The Grief Chronicles: 1123

I just wrote this on my other blog
https://thegriefchronicles.wordpress.com/2016/01/29/1123-days/

I wish I had Faith

Faith would help.

Not only is my faith in shambles, I am cynical.

I want to believe.  I need to believe.  But I don't think I believe in anything anymore.

My Dad and my son

My dad is a wonderful grandfather. He loves each of his grandchildren dearly. I feel so blessed when I watch him with my children. He always had a special spot for Nolan. Oh, I am sure he has a special spot for each of the grandkids. But there was a special bond between him and my son. They would talk about coin collecting, play the piano together, talk about scouts, music, birds. It was beautiful.
When Nolan died, one of the hardest things I had to do was call my parents. How do you deliver such awful news over the phone? I opted to call my dad on his cell phone rather than my mom. I thought it would be "easier" for some reason. One of the many things from that horrific day that will forever be burned in my memory is telling my dad and hearing him scream "no!" then crying to my mom that Nolan was dead. Then she was screaming too. The agony in their voices was so immense.
My dad has always been a sort of poet. Every year he writes a Christmas poem in the family Christmas letter. He'll jot down other little rhymes here and there. After Nolan's death, he wrote a beautiful poem to honor Nolan. I'd like to share it with you. Not only will you read the love of grandfather for grandson, but you will also get a sense of who Nolan was.
Poem for Nolan
by Winston Johnson
When I see an eagle
In beautiful flight
A natural wonder
A natures delight,
I'll think of our Nolan
Who loved things so right.
And watching them soar,
With all of their might.
When I see a boy,
With a sly impish grin
And a trick deck of cards,
Or a tack or a pin,
I'll think of Nolan,
Who joked with his kin
And really, at times,
Was ornery as sin.
When I see a young man,
With a smile on his face.
Helping his mother,
With love and with grace.
I'll think of our Nolan,
With never one trace
Of bad in his heart -
Nor any disgrace.
When I hear a piano,
Swaying away.
To "Away in a Manger"
Asleep on the hay.
I'll think of our Nolan,
And our Christmas day -
The joy he would bring,
As he'd grin and he'd play.
When I'm on the prairie,
Out there alone -
No cars passing by,
No TV, No phone.
I'll think most of our Nolan.
In hills of Flint stone,
I'll bet he can hear me.
Out there in God's zone.
When I see a boy scout,
Show red, white, and blue
And make his folks proud
Of whatever he'll do,
I'll think of our Nolan
And how he just grew
To be a young man
So straight and so true.
Whenever I'm stuckin
The muck and the mire
And later I'm struggling
Right down to the wire.
I'll think of Nolan laughing
And I shall move higher
To a place warm as toast
Like a warm, cozy fire.
Photo Credit: My own
Poem Credit: with Permission, by my dad, Winston Johnson
+Grief +Grievingmother +Grieving-mother +Poetry

St Patrick's Day without You

sad days.... always sad days

here's a post from my other blog
http://www.bubblews.com/news/9898691-missing-him-a-little-extra-today

a dream of you

I had the best dream last night. It was the sort of thing I have wished for every night since losing my precious thirteen-year old son, Nolan, just over two years ago. Dreams have a tendency to fade away. Therefore, I want to write it down before I forget it and the feelings it evoked in me.
I actually only remember about five to ten seconds of the dream, but they were a beautiful five to ten seconds.
The Dream
As I entered the unfamiliar room that was supposed to be my home, I noticed an image of Nolan on the window. The reflection illuminated for just a brief moment before fading away. I turned to my husband who was seated in a chair to ask if he had been holding a picture of Nolan. When he said no, I asked the children if they had to which they said no. Just then, in the corner of the room, Nolan appeared to be sitting. I saw him and happily said, "Nolan!" He jumped up with a huge smile and so much enthusiasm as he bounded across the room to me. He said, "Mom!" I felt so happy. He reached me and we hugged so tightly. He said something like "Finally," as though he had been waiting and waiting for me to notice his presence. As he grabbed my hand, I looked at the family to see if they saw him, which they did not. He slowly started to fade away. The last thing I felt was the pressure of his hand in mine. Although he was gone once more, I felt at peace knowing that he truly was always with me.
It was a beautiful dream.
Photo: mine +Grief +Grieving-mother +Nolan

Jealousy is Ugly

yet another story being shared of a child who we are praying for who is getting better. 

it's not that I don't want that child to get better.

