sometimes

you just want to scream out loud....  and it's not just about grief.  it's about life.  it's challenging and unfair and so much of it really sucks.  just sucks.  and you hold it in because you know some think you lack class if you share too much out loud.  and you begin to feel sick inside.  and you wonder if you will always feel sick inside.  and you wonder how you can feel healthy inside.  will you ever feel good again?  

Blogging when it is Important

When my son died five years ago, I started blogging like crazy.  Writing out my feelings was therapeutic (it still is.)  I wrote on a few different sites.  I happened upon one that was a paid social networking blogging site called Bubblews.  I wrote and wrote and wrote.  I connected with many people.  And we earned money while doing it, quite a bit actually for simply writing and connecting.  I made a mistake though.  I didn't save all of my writing elsewhere.  The site went under with zero warning.... That's what sucked the most.  They didn't think about the fact that maybe some of us wrote meaningful stuff there.  Bam, the site was gone.

I had written poetry, lots of it, about my son, about life.  In the dark hours during those dark days, I wrote.  I saved some of it, but not all.  Today, a memory came up on Facebook with a link to a poem I wrote there about "What's it like in heaven" that i was writing to my son.   I have looked on all of the places where I saved stuff & it's not there.  I did save some stuff on my laptop which went kerplunk at some point....  That may be the one that I pulled some stuff onto another hard drive.  I'll have to look.

But wow, it made me think about how when it is important, you need to keep multiple copies of it.  Thankfully, I did for a lot of stuff, but not everything.

The Grief Chronicles: 1123

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

Food

I wrote this in a grief group on Facebook today.

Somehow, unfortunately, I guess I've become more accustomed to this horrible loss. It's been 3 years.... 3 years since I lost my precious 13 year old son... I remember those first several months... I remember seeing foods he loved. I remember cooking pasta & realizing that my piggy boy wasn't eating anymore & therefore, I didn't need to cook as much. (I still cook as much... I can't seem to stop).... Or pancakes. he loved pancakes. I hate to cook potatoes because he would always peel them for me. It still occasionally hits me at unexpected moments. I'll suddenly see reese's peanut butter cups and remember when that was about the only candy he would eat. Or I'll see Nutella and remember he was eating that the night before he died. I still look around our table and hate that there are only 6 of us there now, instead of 7. For the longest time we kept the leaf int eh table that we needed because it was too crowded for 7.... I hated to remove it. But we have a small house. So I finally had to take it out. All these stupid, stupid unfair things that just suck.

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.

A New Post...

i guess due to google/blogger's annoying issues with adsense, i haven't written here in awhile.  i'll share a post i wrote ELSEWHERE.....

https://wordpress.com/read/post/feed/36926556/893795453

Darkness, A Poem

Originally posted on September 7 2014

In the darkness, I cannot help but think of you
My mind goes to that emptiness that now surrounds me
My heart aches with the knowledge that you are gone
The darkness emphasizes the moment of your death
And I cannot help wondering how I continue to breathe
Overwhelmingly sad doesn't begin to describe
The bitterness that envelops my sorrowful soul
Happiness seems to slip from my grasp
The absence of light pushes joy into anguish
The hand reaches for it, but the heart says no
There can be no glimmer in this bleak shadow

photograph, my property

You Lived

This post was originally written on Bubblews by me on July 2, 2014

 

More words inspired by my son Nolan.

You Lived

You lived among the trees
You climbed, scaled, swung
You perched and watched

You lived among the birds
You studied, observed, listened
You fed, you knew

You lived among the woods
You hiked, tramped, camped
You sweated, you itched

You lived among the soccer fields
You ran, kicked, defended
You sprinted with reckless energy

You lived among the world of art
You sketched, painted, wrote
You created pieces of yourself

You lived among our family
You acted silly, laughed, smiled
You loved and you are loved always


Photo Credit: My own
+Poetry +Grief +Grieving

Conversations with Ella, July 22, 2014 Edition

This was originally published by me on Bubblews, July 2014.

