Pondering Grief

Originally written Jan 20, 2014

As I sit in my bed in the wee hours of the morning, I'm thinking how I have spent nearly every night for the last 384 nights like this, wide awake.

Awake and heavy-eyed, I am pondering grief. Grief affects every person in a manner unique to themselves. My husband and I have grieved very differently from one another since losing our son a year ago.

He's very private; I'm very public.
He doesn't want to cry in front of the kids; I have cried many, many times in front of the kids.
He doesn't talk about his feelings with his friends; I want to talk about my feelings with my friends.
He feels the need to go to the cemetery often; I feel like I should go to the cemetery, but I don't really want to go.
He has turned to God because our son's death makes no sense; I have turned away from God because our son's death makes no sense.
He trusts God; I fear that I can no longer trust in anything.

We both miss him so much that it hurts. We have both felt like running away since Nolan's death. We both have aged probably five or ten years in the last year. We both have shed innumerable tears. We will both love our son until the end of time.

The Beauty of a boy

http://www.bubblews.com/news/9776454-the-beauty-of-a-boy

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.