This Journey

This Journey

This journey is thus far at times, (for lack of words to describe it), ‘kickin my butt!’  Even though there are many days where my daily path is good, or at least as good as it can be at this point of my life…there are still days where I truly feel I am back at the beginning of this journey.  Each day that has passed since that horrible day last weekend has taken my emotions back in time.  Don’t get me wrong, I am doing ok…managing to push many of the negative feelings aside…but still there are moments in each day where I just want to scream, “My son is dead!  Help me, I have fallen and I can’t get up!”  Do you suppose any one would listen?  Do you think anyone cares?  My answer would be, “No, hell no.”  Oh, there will be some individuals who will genuinely care, but for the most part…you would see people scatter the same way ants would if you dropped a rock onto their colony.  You know prior to last weekend I really thought I was doing better…actually…I am doing far better than a year ago, but I now realize this grieving process has no rules.  It takes you wherever it wants you to go.  It is as though you are on a wild carnival ride and midway through the ride you decide you want off…unfortunately you can’t get off because the ride continues through whatever motions it was set to do.  This grieving is pretty much the same way.  I am stuck on this ride…going through the motions.   It leads me, and like a beaten old dog, I bow down when struck. 

Quite honestly on an average day whether alone, at work, with family or friends…or whatever I am doing, I have been going through most days as if in a fog…almost as though I am numb to this life I am living…numb…to everything around me.  And this body I use to do my daily functions just goes through the motions as would a robot that has been programmed to perform certain daily rituals or tasks.  I cannot tell you how many times I have been driving and catch myself not paying attention.  You know…to the road or anything else associated with driving.  Not the other vehicles, not the speed limit, stop signs…when I catch myself in this way I try to be cognizant about where I am and where I am going.  I have found lately I often end up driving much further than where I needed to go simply because I am driving in a fog.  It scares me to think about the stop signs I did not stop at because I simply did not see them, or the red lights I drove through because I didn’t recognize them as being red.  My mind wonders so many times during the day back to memories of Jeff, good memories as well as the bad memories.  

Work has been good because it keep me focused on something other than Jeff…most of the day anyway.  And working on the Memorial Garden has been good as well, because it gets me out of ‘my corner,’ and is giving me a purpose to devote myself to.  I do however, still go to my corner if I am not busy in my garden, and will sit there for hours.  I have not said this out loud before, but truth be told, I almost feel worse this year than I did last year…of course I am not talking about the early days after Jeff’s passing.  There will never again be anything that can compare to those days. 

I found this short article apply named, ‘How to survive the Death of Your Child.’

”Throw out the timetable. There is no timetable to your grieving process. Every individual is just that: an individual. Bereaved parents may experience many of the same emotions and difficulties; however, each parent's journey is different depending on personality and life circumstances.  For years, we relied on the popular notion that people progress through five stages of grief that begin with denial and end with acceptance. The new thinking is that there is no series of steps to be completed in the grieving process. Instead, people experience a "grab bag" of feelings and symptoms that come and go and eventually lift.  Scientists learned that many people accept the death of a loved one right from the beginning and report more yearning for the lost individual than feelings of anger or depression. For many, the numbness begins to wear off after the first anniversary of your child's death, and then true reality can hit very hard. Many parents say that the second year is the most difficult.”

According to this article…the second year can be most difficult!  This article makes me feel better because I at times feel like I have taken a step back with my emotions.  I have done much research on the subject of parents losing children…young children, adult children, and of course I have done research on losing an only child.  I like the research I do, primarily because it validates my thoughts, my emotions, and my state of mind.  I already know if I search long enough I can validate every single thought known to man…but for now I only want results that can have a positive effect on my own ability to cope with this nightmare.  I feel I am not depressed…at least not as I once was…but I truly do miss Jeff.  More than anything I miss my son’s voice, his advice, his laughter.  I miss the smile on the other end of the phone.  Don’t forget, my son and I lived miles apart, and we therefore made the best out of our relationship.  The phone was our connection.  I miss talking to Jeff…oh, don’t get me wrong, I still talk to him all the time…only I am the only one talking.  And answering. 