This evening after divvying up the rest of the ice cream between the children, I held my three-year old daughter on my lap. We had the following conversation as she ate her vanilla ice cream.

Ella: Is it ok that we ate all of the ice cream?
Me: Sure! That's why I bought the big container because we have a big family.
Ella: There's six of us, right?
Me: No, there's seven.
Ella: But... One... Two...
Me (interrupting her): We have seven because we always include Nolan. Even if Nolan isn't eating ice cream with us, we have to count him.
Ella: Nolan IS eating ice cream! He's eating it in Heaven!
Me: You are right Ella, he is. What kinds of flavors do you think they have in Heaven?
Ella: The same as we have.

Photo Credit: My own
+Motherhood +Conversations-with-ella +Grief +Grieving-mother

With You, A Poem

This was originally posted on Bubblews in September of 2014.

If only I could be with you
I'd listen to you talk
I'd watch the way your eyes light up
I'd watch the way you walk

If only I could be with you
I'd listen to you play
Your fingers up and down the keys
Music speaks what you wish to say

If only I could be with you
I'd watch the way you move
Fancy footwork on the soccer field
You finally finding your groove

If only I could be with you
I'd watch the way you draw
I would soak in every picture
As I imagined what you saw

If only I could be with you
I'd feel the way you touch
I'd cherish every hug and kiss
I would love you so very much

The Complexity of Grief

This was originally written on Bubblews by me on October 2014

Looking at photographs of you will make me cry
Looking at photographs of you can make me smile
Videos of you usually bring tears
I have anger at all times: sometimes simmering beneath the surface, other times exploding , often misdirected
I pray for a sign, yet I'm no longer sure if I have faith
I don't talk to you as much as I should, but I miss you more than is imaginable
Sometimes I push your memories away from me instead of immersing myself in them
The pain still feels physical after all of this time
As it nears two years without you, I continue to wonder how it can be true. I will even occasionally pinch or slap myself to try to wake from this nightmare
Losing my thirteen year old son unexpectedly in his sleep because his heart simply stopped is not something that I can just get over.

The Birth of My Son

originally published on bubblews in December 2013

December.... Traditionally, December is my favorite time of year. It always has been. Not only is it Christmas, but it is my birthday. Then, along came Nolan in 1999 and even more reasons to love it. With 2010 came the birth of my daughter ella, so December has always been special to me.

My eldest child, Nolan, my first-born, had a due date of late January. As a first time pregnant mom, I worried very little. People are pregnant and give birth every day. So when I went into the doctor for my check-up on December 21, 1999, I had no fear. I had borderline high blood pressure the last couple weeks. However, I wasn't worried. When the doctor measured me and noted that I hadn't grown in 2 weeks, I was not worried. When she sent me over to have an ultrasound, I still felt no fear.

As the ultrasound techs started noting things and talking quietly, I began to think something might be wrong. I called my husband and said you might want to join me at the dr office. By the time he arrived, they told me "you are having a baby tonight"... They proceeded to tell us that our child looked to be only 2 pounds or so. He was approximately 6 weeks early. We were scared.

Around 10pm, the medical team started me on pitocen to try to start labor. After about an hour, they realized that my sweet child's heart rate was dropping every time there was a contraction. The consensus was that his small body could not handle labor. The decision was made to prep for a C-section. At this point, it was near midnight, it was near my birthday, my 30th birthday. As they prepared for delivering my first child, I realized it would be on my birthday.

Shortly after midnight, I heard my son's first cry. It was an amazing, scary sound. My husband and I both burst into tears. We were already in love with this child more than words could ever say.

He weighed in at 3 pounds 12 ounces. He was small, but healthy. He only stayed in the hospital for 9 days. They sent us home with our precious son on New Year's Eve 1999.

