Angel-versary

Today is the 6th anniversary of the day my son died.  Its never an easy day for me.  Mom says she knows what its like, my sister died of pancreatic cancer.  

But its not the same.

Sis was diagnosed and lived three years longer than was expected. That gives a person's mind time to reconcile to the expected. 

But I happened to be reading this today:  

• "Things are never, ever the same again. People who haven’t been to that other place can never really understand how hard it is for the travelers who return, travelers like us, to pretend that nothing has changed.” 

Finding a loved one who has died by suicide is different somehow. There are so many unanswered questions, so many thoughts like what you could have done different, said different, could you have changed the outcome?  

I will never get answers to those questions.  I try not to burden others with the details of finding my son six years ago.  Death by suicide leaves a stigma, something that's not spoken of, almost as if it were "catchy".  

As a society, where have we gone wrong? What creates situations that result in suicide rates increasing over the years?  There is a lot of shame and blame that gets heaped on those left behind when a loved one makes that decision.  

I miss my son every day. And I never stop asking why.

Please remember you can dial 988 at any time if you need someone to talk to. 

Past The Day

No post yesterday because its the hardest day of the year for me.  It's been five years since the day I came home from work and found my son dead in the backyard. 

The visuals are impossible to get out of my head.  I try to stay busy and keep those thoughts in the background.  But night time is the worst.  So I'm extra tired today. And a little bit cranky.

The heat doesn't help.  

I miss Brian every day; we were close. My goals .... well they don't matter any longer and in many ways I am lost without him here.  

But life keeps moving forward, and sometimes I'm just swept along because it's the best I can do in the moment.  

It's easy to wish others would know what I'm going through, but there's no way I would wish this upon anyone.  

My tribute full of stories and photos can be found at www.forevermissed.com/Brian-court

Being a parent who has lost a child changes everything. 

Mother's Day

Mother's Day is an incredibly hard day when one of your two children has died.  I was blessed with two children, a girl and a boy. My daughter is incredible, and she has a daughter, who is alao going to have a daughter.  Life moves along and we celebrate those occasions. But.  This isn't easy, a day of celebration without my son.

Brian and I were buddies; we made huge life changes together, and always came out ahead.  We loaded a truck and moved from Ohio to Arizona. Then we bought a house and moved in.  It was going to be his house to grow old in if he wanted.  But it all changed with his decision to end his life. And that changed all our lives. Irrevocably.

So on this special day, I visited my own Mom, but cut it short and came home to be alone with thoughts of my son. Its been nearly five years, and sometimes it hurts as much as the first year.  Not a day goes by when I don't think of him.  

I love you, Brian.  7.2.2019  FE33

Angelversary #2

Dear Brian,

It's been two years since you committed suicide.  I struggle with your choice, with whatever it was that decided your fate.  But the worst is the not knowing what I could have done, what I should have done, what I didn't see, what I didn't know.  

On today, the worst anniversary ever, I bounce back and forth between the horror of finding you and the joy of remembering you.  Your sense of humor, the little things you used to do, the way you put up with the crazy ideas I had off and on over the years.  I love to dig up old photos of you and remember the things we used to do, the places we've been.  Your tolerance for the weird things I envisioned in my head that you helped me to accomplish.  Like painting stripes on the concrete block fence in the back yard.  Or driving 3 hours to have a moonlight summer hike.  Or going off on a "treasure hunt" called Letter Boxing.  

And in spite of all the odd things, you were also always there when something needed to be done.  To finish the unfinished garage, to painting a room, to installing a new disposal or new faucets.  Digging up plants.  Planting new plants.  Installing a brick planter, or hauling all of the rock from the front yard to the back yard, one wheelbarrow at a time.   Or, going on an icy Sunday drive through Dayton after a crazy snowstorm, just so we can get photos.  lol   

I miss you.  Every single day.  There's nothing else left when you lose a child.  That's the hardest thing a parent does - mourn the loss of a child.  It's been a hard road.  I don't discuss this with very many people, and that's my decision.  It's not easy being a survivor of the loss of someone by suicide.  It's the unanswered questions, the lack of answers for people who are well meaning but tend to ask anyway.  

I know your last note to me wished me to be happy.  It's been difficult, but every day I try my best.

I love you.

