s day was a very hard day. In so many ways it was very bitter sweet. Our Mother's day ritual has Tina buying me flowers for my yard. We spend the day shopping for flowers and then she helps me plant them. I don't remember what we bought, nor do I remember if we planted them. I don't think we planted them, neither one of us did well on this day.
June found me sitting in the corner…a lot. I tried working in the yard time and again. But I just could not get into it. This last year my yard looked the worst it has ever looked. Generally in the summers I usually enjoy spending time outdoors working in the yard, I have always taken pride in getting my yard to look like a park. This past summer it looked more like the park from hell with weeds growing where flowers once grew. some areas of the grass growing taller than it had ever been before, and other areas of the grass just whithered away due to lack of water because I did not bother to fix the sprinklers. I put out my hammock and laid in it not more than a couple times all summer. I just could not enjoy any part of my life without Jeff in it. I sat on my deck and cried many many days.
Father’s day was hard…all I could think of was Jeff’s children. This day was spent without their father. I know it was especially hard for the youngest two. My heart was broken with worry for the kids. At some point this past summer Dwaine took me out of town to some of his races and to the redwoods...thank goodness…because these breaks were desperately needed from my day to day pity parties. And all this time there were no phone calls…not from Jeff…not from my family…not from the majority of my friends.
I found myself mourning my son on his birthday. No amount of consoling was helping me. I wanted to hurt that day…I wanted to do nothing but feel sorry for myself. On September 2, at 1:36pm I cried…the same way I cried at the exact time he was born…I cried. Only this time they were not tears of happiness. I was in so much more pain than I ever suffered during his birth. Only this time the pain I suffer was not physical…and still I suffer far more than ever before.
And then came the holidays…the holidays. I truly did not expect to live through the holidays. If I was going to die…I just knew this was when I would die. I just knew my heart would not make it through Thanksgiving, let alone Christmas. You see Thanksgiving and Christmas would have Jeff and I cooking together. We would get up early, and we would cook our turkeys together. Jeff would call a dozen or more time throughout the day asking, “OK, that is done, now what?” As though he didn’t know how to cook a turkey or stuffing. Dwaine and I went to celebrate (if you can call it that) at a friend's house...I cannot even tell you if I cooked anything. I think I just showed up empty handed. Just showed up like a beggar, which is so unlike anything I would ever do.
I cried throughout the day on Thanksgiving…wanting Jeff to call me. Wanting him to ask, ”OK, now what?” And at the end of the day after we made our mash potatoes and our gravy he would say I’ll call you after dinner...at which time he would always answer to my “how was your dinner?”
“The best I ever had, better than yours,” he would say boasting about his dinner and the acclamations he received from his family.
All year I have struggled to get out of my corner…but when the holidays were upon me there was no way, none whatsoever, I was going to be removed from this sorrowful place. Christmas had me wanting to get into the spirit, but there was no way I could enjoy the season. I did not shop for anyone. A few days before Christmas I went out and bought gift cards for everyone and called it good. This was the best I could do. I had zero decorations. Usually I go all out and decorate my home from top to bottom. This year I had no decorations…not even a tree…that is until Christmas Eve. Dwaine came over and encouraged me to put up a tree. We used the trophies and metals Jeff had won years before during his sporting career. The entire tree was adorned with lights and trophies. It was the most beautiful tree I have ever put up for any Christmas. For Christmas dinner there was no Turkey, no Prime Rib, no fancy dinner. We spent Christmas dinner with Tina and her family…we had potluck. Absolutely nothing fancy. The food was good, the company was good…perhaps that is all that mattered. I cried throughout the day. The best part of the entire day was spent talking to Jeff’s family…on the phone…even though the conversations with everyone were only a few minutes long.
As I look back on this past year, I cannot tell you how many days I have lost. I cannot tell you how many countless memories I cannot get back in my head. Perhaps this is the only way I have been able to survive...you know by not remembering certain aspects of my life. Perhaps one day I will be strong enough to remember everything. Perhaps it is best I do not remember right now. I cannot tell you how many days I have dialed Jeff’s phone number, hoping against all odds he would answer. Needless to say he has never answered. I still sleep with the phone on my bed…I know it will never again ring…but it reminds me of a time, of the many nights my son and I had great conversations. It, the phone, reminds me of the many nights we spent playing cards. It reminds me of a time when he came with me to the bar to play pool with me on the phone. It reminds me of the times we called Jeff so he could karaoke with the rest of us...on the phone. This phone reminds me of how very close we were…my confidant, my son, my best friend.
I was cleaning my room one day, not long ago, when I came across a deck of cards in my night stand. I forgot this is where I kept the cards...there in the nightstand...right where I could easily reach them when Jeff called in the middle of the night. When he called because he could not sleep. Many of our conversations happened during the wee hours of the morning. That was why I slept with my phone on my bed, so I could quickly answer it. I quickly shut the drawer as tears race down my face. I cannot stop the tears, not during work, not during my time with my family, not even when I am with Dwaine. I don't even try to stop them anymore. The tears still come…and I am still missing my son. I allow myself to cry, I allow myself to talk about Jeff to anyone who will listen. I now know I will survive…there are still days when I do not want to be alive…but I go on breathing. I still take in air. I will always miss Jeff, he was my life…he still is my life…he is my heart.
Tomorrow will be the first anniversary of his death…although I will not want to survive it, I know I will. I will no longer be measuring the length of time I haven’t talk to my son in days, nor in weeks, not even in months…I will now be measuring his absence in years. How many more years will I be here to remember tomorrow? How many more tomorrows will come without Jeff in my life…without Jeff on the other end of my phone? How many more tomorrows will I be missing my son? How many more tomorrows will there be before I am finally reunited with Jeff.
I wrote this poem the very week Jeff died. Yes, I know, it is an amateurish attempt at writing…but my heart was bleeding…and you can clearly hear my frustration, my love/hate relationship with God. Why did God make Jeff suffer so very much? Will I ever know the reason? Did Jeff question God? I'm sure he did...I am sure he was angry with God just as I have been angry.
~MomDearest Heart
Heart of mine, why were you made to suffer so.
You never questioned, God's passing blows.
You fought with a fury, the demon's inside.
Your battle was lost , all but your pride
God witnessed your courage, God questioned your faith.
God tested your strength, God set free your pain.
So run dearest heart, run fast without pain.
To the arms of your father, so he can hold you again.
So run dearest heart, run fast to a place.
Run somewhere out there, near heaven's gates.
So run dearest heart, child of mine you are free.
You are now resting, in your Dad's company.
So run dearest heart, run fast without pain.
You will live in my heart, until I will see you again!
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