Saturation

Sep20

Only the minority will understand this… the importance of making myself cry.

Drey died 8.8.12. I cried and often wailed daily. I had a constant headache, couldn’t eat, couldn’t make decisions, and took pills to sleep only to wake up to the same nightmare all over again. Then in January – 5 months after he died – I went 2 days in a row without crying. This wasn’t a bad thing and it wasn’t a good thing. But it was something I took notice of.

As the months and now years have marched on I experience longer “dry spells.” But I learned sometime during year 4 that I can only handle so much internally. It’s not that I deliberately hold in the tears. It’s a passive decision if it’s even an actual decision at all.  It just kinda happens at a subconscious level.

I felt it coming on over the weekend… the leakage. I had once again become so saturated that I started to leak. I told my new friend who lost her brother to suicide 37 years ago and she immediately understood. I imagine it’s a heavy grief thing – certainly not limited to just survivors of a suicide loss.

This morning my husband unintentionally set my wringing out process into motion. After his innocent sharing then realization of the full content, I shrugged my shoulders and gave him the “it’s ok. It’s just our life now” smile. But I got to wail after he drove away. I couldn’t absorb anymore. I was saturated and it was time to un-saturate.

I’m exhausted now. I may pray myself to sleep. And when I wake up this time there will be room to absorb joy and peace ❤️

Thank You God for Your constant care, provisions and blessings.

Grieving Mom Request

All the time, I just miss baby.

… and then I began praying for him again

Sep13

I have prayer cards. Just little index cards I started writing several years ago after reading the book A Praying Life by Paul Miller.
Before he died, I prayed for Drey often. One prayer card included Ecclesiastes 1:8 “… The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.” I had been praying literally that Drey would “come to the end of himself.” I believed he was seeking something – unconditional and perfect approval, acceptance and security – from imperfect relationships and material things. I was praying he’d instead realize following God was what would free him from feelings of inadequacy. He knew God… but that’s different from actively following Him.

I also had a card that included Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

For a long time I fought with God to reconcile those prayers with Drey’s death. I would blame myself for praying Drey would come to the end of himself. Did I cause his death? I would plead, “But God you knew that wasn’t what I meant by that prayer right? Right?!” Then other times – or at the same time – I would lash out at God. “Really? Seriously? Are You fucking kidding me? This is Your idea of what it looks like to prosper him and not harm him?! Drey was better off under my care than he was with Yours!”

So my prayer cards for Drey were put away for a long time. Actually they’re still put away along with the memorial book from his funeral, his drivers license, his retainer and toothbrush and other special things I don’t look at anymore.

I’ve felt like I needed to pray for Drey in a different way for a long time. I needed to write a new prayer card for him but had no idea what that might look like. Well, I was finally able to do this last month while I was alone in Hocking Hills over the 4 year annv. And I smile every time I re-read it 😁

“Drey may you delight in Gods Word even now in His presence. Especially now in His presence. May you gloriously love Him with all your heart, mind and strength. May you dance, may you laugh, may you sing. Let your heart be light, carefree and full of worship and praise. Rejoice!”

Rev 5:13 “And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them saying, ‘to Him who sits on the throne and to the lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever.'”

Year 4 is coming to a close

Aug1

Well… it’s August again.

I didn’t start dreading it until July 27th. That’s pretty good.

I seem to be functioning “okay” today… but it’s only August 1st so I won’t get my hopes up that the next few weeks will be easy.

I don’t have much scheduled this week and I leave town Sunday – no contact with anyone again till Wednesday. I dread it and I look forward to it. Maybe I’m finally learning to walk in these big clumsy grief shoes? I don’t fall so often now. And I know a little better about when to get down on my hands and knees and crawl instead of attempting to walk every day.

I do still hate when I mess up things that used to be so simple. Being organized was like breathing before 8.8.12 but even now – 4 years later – I still get so confused over the simplest of things. But what’s cool about this grief brain is that as I’m typing and looking outside I see our grass needs mowed and the entire yard needs weeded; but the word “needs” is no longer accurate because the yard just isn’t important. I think my husband likes that grief brain also means laid back brain when it comes to many things.

I used to ask God, “Is this as healed as I’ll get?” I don’t ask that question so much anymore. The realization that I’d always carry this pain sunk in sometime during year 2. And I discovered joy more frequently during year 3. And during year 4 I stopped searching aimlessly for permission to laugh and just began to laugh. And most recently I’ve slowly been learning to let tears flow whenever they need to without apologizing to anyone.

It is possible to miss my baby terribly, to sit with another survivor and cry with her, to laugh hysterically at Angie Tribeca, to read a volunteer report about a scene LOSS attended, to pray for those left behind and to smile at the thought of seeing my baby again in heaven all in the same day. How bout that?

