I Can Choose My Attitude… Sometimes

May29

Since Drey died I pout a lot. If I’m not feeling guilty or angry… There’s a good chance the feeling of choice is selfpity.

Sometimes I have no choice but to sob and yell at God, “it’s not fair!” But as the weeks and months have somehow turned into years… Almost 3 of ’em… I’m learning that part of integrating this grief into my life means choosing more and more often to believe something other than what my feelings are telling me. 

My son, my only child, my favorite dude, my sweet pea, my Dreyster. He’s dead. My heart will remain broken until heaven. Trying to fix or change my feelings will never work. Instead I’m learning to exercise my “knowledge muscles.” They not only need strengthened but they need maintained because atrophy can set in within minutes.

I KNOW I am blessed. I don’t feel blessed very often. And sadly I don’t act blessed very often. But that doesn’t change the truth: I AM blessed. 

I can choose to ask God “why.”

I can choose to dwell on what could’ve been – what should’ve been.

I can choose to continually throughout the day again and again ask God for the strength, wisdom and discernment I need to cultivate a grateful heart.

I can choose to acknowledge my feelings rather than justify them or deny them.

I can choose to remember I am the creation and not the creator.

I can choose to push myself to attend events that leave me sad, fragile and vulnerable in order to prove to everyone I’m just fine. 

I can choose to say “no” to plans and sit on my patio, crying, letting God’s Word do its thing, free of guilt.

I can choose to believe I’m “too much” to be around. 

I can choose to feel isolated and misunderstood.

I can choose to let God lovingly work on your character.

I have nothing to prove. I’ve been placed in these circumstances. I ache and I am broken. Sometimes there’s just no point in fussing about it. 

Forever Young

Apr24

Forever Young came out when Fred and I were just dating. I knew when I saw the video and listened to the lyrics that it would be a song I somehow sang to my child at their high school graduation.

Well, my singing was – and is – horrific so instead it was Rod Stewart’s voice that went with the video full of happy memories of watching you grow up.

A song inspired me a handful of years before you were even born and it was indeed a part of your high school graduation.

That song softly played in the background of my mind while you were growing up. “Whatever road you chose I’m right behind you, win or lose…” That song reflected the unconditional love I had for you. It reflected my delight in you. I don’t know if you ever even heard that song. The sound to the video was turned down at your grad party – but I knew it was playing. Did you? How about 2 months later at your funeral? Did you hear it then? Did you hear that song that by God’s grace reflected His love through me to you all those years? Those short 19 years?

I don’t want to feel sorry for myself. But the “it’s not fair” sobs are never far from the surface. I miss you. Do you see the love in my heart, baby?

Forever Young by Rod Stewart

 

Happy Boy. Proud Mom. 5 years old

Happy Boy. Proud Mom. 5 years old

 

 

Breathe

Apr20

I still have days where all I can do is assess the damage, look at the devastation and ruins around me. Sometimes I’m too tired to get up out of it. Things that used to be effortless for me still take hard work and concentration even after nearly 3 years. Please won’t You take the lead? Can’t You insist on prying the reigns from my hands? Just tell me what to do, where to go, what to think. I don’t want to make anymore decisions. Free will is overrated. I’m tired. I want to rest my mind. A respite. A reprieve. A day where I don’t cradle my head in my hands.

Suicide grief is complicated. Sometimes I wish I could adequately explain it. But that desire for others to understand it is just for my benefit. I can’t help but to wonder if my friends think I’m stuck in my grief. And I can’t have anyone thinking I’m not grieving perfectly can I? Geez – we take pride in the strangest flippin things. And I certainly can’t let anyone know how fulfilling it is to be serving others who are bereaved by suicide either. What would they think of me as a Mom?

I can understand why suicide rates are higher for those bereaved by a suicide loss. It’s complicated. Survivors need each other’s encouragement. It’s so flippin lonely sometimes.

Getting a notification today from FB that Drey Meine had tagged me in a picture was torture. Thanks spammer rayban idiot fucknut. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what I’m in the middle of – I’m thrust unexpectedly into facing this grief head-on. I go from happy and smiling to deep sorrow within seconds.

I cried – but this time not for me or you. 

Apr7

I am not blessed with the gift of mercy. I’ve become more attentive and sensitive to others situations since you died – but still mercy is not my strong suit. 

