“You look so sad.”
Do you say that because you don’t think I should be sad anymore? Perhaps you’re judging my grief?
Do you say that because you want to let me know you notice, you care? And you just don’t know what else to say?
Yes, I’m sad. The emptiness that’s left where my baby’s ornery laughter used to be will be with me until I’m in heaven. And sometimes the emptiness is on the surface for others to see.
But don’t tell me, “you look so sad.” It just isn’t helpful. I fight every day against thoughts that say no one wants me around because it’s too hard to see me. It’s too heavy to be around me and be reminded of the great loss. To be forced to consider “how would I handle it if it were my child?” I see the looks on peoples faces. And I know who avoids me. I can’t make it ok for you. That’s not my job.
It is my job to fight for gratitude. And when the bad thoughts form in my mind it is my job to tell satan to f-off. It is my job to surround myself with family and friends that recognize I’m in the fight and encourage me.
It’s not your job to say the perfect thing. It isn’t your job to always get it right.
It is my job to learn to forebear.
It is my job to say, “That was hurtful. That was hard to hear.”
Can you handle it?
These things are my job because I want them to be. Not because I have no choice. I have a choice. I choose gratitude over bitterness.
Tag Archive | hope
Gratitude without guilt.
Journal from last year – October 27 2012:
I’m here at Cherry Valley Lodge with Robbie. I had what I think is an anxiety attack this morning. I miss you so, so much. It began with remembering the 2nd grade field trip with Mrs. Morse to High Banks Park. It was in the fall. On the trail we saw the guts of some small animal – maybe a rodent of some sort. Everyone was so fascinated. I enjoyed going on your field trips.
Sometimes I think I’ll die from this pain. How can someone carry this depth of pain day after day, week after week, and now month after month?
Can you see me, baby? Can you hear me? How can I live this life without you? I view everything through you. Memories don’t bring me comfort or joy. They ache. They bring tears. When will that change? Will there come a time when I look back on this journal? What will I feel then? What will I feel when I look back on this Cherry Valley Lodge weekend? Will I wonder how I’ve survived? Will I still be in the same depth of pain? Will God use me somehow? Will I experience peace in knowing God is redeeming this horrible thing and I’m playing a role in it?
Today: I haven’t had a panic attack – or whatever I should call it – in about a month now. I want to be grateful for the decreased frequency in panic attacks. I want to be grateful that I don’t sob every day anymore. But it’s hard to allow myself to feel grateful for God’s slow but tender hands of healing. What kind of Mom am I if I’m feeling grateful for my life? Some have said, “Drey would want you to be happy.” Maybe. But it doesn’t really matter because he’s not here.
I remember last summer a motorcycle driven by a young man came flyin up on my butt when I was driving on 315. I got out of his way and he sped by. “At least I don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Oh My God. I couldn’t believe that was really the thought that popped into my head?! Then I beat myself up in a major way… “Yea – lucky you. Your son’s already dead so you don’t have to worry about him getting in a motorcycle accident. How sick, Denise. What kind of Mom are you? Did you even love him?”
I feel like there’s a war going on inside myself… there’s part of me that feels amazingly blessed and can rattle off so many reasons why I am blessed. I’ll see my son again, I have a wonderful husband, I love my family, I love my friends, I love God more than I ever have, I’m not paralyzed by pain anymore, I can spend time doing what I want to do rather than worrying about bringing home money for our living expenses, I’ve met so many people who are suicide survivors and am grateful for each them. Then there’s part of me that’s disgusted with myself for not being crumbled up in a pile like I was last year. Learning to live with Drey’s death is very hard. It’s taking a long time to integrate this loss into my life, my circumstances, my being.
God tells us to be joyful in all circumstances. To be continuously thankful.
What am I afraid of? Why can’t I let myself be a little joyful and grateful without wanting to just die of shame for feeling that way? Because I’ll forget Drey? Because people will assume I’m “over it” and won’t pray and care for me the way they have been. Because people will think I’m a freak because one day I’ll be joyful and the next I’ll be crying – so it’s best to keep the mood swings to myself. Because people will think I must not have loved Drey – at least not as much as they love their children because they can’t fathom ever smiling again after their child died. Somehow in my little world I’ve assumed everyone is watching me and drawing conclusions about how I’m handling things. Because apparently I’m the most interesting person in the world??
