Why God?

Why God?

Why did you take my son?  I have laid awake night after night and have asked you this question over and over.   I cannot tell you how many nights I have waited for a sign from you…I continuously wait for an answer that never comes.  Why did you take my son?  Why my son?  

I lay in the dark and talk to Jeff…as though he were truly there.  I at times have had signs from Jeff.  I feel he has tried time and again to let me know he is fine, and to let me know he is still with me…helping me through this passage of sorrow.  But nothing from you God…not one thing.  Everyone, from my earliest days to present, have always said and continue to say, all you have to do is ask God…”ask him anything”…he will always answer.  “Look for signs,” he sends us messages through signs.  

I remember being in the Denver hospital surgery waiting room praying, “Please help Lord.  Take this disease from Jeff’s body.  Guide the surgeon’s hand so there will be no mistakes.”  Jeff was undergoing his Deep Brain Stimulus surgery for his Parkinson’s disease at a hospital in Denver.  He had one of the best surgeons in the area…and still it is as though God himself was taking the day off.  The surgery was aborted mid-way through the surgery, and Jeff ended up with a brain infection which nearly killed him.  The DBS surgery went haywire from start to finish, and everything that could go wrong in a hospital…went wrong.  Where were you on this day Lord?  Where were you during this time in Jeff’s life? Where were you every time Jeff had a surgery…it was though my son did not matter to you. Not one surgery Jeff endured seem to help him.  Not one of my prayers were answered by you God.

I came across this beautiful picture online the other day…the words say everything I feel.  My heart was not ready to endure this pain.

And then there is this which Dwaine found and put on my FB wall…Grief never ends.  I can attest to its ever changing passages.  Passages of grief.   

Is this really what grief is…the price of loving someone?  Did I love Jeff to much?  Is this why I grieve?  I grieve because I still love my son.  I grieve because I miss him.  I grieve because he was taken from me.

One of my cousins, knowing I was in much emotional pain, wrote this, 

“Just know that Jeff will never be gone as long as you breathe. For every breath you take he feels you for he is everywhere you go. When the sun shines on your face and you feel that warmth know that it's Jeff smiling down on you. When you feel the wind all around you know it's Jeff blowing you kisses. When you feel you can't breathe know that it's Jeff hugging you tight. For as long as you have life Jeff will also because you keep him alive by speaking of him, remembering him, sharing your memories of him, loving him and thinking of him. They are only gone when they are forgotten and Jeff will never be because you breathe him. Take care and Remember. "Jeff is all around you".  

Without a doubt, these words are the most beautiful I have ever read.  I will, at times, go to the cemetery and just stand there.  I try to remember these beautiful words...but as I stand there nothing comes to me.  I don’t pray, I just stand there.  Quite frankly, I do not even remember the last time I prayed, perhaps it was the same weekend I knew Jeff was to die.  I know I did not pray on the trek to Colorado Springs upon hearing of Jeff's death...I know I did not pray to you because all I wanted was to join him.  All I wanted was to die.     

God do you remember how very hard I prayed that weekend?  I remember how hard I prayed for you to keep Jeff safe.  I remember how very hard I prayed for you to heal Jeff from his pain.  Jeff was never healed…you did not heal him...no not at all…he died.  Was that your doing?  Is this how you, God the almighty, answered my prayers?   By taking Jeff from me, is this how my prayers were answered?  Throughout his life Jeff was inflicted with one disease after another.  On top of that he also endured injury after injury.  How was that possible?  Why did that happen?  The damn doctors couldn’t even give us an answer.  Every single time they thought they knew the answer, you God, would throw them another curb ball.  If you dear God, refused to answer my prayers, and if the doctors could not give us an answer…where do you think that left us?  Where do you think my mind goes now…in the middle of the night this is all I think about, all the years Jeff spent in pain.  I think about all the many times Jeff himself must have prayed to you for help…to no avail from you.  You, God, were not here to help my son…so why in the hell would I bother to turn to you now?  What good would it do for me to worship you now?  I am talking directly to you in this letter...and still no answer.

And Now What?

And Now What? 

