Why Am I Still Here?

Tracy Bradshaw, Sawyer’s Mom

As a single mom, taking care of Sawyer was my purpose. Everything he needed emotionally, physically, and psychologically was up to me to provide. Getting him to practices, games, birthday parties, school, etc. was up to me. Making sure that he had a positive sense of himself, his lunch money, project materials, homework, signed permission slips and report cards, clothes, etc. was my lot in life. I loved him before I really knew him, so I was happy with this responsibility. It would have been my choice had I had one. The fact that he was a loving and touchy-feely person was an added bonus.

When his life was taken at nineteen years old, I was completely lost. Why am I still here? What will I do with my life? Where will I turn? When will I feel normal again? Who will I depend on to help me find my way?

I don’t remember when my first visit with Listening Hearts was, but I remember feeling like I had been with a group of moms who loved and lost. That was me, same as me, happy and sad. Their joys and pains were very much like my own. After several visits with this support group, one of the co-founders, Debra Reagan, offered to make me a bear out of two of Sawyer’s t-shirts. While I thought that was a very kind gesture, it took me months (maybe a year) to be able to turn over two shirts, as the material things were all that I had – I thought.

When she gave me my bear, and each scrap of material that wasn’t used from the shirts, the warmth in her eyes caressed my aching heart. She connected with this bear, and it was with tenderness and love that she presented him to me. He was delightful, yet he opened floodgates to my tears. The carefully chosen shirts represented Sawyer’s life as one was from his early years and the other from his later teens.

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As time passed I wasn’t sure how I “should” be with Sawbear or if I “should” even call him that. I worried what people would think if I slept with him or held him too much. I hesitated to take him on family get-togethers or vacations. My face reddened, when I saw strangers looking as I took pictures of Sawbear. I went on a beach trip with my sister-in-law, and her love of Sawbear was instant like my own. She asked if she could sleep with him. She cuddled him, and her eyes lit up when I spoke of taking pictures of him. She didn’t care what anyone thought, and we set out to create a scrapbook of “Sawbear’s Vacation.” As I propped him against sand castles, pool floats, and chair backs, ideas would pop in her head to have him in the shade with sunglasses, in a kayak, and more.

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Scrapbooks turned into self-made children’s books, and ideas for helping children became endless as I watched so many love and hug Sawbear. Like Sawyer, he is easy to love. To readers, he is accepting and understanding, helpful, and encouraging.

 

In answering my earlier questions, “What do I do with my life?” I reach out to help others going through trauma, entertain with a fun-loving character, and stay connected to a spirit I love. “Where do I turn?” I turn inward to memories and love and outward to anyone who listens or reads. “Why am I still here?” I am here because I have learned from a loving spirit, and I have the courage to share. “When will I feel normal again?” I will never be able to feel the normalcy that I once felt, so I will quit grasping for that. I will seek a new normal that includes Sawyer in every step and in every book. “Who will I depend on to help me find my way?” I will pray for guidance in my search to find a publisher, organizations, and children with a need for Sawbear. I will depend on Listening Hearts’ Moms, my friends, my family, my Church, and my community for support.

The material things are not all that I have. I have an ability to touch lives, an abundance of priceless memories, and a bonded love that knows no end.

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Beauty for Ashes

Lee Ann Christ

After almost 12 years, my heart still takes a blow upon rising in the morning and encountering Brian’s absence. And there are still times of great distress and tears, when something triggers a guttural response and the pain is just as intense as the day he left us. This doesn’t occur every morning anymore, and the pain does not surface intensely every day the way it did the first days, months, years.

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Normal

Tonia Lynch Lowe

Children are not supposed to die. Parents expect to see their children grow and mature. Ultimately, parents expect to die and leave their children behind. This is the natural course of life events, the life cycle continuing as it should. …The loss of a child is the loss of innocence, the death of the most vulnerable. When a parent dies, you lose your past; when a child dies, you lose your future.

