Did you ever have a chance meeting with a stranger and later feel that there was nothing chance about it? Today was one of those days. I woke to the grief that hits as soon as my eyes open and my mind wakes enough to realize my son, Matt is really gone. His loss rocked my being like nothing I could have ever imagined.
Deciduous refers to
The holidays. Those two words used to bring such joy to my heart and plans to my head. I would head to the store with my list and always ended up with more than I bargained for. I would envision the day. The table, the turkey, family, and friends all together and celebrating our blessings. We started in the dining room but always ended up in the kitchen. Pouring more wine, picking on leftovers, and laughing about how much we ate. Three generations gathered under one roof. Even the pups shared in the spirit of the day. Lying under the table knowing which human was tender-hearted, slyly dropping pieces of turkey into their waiting mouths.
I wake up screaming “My son is dead!”
Or was I just screaming inside my head?
Mothers are not supposed to bury their children. It goes against nature. When a mother loses her young, the world slips off its axis and spins out of control. The universe mourns knowing it has gone against the circle of life, children should bury their mothers, not the other way around.
I went to the parole hearing of one of my son’s murderers, accompanied by my strong supporters: Michelle (the love of Tony’s life, who traveled all the way from New York to be with me), Debra, and Tracy (my Listening Hearts bereaved moms).
Dear Loretta Lynn,
I hope my letter makes it to your hands, as I think you will want to know about our connection. I belong to a group, for bereaved moms, called Listening Hearts. It is not a group with which I ever imagined being associated. As I have traveled this grief journey for the last five years, my spirituality has emerged with an awareness that was once secretly questioned. There have been numerous signs along this path that show my son’s spirit is alive and with me, so I don’t question the spirit anymore. It is real, and it is constant. I am writing to you concerning such spiritual signs.
I sat in the sunshine by the community pool and I overheard several sweet little voices call out, “Watch, papa, watch.” This universal call of a child reminded me of all the times mothers watch their children. We watched them as they grew and tried new things. We watched them as they slept, and sometimes we even had to watch them as they struggled with life’s challenges.
For a mother, this watching began the moment we knew we were pregnant. We watched the foods we ate and we watched with a little nervousness for all the issues discussed in the pregnancy books.
Then the precious child arrived and the watching intensified. We got up in the middle of the night to watch their breathing. We watched each step as they grew. Things did not always go as we had planned, but we adapted and we continued to watch them go forth in life.
We happily took on our tasks as mothers and even thought ahead to the day that we would be watching our grandchildren grow. Then one horrible day the worst thing happened and our child is gone. Our world is changed forever.
Our child will always be a part of who we are. Things are different, but the love continues and now we watch with our hearts. We watch for pennies, rainbows, birds, butterflies, signs and connections.
Debra Reagan
In Memory of Clint
It’s been five years
Since you’ve been gone.
The pain is so real
The hurt still strong.
The masks I had
Are all still there.
Depends on the day
As which one I wear.
Tuesdays I hated
For so many years.
But this one is back
With all of the tears.
The songs that I hear
“Wish you were here”
Are oh so true
Everyday of the year.
Your memory will last
As long as I’m here.
But the day I hold you
Will be so dear.
Remember I love you
And miss you my son.
The time will come
When our days are one.
Until that day
Remember to share
Your signs for us
So we know you are there.
Love and miss you big bunches,
Mom
What does this classic sliding tile puzzle have to do with grief?
I remember as a child trying to work the classic sliding tile puzzle. I could get ever so close to a completed puzzle, but could never get it completed without first letting go of my expectations of the process. I was reluctant to accept the fact that one had to be willing to “mess” up all the tiles before they could be put back in order.
I have found that grieving the loss of my child to be somewhat like that. No matter how I wanted to handle the grief with logic and order, I had to let go, not of my child or the love, but of the expectations of this journey. I had to learn to live in the moment at hand.
Don’t use your energy with the would have, should have or could have. And don’t waste your precious energy with expectations of others’ reactions and behaviors.
Grief is a wild and crazy roller coaster ride that requires energy. More energy than one can ever realize. I hope you travel your journey one step at a time and use this limited energy wisely.