This article goes on to say, “Initially, memories will hurt you to your core, even the good ones, but at some point that will begin to change, and you'll come to cherish those memories. They'll bring a smile to your face and joy to your heart.”  I think I have come to this point…or rather somewhere in between…because although I cherish the memories I have, those same memories can also hurt like hell.  As I have mentioned before…nights for me are worse than any other part of the day.  I find myself up and down quite a bit during the night.  When at home alone I average four, maybe five hours sleep.  I don’t mean four or five hours in a row…I mean I sleep an hour here and an hour there.  I may be up for half the night before I fall asleep.  Or I may sleep a couple hours and wake for a couple hours and then sleep another hour before I have to get up.  And on a good night I may sleep six hours straight.   

“Get plenty of sleep. For some parents, all they want to do is to sleep. Others find themselves pacing the floors at night and staring blankly at the TV. The death of a child takes an extreme toll on the body.”  My sleeping routine needs a whole lot of adjusting…but for now it is what it is.  These days, I take what I can get.  I try to stay in bed hoping to fall asleep but that doesn’t always happen.  I sometimes am awake all night and then am a zombie during the day.  I do understand a good night sleep is needed to maintain excellent health, but it is also good for that relaxed feeling one gets from sleeping straight through the night.  These days I get that exuberant feeling if I can sleep five or six hours straight! 

I have deliberately been staying away from hard alcohol, and am deliberately trying not to over indulge in my consumption of beer.  I can see how easy it would be to just stay drunk…just to forget about your feelings.  I do understand why many parents turn to drugs or alcohol to numb their pain.  It would be too easy to become an alcoholic or drug addict when you are in this state of emotional pain.  “While it's understandable that you may want to blot out the memory of your child's death, excessive use of alcohol and drugs can aggravate depression and create a whole new set of problems to deal with.”  We are already under enough emotional up and down emotions so why add to that by bringing in more problems to yourself and or to your family.

“Re-evaluate your relationships if they become hurtful.”  Man oh man, did I find out how fast people disappear when one loses a child.  It is almost like they don’t want you to infect their own children.  I have found out the hard way even lifelong friends will find it is too hard to talk to me, to call me, to face me, to confront me about my loss, even after all these months that have gone by...still they don't call.  The sad thing is we don’t have to talk about Jeff…there are so many things to talk about.  Hell, why can’t  we talk about the things we talked about prior to Jeff’s death?  Maybe it is just as hard for others after losing Jeff as a friend…they cannot even fathom the emotions I go through, so rather than find out they simply stay away.  In the beginning of this journey this, more than anything, this was almost as hard as the initial loss for me…this ‘Secondary’ loss of friends and family.   As time goes by I am getting better at this...I still get hurt by the absence of everyone’s old friendship…but I am trying to understand.   

“Host a memorial gathering.  At a time that feels right to you, invite friends and loved ones to a party or dinner in honor of your child.”  These are my plans for the Memorial Garden.  I hope to have an open house so we can all share memories, stories, pictures, and fun times we all had with Jeff and with Steve.     
http://www.wikihow.com/Survive-the-Death-of-Your-Child