So this evening as I find myself crying for a friend and a situation that has nothing to do with suicide, it feels foreign. I’ve done that very few times since you left. Finding myself wanting to comfort and make things better for someone other than myself is giving me a peaceful feeling. I love my friend.

So you and I live our lives separately now. You’re in heaven where there is no pain, no tears. I’m here with plenty of pain and tears. Is it okay with you that I’m learning to live again? That my tears aren’t always because I miss you?

Oh… Never mind. A movie just came on that’s pushing me back into the pain of you. Remember? We saw it in Cincinnati at your soccer tournament. It was nice to spend a whole weekend just the 2 of us. Everyone says that in time the memories will make me smile, not cry. Hmmm. Not so much. Not yet.

A suicide survivors vacation

Mar16

Tomorrow I leave on a week-long vacation with a friend. I will rest. I will laugh. I will relax. But first I have to get there…

First I have to get out that suitcase. (The one with the Orlando tags on it from our last vacation). 

First I have to pack those travel-sized toiletries. (But try to ignore Drey written on one of the toothbrush handles).

First I have to go to the bank. (And use that same bank card I’ve used for years).

First I have to hear the engines roar, and feel the pressure as I’m pushed against the back of my seat at take off. (But try to forget the look on Drey’s three-year-old face on his first flight).

I have to try to forget the 18-year-old that slept on my shoulder on our last flight together. For Drey, I was his home. He slobbered on my shoulder while he slept. I was his safe space. Didn’t you know I was here with open arms and shoulders no matter what? Why couldn’t I save you?

I know I had plenty of happy times before you were born. So why can’t I just try really hard to focus on what made me happy back then? I’ve done it before so it’s only logical that I can do it again. If I could just live without the pain for one day. Suppress the memories of your life. Forget how you chose death. 

The stupid mind games I try to play with myself are pointless. Sometimes I have to experience the intensity of the pain. I have to cry it out. SCREAM it out. My son is dead. My son is still dead. 

God how I wish I could hold you.

Family vaca May 2012



49 and 3

Feb25

My birthday. 

You’ve even tainted that. Which is damn hard to do because I’m a princess that loves attention. 

Each birthday is now a remembrance of how many years it’s been since you and ally surprised me with a cake.

The tears flow freely.

The confusion remains.

How was my love not enough to choose life?

I live. I take steps. This new life of police academy visits, sharing at twhs, and suicide scenes.

“What did you do in the war?”

“Before or after 8.8.12?” Those are very different answers. Very different times.

Priorities have been rearranged.

Pace is slower. 

Mercy is no longer a foreign spiritual gift.

Dependence is no longer weakness, it is strength.

House isn’t as clean. 

Bank account’s not as fat. 

Marriage is stronger. 

Vacation more often.

Pain deeper than I ever thought possible. Surely no suffering can be worse than this heartache, can it?

Don’t kid yourself Denise. Things could always be so much worse. Drey knew You. I am blessed. 

To hold you. To hear you laugh. To scratch your back.

Learning to live with the pain brings out a strength. 

And the strength brings joy. 

The joy fades and turns to quiet peace.

Peace that lives alongside the pain.

I have no choice. You took that from me.

Here I go again…

Feb3

I wish I were just singing a Whitesnake song but that’s not the case…

I’ve decided being the leader of Cornerstone of Hope Grief Counseling Center is in conflict with my passion around suicide awareness advocacy… Specifically LOSS. When I accepted the position of ED at Cornerstone we thought it was clear how I’d support – how I’d lead – both organizations. But questions have been raised.

Better now than 6 months into the role, right? Whatever.

Unfortunately my self-talk platitudes aren’t helpful.

And now I’m reminded all over again that my son is dead. No – I didn’t forget. But something was happening with my grief when I joined Cornerstone. A purpose for the pain? in a visible way? In a worldly way perhaps?

But now I’m back to “just volunteering.” There’s far more to it than that… Anyone who’s talked to me about the LOSS team for more than 1 minute can clearly see my passion. But I guess I just need a day or a week or however long to be sad. Sad that things didn’t play out the way I thought they would. And sad that I’m even in this situation. My son is still dead.