I cannot tell you how many times I have asked myself this question.  Now what?  What do I do now?  Where do I go from here?  And then what?  The answer to all these questions…I still do not know.  I just do not have an answer.  Some days I am doing fine and at the drop of a hat…I am a mess.  Am I getting better…yes I am.  I guess I will be getting better for a long time.  Stupid, huh?   This is the only conclusion I have come to know.  I am getting better, but I am not quite there yet.   

There are still days where something will trigger my emotions and boom!  Down I go!  Then there are day where I am sobbing all night and wake with swollen eyes.  Those are the days I slumber out of bed and force myself to go in to work.  Those day are fewer and fewer as time goes by…but they are far from gone.  I can only surmise that life will go on until one day I will finally realize I no longer have those days.  Today is not that day… 

I miss my son…and I miss my husband.  Isn’t that funny.  Ever since I let go of their ashes I have fallen back in time.  Yearning for the life I shared with them.  Longing to have my family back in one piece.  Those horrible emotions of months passed have suddenly returned…and at times…even those desires of finding a truck in my path have returned.  How many countless people have shared these up and down emotions, this sorrow, that seems to bounce in and out of my life at the flip of a switch?  I know from research and from counseling I am still on the right track…but at times it feels like I am regressing.  I know I am still going through phases of grieving.  I find it incredible that after all this time, I still find myself going through these phases. 

There is no time table on grief.  Everyone grieves in their own way and in their own timeline…no two people are alike.  So why does it still surprise me that I seem to have fallen back?  I guess because I am unable to answer the question…Where do I go from here?  I don’t have an answer, and as long as my sorrow weaves in and out of my life…I won’t have an answer.   I do try to keep moving forward…I keep telling myself…anything that happens from now on will never be as bad as what has already transpired.  I keep telling myself that but truth is…I am still fighting that which has already transpired. 

I miss talking to Jeff.  Jeff once wrote me, “One of the things I miss most about dad…the ability to talk to him with the confidence that whatever I said, would stay between us; and the unbiased in his opinions.”  And another time he wrote, “The one thing I miss most about dad is his calmness through adversity, and his wisdom.  I am nowhere near as tough as dad was, but I am not exactly weak either.  I can deal with what I’m going through, and the pain will eventually subside.  I’ll be fine, trust me.”   The very thing he missed about his father is the very thing I miss most about my son.  His unbiased opinions…confidence that whatever we talked about would stay between us.  I miss Jeff’s calmness through adversity, and oh yes…I miss his wisdom.  I miss being put on a pedestal, I miss being loved.  I miss being called ‘Mom’ by my son, and I miss being called ‘Lotus Blossom’ by my husband.  Is that really so bad?  Is it really so bad I have questions that I cannot answer…questions which I may never be able to answer?   Jeff said he would be fine…isn’t this the same thing I keep telling myself.  I will be ok.  I can find a way to deal with this immediate pain…this sorrow.  (Although Jeff’s was talking about his physical pain).  It is no different. 

For the last few weeks I keep telling myself…”Keep going, this is just another hill.  This is nothing like the mountains you’ve already climbed.   Just keep moving, this will pass.”  The problem is, even though I know this will pass…when you, I, am in the moment…the sorrow is at times all too consuming to allow yourself/myself to know it will pass.  

A Long Ride Home

A Long Ride Home

“It is time,” is what I had been telling myself for some time now, “Time to let go of the ashes,” both Jeff’s and Steve’s ashes.   I had my cousins visiting from Southern California.  They had never before been to Idaho.  I had been wanting to go to McCall, (Idaho) for some time to disperse the ashes I had long put away in my room.  For a long time now I felt I was emotionally well enough to move forward…and I am…most of the time anyway.  I knew I was ready.  When I told my cousins I wanted to take them to McCall, which to me is surely one of the most beautiful places on earth.  It is also where Steve and I raised our kids.  It is where we lived for 20 years of our lives together.  It is where I wanted to leave Steve and Jeff's ashes for all time…so in my heart they would at last be home.  I talked it over with my cousins prior to taking them to McCall.  I wanted no surprises for them.  They supported my decision.  

On the 100 mile trip to McCall we stopped to take pictures along the Payette River.  The beauty of this place would truly stand out if compared to other areas of the United States…or at least…I believe it would.  I told my cousins, “If there is a heaven…this is the heaven where God will be sending people.” 

