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?

When It's Not Quite As Warm and Fuzzy as You Wish

Traditions.  Oh how I love traditions.

Do you ever find that the actual traditions don't always work out as warm and fuzzy and lovely and sweet as you hope? 

For example....

 

Today is the decorate the tree day, something I look forward to each year.

 

First my eleven year old daughter was being moody.

 

Next, my thirteen-year old was being thirteen.

 

Then he wasn't careful with one of Nolan's old ornaments.  That made me cry.  It didn't break, but a piece fell off. 

 

Then I had an angry tone with him.

 

It all ended with my daughter going into her room and slamming her door. 

 All the while, the Christmas songs are playing on the speakers.  We should be happy and cheerful.

 Of course, you have the sorrow I feel on top of it.  I'm sad.  Nolan was so good about the tree and decorating.  Sometimes it still feels like I am going to wake up from this nightmare. 

It's been almost two years, but I still feel like I should hear his voice at any time.

Does a parent ever get used to this?  I don't see how you do.  I mean, yes, you deal.  You have to. 

Many friends and even just mere acquaintances have said that what happened to Nolan MY SON has made them a better mother. 

Sometimes (in my grouchy brain), I think about saying "well, gee, i'm HAPPY for you." 

I don't.

I know they mean well.

But honestly, I am a worse mother since losing Nolan.  I feel short-tempered with my kids.  Sometimes I feel a little colder because my heart hurts so much that I feel like I put up a barrier. 

I digress.

Putting up the tree should be non-stop joy and happy times. 

Today it was not.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is here.

My second without you. 

Most of the time I am just functioning, doing everything I have to do.  Then suddenly I feel tears because I see a picture of you.  I looked through pictures of your last thanksgiving. 

We were at my sister's house.  You and your little brother Logan helped uncle Bruce and your cousin chase to chop wood.  You loved to be productive. 

Today is the first time I will be at your Aunt Brenda's house since you died. 

I will see your ghost everywhere I am sure:  playing board games, eating turkey legs, watching tv in the living room, out in her backyard, her front yard, playing the piano. 

You will be missing.  You will be missed. 

I miss you always.

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.

Signs from our Lost Loved Ones

I ask for signs and I do not get them.
Some would beg to differ as I have shared a couple stories of touching coincidences.   Although the coincidences felt like a small gift from my son, these weren't quite the signs that I hoped for. 

Stories abound of visits in the night during a state of sleep or scents that could only be some supernatural or sounds or feelings. 

I have had nothing like that.  Nothing.

I have prayed to God and asked for something, even just some sort of comfort.  I tried praying and praying in the beginning.  I felt empty.  I stopped praying.

It makes it hard to have faith. 

A mother who loses her child like I did needs something, SOMETHING!  If there is a God who cares, you would think He would be sympathetic. 

But no. 

Nothing.

Christmas Time Again

well, we made it through the second Halloween without you.  how do we do it?  how do we make it?  i'm not sure other than we have to.

This week will be Thanksgiving number two without you. 

And we begin the decorating for Christmas this week.  Christmas and your birthday, my favorite times of year.  It feels so bittersweet without you.  Is it wrong that I still love this time of year?  I'm sure it is because I have the other children to keep the excitement and joy going for me.  I am sure it will get harder the closer we get to Christmas.  Then after Christmas is even more tough because it leads to the day of your death, December 31, 2012. 

I hate those words "the day of your death."  They just sounds F...ed up. 

I miss you so much.

Pictures of You

I'm thankful for photographs of your beautiful face.  How I wish I had more.   There are days when I am looking through old pictures and I notice one with you in the background.  I get to see an expression on your face that I haven't seen in nearly two years. 

 Even the blurry photos of you are meaningful to me.  I have on on this post that is blurred, but it is you in the middle of being silly.  I look at it and want to see you act silly again. 

I do not know how anyone could ever think that a mother gets over the loss of her child.  I've heard the words "letting go" and "moving on" too many times from people who have never lost a child. 

People have often said how lucky I am to have so many photos of Nolan.  It's true.  I do feel grateful to have so many pictures of his beautiful face.  There are moments that I look at them and suddenly it hits me that the photos are all that I have.  I'll see his sweet smile and suddenly feel sick to my stomach.  I'll remember that he is gone

It's not that I ever forget that he is gone.  However, some moments I am actually in the moment of what is happening in the here and the now.  Then a physical feeling overcomes me.  I am not sure how to describe it, but it is an actual feeling that my body experiences.  It is sort of like a chill that travels through my entire body, often originating in my stomach, and it has a hint of nausea to it.  Then it reaches my throat and sometimes it makes it hard to breathe.  Other times it makes me feel like throwing up.

Two years later and I still experience this often. 

A grieving mother does not get over it. 

She learns to live with it because she has to.

I Wish He Could Enjoy These Things

I wish Nolan were here. 

I always wish Nolan were here. 

I think of him all the time. 

He should be here to enjoy life with us.  I remember how much we were enjoying our sunroom before he died.  Just a few weeks before his death I had bought a couch and tv for the sunroom.  I wanted it to be a great place for the kids to hangout with friends.  I still had hopes for fixing the basement, but wasn't sure when that would happen. 

We were rapidly outgrowing our little three-bedroom house with our five growing kids. 

Oh how I would love to be that crowded again!

About a year after Nolan's death, I started to work on the basement.  I rented a huge dumpster and decluttered like crazy.  Then I painted walls, I painted the floor.  Next I hired someone to put up a couple walls.  After that I organized, bought carpets, bought furniture.  I even bought a small pool table.  The basement became a wonderful space for the children.  It nearly doubled our living space.

Now I am open to parties, to sleepovers. 

In the last month, I have hosted a first communion party, a birthday party, a slumber party, a sleepover, and a baby shower.  All in a month. 