Suicidal Thoughts Still Linger

Suicidal Thoughts Still Linger

As I brushed my teeth last night tears ran down my face, all my thoughts are of Jeff…he would be happy for me.  Happy that I am trying to push forward…trying…but quite honestly, thoughts of Jeff are never far away.  He always seems to be here with me…here in my heart, in my thoughts, in my memories, in my sorrow.  I am not sure if I will ever quite get over him being gone.  Some days…well most days are better than others…but days like today…are not so good.  Perhaps it is because we would have been on the phone with me telling him all about a recent trip I took to Nevada.  He would have wanted to know all about it.  I already know the questions he would have asked…”What slots did you play, did you play the dollar slots, you know you have a better chance of at least breaking even with the dollar slots, did you play the tables, did you have fun, did you guys stop at any cemeteries, what goodies did you make for the road?”…are a few of the questions/things he would have said to me.  This is hard because I know for sure we would have been on the phone nearly all days.  My thoughts as I brush my teeth…I am answering all of Jeff’s questions…the questions I know he would be asking me if he were here.  And my tears…because I know I will for the rest of my life be asking and answering all of Jeff’s questions by myself.  I will forever be talking to myself as though I was having an actual conversation with my son.   It is what I do…I talk for Jeff…I answer for Jeff.  As I brush my teeth I am crying aloud because I caught myself talking to myself again.  Yet again, I remember and have to remind myself…I will never again talk to my son.  I cannot even begin to tell you how difficult not talking to Jeff has been for me.  I know he is gone, has been gone for 18 months…how many more nights will I cry.  How many more days will tears fall upon my keyboard as I work.  How long will I grieve my son’s passing?  

Jeff 3 days old

Even though I grieve…I often find myself thinking back and smiling at memories, moments I shared with Jeff, with Steve.  Memories from the time Jeff was born to the last day I put him in the ground.  It is amazing how many conversations a parent can conjure up…you know, among the total collections of family memories they, we, locked in the back of our heads over the many years of raising our families.  These are the remembrances I fall back on now.  From the time I was in labor to the last days of Jeff’s life.  I have so many pictures to help me conjure up more memories…I haven’t however, been able to dig out any of these pictures to look at, not yet anyway.  The other day I did find myself go directly to Jeff’s baby book so that I could find a specific picture.  I knew exactly where this picture was because it was the very first picture taken of Jeff.  He was 3 days old.  Sure enough the picture was exactly where I knew it would be…I did not allow myself to look beyond the one picture I sought.  This is also the reason I deliberately do not go into my family room…because it is full of wall to wall photos of all our lives together.

When Jeff was born he was born ill, of course he was.  There was no other way God would have had it.  He had swallowed amniotic fluid while in my womb, which caused distress for him in the last day of my pregnancy, and which also caused breathing problems for him immediately at birth.  So…long story short…he spent the first couple days of his life in the NICU.  On the third day, the nurse brought Jeff to me and Steve took pictures of us together.   How could I know that infant boy I held that day, would one day end up being my best friend, and the very essence of my life?    How could I have known back then that this child I held would one day be so connected to Steve and I both.  How could I have known this same child I held would one day step in and take the role of the eldest child in this family.  Even though Jeff was my only biological child, Steve and I raised three children together.  Two of his kids (Tina and Steve Jr) from his second marriage, and our Jeff.  Steve also had eight grown children from his first marriage.  Jeff was Steve’s youngest child, and my only biological child…yet when Steve died it was Jeff who took the role of the eldest child.   

When Steve was diagnosed with cancer he had time before he died, to plan his own funeral.  He talk to Jeff about the things he wanted done for his funeral, and left Jeff with responsibilities to fulfill his last wishes for his funeral.  Steve knew, even though Jeff never spoke more than two words aloud at a time, he could trust Jeff to give a nice speech at his funeral.  As hard as it was for Jeff when Steve did succumb to his disease…Jeff did as his father wished.  There was nothing Jeff wouldn’t have done for the man he adored.  There was nothing Jeff would not have done for his mother as well.  That was the kind of person Jeff was. 

  

After Steve died, as hard as it was for me, I knew how very difficult it was for Jeff.  He and Steve were very close.  Jeff adored his father.  After Jeff died Natascha told me, “You know Olgie, Jeff never got over Steve’s death.  After Steve died Jeff was never the same again.  It was almost like he didn’t want to live anymore.”  When she said that I knew…all the times we talked on the phone…I often asked him how he was doing.  “Oh it doesn’t matter Mom, he would say, “What difference does it make?”  I knew in my heart he was sincerely missing his father.  Just as often as Jeff and I talked, he also talked to his father the same way.  Actually more…especially after Steve’s prognosis.  Jeff called his father several times a day, every day.  As Steve’s health grew more severe, Jeff was on the phone more often still.  Steve was dying, and I believe Jeff was dying with him.