Mom

PS:   It's Pizza and Pepsi for dinner!!  xoxoxo

Grief Doesn't End

 Dear Brian:

It's been 21 months.  I know that I will never "get over" the grief, but I do my best to honor your wishes about being happy.  But sometimes there's a reminder and the grief overwhelms me like it was yesterday.

This time it was something so simple.  I bought a TV for the spare bedroom and on the way home all I could think was how much I missed being able to bring stuff home like this and you would get it all set up.  It was the same with anything else that came in a box as well -- chairs, tables, TV consoles -- and every time I bring a box home, I think of you and how you were always willing to be my Handyman! 

So I let myself have a good cry, letting myself miss you like I've done every day since.

There's no getting over grief.  It's just something you learn to ... endure.  An article in Psychology Today says "you cannot erase emotional memory.  Besides, its not about achieving closure.  Instead, you have to figure out what you are going to do when your emotional memories are later triggered."

What I've figured out is that when something triggers my own emotional memories, I just let the tears flow for a few moments and then get back to being in the present moment and being busy with whatever needs doing.  (That age-old advise that idle hands need to keep busy.)   It's usually what prompts me later to post something here, or on your FaceBook page.  

I miss you every day, in so many moments.  And even though I wish over and over again that I could go back and change things, one thing, anything, to events leading up .... I know that I can't.  And I keep going, and keep trying to be happy in the present moments, all while still remembering all the moments of your life. 

I love you.  Mom

What a World!

Dear Brian,

Today, I scheduled to have a new AC unit put on the roof next week.  And I realized it will be on your birthday.  Another "first" without you.  And it hurts.

I've been following the "12 Weeks of Peace" program put out by NationalCremation.com.  It's been an awesome resource, but the final word on it all: 

• "This is the end of our journey (84 days), but it is not the end of yours. You will grieve, heal, mourn, cry, and recover over and over again for the rest of your life. We spoke earlier about saying goodbye to a loved one in the sense of accepting their death, but you will never say goodbye to them from your life."

I've learned that you will be in my heart forever, and no one can take that away from me.  I also feel it's my job to keep you remembered, by writing to you, about you, and posting on your FB page. 

But all that aside, you're missing a quite intensely scary world right now.  We're on curfews and are supposed to stay home to keep COVID-19 from spreading from person to person.  Businesses are shut down, anything deemed "non-essential" ... I wonder if it's lucky that I'm considered essential? ha!  Maybe more like sacrificial is the correct term?  (lol)  Poor Grandma is stuck home alone because her age makes her that much more vulnerable to the virus ... although all things considered, my own age puts me in that same category! Yikes!

I've been having to make and bring my own lunch to work; I eat at my desk to avoid people in the break room.  Management takes our temp before we start our shift to be certain we're not running a fever.  I also take my own temp at bedtime each night, just as a double check.  After work, I come home and go straight to the garage where I strip off my work clothes and shoes, then take my shower.   I have never lived through anything like this!

But even with all of this going on, you're still in my thoughts a hundred times a day.  Something funny will happen and my first thought is sharing it with you, just like always. 

You're always there with me in my heart,
and in spirit.
Love you always,
Mom

Accepting What Is

I am following an online "seminar" called 12 weeks of peace.  It's based on grief, losing a loved one, and how to move on in life.  (If you're grieving, or having trouble getting past some old grief, click here and sign up. )  Each week there's a lesson for the upcoming days - one for each day.  The first few weeks were "easy" for me, because I was already doing many of their suggestions:  writing in a journal, creating a website, posting photos, etc. 

The harder part has been what happens after some time goes by.  It's like no one wants me to talk about Brian, or maybe in their own grief path, they're not ready to hear about him.

This week's lesson included the following:

"There is no guarantee that you will to heal. No book, pamphlet, or poem can ensure it… only you can.

Healing is a choice, and not healing is a choice.

There are so many resources available, and you can choose to take advantage of them when you’re ready. You can choose to remain open to the ones around you. It will not be easy, but that just tells you how significant your loved one IS (not was) to you. Be the fighter they want you to be, and choose to face your pain. Every day it will get a little easier, until suddenly it’s bearable. And you can enjoy your life again."

Brian's last words to me mentioned that I'm a strong person and to be strong for him.  Some days it's harder than other days.  But each day I try.  Some days I fail.  But I pick up the pieces and continue on.   It' the little things that help.  Today, I walked in a park that Brian and I frequented.  Yesterday, I planted some spring flowers in the backyard.  Even though he's not here to help, I moved forward on getting the roof replaced.  I don't always want to do what needs doing.  Some days, I just sit on the couch and veg.  But then I remember that things need to be done, and I'm the one who has to do it.  

