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.

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

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

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

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

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

I Love You Mom

 here is a link to my other blog:

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

Mourning and Yoga

Here's my morning bubblews post.

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

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

The Beauty of a boy

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

fear sucks almost as much as losing you

in bed, scared.  2 years ago you went to bed and didn't wake up.  we had no warning.  no real warning. 

you were 13

now liam is 13.  and he is always worried that something is wrong with him.  what if someday something actually is wrong and I miss it because he has always worried for no reason?  what if?  that scares me.  i'm scared of losing him.  i'm scared of losing all of my children.

I hate that you are gone Nolan.  it's not fair.  it's not right. 

I miss you.  I love you.

two years.

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. 

Christmas Music

Nolan loved the Michael Buble Christmas music.  I think his favorite song was Michael Buble's version of I'm Dreaming of White Christmas.  I can hear Nolan singing along. 

Nolan always had such a good spirit. 

The holidays were so wonderful with him. for him.  He was anxious to start listening to the Christmas music, just like me.  He loved to buy gifts for everyone.  He loved to spend the holidays with our family. 

Last year, on Christmas day we all went to the cemetery together.  It felt awkward to me because no one knew what to say or do.  And my husband tends to keep his grief and sorrow to himself. 

 

This year, I would like to take my portable ipod dock and play Michael Buble's song for Nolan.