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Memories From a Dad

Sean Fewer

In memory of Damon Fewer. Damon’s 9th Angel date was May 22, 2016. This poem was submitted to the local papers in his memory by his father, Sean Fewer.


A thousand memories of you I hold

Thoughts held so close and dear

All a treasure to behold

Of a time when you were near

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Memories Here and In My Heart

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Julie McGregor

My son Joel died nearly 9 years ago. Joel lived at home and for a few years after, his room remained exactly as it was on that day. A life cut short, never knowing this would be his last day on earth. Memories filled every drawer, cupboard, hanging space, pictures on the walls, teenage stuff on his desk and the contents of his computer. Then of course there was his sound system, complete with turntable and mixer, he really loved music.

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Math and Memories

Debra Reagan

During my grief journey, I have listened as fellow bereaved travelers imparted the fact that life is forever changed after the death of a child. For sure, on this we can agree. Since I thirsted for more information, I thought I would share a change I have noticed. Whenever the subject of a past event, or time is brought up, my mind rushes to do the math. I found this surprising in a way. I suppose I might be considered to have average math skills in everyday life. However, in normal conversation, when the subject is about a time or event in the past my mind can do amazingly fast calculations.

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The Time Phenomenon

Amparo Atencio

I’ve begun to notice a phenomenon that is happening as of late. I suppose this is the natural order of things, but it is unsettling.

I see adults who are now entering middle age. You know, those nearing 30 like Tony would be. And I don’t see anything about Tony in any of them although these are his peers. No, his peers are supposed to be entering adulthood, not middle age. They are supposed to have the look of one foot in childhood, the other in adulthood. It has happened twice now that I see that lack of realization up close and personal.

The first time, I was visiting a friend. As I got out of my car to go into her house, I noticed a father and his child on the quiet street. The little boy was gleefully pedaling his two-wheeler as his father walked behind him, encouraging his son on. I smiled at the scene. It’s nice to see fathers involved with their children. When I got inside, my friend asked me if I had seen “so and so.” I didn’t know who she meant and didn’t recognize the name until she reminded me that it was one of our boys’ old friends. If she hadn’t told me, I would have never thought the man was of that age group, that time frame. Nothing about him suggested a peer. Instead, he was just a mature man entering middle age and not an immature young guy making his way into adulthood.

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The second time, I was in a lobby, waiting for my appointment. A woman standing behind me asked, “Are you Tony’s mom?” I turned to see a fit, athletic woman whom I didn’t recognize. I responded yes and asked her how she knew my son, and she told me they were good friends in high school. Stunned, I asked her “Oak Ridge High School, class of 2007”? Could this young woman entering middle age be a graduate of Tony’s class? Wouldn’t those young people look so much younger than her? I was so grateful to hear her memories, see photos of Tony I had never seen before, and share tears over a life cut too short, gone too soon. If she hadn’t told me, I would have never thought she was of that age group, that time frame. Nothing about her suggested a peer. Instead, she was just a mature woman entering middle age and not a silly kid making funny faces at a camera.

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But that is the way of it, and I adjust to this reality. Tony’s peers are indeed entering middle age. They indeed are maturing adults with children and good paying jobs. Tony is forever young, and that gap will only grow wider as time marches on.

Snow Angel

Lee Ann Christ

Christ-Snow Angel1It was in February, two months after Brian died. I was alone and decided to head out on a Saturday afternoon down Route 7W, and attempt to work my way through the outlets out that way. A diversion on a cold and dreary day in what could sometimes feel like a cold and dreary life, I had found out in the worst way. I got a half mile or so past Tysons Corner and spied a big snowy field where my daughter had played soccer in the fall. Without hesitation or thought, I turned right, down the road to the field that was adjacent to a school, gladly abandoning the outlet idea.
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The Ache of Absence

Rhonda Cooper

Ms. Cooper is a guest blogger. She is Chaplain for Johns Hopkins Kimmel Cancer Center in Baltimore, Maryland, and sister to bereaved mom, Reneau Howard, Carson’s mom.


 

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone….

(Christina Rossetti)


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