Angie Tribeca Trailer – Flippin Hilarious show 🙂

 

23 years ago

Jul10

23 years ago I was walking in my neighborhood. 

23 years ago I was digging at the poison ivy on my leg. 

23 years ago we were making phone calls. 

23 years ago I was taking one last look at the room you’d soon call your own. 

23 years ago I was packing up a bag. 

23 years ago I was deciding which onesie you’d wear home.

23 years ago I was clueless. 

Would I do it all again? Yes. Again and again and again. Being your mom is a blessing, a joy, a privilege.

I miss you baby. I miss you so very much. ❤️

Christmas #4

May24

An entry that never got posted…

This is my 4th Christmas without Drey. That is so hard to believe. Time has gone by very quickly.

Last year after Christmas, Robbie announced that “next year we will have a tree and decorate.” I thought I might send cards too. Well, we made progress this year… We still didn’t go downstairs to get the tree, ornaments and decorations because all those memories are just sitting there waiting to jab at my heart. It’s still just too much. But we did buy a little pre-lit table top tree and have had it out since Thanksgiving. We even have one ornament on it. The rest of the ornaments are laying on the table around the tree. They didn’t quite make it onto the tree. The ornaments are from the past 3 years. A few were gifts, some have been handmade by us in remembrance of my baby, and the rest are from vacations. We are making new memories.  Happy memories.

I also thought I might send cards this year. Well… I sent business-related cards but not personal ones. Progress.

For the most part it just takes too much emotional energy to fully engage in the holidays the way we used to. It’s still too much to even think about Christmas’s past. David has grown up in a home where we celebrated each year with Christmas decorations in every room – even the bathroom. Where we celebrated Easter and I hid eggs even as the kids were older. Where we went to Disney every year. And on and on. Then Drey died and it all stopped. I couldn’t engage in any of it. Hell, I didn’t even see David that first Christmas after Drey died because I packed up and stayed at my parents. I won’t be winning any stepparent of the year awards anytime soon. I did the best I could, truly. And I spent enough time beating myself up for letting everyone down. No point in rehashing that misery.

I am blessed beyond words to have Robbie, David, my parents and my dear friends who have stood by me. I was reminded of that this morning as I had coffee with another bereaved Mom and she shared some of her family dynamics after her son’s death. Grief is unique, intimate and exhausting. I used to think “loss is loss” and “pain is pain” – it’s all the same. Wrong. Never have I experienced such excruciating sorrow as losing my baby to suicide.

A poem written 1 month before Drey died

May24

July 8, 2012

I’m not the person I thought I was.

I’m so fragile.

I’m not the person I thought I was.

I’m so unsure.

Please affirm me.

I don’t speed any more.

I’m unsure where to get my motivation.

I’m supposed to slow down and be relational I suppose.

I have slowed down.  But I don’t know what to do now.

Please direct my path, Oh Lord.

Note written in 2013: It’s hard to believe that was how I was feeling a year ago.  Moving to a new neighborhood, leaving my job, my son’s graduation and entrance into adulthood… so many changes I was struggling to adjust to.  Then the bottom fell out just a short month later.  And still God was there.  Loving me, holding me, carrying me.

“I love you”

May3

I heard those words this weekend from one of drey’s closest friends… “I love you.” It meant more than words can express. 

This morning I went through the last 30ish days of text messages between Drey and I. I saw “I love you’s” exchanged a few times. And those were the last words he communicated to me. It’s torture thinking of him in those last moments. Pure torture.  Sobs of protest come out of my innermost being just as if it were 8.8.12 all over again. There’s no fixing this. There’s no getting used to this even after almost 4 years. Scream it out in His arms.

I was relieved to see our text exchanges… the frequency. We went 4 days one time in July without texting but that was they exception. I was relieved to read what I said too. I was a doting mom even in texting. He initiated meeting me for lunch the week before he died. It was hard that he wasn’t living with us anymore. Robbie told me after drey’s grad party that, “you’re acting like you just came from his funeral rather than his graduation party.” I couldn’t adjust to not seeing him every day. I moped daily for the 8 months we weren’t “home base” for him. Then it was over. 

I love you. I miss you.

Mar17

I exchanged messages today with a fellow survivor. She’s inspired me to take the time to write this evening. She’s a newly bereaved spouse. I ache for her.

I hate suicide.

I’ve been pleading with God lately. Asking Him for another chance as a Mom. “I know… If I just did ____, Drey would still be alive! God please please let me have another chance. I promise I’ll get it right this time.” What’s at the root of these thoughts is that God is punishing me  / has punished me by taking Drey. When I take the time to share my thoughts out loud it exposes them for what they are… Lies lies lies. But left pinging around in my mind they’re dangerous “truths” that I ruminate on.