It's not easy accepting that he's gone, never coming back

It's not easy letting go of what happened, letting go of the "what if's"

So I'm left with having faith in what will be

And that has to be enough

Lazy Gal Feeling Low

I haven't been writing as much as I like, or maybe as much as I need to.  It's not easy to get the computer fired up and commit myself to doing things that, quite frankly, I did on a daily basis .... before.

Right now, most of the things I think about, or do, are placed in the category of "before" and "after".  Which makes me feel very low, but I can't seem to help it. 

Last week, I loaded up a few more things and took them to Goodwill.  I went through everything twice before taking it over.  I wanted to make sure I didn't get rid of anything that had any sort of emotional attachment to it.  But I got it done.  There's now a little more room in the garage.  I wander through the garage, or my son's room, and sometimes a wave of sadness sweeps over me; sometimes it's more a feeling not being able to deal with it and I have to go sit down and watch TV -- something that takes my mind off everything else, allows me to think about anything other than my son being gone.  Sometimes I sit in the chair, half expecting him to walk through the door again.  When that happens, I know that it's going to be a long day. 

The one thing I've noticed is that there are very few people I can talk to about my son.  That makes me really sad.  I understand it.  It makes my mom very sad to think about him.  My brother is very emotional and can't handle it.  My daughter does OK but she's a busy Mom and doesn't always have time.  I find that this blog has been the best outlet for me.  But sometimes I feel like I'm being a broken record -- I realize that my son's death has defined my life and changed things irrevocably.

My motivation is less now, there's only me.  It has changed things. 
And I can feel the difference in me. 

I don't like it much, but I can't change it. 
And I shouldn't have to. 

I go to work to fill my days. 
I come home and take the dog on long walks
to fill my evenings. 
Nights are the longest if I can't sleep.

With any luck, this will shift as I move through the first year of this life changing event.

A Tear Fell (LDPoetry)

Dear Brian,


a tear fell today
trickled down my cheek
and washed away a little pain
one drop at a time

like rains that caress
and shape the mountains,
a tear shapes and eases my hurt
one drop at a time

a tear fell today
sliding slowly down my face
and takes a small piece of hope
one drop at a time

like streams that trickle
moving rock down mountainsides
pieces of hope tumble away
one drop at a time

i know there will come a day
when pain is gone, hope returns
and my tears slow down
one drop at a time

There are days when I cannot let go of an image in my mind of you, and it haunts me at every turn.  It's not every day, or all day long, but lingers there like a shadow that doesn't go away.   At times I want to scream out "NOOooooo!!!"  and "Come baaaaaaack!!"   but I know that it won't change a thing.  

I had pizza for lunch today, and I thought of you.  

Not that I don't think of you every day, 

but sometimes there are things that make me think of you even more.  

Pizza, of course, is one of those things!  

Grocery shopping completed, I'm boiling chicken for supper, and hoping Sadie lets me sit in some sunshine this afternoon.  Her obsession of riding in the stroller has increased, and she whines at me to go.  Usually around 5:30pm every day!  lol silly dog

I love you.  Always.

Mom

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

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

Missing Brian

Just the other day, I got an email that someone had left me a message .... I recognized the source and clicked on it to start reading.  My son's ex-girlfriend reached out, telling me how sorry she is, how much she misses him, and that he talked of me all the time (that part is probably true!) 

It's weird how you can get busy with life and while nothing is forgotten, it is set aside, on the back burner so to speak, and you deal with what needs to be done as it crops up. 

But my suspicious nature kicks in and I'm left wondering why she would leave me this message,or why she was reaching out to me now.  The last time I heard from her, she was spewing garbage about the girl my son had dated a couple of times, wanting me to make sure I knew what kind of background the woman had.  First, it's not like my son was going to continue dating her after his suicide.  Second, the GF broke up with Brian, and he moved out of her house and in with me - who he dates after that isn't her concern!!    And in the midst of all my motherly grief her biggest concern is making sure I knew the details of the woman's past?   What difference would that make to me now???