We had a wonderful day.  We shopped the gift stores, picnicked on the beaches of the lake, stopped at a bar along the lake to have a few drinks.  All day, regardless of what we were doing…I thought of little else but the ashes I brought along.   I could feel myself going into that dark place within myself.  All throughout the day I repeated to myself…it is time.  I am ready…this should have been done long ago…

Prior to Steve’s death, his sister, knowing he was to be cremated, asked if she could have his ashes.  She asked Steve is she could have his ashes…never giving me consideration…she wanted his ashes once he was dead.  I do not know much about the conversation other than what Steve told me.  All I know was how upset it made me.  It was as though people in Steve’s family were wanting this or that from him.  “Dad can I have this, or Dad can I have that…Dad can I have the truck, I need a truck.  Dad can I have your ring.  Dad I’ll take your rifle.”  And now his sister was asking for his ashes.  My husband wasn’t even dead and the buzzards were already swirling around him…that was all I could think.   

Steve left me with directions on how to do things once he was gone.  I have followed his directions of all the things he wanted...to the letter.  Upon Steve’s death I instructed the mortician to pull out a small amount of ashes for Steve’s sister.  I did not receive the ashes from the mortician, I just thought he forgot…so on the day we buried Steve…I again asked the mortician on duty, to take out a few ashes for Steve’s sister.  He did as told.  We buried the urn of ashes and that was the end of that…or so I thought.  It wasn’t until a month later that one of Steve’s kids gave me the original little urn with Steve’s ashes.  This was what I originally thought I was to be given.  I did not realize on the day Steve was buried I asked them to take out more ashes.  Stevie (Steve's son) said, the mortician gave him the urn right after the cremation services, but he didn’t want to make me more than I already was by giving the to me, so he held off giving them to me, and I now had this little urn of ashes from Steve.  I personally do not care to keep anyone’s ashes in my home.  It is my belief that one should do what they feel is best…for me it wasn’t to keep them in my home.  That was why we had him buried in the first place.  I set his little urn on my dresser and he has sat there for all this time later.

As for Jeff…I remember so well the day the mailman delivered Jeff to me.  I signed for him just as though I was signing for certified mail, not knowing what I was signing for until I clearly read, ‘Human Remains’ on the box.  I remember the immediate need to vomit.  I remember the feeling of absolute despair that instantaneously ran through me.  I remember trying desperately to hold back the cries of absolute heartache…and I remember how difficult it was to prevent any noise from coming from the pits of my stomach from exiting my mouth.  I remember that horrific day as though it happened this very morning.  I remember the way my legs started to buckle under my weight, and I remember I had to force myself to not look into the mailman’s eyes…I already knew how difficult this probably was for him to deliver…and having me fall apart would not have eased the situation.  I turned from the mailman, not wanting him to see me upset…I immediately turned away and carried the box of Jeff’s ashes to my house from the curb.  I carried my son’s ashes close to my heart…clinging to the box so it would not drop from my hands.  I carried my light…my son…what was left of my son…into my house.  I remember the loud cries from the back of my throat escaped my lips the second I entered my house.  I remember those memories…all those horrible memories.  

Throughout the day in McCall…although I was enjoying being with my cousins…these thoughts kept creeping into my mind.  These memories of not too long ago…the memories of how I got stuck with Steve and Jeff’s ashes.  It ws as though my men were tapping on my shoulders the entire day.
   

Jeff’s ashes…the left over ashes which did not fit into the urn made him by my son-in-law.  Tina volunteered to have her husband make Jeff’s urn.  She was trying to save me money.  I remember him calling me for measurements of the box Jeff was in.  Weeks later…he had forgotten the measurements, and one day asked if he could stop by to get new measurements.  I don’t know what happened to the second set of measurements, but he messed up on the measurements…I wanted to be able to slide Jeff’s current box of ashes into the new urn.   I ended up having to try to fit Jeff’s ashes in the box made special for him by his brother-in-law.  I had to pour Jeff’s ashes into the new urn…what Mother would not be heartbroken to have to do this?  I called Tina crying…I called Dwaine crying.  How did this happen…the added heartache and grief I had due to this mix-up of measurements cannot be conveyed in any form!   Since he forgot the true measurements he decided to just guess on the measurements.  He guessed!  Yes the finished box was beautiful…but there was no way the original box of ashes would fit into the new urn.  I had to open the box of ashes and pour them into a plastic bag…all the ashes did not fit into the urn.  I thought it was going to be perfect…but all it did was add to my already broken heart.   I ended up with a small plastic bag full of Jeff’s ashes.  What would I do with Jeff’s leftover ashes?  This wasn’t the way I planned it…all the ashes were meant to be buried with Steve.  All because of what…to try to save a few dollars?  How did that happen?  How could my son-in-law be so thoughtless? 

