Avoiding My Thoughts

Good intentions are only good if one follows through with them.  I intended to take a long walk, but cut it shorter than intended.  It's a day of chores - laundry, cleaning, changing bed linen - and yet I struggle with doing things. I realized as I stepped out into the backyard that I seek out small chores, something that can be done quickly, and that I'm avoiding anything that could take too long.

And then I ask myself, "Why?"

The obvious answer is because of the loss of my son.

But is that the only reason?   Sure, it's the main reason, but I'm beginning to think that doing things moves me away from Brian and that's uncomfortable.  I know I felt that way when I was working and rearranging in the back yard.

It's the same feeling I have when I sit down at the computer.  I don't do all the things I used to do, and why am I avoiding them??  It's always been a passion, and an outlet of sorts, but lately .. ugh.  My thought was because it forces me to become aligned with my thoughts.

And I'm avoiding them, it seems.

Too much thinking = too much feeling = sadness and grief.  And it's much easier to allow it to happen in smaller bits or chunks rather than all at once.  Maybe that's not the best way, but it's my way.  My son wanted me to be strong, to be happy, and to carry on.  But it can be overwhelming, knowing that I'll be carrying on alone.   A big reason for buying this house was knowing that he would be around to help me with maintenance and fixing things.


I feel as if I'm carrying around this huge bucket with me all the time.  I know that what's in the bucket is sorrow and grief.  But who knew that it could weigh so much.  Acknowledging all this to myself is another step in the right direction. 

Small steps to alleviate avoiding my thoughts.
one day at a time.

Because God didn't promise days without pain ....

Avoiding the Obvious

"Losing a loved to suicide is one is one of life's most painful experiences. The feelings of loss, sadness, and loneliness experienced after any death of a loved one are often magnified in suicide survivors by feelings of quilt, confusion, rejection, shame, anger, and the effects of stigma and trauma. Furthermore, survivors of suicide loss are at higher risk of developing major depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and suicidal behaviors, as well as a prolonged form of grief called complicated grief."     "Individuals most closely related to the deceased are usually those most adversely affected by the death."    --https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov

Just doing a little research today because I keep wondering if I'm avoiding the obvious.  Am I filling my days at home doing "projects" to keep myself busy so I don't sink into some kind of oblivion?  I found comfort in reading :  "Feelings of anguish and despair may initially seem everpresent but soon they occur predominantly in waves or bursts—the so-called pangs of grief—brought on by concrete reminders of or discussions about the deceased. Once the reality of the loss begins to sink in, over time, the waves become less intense and less frequent."

That's been one of my worries.  That this state of "waves" will always be there.  For most, it seems they dissipate with time -- and probably some measure of acceptance.   "Suicide survivors often face unique challenges that differ from those who have been bereaved by other types of death.  In addition to the inevitable grief, sadness, and disbelief typical of all grief,  overwhelming guilt, confusion, rejection, shame, and anger are also often prominent."   This is totally true.  It's hard enough telling someone that my son died.  It's even harder telling someone that it was death by suicide.  Which leaves feelings that are bottled up, held inside.  And that's not healthy.

The inability to discuss it at all comes from the ultimate unanswerable question:  "What kind of mother doesn't notice their child acting in a way that leads them to choose this?"  I've gone over and over every moment from when he moved back home with me to the morning I waved goodbye to him for the last time ... with no real answer.

I have found some relief in being physical:  morning and afternoon walks, working out in the yard, even cleaning the house helps.  But it's when I sit down, when I take a moment to myself, or when I lay down to sleep that it all comes back.  I've spent more than my share of sleepless nights since then.  My mind busily runs through scenarios -- but nothing changes.  Acceptance is a hard place to find. 

The option of moving to a new city has sprung up. 
But can I leave the house where I have the most memories of my son? 
Right now, that answer is no.
I'm hoping and praying that with time will come acceptance and healing. 
I know the pain and heartache I feel will never totally go away.
But with time, it will be less of a burden.

Coping

Many people are affected when someone chooses death by suicide.  Family members are left with what feels like a million unanswerable questions.  There will never be answers that leave us feeling like we understand.  For my own self, I have these same unanswered questions.  But I'm also the one who found my son.  As if that wasn't shock enough, I'm also the one the suicide note was addressed to.  And no one -- not one single person -- has the right to tell me what I should feel, or what I can talk about.  You don't have to listen.  You don't have to read this.  This is for *me* and my own coping.