Our house has felt festive, full of laughter and noise and friends.

I think of Nolan and his beautiful personality.  He would be loving the social life we have been having. 

I wish he were here. 

He's Officially Older

Today is a day I have dreaded.  Today Liam is officially older than Nolan ever became.  Nolan died 9 days after his 13th birthday, somewhere in the early morning hours.  We don't know the time.  They never told us.  It could have been 12:30am.  It could have been 7:30am.  We don't know.  Would it help if I knew?

Anyway, today is nine days since Liam turned 13. 

He's already bigger than Nolan ever became.  He already has started puberty and I don't think Nolan had.  He was probably close, but he didn't have any body hair.  Liam is covered in hair and has already shaved his teeny mustache a couple times. 

Nolan is frozen in time as my sweet thirteen year old boy. 

He will never grow older.

He will never kiss a girl.

He will never marry.

He will never fall in love.

He will never become a father.

He will never go to a college party.

He will never learn to drive.

He will never go to high school.

He will never wave goodbye to me as he leaves for college.

He will never get a first job.

He will never hug me again.

I miss him so much.  None of this is fair. 

The Power of Music

Music has always made me cry. 

It always has.

Music has this power to draw out your emotions.  You associate music with happy times, sad times, youth, family, friends, love, hate, romance, and such. 

I cried today listening to music.  It made me think of Nolan.

The Second Thanksgiving, But Another First

Next week will be my second Thanksgiving without my son.  Nolan loved Thanksgiving because he loved to see his family.  He loved to have the big turkey leg.  He loved mashed potatoes and dinner rolls and pumpkin pie.  Grandma always made plenty of pumpkin pie because she knew how much he loved it. 

Most of our Thanksgivings since becoming parents have been at my sister's home.  Last year, for some reason, it was at my mom's house instead.  I'm unsure if it was in attempt to lessen our sorrow or what by making it different. 

This year it returns to my sister's house.  Not only will it be the first Thanksgiving at her house since Nolan's death, it will be my first time PERIOD at her house since his death.  All I will think of is his presence and how it is missing. 

Why does he have to be gone? 

Why?

THANKSGIVING 2012

THANKSGIVING 2011

GRANDMA'S HOUSE

Those Days

Today is one of those days, a day where it is worse than usual.  Every day is bad when you lose your child.  Anyone who doesn't get that has either never had a child or something else.   I'm not saying every MOMENT is bad, but every day.  Every day is a day that you do not see your child, talk to your child, hear your child.  How could that be good?  Ever. 

Sadness today. 

I just feel rather blah anyway. 

Guilt

Sometimes I feel guilty. 

I find myself smiling, laughing, genuinely enjoying myself.

Or like, just a bit ago, I was singing a Christmas song.  Christmas has always brought so much joy and happiness. 

When I lose myself in a movie, a book, a bottle of wine. 

I feel guilty.

I am aware of the need to keep moving.  I am aware that I have other children.  I am aware that "life goes on."

But there is guilt in that life that still lives.

There is guilt that I missed something and my son died.

There is guilt in good times.

I know that Nolan's wonderful spirit would want us to be happy.  I know that he wouldnt' want me to wallow in my sadness.

I know that. 

It doesn't change how I feel, how empty our world is without him.  It doesn't change that when I laugh, I think to myself that he should be laughing too.

Too Much Information

I'm not sure what this person was thinking.  Well, actually, I guess I sort of do because it is a place to let it all out (our grief, our pain.). 

I have this Facebook group that I joined for people who have either lost someone from Myocarditis or who have suffered it themselves (and survived.)   Mostly it is folks like me who have lost someone.  More often than not, people do not survive because there are such vague, easily missed symptoms.

A couple weeks ago, I posted a question asking other members how many of their loved ones had actually died in their sleep without warning like Nolan.  This post has had an enormous response creating quite the thread.  Most were told, like me, that he most likely simply died in his sleep peacefully. 

You know the fears I have, right?  Fearing that he awoke, scared.  Fearing that he suffered, afraid.  I have imagined that for these 678 days with such agony. 

Yet, everyone says, he was peaceful.  He died in his sleep. 

This woman commented on my thread today.  The spouse of her married adult son was in bed with him when he awoke in the middle of the night.  He bolted upright in bed making gurgling sounds before falling over in a slump. 

Now I am imagining this for my sweet Nolan.

His bedroom is next to mine.  The night he died, I thought I heard a few noises in our hallway or something, but we have pets.  So I often hear things.  He was found in bed on his stomach. 

I won't ever know, but now I have a new horrible image stuck in my head. 

I wish this other mother would have thought about that before sharing so much information, but I also understand why she did. 

The whole thing sucks, for me and for her.

Family Nights, Saturday Nights, Not the Same

As I have mentioned before, grief is exhausting.  I'm sure some of you know this for yourselves.  Those of you who don't, feel blessed.  I had no idea how tired I would be all the time from this hell. 

Today I was thinking perhaps we should play board games tonight as a family.  We haven't done that forever.  I don't think we have even done it since Nolan's death.  I am not sure.  I think one night we played charades briefly.  That's all I can remember. 

We didn't play board games as often as we should have before Nolan died, but at least we tried to sometimes.  We were supposed to that night actually because it was New Year's Eve.  That was the plan.  Junk food and board games.  Instead we had death and sorrow.

So today I thought about it.  I thought how much fun board games can be for the family.  I thought how we spend so much time at home just sitting in front of the tv or in our own rooms or on a video game or computer.  Then I felt tired.  And I remembered that it takes energy.  Especially with my three-year old around.  She takes a lot of energy.  And I'm just so tired. 

Therefore, I have a feeling we won't play board games tonight, even though it would be nice.