So while in McCall…these were the memories that preoccupied my mind.  The memories of how I got stuck with ashes from both my men.  Perhaps it was just meant for me to take their ashes to McCall.  “There are no coincidences in life,” isn’t that what I have written previously?  Isn’t that what Jeff Scott the author of ‘Am I My Own Judas,’ said to me on the day we first met?  There are no coincidences in life.  It was Jeff Scott who talked me into blogging in the first place.  So perhaps I was predestined to lose my husband, and my son.  Perhaps I was always meant to be alone…perhaps I was meant to have ashes from both of my men to take to McCall.  I suppose it was meant to be.

I went to ‘the point’ in Ponderosa Park.  With my cousins at my side, I opened the little plastic bag of ashes…not two separate bags…but one bag.  Prior to leaving I put both bags of ashes into one bag.  I made sure the guys would be mixed up so wherever they ended up they would be together.  At the top of the point I opened up the bag, turned it upside down…and allowed the ashes to float off in the light breeze.  The ashes were then carried off by the wind into the forest that surrounds McCall.  I thought I could do this alone…thank goodness my cousins were there to help me.  

It has been a month since that long ride to McCall.  It has been a month since I let the ashes fly with the wind.  And I have thought of little ever since.  It has been difficult for me and quite frankly…I am not sure why.  It is almost as though I have taken a step back.  My emotions are now unpredictable and I sometimes find myself sobbing at the drop of a hat.  I thought I was ready to finally let go...I was ready to let go.  I just did not know I how upset it would make me...leave me.   

Jeff past away 954 days ago…and my phone has not rang in 955 days…at least it has not rang with Jeff on the other end of the phone.  It seems impossible I could have survived all these days without Jeff in my life…954 days is equivalent to…2 years, 7 months, and 10 days.  Who could have ever known my life would now be as it is today? Who would have ever know I would at times be taking two steps forward and one step back?  I love my son no less now than when he walked this earth…I miss my son no less now than the first day he died.  My heart aches each day and every minute of each day...Jeff is on my mind.  It is true...Jeff is always in my thoughts.  I try not to dwell on the negative aspects of his life.  I try to focus on the brighter side of our lives together.  Steve and Jeff both would be happy to know I left their ashes in McCall.  It was our home.  It is was a fitting end to the resolution of their ashes...and I know I will survive this time of longing my old life with them back.  I know it will also never happen, you know me...getting my old life back.  I can honestly say, "My hearts aches for my guys"... 

As I write this blog I also need to express how things have changed since Jeff has been gone.  I feel lost...I was listening to the song 'Amazing Grace,' and just as the lyrics sang, "I was lost...I am blind...a wretch like me'...is this really what I have become?  Am I a wretch these days?  There is no doubt, I am definitely lost and I am also going through life blind to my surroundings.  I am definitely without feeling...numb is a better word to use.  This is how I feel these days.  My sorrow has subsided, although there are still days where that sorrow creeps in and catches me by surprise.  However, overall I really do think I am going through life alone, afraid, and numb.  I am not sure how long this has been going on...I only know these thoughts of mine, these emotions of how reality has set in for me, this life I now live...is lost and without sight.

I have been in a sort of melancholy mood ever since I spread the ashes.  I do not know why…but it is almost as though I finally realize everything is final.  Final!  Almost as though my life has been nothing more than a play and the parts of Steve and Jeff have been pulled from the play.  Leaving this life…this play…undone.  Not finished.  I feel as though my life will never be finished now that the key players in my life are gone.  I am not even sure this makes any kind of sense…or if you the audience, can even understand.  I am however, willing to bet…if you lost a child and are feeling alone…you do understand.  There are days, like today, where I don’t think I will ever get over Jeff’s death.  And then there are other days where I am able to accept my life as it is, the way it is.  Today is not that day.