If you're reading this and feeling as if a finger is being pointed, then maybe you should look into some mental health help of your own.  Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the US for all ages. (CDC). Every day, approximately 123 Americans die by suicide. (CDC)

Sorry, but I'm just a bit mad right now.  Someone decided that I shouldn't be writing about suicide, or maybe they meant I shouldn't be writing about the one that happened in my life.  "So sorry for your loss ..." is a trite statement.  I get it -- it's not easy finding words when something tragic has happened, but don't tell me what I should and shouldn't write.  You may disagree with my opinion, you may correct me if I'm inaccurate in quoting facts.  You may even submit your own opinion.  But this is my blog, this is my outlet, and this is my life.  I'm sorry someone feels that some descriptives were too much to handle.   Too bad.

My son was my number one priority in every decision; because of his vision impairment, he had many more challenges than others.  If he needed something, I was there with a helping hand -- or whatever else was needed.  This house was chosen because of it's size and location with him in mind, along with so many other decisions, in order for him to have a successful, independent life.

We all need a way to cope when there's a loss, when there's grief.
I have always been a writer; I've been doing this blog for 10+ years.
It has been a tremendous help in so many ways,
and will continue to be my outlet.

If you're offended .... lose my bookmark please!

A Little Bit Mad

Dear Brian:

I'm a little bit mad at you today.  I had to call to have some plumbing work done.  And it's all stuff you've done in the past.  I miss your not being here to help me take care of this house that I fully intended to be yours.  While it was costly to have them come out, I'm stuck having to have someone who knows something come out and check things over.  For $100 they inspected each and every water faucet and valve in the house.  BTW,  they said your job under the kitchen sink and dishwasher installation was dandy.  But I already knew that!  :)

I know in my own kind of logic that I am not in a place to make major decisions.  I'm having a hard enough time deciding to drive to Grandma's for a vacation.  If the drive is stressful, I'll be stopping halfway.  Which makes for a shorter trip at her house, but better for me.  I guess it's the conundrum of the decision making process as one gets older.  I'm too young to be retired, but too old to do some of the things I've been doing .... *sigh*

I'm starting to think that I need to be in Tucson, closer to Tanya, someone who can help "take care of me" ....  as I get a little bit older.  Which is coming on way too fast!

It's been difficult, this transition, and I'm finding that I need less stuff.  Parting with your things hasn't been easy.  I find myself making decisions on whether or not it's something of yours that brings a smile or a memory to mind.  If it doesn't, then out it's going.  Sounds a bit harsh, and believe me, it's much more difficult for me than I made it sound. 

It all hurts so much. 
you're not here to share the funny little things
you're not here to share the load
you're not here to share your smiles
you'll never walk through that front door again

and i miss it. so very much.
surviving someone's suicide is one of the hardest things ever
i love you
mom

Some Days

Dear Brian,

These past months haven't been easy for me.  I know you chose your own way, but that was only easy in the moment.  In the long haul ... it isn't. 

Each decision is a struggle.  I pick up something and think:  Have I used this in a year?  Do I think I will need this in the future?  And then there's the whole other part of it:  Does this bring to mind any important memories?   Sometimes I just shake my head, unable to make a decision, and put the item down, knowing that I'll have to, or need to, deal with it in the future at some point.

I've been working on the backyard, trying to make it less work-y and more self sustaining.  I've gotten rid of several of the things growing in pots.  Last week, the tub of charcoal and old planting soil was tossed.  This week, the BBQ is gone. I haven't used it since you moved out.  I don't foresee myself firing up coals and stuff to cook a couple of burgers for myself.  It's just too much trouble for one person.  I'm debating the fire pit.  I didn't use it last year but once.  Maybe this year I will make the effort to use it more.  We'll see.

Sometimes I just sit in your bedroom and look around.  There are a few things that probably should be changed, but not yet.  There's a John Deere tractor that Grandpa gave you; I'm thinking of giving that to Zane.  Something from his great grandfather, in a way.  I'm giving him the Dr Seuss books that no one has ever read at my house.  I had a few for when Brianna was a baby, but she moved to AZ while we were still in Ohio, so that didn't happen. 