God please help me to live before You and only You. My audience of One. Help me to live just today without concern for how I’ll be feeling or what mood I’ll be in tomorrow. Teach me to direct my thoughts towards others. My needs are met in You. You have shown me that in miraculous ways this past year especially. The fact that I’m still alive is a miracle! I want to overflow with the love You’ve given me. Overflow into the lives of others without regard for myself because You promise to continually love me, delight in me.
Teach me.
Suicide, guilt and God
Did I contribute to my baby’s suicide? On the one hand I think of course I did. I was Mom. I was responsible for him. God was counting on me to raise an emotionally healthy boy. Somewhere along the way I failed. How can a parent – any parent – not feel responsible? I worked too much. I didn’t make Drey stay involved in church when he hit high school. I didn’t act with urgency when I knew he was drinking. He grew up in two homes instead of one because of my selfishness. I didn’t pray enough. I didn’t create a home where he wanted to bring his friends over in the high school years. I didn’t drive to his Dad’s house that morning. I did too much for him. If he would’ve had to work harder for the things in his life he would’ve had more of a sense of accomplishment.
What do I do with this knowledge? How do I sort through true guilt from the false guilt?
David had a bad day last Friday. He came home and I listened as Robbie told me about their conversation. I listened as my husband parented his son and I struggled to recall a time I was there for Drey at the end of a bad day. How many times did I fail? The weight of it is too much to carry. This guilt has become a frequent companion. I know these thoughts are not from God. But taking my thoughts captive is very challenging sometimes. As I’m driven repeatedly to my knees I’m learning to love my God more than ever. A depth of love I never could have experienced apart from this depth of suffering. He lifts the weight of this load in indescribable ways. Ways I experience yet cannot comprehend or articulate. I go to Him in the depths of despair and sometimes within minutes I am praising Him for hundreds of reasons all at once.
What do I do with this knowledge? How do I sort through true guilt from the false guilt? I take it to God. The One who never tires of my tears, my pain, my need for reassurance. The One who can point me perfectly in the right direction. The One who delights in my dependence on Him. The One my son can now see. God please tell Drey I love him. I love him so.
Drey’s friends and Drey’s legacy
I suppose when someone dies by suicide the tendency for people who didn’t know them that well is to remember them by their death rather than their life. “Oh yeah – I remember that kid. He’s the one that killed himself.” This isn’t something I gave much thought to until recently. It’s yet another “secondary loss.” The loss of Drey’s legacy. Frankly I’m pretty flippin done with discovering, processing and grieving all these secondary losses. But they keep coming.
Probably without even realizing it Drey’s friends have been and continue to be a big support to me in this area. The 2013 year book includes Bethaney sharing what Drey meant to her and how he impacted her. Just yesterday Britney shared on FB some words Drey had encouraged her with. I’ve heard stories about Drey and how special he was when I spent time with his friends this summer, too. One friend shared that in part it was because of their friendship and the loss of that friendship that prompted her to begin a relationship with God.
I am grateful beyond words to hear about my son’s impact on others. Not just because a Mom wants – even needs – to hear these things because she misses her baby. But because I know others are carrying on Drey’s legacy – his real legacy – by sharing about the impact he had on them.
So maybe it’s not fair to say his legacy is a secondary loss.
Thank you friends for making that possible.
Last years journal: Sept 8
Last year: Well, it’s been a month. I don’t know what words to use to explain how I feel. Exhausted. I don’t want it to be real. I want to be with you. God help me to grieve your way. Help me to depend on you, I can’t always set my mind on the things above. I never can. God even this pen I’m trying to write with feels too heavy. I have nothing. Nothing but tears. God I pray for Mom & Gene’s protection as they drive on vacation. I thank you that my Mom has accepted the gift of Your son. Everything is so foggy in my head.