And here we are seven years later, seven years from Steve's death…the same scenario, different players.  This time it was Jeff who died…and it is I who has died with him.  Over these past 18 months my emotions have at times been so extreme I have been made physically ill, and wrenching with much emotional pain.  Although I am in a better emotional state…most of the time…I still have days where I think about offing myself.  I had one of those days recently.  It was the closest I have ever come to completing those suicidal thoughts. 

This past weekend I was home working on the Memorial Garden when all at once my thoughts, my emotions, all that I am again realized I would never again talk to Jeff.  I bawled uncontrollably almost as though Jeff had just passed away.  I cried aloud and so hard I was surprised my neighbors did not hear me.  Or perhaps they did and just wanted to give me time to cry it out.  I must have cried for two, three hours before the cries subsided.  But it was during this time that I dialed my friends, left messages…tried so very hard to find someone to talk to.  I even called my therapist…knowing I needed to find anyone to talk to.  I needed someone to help me get through the moment.  The thoughts…the suicidal thoughts…I needed to get them out of my mind, out of my thoughts, out of my head!  I called 10 people that day…to no avail, but the physical action of dialing over and over…finally allowed those thoughts to subside.  No one answered their phones that day and still I made it through the day alive.  I honestly do not know how I made it, but I did.

I am scared of the thoughts I had that day.  Here I was working my son’s Memorial Garden and my emotions just took over.  I know I will have other days like that day, but I am hoping they will be few and far in-between.  I have shed many tears while building this Garden…in a sense this is good for me to do.  This Garden has also stirred up many memories about Jeff and his father.  Good Memories.  Memories which I will one day share with Jeff’s children for many years to come.     

Thoughts of suicide have not entered my mind in many many months, and when they have I have easily been able to push them aside, however, if I can still have those very strong thoughts of offing myself and cannot control them then perhaps I still need help.  The other day scared me…had I not called anyone that day…I really believe I would have succeeded in taking my life.  I have call my therapist and have made an appointment for this very week.  I will survive this nightmare…this was just another curb, another bump, on this dark, winding path I am on.  I will survive.

                                                                                                       

Jeff's Memorial Garden

Jeff’s Memorial Garden

Where do I start?  Jeff has been gone nearly 18 months…18 months!  I am still alive, although there are many days where I still feel dead, I am most definitely alive.  Have I helped anyone by blogging?  Probably not.  It was what I set out to do…help someone in their grief…but now, it doesn’t matter anymore.  It really doesn’t matter.   I do believe it helps me when I write about my own thoughts, and about my own emotions.  My emotions…these emotions that move like the wind, can at times set me back on my heels at the blink of an eye.  I think I can honestly say there is not a thought I have where I am not reminded of Jeff, perhaps because he was my sounding board, my strength, my confidant, and my ‘Go To’ person.  He was the man I went to for all my questions. I trusted he always had my best interest at heart.  Jeff was my life and I didn’t even know it…and he will always be in my thoughts.

I have been working on Jeff’s Memorial Garden…this has proven to be a monumental task for me.  I was initially shooting for mid-June of this year…but due to circumstances out of my hands…it has not, I have not yet finished it.  This is one reason I rarely ask for help from family and friends.  One disappointment after another has set me back…after which I guess I just lost focus.  But I am moving forward…as I was working out there this morning…Jeff was on my mind.  How could he not be on my mind, his birthday is tomorrow September 2^nd. 