13 years later, New Year's Eve 2012, our son was dead in his bed from a virus to his heart.

13 years we had with this beautiful child.

13 years were not enough.

I miss him immensely.

I want him back

677 Days, A Poem

This was originally posted on Bubblews November 2014. 

For nearly two years, I have risen from my bed
With such miserable thoughts inside my head
I have hoped without hope that it was just a dream
I have hoped without hope that life wasn't as it seemed

For nearly two years, life has seemed off-kilter
There's a knife in my spirit that hurts and bewilders
I have cried tears of anger, bitterness, and sorrow
I have cried knowing I won't see you tomorrow

For nearly two years, I have tried to distract
Wine, coffee, and movies haven't hidden the horrid fact
I have felt dead among the living
I have been false with the smiles I'm giving

For nearly two years, I have struggled to breathe
While inside my soul's agony seethes
I have despaired over fate's decision
I have looked at Faith with complete derision

For nearly two years, our five are now four
Oh how I wish for that one child more
I have watched my others with bittersweet joy
I have missed my sweet, precious boy

Would I have Wanted Him to Suffer

Numerous thoughts permeate the mind of the grieving mother. Random thoughts. Warped thoughts. Angry thoughts. Sad thoughts. Questioning thoughts.
Would I have changed the way that he died if I had a choice?
Meaning this: not change the fact that he died. That's a given, of course. If I could do anything to bring him back, I would. If I could live my own life in a 4 X 4 cell eating nothing but bread and water knowing that he was alive and well, I would.
No, the question that goes through my mind is this one. Would I have rather known he was going to die so that I could have had the time to say goodbye?
In case you haven't read my posts about the loss of my son, he died completely unexpectedly in his sleep. We had no warning. He went to bed "healthy" and died sometime during the night. He was thirteen.
No chance to say goodbye.
No warning.
The trauma of finding him.
Would I have rather he had cancer? Would I have rather we went to the doctor and they said, "The outlook is grim." ? Would I have wanted him to suffer simply so I could have more time with him?
I have a friend who is watching her sweet two-year old suffer. He has brain cancer.
Yet, she has hope. There is still a chance for a miracle. There is still time to talk to her child. There is still time to hug her child, to love her child, to see a glimpse of his beautiful smile.
The morning my son died all hope died.
Selfishly, I would say I would want to have had a chance to try to save him. I would have wanted to say goodbye. Yet, no, I wouldn't want him to suffer. I remember seeing him cry tears of fear and pain when he was little getting an x-ray, getting a shot, feeling sick. But at least I could hug him and try to make him feel better.
Of course, this speculation is a moot point. My son is gone. And I had no choice in the matter.
Photo credit: my own
+Grief +Grieving-mother +Nolan

originally published on Bubblews 11/13/14

Up in Smoke, a poem

My dreams of the future have gone up in smoke
Three brothers are now two
Three brothers that should have grown up together
Two brothers had to bury the other

Five rowdy siblings in a crowded house
Where space was limited
Yet love and laughter were abundant
Now there's more space and less laughter

Five high school graduations, college applications
Weddings and children and jobs
Brothers as best men, as godfathers
Years of always there for each other

I, in my old age, surrounded by my five children
And their husbands and wives and children
Content as I grow old
A heart swollen with love and pride

Instead my beloved child has died
My world has crumbled
My heart now has a gaping hole
My dreams of the future have gone up in smoke

photo credit: my own +Poetry +Jillybean1222-poetry +Grief +Grieving-mother

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

I Love You Mom

 here is a link to my other blog:

http://www.bubblews.com/news/9837907-my-son039s-last-words-to-me

A New Post

I haven't been writing on this site much because I am ticked off at Adsense.  Anyway, here is a link to another page that I write.

http://www.cgpgallery.com/another-try/

Mourning and Yoga

Here's my morning bubblews post.

http://www.bubblews.com/news/9781025-mourning-and-yoga