I do.

I just don't understand why we couldn't get a miracle.  I don't understand why we didn't even have a chance.  My son died in his sleep with no warning.  How the hell is that fair?

Christmas Eve

Two years ago, I had five living children in a house too small for their growing bodies.  There was rowdy wrestling, loud boys laughing, happiness. 

Christmas Eve was a lovely evening at mass then home to get ready for bed for what would be our final Christmas as a complete family.  We had no idea. 

How could we have known?

A Prayer

Please God, Sickness now frightens me.  And it's not a normal fear.  It's irrational, yet very rational because I know what the sickness can do.  But please, please, please.  I beg of you.  Let the sickness pass us by this year.  Help me to be better about keeping my kids away from germs.  Please.  And if we do have to get sick, please let it not kill us again. 
Please.

I Hate Being Sick

Viruses are now potential killers and it scares me.  I hate the fact that I am queasy and feel slightly achy.  I hate it.  I hate worrying that my kids might die.  That I might die.  That Patrick might die.  That my folks, my friends, my family might die. 

Why would you invent something like myocarditis God?  Why?

The Fear is Too Much

The fear is too much.  Sometimes I just cannot handle this.  I wonder how to go through the next however many years of my life with such fear coursing through my body all of the time.  You add the fear to the grief and i  think it is taking such a toll on my physically, mentally, spiritually.

Viral Myocarditis Brings Fear

Two years ago, I had never heard the words "Viral Myocarditis."

 What I would give to go back to that time before I knew about it.  What I would give to go back to a time where I didn't know how it can ruin lives.  What I would give. 

Myocarditis killed my son. 

Myocarditis is an inflammation of the heart that can be caused by numerous things, but the most common is a virus. 

Is it some bizarre unusual or rare virus?

NO.

Sadly, it is not. 

Any virus that strikes any person can decide to go haywire and attack the human heart.  And without warning, your child can die in their sleep. 

When this happened, the doctor told me that it is just so rare.  So rare. 

Yet, I joined a group on Facebook and I see many, many people who have experienced the same thing as I.  If their child or loved one didn't die in their sleep, they collapsed in front of them, never to wake. 

Some survive. 

Some are conscientious of their symptoms and seek medical help in time. 

The problem is the vagueness of the symptoms. 

There can be chest pains, of course, but sometimes there are not.  There can stomach aches, flu symptoms, headaches, fatigue.  The heart rate will most likely be elevated. 

But guess what?  So many other viruses have those symptoms that it is often missed! 

So now I live in fear. 

 

I fear for my other children, my husband, myself.  I am so scared of contracting any virus.  so scared. 

 

I can't seem to become one of those people who remember to use the hand sanitizer constantly, but that is what I want!!!  I don't want my children to touch anything. 

 

Of course, I can't stop that.  We are social creatures who interact with others on a daily basis. 

 

If we don't, my husband does. 

 

I pray and pray and pray that God will let all the viruses skip us this year. 

 

Because I am so freaking scared.

 

 

The Gripping Fear in the Back of my Mind

 The human body is a complicated thing.  And it's a scary thing because something can seem so harmless yet still kill you. 

 Or there are those things that can be SO many things:  chest pains can be stress, heartburn, imagined, or something fatal.  Tummy aches can be just about anything. 

 I've always been a hypochondriac, so I never wanted my children to worry as much as I do.  When they would tell me things were bugging them, i'd worry, but I would tell them it was nothing.  With four children with asthma, we were often at the doctor (were/are).  If their chest hurt, it usually was an asthma thing.  Chest is such a big area.  Is it chest?  is it heart?  is it lungs? 