It's funny, the way we see
our future mapped out
versus what really happens.

You know what they say: 
If you want to make God laugh,
tell him your plans .....


Every day, I struggle with the grief of
losing you.  I know that it will be with
me always, and that's hard to take
some days.





Glitter reminds me of when I was making vases for Tanya's wedding.
I swear, I was finding glitter in odd little corners for years after!

I know that I will feel, experience grief for a long, long time.
Some days I have moments where it doesn't weigh me down.
Some days I have moments where it does.
Some days I let myself cry it out.
Some days I sit in your room and remember everything about you.
Some days I wonder if I can leave this house.
Some days I wonder if I will leave this house.
Some days I wonder what you're doing, and if you're watching over us.
Other days I don't have to wonder.

Missing you always.
Mom

Brian's Stuff

The things left behind when someone dies can be a great comfort to those who were left behind.

I know my mom has some of her mother's things, and they will be passed to me and my sister, and then in my own case, on to my daughter and granddaughter. 

The things left behind by Brian are a huge comfort to me.  But what will happen later on when I'm gone?  Maybe my daughter will want some of it, but Brian had no children to pass these things to.  His memory will be ... well, the memory only lasts as long as the people who remember you.

I think this is my biggest fear - if that's the right word - that no one will remember my son. I know they won't remember him as well as I do.  He lived with me 30 of his 33 years.  We were close the last 10 of those years.

When I look at the wall I created with his Tshirts and things .... sitting in there, I contemplate all the things we did together, all the things that we dreamed of doing, things that created his history.  While I was his mother, mom and Ma, he was my handyman, Mr Fixit and general helper when something needed to be done.  

Some days, a song or a thought, a TV show or driving past something can bring tears to my eyes, and I start missing him all over. 

My son Brian, Forever Missed.

Miss You

Dear Brian,

How much I miss your smiling face and your sense of humor.  You didn't often share those with the whole world, just the people you were close to.  I miss the sound of your voice and how you would fix things when they needed to be fixed.  (by the way, my shower valve is acting up .... )

I dreamed of you last night.  We must have been saying goodbye, because I held you tight and cried until you had to go.  For some odd reason, you were wearing a flannel shirt. hehehe  Familiar for Ohio, definitely not necessary for Arizona! 

There was some kind of sonic boom last night around 1:30am.  It woke me up, and I felt the percussion of it.  It knocked my TV off, and all the street lights were out, even though the power stayed on.  After that, I couldn't go back to sleep.  Which means I'm extra tired today.  But maybe that will be good; I have a weird shift on Monday, 4am-1pm.  I don't know what my BigBox store is doing -- do you think HD would hire me?

With all you had going on with the ex GF, and working third shift for quite a while, you were definitely sleep deprived.  Moving back home wasn't what you wanted to do, but was necessary.  I'm sorry if you felt I pushed at you to be your "normal self" again.  I scrolled through your photos on FB and realized that in your time with the ex GF, you lost weight, and your hair and skin wasn't the same any longer.   All the stress and rough times was taking a toll.  If only .... 

I say that often to myself.  I relive scenes in my brain and wish for a different outcome each time....

I miss you.
I love you.
Mom

Brain-fuzzed

And now it's Wednesday again.  Seems like the only time I have moments to myself are my days off, but they become filled with chores ....

Today was the MVD trip to get my Travel ID.  Actually, it was an awesome experience!  I went in, bypassed the line of folks who were waiting (about 30 of them!) and walked over, scanned my appointment ticket for 8"40am, and looked around to find a seat where I could see the call board.  There wasn't even time to find the board before I heard the woman call my name, and I was "in".  I showed her my documents, she took my picture and $25, and I was all done and out the door at 8:50am!!  After that it was getting groceries, and I was home by 9:40.  Talk about an easy chores day!

But then I flounder with the rest of my day .... to do something physical? to rest? I ended up cooking a meatloaf and eggs for the next few mornings.  Another attempt at creating a healthier lifestyle.  Soon it will be cooler and I can resume walking after work; that should help too.

I started on my photo albums, going to scan the really great pix or the ones with a story behind them, but as I got them out, I realized that I'm missing an entire photo album - the one that covers 1978-1981.  But then again, I have so many that sorting them out isn't easy!  At first, they were all chronological, but then you add in a second marriage and step kids.  When the divorce happens, you start to pull all the photos that ... well, frankly, all those extra photos weren't necessary.  I shipped them off to the oldest sibling of that family to enjoy. 