I got unexpectedly triggered this week. I’ve been shadowing Children’s Hospital the past 3 days as they do a suicide prevention training for 5th and 6th graders. I’ve done suicide prevention presentations in several high schools. I assumed younger kids would be easier – since it had been so long since Drey was that age. But I saw Drey in every little boy. Constant flashbacks of Valentine’s Day and Halloween parties. That young age when Drey would light up when Mommy came to his class. First day of school pics. The time Rudy followed him into the school. The playground. So many memories. God thank You for those memories. Thank You for not letting work consume all my time during those years.

So God what happened? When did the depression start? When did suicide become an option for him? He was a happy little kid. Was it middle school? High school?  Answers won’t help so why do I even entertain these questions?

Being at an elementary school and remembering sweet times makes me wonder if I may be able to look through pictures soon. But not tonight.

I wish I could hug you, dude. I just want another chance.

 

 

 

Ever hopeful. 

Mar2

My husband’s birthday was Monday. He sent me a text midday that said “dad just called.”

My heart leaped even if only for a second! If Robbie heard from his dad maybe I’m going to hear from Drey?! And then I realized he was referring to my dad that had called him. Not his dad. 

Robbie’s dad died over 10 years ago. And somehow for just a brief moment I really thought he’d heard from his dad in heaven. OMG – Drey will be calling me! 

Okay… So this is silly and ridiculous. What was I thinking?

I am…

Ever hopeful. 

Ever anticipating. 

Ever longing. 

Within seconds reality sunk in of course. And that knot returned to my stomach. That knot of sorrow, pain and even dread. That knot that says, “this really happened. Drey’s dead.”That knot that was there 24/7 in 2012 and 2013.

Even on a good day Drey’s life and death are just beneath the surface of my thoughts. Maybe that will always be the case. Maybe this is as “healed” as I’ll get this side of heaven. 

But in spite of the reappearance of the dread knot, for just a few seconds I got to experience the anticipation of talking to Drey soon. It was a sweet reminder of what’s to come. 💚💜 

I am…

Ever hopeful. 

Ever anticipating. 

Ever longing. 

Revelation 2:17

Feb2

When I’m alone with my thoughts, I’m aware of my sadness. Contrary to what society tells us sometimes being sad is not something to avoid. My feelings are the dashboard lights to my mind. Just like the “oil change” light means it’s time to get the car’s oil changed, my “sad” light means, well, I’m sad. There’s nothing wrong with my car. There’s nothing “wrong” with me. It’s just regular ‘ol maintenance. 

I could choose to ignore the light. But then my car’s performance is effected. And important car parts – like the engine – suffer. When I ignore my “sad” light my so called performance is effected… my relationships are strained, my energy level is low, my decision making isn’t so sharp.

 I could try to fix the oil change light… Maybe it’s a faulty fuse that’s making the light come on? Or I could put a piece of duct tape over the light? I could try to stay busy. I could drink a margarita – or four. Or I could address what needs attention… that’s the purpose of warning lights after all. 

Some shit went down the past few weeks. As my dear friend put it, “It seems to me that God is wanting to deal with how you feel about your past in an “in your face” way.”

I made some poor decisions that directly impacted Drey when he was just a kid. I was trying to get my needs met apart from God. Kinda like trying to fix the warning light on the dashboard instead of doing the real work of addressing the root issue. We all do this but some of us do it in a more outwardly, visible way – for all to see. So in addition to dealing with the natural consequences of my man-made “fix,” I get the added benefit of perceived public shame. I assume the worst is said about me…. Thoughts like, “It’s no wonder her son killed himself,” bounce around in my mind. 

I don’t have these thoughts about my friends. I have these thoughts about people I respect who don’t know how I’ve let God change me. I have these thoughts about people from my past who only know the “old me.” I want to prove myself to them. Wtf? 

I’ve thought a lot about J these past few weeks. J is someone who tried to get his needs met apart from God. And others know of his choices. Does he ever feel a need to prove he’s a changed man now? If he does, he sure doesn’t show it. If anything he’d probably say he’s just as incapable of any good thing as ever. It’s only because he consciously chooses to live out of his new identity in Christ that he’s been freed from many of his “old ways.” He doesn’t seem to let others potential opinion of him keep him self-focused or shameful. Just the opposite… He’s humbly thrilled to present himself as a broken man desperately in need of Christ. It’s very inspiring. Very freeing. Yes, the freedom of self-forgetfulness.

Sometimes it’s good to consider past choices – specifically when they’re impacting your current “performance.” So this morning I consider them. And I pray. And I genuinely feel gratitude for ALL of Christ’s finished work. I laugh at myself and put the “shit choices” right back in the “shit pile.” I look forward to seeing God face to face, getting a new name specifically chosen just for me by Him, and watching that shit pile go up in flames!