Yesterday – the same day I resigned from Cornerstone – I received a thank you card from a Mom who’s child died by suicide. I was there with another volunteer that day as LOSS team volunteers. Feeling awkward. Answering her questions – the family’s questions. Not sure if our words were helpful. Quietly praying for God’s comfort. And now a thank you card from her that brought me to my knees. The timing of it. A thank you card on the day I resigned. On the day I choose to stick with LOSS. I’m humbled by this precious gift and I am confident that some day I’ll be able to share with this Mom the impact she had on me.

And still through all of it my son is dead. He is still dead. I am sad. I have self doubt. I doubt God. I doubt my ability to discern Gods will for my life. These doubts and feelings seem permanent – but they are not. It’s just for now. One foot in front of the other regardless of my feelings. But still, just damn.

Living with guilt after suicide

Dec23

It’s year 3 and there are still no Christmas decorations. Robbie didnt take issue with it until last weekend. He announced that next year we will decorate. When I consider the idea of it I’m not sure which is more gut wrenching – seeing, experiencing, feeling memories that I haven’t faced yet or living with the guilt of celebrating any resemblance of a “normal” Christmas.

There are parts of my life that have continued forward. Actually I can say at this point most aspects have continued forward. Yes, with pain learning to coexist with joy, but still forward movement. But there are some things I am just not ready for – like Christmas decorations in my home. It wouldn’t even matter if they were all brand new. And fixing my car mirror hasn’t been an option either…

The day you died I drove like a maniac to get to you. I didn’t know you were already gone. When I “parked” my car I hit the neighbors mailbox with my passenger side mirror. I’m not sure you can call what I did “parking.” I’m pretty sure my feet hit the pavement before the car had stopped moving. That first winter Robbie would scrape the ice from the window for me so I wouldn’t have to be reminded of that day. I scrape it myself now but my breathing is heavy and self-talk is a necessity to get the task done. But I’m not ready to get it fixed. How could I? How could I just drop it off for a few hours, pay someone a few hundred bucks, then get back a new mirror – like nothing ever happened? That seems so wrong. I have no choice but to leave the mirror as it is. Why the hell do I feel that way? Because it connects me to you? Because I don’t deserve to have it repaired? It feels like my own personal scarlet letter. I’m not ashamed of you baby. I’ve not felt that way at all. I’m still prickly when someone even hints that they might be angry with you. I’m still mom and I’ll always protect you. My shame is my own. Why didn’t I know you were depressed? How could I have missed it? What kind of mom was I? I’m not God. I wasn’t a perfect mom. My human attempt at parenting was riddled with screw ups. But I didn’t have to be perfect. Christ paid the price for every single imperfection. I am living with this pain by the grace of God. And you are living in His presence by the grace of God. I miss you. I love you.

Lord Father God empower me to keep my eyes on You. I love You Lord.

For Such A Time As This

Dec16

Hi honey. I think of you all the time but I don’t write as much as I used to. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s the tears.

The LOSS team launched last month. It’s difficult to describe that experience. I hate that I’m there at a scene yet there’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be. I hate that I’m qualified for this work yet I feel my life has more purpose and meaning than it ever has. The day you died… that indescribable horrible day… “For such a time as this.” I couldn’t get that bible scripture out of my mind. I’m still learning to live this new life. This life that in large part you choose for me. People say things like, “Drey would want you to be happy,” “Drey would want you to put up a Christmas tree” and so on. I frankly don’t give a shit what you would want, kiddo. Your choice not only set my life on a completely new trajectory but it also cut off any say you now get in how I move forward. The fact that you likely never intended for our family to be as devastated as we are is not something you have any say in. Your voice is gone. We’re left to pick up the pieces without you.

I start working part time on January 5th. I’ll be the Executive Director at Cornerstone of Hope Grief Counseling Center. I never imagined I’d be so passionate about something… I never imagined my passion and ministry would merge and they’d then become a career. Between LOSS and Cornerstone I’m quite busy doing something I love. Someone suggested that God calls on us to be good stewards with all our resources – and that includes our pain. For me being a good steward of this pain means having a voice for the bereaved when they can’t speak, only groan. It means helping them grieve in whatever way works for them. It means journeying together as we discover how to integrate this pain into our lives. This journey includes a lot of tears but it also includes learning to laugh again.

I think of you all the time. You may not have an audible voice in my daily decisions anymore but your final choice screamed loudly enough to last a lifetime.

So Merry Christmas, Drey. You are the love of my life whom I still delight in. And, well, you suck.