After Nolan's death due to a heart condition called Viral Myocarditis, the other four children had complete, thorough check-ups.  We took them to heart specialists.  Two of them wore monitors.  One in particular has said off and on since Nolan's death that his heart hurts.  Another says EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, "do you think my heart is going to be ok?" 

We have had them checked.  Everything looked fine.

The problem is that something like viral myocarditis isn't a lifelong condition.  It can come on from a virus, suddenly, and you can be dead in a week with ZERO warning.  Or the warnings are so vague that they could be the flu, asthma, anything. 

So I am filled with fear CONSTANT FEAR that it's going to happen to another one of my children.

My second son just told me his chest is hurting and it has been.  He is the one who seems to think something is wrong constantly.  I am sure it's nothing, but then again.... I could be wrong.  And my mistakes can be fatal.

This sucks.

Heartbroken

Celebrating birthdays together, as a family. 

 We will never be complete, ever again. 

 This crack in the foundation of our family is irreparable. 

 How do you mend a broken heart?

 You can mend one of those romantic heartbreaks. 

 The heartbreak from losing your child is total destruction of your soul, your spirit.

 The heartbreak from losing your child is brutally painful.

 The immense hole in your life cannot be filled and will forever remain empty.

 There is a hazy cover of sorrow that shadows you, always.

 The days of being happy go lucky are no more.

 The days of belief and understanding of the world are gone.

 There is nothing you can do to fix it. 

Sometimes I Don't Want it to get Easier

 Sometimes I think it is wrong to feel ok.  Sometimes I think it is wrong to smile.

Saying it is better is like saying it is ok that Nolan is gone. 

 Getting used to it is like getting used to living without a heart, a brain, lungs, limbs, and more. 

 Life without my son is never going to be ok.  Never.  Yet I must live on.  I must keep on.

 When I see his beautiful smile, his face lit up, his zest for life in photos, it is a reminder of what is lost.

 I'm grateful for my photographs of him, but they just emphasize the horror of our loss.

 He should be here.  We should not be here without him.  He should be here.

 Yes, two years later and I am still a broken record.  I still have a broken heart. 

 Not all broken hearts mend. 

 The broken heart of a bereaved mother is broken forever. 

 So it shouldn't be better and it really can't be. 

Tears at a Wedding

my husband and I attended a wedding tonight.  (I suppose since it is 4am, I should say yesterday)

he's not much of a dancer, but he likes to dance to slow songs. 

the live band performed "I Will Always Love You,"  to which we danced.

as we were dancing slowly, all I could think of was Nolan.  initially, I was imagining me saying the words to him.  Then I realized it was more appropriate to think of him saying them to me because the singer is the one to leave. 

and he left

he left me without a warning

not by choice, of course

but he left me.

the lyrics say something like "well I wish you joy and happiness, but above all this, I wish you love." 

yes, it's a love song, but isn't the love between parent and child unlike any other?

Joyous Grief?

How do you put the two together?  Joy and grief?  How? 

Grief often feels like it is swallowing me whole. 

I've talked about the physical feelings of it.  It often feels like I am drowning. 

I miss my son so much.

Yet....

He's not my only child.  I have four other children who do bring me joy. 

I smiled today as I watched the youngest run down the hall nearly naked because she needed to reach the bathroom.    Seeing her chubby little legs moving like that brings me joy. 

My eight year old son is still so young and sweet and innocent.  His voice still has that childish quality that makes me melt inside when he says I Love You.  He brings me joy when he snuggles next to me on the sofa.

Then there's the eleven-year old daughter who loves to be helpful.  And you can tell just how much she still needs her momma and daddy.  Her smile brings me joy.

Of course, there is sometimes discord between the thirteen year old son and myself, but I love him.  He is fun to sit and talk to as he grows up.  He still likes to snuggle in next to me on the couch.  He brings me joy.

But I am sad.  I have a hard time rectifying the two. 

I do put myself in the here and now most of the time.  Then I feel guilty because sometimes I push Nolan's image out of my head.  I am sad when I look at him.  I miss him, I want to look at him. 

It's not easy.

And it's not right.

A mother should not bury her child ever.  The child should bury the mother.  When they are both old!

Thirteen years was not enough time with my son.