But I'm still confuzzled about the missing photos! 

I'm hoping they turn up.

Fade to Black

Ever since Brian discovered the band Metallica, his favorite member was James Hetfield.  He wrote the lyrics to their song "Fade to Black".   At work today, my MP3 player going (because it's a holiday and things are quieter than usual), and I heard the song.  It has always moved me, and I imagine that it affected Brian as well.  

James Hetfield commented on the song in a 1991 interview with "Guitar World":   

That song was a big step for us. It was pretty much our first ballad, so we knew it would freak people out... Recording that song, I learned how frustrating acoustic guitar can be. You could hear every squeak, so I had to be careful. I wrote the song at a friend's house in New Jersey. I was pretty depressed at the time because our gear had just been stolen, and we had been thrown out of our manager's house for breaking shit and drinking his liquor cabinet dry. It's a suicide song, and we got a lot of flak for it, as if kids were killing themselves because of the song. But we also got hundreds of letters from kids telling us how they related to the song and that it made them feel better.

There is nothing harder on a family, and especially on a mother, when someone chooses death by suicide.  There are so many details that need to be addressed, and at the same time, there is this huge ugly "taboo" on the topic.  People don't want to discuss suicide or the person who chose it, as if it's catchy -- like a cold.   And maybe that's why it becomes the hardest part for those left behind:  no one wants to talk to about it, and you're left feeling like  no one cares, because of the lack of talk.  

I know that there's nothing I wouldn't give to have my son back.  But it's not going to happen. So I go on as best I can.  If you're not familiar with the tune, you can listen here .  Here are the lyrics to "Fade to Black" 

Life it seems to fade away

Drifting further everyday

Getting lost within myself

Nothing matters no one else

I have lost the will to live

Simply nothing more to give

There is nothing more for me

Need the end to set me free

Things not what they used to be

Missing one inside of me

Deathly loss this can't be real

Cannot stand this hell I feel

Emptiness is filling me

To the point of agony

Growing darkness taking dawn

I was me but now, he's gone

No one but me can save myself, but its too late

Now I can't think, think why I should even try

Yesterday seems as though it never existed

Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye

Goodbye

Never Stand Down

Dear Brian,

No matter what day it is, most days aren't easy.  When I'm at work, I'm wishing I could be working on things at home; when I'm at home, I'd be happy to be at work having something to do that doesn't remind me of you every where I turn.

I've finally been able to work in the backyard.  But every time I do, in the late night hours, your image comes to mind, the one where I found you.  It's horrible and I want to cry. Scream. Rewind. But none of those are possible, or productive.

"No matter the hardship nor the loss, Never stand down. Ever."

That's kinda where I'm at.  I know that no matter what I do, it won't change anything.  I can sit around and mope, cry, scream, or hit something.  But the real fact is you're not coming back.  You won't just wander through the front door and say "Hey Ma" any more.  Every day I make a little more peace with that.  It's a process, and sometimes a struggle, but I can.  Because you asked me to.

Since "projects" are what keep me sane at home, I bought a gallon of paint and started painting the baseboards and doors.  It's been five years since I did it last -- where does the time go ??  I got the 5 doors in the hallway done, the front door and the baseboards all along the front wall.  It helps.  And looks good at the same time!

You kept odd bits of mail and stuff, and every now and then I'll read one.  Sometimes it's only a page or two of an incomplete letter.  But here's the gist of the one I read today:  The GF was wrong for you on so many levels.  Alcohol I can understand more than I can the drugs.  But anything to excess is bad.  And you can't fix that for anyone (except yourself if that's your problem).  It's like pulling a wagon up hill -- you can't do it by yourself all the time without stopping for a break.  And a person who abuses drugs or alcohol usually adds weight to the wagon you're trying to pull, and it becomes too much to bear.  If only I had known.  But I can't second guess at this point. 

I can only try and ease my own pains now.  Mostly by writing you letters, or writing your little stories out.  You led quite the amusing life :)  You will be forever missed by me.  You were the reason behind most of my decisions, from where this house is located, to how to make sure it'll be paid for so you would always have a place to live.  I pray that you've found peace, son.

Love,
Mom