Today: Well, it’s been 13 months and 1 day. I still don’t know what words to use to explain how I feel. Confused I suppose. I still don’t want it to be real. And I still want to be with you, Drey. I look at pictures of your smiling face – what a great smile! It warms my heart to see that smile but at the same time it breaks me. Bethaney posted some pics I’d never seen of you on FB. You were so loved. You had so many friends. I will never understand why you did this. I don’t ask the “why” question as often as I did but it still lingers.
We have a new dog… his name is Duke. You would’ve liked him. He’s a cuddler. David’s birthday is today. He’s 15. You’re missing everything.
I’m attending a 2-day conference this week. It’s about suicide and engaging the bereaved. The speakers and topics look really interesting. This conference is a far cry from the retail and business conferences I’ve attended in the past. Life sure is different now. Family Needs Following a Suicide of a Teenager, Impact of Language on Survivors of Loss, Carrying the Grief of Suicide: Reaching out to Survivors Across the Lifespan. State Representative Marlene Anielski will be there – I’m looking forward to meeting her. She just championed the passage of the Jason Flatt Act here in Ohio… now educators, guidance counselors, etc. are required to get Suicide Prevention training. It’s the law. I want to understand who’s responsible for implementing that training. Is it just at the high school level? What about private and charter schools – are they required as well? What’s supposed to be included in the training? And I want to hear their plan for making it happen with deliverable dates. I can hear you teasing me, Drey… “Mom’s kicked into work mode again.” Yea – I hear myself, too. Perhaps I’m trying to take responsibility for something that isn’t mine to take. But I want to know what the implementation plan is for good and right reasons.
I ask God a lot what I could be doing. What would glorify Him. We moved to Franklinton to invest in an impoverished community. We wanted people to know about His love. Then you died. Now I think about the suicide community and who’s at risk. Generally it’s not people in Franklinton. It’s the middle-class – especially middle-aged men, it’s the military, it’s those who have been directly impacted by a suicide loss, it’s the glbt community, it’s teens. My heart goes out to those who have lost someone – so my focus has been on the bereaved. But as I engage more in the suicide community I’m drawn to prevention opportunities, too, specifically with teenagers and young adults. What does any of this suicide stuff have to do with Franklinton? I try to tell myself just because we live here doesn’t mean our ministry has to be here. But that was our plan… wasn’t it Yours, God? We prayed A LOT. We got input A LOT. So we moved. But then life happened in a major way. Now what? I guess because I may be drawn to a different ministry that doesn’t mean we have to move back to the suburbs. I can be such a black and white thinker – I wish I were more comfortable in the gray area. There are so many creative, out of the box things You may be doing. God help me to have a mindset of confident expectation of what is next! I know You’ve prepared good works for me.
And then there’s this business of a job… again – my black and white thinking kicks in. I’ve got it in my head that I must figure out what ministry looks like go forward before I decide what career to move towards. If I land in a ministry that takes up a big part of my time it’ll impact the # of hours I put towards my career. Can my ministry and career be one in the same? I don’t know if I could fill a role in the suicide community as my job. That feels like it’d be a lot – maybe too heavy for me emotionally. Will I care in a year as much as I do today about the suicide community? What’s just a phase vs. a true change in direction?
A day at a time. You are good, God. You know how dense and stubborn I can be. You also know I love You. Help me to rest in Your timing and help me to trust I will hear You. I praise You that I’m able to take this time and rest. I praise You for Robbie’s job. You have provided for us in so many ways. God thank You for bringing Mom & Gene home safely from last years September vacation. God help me to be grateful rather than only asking for more, more, more. Your timing, Lord.
Last years journal: Aug 30 and Sep 1.
I began journaling just 22 days after Drey died. Some days I didn’t have much to write at all – other days I couldn’t write enough. Writing engages a different part of my brain. It forces me to think more deeply and more deliberately. As I look at what I wrote last year there are some things I just can’t share. I had planned to take everything from my journal and put it into this blog. But some of it’s just too personal, too sacred. The groaning was truly too deep for words.
Despair, anguish, heart wrenching, sickening, ache, gagging, heavy, dark, lonely, fear, all consuming, no escape and suffocating. These were the words I attempted to use to describe how I was feeling. But those words sound shallow and superficial. The pain was acute. Eating, moving and even breathing were no longer things that came naturally to me… they were a deliberate choice. I didn’t think I would live. I was sure I would die of a broken heart. I praise God for bringing me to where I am today – a year later.