This will be the second birthday without Jeff here.  I am alone here.  As I was working this weekend tears were flowing.  At one point today I was laying 4 x 4 wooden beams along the edges of the Memorial Garden…I said aloud, “I am not sure if I can do this Doob.”  And instantly I heard the rattling of a branch.  I immediately look up to see a small branch shaking right next to Jeff’s bench.  A small branch was shaking as I looked at it…shaking on the ground! I swear, it was as though Jeff was saying, “Don’t give up Mother…you can do it.”  How many times did my son encourage me just as I was about to give up on something?  “You can do it Mom.”  I must have heard those words a thousand times before from him.  He was always there to encourage me.  So today when I was down, tired, and ready to give up on his Memorial Garden…I really feel he was here to encourage me.   I was at wits end, tired, dirty, missing my son, and crying when the branch started to shake…my eyes were blinking away tears while I watched this little branch shaking on the ground next to his bench.  There was no wind to shake the branch…yet it was there shaking.  “Ok baby,” I said.  “I guess in a sense this is a Memorial for you, a Monument, so I guess it should be a monumental undertaking.”  I could almost hear Jeff saying, “Oh really.”

This is Jeff, or rather this was Jeff…always encouraging me.  When Steve died it was Jeff who encouraged me to finish college.  I was a month out from my bachelor degree.  I was taking 17 credits that last semester.  Finals were coming up, and I was mourning Steve.  Jeff was my lifeline, on the phone.  “You can do it Mom.  You already know everything.  Just take these last five tests and then you will be done.  You can do it Mom,” Jeff said on the other end of the phone.  That last week of classes I had five finals.  Each of my professors encouraged me to take an ‘Incomplete’ in their classes and take the test later.  If I had taken the incomplete I would have had a year to take the finals.  My son encouraged me to just take the finals and get it over with.  “You can do it Mom.  Dad wouldn’t want you to quit school just because of him.  Take your finals, you can do it.  Don’t worry about trying to get an A, just do the best you can.” 

I passed all five finals, my grades suffered a little…but I passed. 

 

That very week I found myself walking across the stage to accept my degree.  I could hear my family cheering me on as I walked across the stage.  I remember feeling an enormous sense of pride and at the same time I couldn’t help but feel sad about the whole thing.  My Steve had died a month prior, and was not here to watch me graduate.  Steve was so very proud of me…of my accomplishments, yet as God would have it…Steve was not around to celebrate my graduation.  I was surrounded by family and friends that day.  Jeff made the trek from Colorado with his family to celebrate…but mostly to help me through this day, and countless days thereafter.  It was Jeff who encouraged me to continue my education in the Master’s program.  It was he whom I turned to to edit my papers.  It is he whom I turn to even now when I am having a bad day.

So although I could hardly believe my eyes…it was still not a surprise to me that that little branch was shaking.  It was through my tears that I looked at this branch.  The leaves on it shaking as though someone was physically shaking it.  There have been too many of these phenomenon’s that have happened to me for me not to believe…you know in the ‘hear-after.’  First with Steve…and now with Jeff.  I know in my heart Jeff was telling me…encouraging me, just as he had countless times before, to keep going forward on his garden.  Quite honestly it is not just about his ‘Garden’ so much as it was him pushing me to just move forward.  I know that, with all that I am, I believe in spirits after death…I believe Jeff was there with me, watching me as I worked.  Encouraging me to keep moving.  Jeff, was my life.  I suppose in some ways he will always be my life.  No, he may no longer be in my life…not in my physical world…but he is always here with me.  This is something I have come to accept.  My life is nothing like it was 18 months ago…but I am still hanging on.  Jeff is still here helping me through these emotions.  He has given me strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  He has helped me maneuver some of the roughest bridges I will ever cross.   I guess I am not ready to let go…as long as I feel I need Jeff…he will be here with me.  This is what I have come to believe…this is all I can accept for now.  A year from now things may be different…I may feel different…but for now this really is all I can accept.  My son was a man among men.  A quiet man who rarely spoke aloud to people he didn’t know.  But quiet or not, when he was in a room, everyone knew his presence was in the room. 

My hope is to finish this Memorial Garden…I stopped giving myself a deadline.  It is nowhere near done, but already it is my place of refuge.  I find myself sitting there time and again when I am feeling alone.  This garden, this memorial I am making for my son is a tribute that shows my love…my everlasting love for my son.  It is the beginnings of a beautiful garden, it has the beginnings of a place for many years of happiness.