Dates Don't Mean Much

Here's a post from one of my other blogs.
http://www.bubblews.com/news/9745841-dates-don039t-mean-much

Tomorrow is Our Birthday

Fifteen years ago, at this very moment, I was being told that you were coming in a few short hours.  I was about to become a mother. 

 I miss you so much Nolan.

 Happy birthday. 

Get Me Through This (Then What?)

The expectations of getting through the holidays when you are grieving can be a bit much.  You know everyone is wondering how you are doing.

 You know that you wonder how you are doing.  But you keep "doing"  

And there is this build up. You know it's not going to be "right," but you try to make it wonderful for everyone, especially the kids. 

And honestly, even for yourself.

It's bad enough that God took your son, should He take all of your happy moments too?

So you try to enjoy it because you always have. 

 Christmas is your favorite time of the year.  And it still is.  Yet it is the most difficult time as well.

But let's face it.  EVERYTHING is difficult now. 

Saint Patrick's Day parade:  difficult

Summer Vacation:  Difficult

Swimming at the pools:  Difficult.

Party with friends:  Difficult.

 So the fact that the holidays are "difficult," really doesn't make them any different than the rest of your life these days. 

Life as you knew it is gone.

You have now entered "the new normal."

 In some ways, the joy of the holidays provide so much other distractions that those moments of distraction are pretty good. 

That doesn't mean you don't cry. 

That doesn't mean, in fact, that you aren't crying more this month of December.  you are.

After you make it through this, the second holidays, the second death-iversary, then what?  Does it get easier?  Some folks say it does.  I'm not sure that "easy" will ever describe this. 

It's like a man who loses his leg.  He will always miss it.  He learns to live without it because he has no choice. 

But he will always walk with a limp. 

Exhaustion

Grief is so tiring.  Today is no different.  I'm tired. 

Of course, I drank too much wine which is good until it isn't. 

Then I became too tired to do all that I needed to finish tonight. 

I'm ready for peace and quiet. 

I feel bad when I am craving peace and quiet.  I love the loudness of my kids.  If only my Nolan were here to add to the loudness.

How can he be gone???

I Was a Zombie Last December

The overwhelming power of the grief was debilitating last fall.  I felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  Thus I felt compelled to seek medical help. 

Due to constant anxiety attacks and an inability to function, I started taking a daily prescription drug for anxiety and depression.  My brain is foggy at the moment, but I think it was Zoloft. 

As it set in, I noticed the anxiety begin to subside. 

However, so did the emotion.

I am an emotional person.  I like to cry.  I know that sounds odd, but I do.  It feels like a release.  I love a good sentimental movie, song, or book that brings the hot, salty tears to my eyes. 

As the medicine flowed through my system, I felt incapable of crying.

By December, I was completely ON the meds.  As I reached first after first after first, I felt sadness.  Yet the sadness merely simmered beneath the surface.  The tears just wouldn't come out. 

I felt like a zombie. 

I didn't like it. 

I don't remember the date, but sometime after the holidays I began to ease off the daily meds by cutting the dose in half.  At some point, I was done completely. 

By this point, I was exercising again and keeping the anxiety SOMEWHAT at bay with that. 

I cannot stand the anxiety that makes me feel incapable of functioning, but I also could not stand feeling like a zombie. 

So here we are in December of 2014 and I am hitting second after second after second.  (along with the occasional first as well).  And there are tears. 

And I suppose that there should be tears. 

If this has to be my reality, which I wish to God it wasn't, but if it is, then there must be tears.

Do You Ever Feel Like the Death of the Party?

I used to be the life of the party.  Yes, me.  Happy go lucky Jill.  Party girl Jill.  Crazy Jill.  If you asked my old friends about me they would probably say that I was smart and crazy.  Not a bad combination.

Of course, life has a way of happening to change things. 

Maturity sits in for one thing.

Then life throws curveballs at you like financial problems and other stress.

Then you fall victim to the world's worst blow:  you lose your child.  Your thirteen year old son dies unexpectedly in his sleep from an unknown virus/condition in his heart. 

Blow doesn't quite do it justice.

Life deals you the most catastrophic, traumatic, sorrowful, unfair blow.

From that point on, you are no longer you. 

You are no longer the life of the party.  In fact, you often feel like the death of the party.  Other people are having normal conversations about normal stuff.  Other people haven't lost a child.  You know that they all pity you.  You want their pity at times.  At other times you don't. 

You are now carrying this heavy burden.  You now have a constant state of sadness and pain that is just THERE. 

http://www.bubblews.com/news/9631090-the-girl-i-once-was

Photo credit:  my own

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?

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.