I know that Brian's heart was broken by the GF.  But before the break-up, I suspect there were other things going on.  My son was a "pleaser" - he did whatever he could, whatever needed to be done, in order to make life better for someone if he could.  Whenever I traveled to Cali to see family, I tried to take Brian along, because everyone needs a vacation from their job.  And he didn't have much of that living with the GF.  But the last two trips, we noticed that Brian wasn't his normal self. Not that he would talk about it much, but we could tell.  Everyone has their ups and downs in relationships, so we thought it was just that.   Looking back, it would be too easy to put a spin on things that happened .... but we know that living with the GF changed him.

Only Brian will ever know the real truth about what went on between him and the GF.  I don't even bother asking her because I would never get the truth, just her version of it.  And there is always more than one side to a story!!

I know that forgiveness isn't about the other person as much as it is about ourselves. For now, the anger that bubbles up now and again is blamed on two things:  Brian choosing death by suicide versus finding some help for the overwhelming feelings he had going on; and the GF and whatever head games she put on Brian for the 3+ years they were together.   Although if I'm really honest with myself, I hold a very small portion of the blame against my ex -- he didn't make a lot of effort to act like Brian's dad -- and a smaller portion of the blame belongs to me.  I lived with Brian, if I had been paying more attention, or had changed what I said or didn't say -- I know, I can't relive those moments, and most of the time I don't dwell on what didn't happen.

I can't change anything that happened, or what Brian chose to do. 
What I can do is go on with the task of living in the way that he asked me: 
to be strong, and be happy.

I can't change missing him, but being able to write about him
helps me miss him just a little bit less.

The Wall

Dear Brian:

When someone you love is gone, what do you keep?  Memories, of course.  Photos.  When it's a child, I have three of your writing projects from high school.  Your love of music was a huge part of who you were; you always wore t-shirts from bands:  Metallica and AC/DC.  Giving them away wasn't an option.  So we framed the artwork on them and they look fantastic. 

It took me a lot of time to figure out the layout to hang them on the wall.  It wasn't until I went to Hobby Lobby to get a shadowbox frame for the Space Camp medal that I came across two things that set this wall off:  A Rock n Roll street sign, and two 4x4 frames that suspend from a chain.  I knew that they were "you" and would create a terrific wall. 

There are 5 Metallica T-shirts, 

one from AC/DC (Back in Black), 

and a T-shirt covered with guitars.  

It's a nice arrangement, and definitely "looks" like you.  

As I look back on things, I remember when you first moved back home, you were ... what's the word ... despondent.  You didn't unpack your things, and I felt like I had to get you moving in that direction.  I didn't push too hard because at first you said you were moving back in with her after things got settled.  If only I had ..... well, I could fill fill that in may ways.  But I didn't; I was trying to be a good roommate and let you work things through when I should have listened to a mother's intuition.  Then again, maybe that would have only been a temporary solution, and things would have gone this way no matter what ??   That's something I'll never know, something I'll have to live with "until we meet again". 

Love you always,
Mom

The Backyard

Dear Brian,

It's been difficult for me to go out and enjoy the backyard.  My mind drifts to your final place out there, and I just haven't been able to do anything.  Yesterday, I was able to go out, and once I took a good look around, I realized that this neglected yard needed to be worked on.

So I started.




And once I was started, I was able to continue ... until the heat got the best of me.  But I was able to finish up today. 





I moved the bench back along the wall and put my "reading" chairs in place, ready for the fall and cooler weather.  Another two weeks and .... I'm so ready!



I cleaned out the junk from the planters, tried to rake up what I could of the pine needles that blew over with the monsoon winds.  That Moon Lagoon bush that became more tree-like is chopped down, all that's left is to dig up the root ball.   My plan in the fall is change "cactus corner" into some metal art displays and lighting.  Just something fun, and less to maintain. 


I've gotten rid of more of the plants in planters that just don't look good any longer.  The cactus that doesn't bloom ... out it goes.   Cleaned out the fire pit, and banged the top back into shape.  A palm frond fell on it and caved it in. 

When I gaze out over the yard now, I'm a little more at peace with things.  As much peace as I'll ever find I suppose.  My heart breaks for all the things that you wouldn't or couldn't let me help you through  None of us should go through life tackling things alone. 

"Carry on, my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. 
Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."

I heard this the other day, and it made me tear up.
I hope you've found your peace. 
And I hope Grandpa gave you a little guff when you saw him, just for old times' sake!