This Saturday Delaware and Morrow counties are hosting their 3rd annual suicide prevention and awareness walk. One of my new friends who also lost her son to suicide (it’s amazing how we find each other) will be speaking at the event and she’s asked me to join her and to speak as well. The topic will be personal sharing and a message on hope. Kim has an amazing personal story to share about this journey. It will be hard not to cry. I’m sure she wants to honor Nick the same way I want to honor Drey. We want our boys to be proud of us.
I’m not certain of what I want to say yet. I do know that in the midst of this pain I have hope. True hope. Not just wishy washy fingers crossed hope. According to the Greek and Hebrew translation & it’s biblical usage the word “hope” is an indication of certainty. A “strong and confident expectation.” What I’ve come to learn through personal experience is that hope is not a feeling. Hope is a choice. I didn’t feel hope in the weeks or even months that followed Drey’s death. But I knew this wasn’t the end of Drey’s story. And I knew God was still at work. He did not cause this tragedy but it did not catch Him by surprise. I had to choose to believe what I knew intellectually to be true. My feelings needed to take their rightful place no matter how loud they were screaming. My feelings were not the truth. Sometimes God gave me feelings of calm and peace in the midst of the shock and despair. Wow – that was amazing. Sometimes He still does that. Sometimes the feelings aren’t there. But the absence of feeling hope does not make biblical truth – biblical hope – any less real.
In addition to learning that hope is not a feeling but a choice – I’ve also learned it is an ACTIVE choice. A mindset that is accompanied with ACTIONS of hope. Being part of other people’s lives especially when they’re hurting, being part of a suicide prevention fundraising Walk team, crying out to God in spite of my uncertainty. These are actions of hope. Actions of confident expectation that the Lord is at work in spite of what I don’t see or feel.
Psalm 31:24. “Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.” The verse becomes even more REAL for me when I say it this way, “Be strong and take heart, all you whose certainty is in the Lord.” or “Be strong and take heart, all you who have strong and confident expectation in the Lord.” This hope is mine! God says so! Yes!
Not a tear will be wasted
I received my last daily GriefShare email today. Hard to believe I’ve read 365 of them already. It feels like closure receiving that last one. Only there’s not closure.
I praise You God as I continue turning my new life over to You because You promise not a single tear will be wasted. I didn’t ask for this sorrow but I sure as hell want to learn every single thing I possibly can from it. No tear wasted.
One of my dear friends was over recently and she confessed that she went through a stage where she was asking You for her old friend back. It was hard to hear. It was humbling because I was once again reminded there’s no snapping out of this and going back to “normal.” I know I’m different in many ways. She said “but I like this new, softer, Denise.” I believe her. I am blessed to have her by my side.
My life is not my own. It belongs to You. It always has. I’m just more aware and cooperative these days.
GriefShare email:
Run to God
Day 365
Your recovery from grief is likely not complete, but we pray that you are encouraged to grow forward on your journey. We wish God’s best for you.
“The greatest and deepest Christians I’ve ever met are not the ones with the advanced degrees and not the ones who are always happy and cheerful, but they are people who have found God to be faithful in the worst moments of life,” says Dr. Ray Pritchard. “Instead of running away from God, they ran toward Him. And they know things about God that the rest of us haven’t yet experienced.”
Run to God, and praise His name.
A year ago it was Drey’s Memorial Service 8/18/12
Last year at this exact moment I was getting ready to leave for my son’s memorial service. It’s pretty unreal to think of that. In some ways I think I’m still in shock. Learning to live this new life I didn’t ask for – learning to integrate my baby’s death into my life – well it’s taking quite a while.
But I’m not crying this morning. I’m melancholy and reflective but I’m not distraught. Part of learning to live this new life is accepting that I can’t stay in the depths of despair that I was in the first several months after his death. Sometimes I welcome that realization. Other times it’s gross. How can I just go on with my life? Isn’t being distraught somehow “the right thing to do” if I really loved Drey? Learning the answer to that question is “no” is an ongoing lesson.
So why aren’t I experiencing the ongoing gut wrenching grief that dominated my life for so long? Truly, what do I have to live for? Yes I love my husband, my parents, my stepson, my friends. Yes I am blessed. But is that what I live for? No. Sadly I’ve learned my loved ones can be taken away in a second. I have a great home. Oh I know – I have my health. Hmmmm… for how long? Nope – I can’t place my hope there either. My hope is in God. My hope is in eternity. This life is not all there is. I love the one parable in Matthew and how it concludes… Matthew 25:23 shows that God praises us for when we allow Him to work through us. He does the work – but we get the praise! “His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!'” Can you imagine hearing those words when you are face to face with our perfect God? That is where I place my hope. In knowing I can delight my God as I chose to depend on Him. Not to earn His acceptance – that’s already a done deal because of Christ. But I have hope because He loves me. It gives me motivation to love others. I want my life to count for His glory. I feel it so deeply sometimes. I feel it so deeply now. I can’t help but to smile! Yes, my pain will remain for a while longer. I have made a very, very large deposit into heaven and since I’m still here I will ache. But I have joy, too! Yes. This moment I have joy! I’m learning to treasure these moments and to praise God for them. I may be crying in an hour… but for right now I have joy!
I started this post a bit sad and melancholy. But as I read that scripture and prayed throughout my typing my sadness transformed to joy even if just for a moment! I experience joy because of the sunshine, my dogs, my iPhone and even my purple nail polish. I experience joy for simple things BECAUSE I have my hope in God. These past few weeks I’ve experienced joy because of Drey’s friends and how they honor him, love him, and remember him. Look at the below page from the 2013 TWHS yearbook… what a blessing! Thank you Bethaney, thank you everyone! I love what you wrote about Drey. It’s always what I’ve thought about him – but I’m Mom. I’m biased! To read how you felt about Drey meant so much! And for it to be included in such a permanent place – thank you!
Yes, Drey graduated in 2012. But the wonderful Thomas Worthington High School 2013 folks included this page in the yearbook . Blessed!
For such a time as this
An article I read recently said year 2 for the bereaved is harder than year 1. That’s hard to believe. I can’t imagine anything more agonizing than those first 6 months especially. So I’m trying not to panic at the emptiness I’m feeling this morning. I miss you. I mean I’ve missed you for months but I don’t know that that’s been the dominant emotion. Why did you do this? Where did I fail you? This can’t be real? How do I live my life without you? Questions about the past and the future have occupied so much of my mind so far. This level of missing you hasn’t been dominant.
I think spending time with your friends these past few weeks has triggered this new layer. This layer of missing you is more ordinary. I’m not even sure what I mean by that. I’m confused. I like it when I can name my emotions. When I can explain them. I can’t seem to do that this morning.
God I turn to You. I ask for Your direction and wisdom. I ask for Your timing as I consider engaging the suicide community – the organizations, the charities, the events. There are so many hurting people. People who don’t know You. When Drey died – that very day he died – I heard You in the chaos of my shattered remains saying “for such a time as this.” I asked You repeatedly “What? What? For such a time as WHAT?” I read Esther a handful of times. I watched a teaching series from Mark Driscoll on Esther. A guest teacher at church taught on Esther. You were clearly talking to me and I thought there was something I couldn’t hear because I didn’t – and still don’t – have an answer. “For such a time as this.” Why did you lay that bible verse on my heart, mind and soul the very day Drey died? What’s the “this?” I remember sensing Your non-answer last year… “Do you trust Me?” and “Rest.” I eventually quit asking You and just obeyed what I thought I heard. Not out of my own ability – You did all the work. I did and do trust You. I did and do rest. Thank You for reminding me of how You put that verse on my mind. And thank You for Your timing.
One year. 8/8/12
Race-ready
Somehow I’m still alive. I’ve lived a year without seeing my baby. It’s still so surreal.
I have one favor to everyone reading this:
During this month especially please take the time to check in with friends. Don’t make the mistake of assuming laughter, fun and smiles = happy and healed. Ask if Drey’s on their mind. Then listen. Don’t try to fix anything. Don’t try to make it better. Just listen. Please re-post. I want all of Drey’s friends to see this.
Race done
A Friend on the Walk 