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

Grief's Route

It's been four years since I lost my son to suicide, and the hardest thing to come to terms with is how the grief process isn't a smooth road.  In fact, it's not only a rough road, it's full of twists and turns and backtracking at times.  That's probably the hardest part of grief.  One day, one moment, you think you're gotten past the hardest parts, and then Wham! you're right back in the center of it.

When I keep busy, I do ok.  But when it gets too busy, and stress builds, it all comes back in a flurry.  Sometimes I think of it as an Arizona dust storm (haboob, if you will).  It starts off slowly, and builds and builds, eventually the dusty winds roll over you, you're in the center, and sometimes you don't realize it until it's already pulled you in.  Waiting it out isn't pleasant but eventually you're out the other side.

Sometimes the unanswered questions get you down.  Sometimes it's wondering if you had said just one thing different, done one thing different, would it have changed things?  Eventually you learn to accept that you will never have answers to those things.  And you have to live with that knowledge. 

My son and I were close, we did many things together.  I'm lucky I have those memories.  But they don't always outweigh the heartache that comes with the loss.  

Four Years Ago

July 2 was the fourth anniversary since my son Brian died.  Time passes in a different dimension when your child dies.  The daily tasks that are somewhat mundane but necessary keep me moving in a semi forward direction.  But its not always forward.

There are days when the grief is still overwhelming, even after four years.  There are days when I feel alone, that no one even remembers him.  I know that death is an awkward subject for most people.  Suicide is even worse.  I also know that most people don't know what to say to those of us who have lost someone. 

But because he asked, I go on with my days, trying to be happy,  to find joy in the little things.  To honor him.  Because I love him.

Three. Long. Years.

 Dear Brian.

It's been three years today since you left my life, left this Earth.  Grief is something you never get over, it's just something you learn to live with.  Some days are better than others, but not a single day goes by that I don't think of you, to remember some adventure we had, the laughs we shared.  Sure, we had our tough times, but that happens between all parents and their kids. 

Every day can be a challenge for me.  Sure, I still do the "regular" stuff:  work, chores, errands.  But it's the other things that are harder for me now.  Doing things alone isn't as fun any more.  I miss having you along on my strange adventures and odd ideas.  I remember the many different times we hiked up on Superstition Mountain.  I remember the many times we drove to Cali to see the grandparents.  

Jake has finally decided to move to AZ and he bought a house in Chandler!  It'll be another 10 days before he can finally get into his house.  He's excited to get started on life here.  I hope he ends up liking it!   You know as well as I do that starting over somewhere isn't always the easiest thing, but he's much better at the people skills than you and I are.  

I've painted a few rocks in your memory, I still post photos and such on your memorial page and on your facebook page.  Whether one person or ten sees it, it doesn't matter to me.   Posting things is the way to help me remember you, to keep your memory alive.  

I love you, I miss you every day.  I can wish it over and over that things had been different, but that doesn't change any thing.  You'll never be forgotten.

Love,

Mom

Time Changes Us

I've been writing here on this blog for a very long time.  And it's been good to me, and good for me!  Having an outlet with no judgments can be a blessing. 

And reading back over some of the older ones, it seems I was in a better frame of mind, a better writer, a few years back.  

I've discovered that having a child die is one of the biggest life changing events a person can ever have.  I notice that I'm not as outgoing, not as ... personable ... as I used to be.  I guess I can feel inside myself that I've closed myself off, not letting people in.  I'm sure its a defense mechanism against letting anyone else in.  I don't want to have to explain my feelings that I have because of my son's death.  When you're related to someone who chooses suicide, things change a lot... emphasis on a lot.  They leave behind so many questions, and *no* answers.    I miss my son every. single. day.  And there's nothing I can do about it. 

My dream was to have this house long enough, to have it paid off, and leave it to my son.  I would probably ... well, who knows what the future would have been if it hadn't happened.  

But I can't change what happened, and it's difficult to change my feelings about all of it. 

So I just keep moving the best I can.  And smile whenever possible! 

A Rough Day

What do you do when your day off turns into a rough day off ?  I had good intentions for today, getting my housework caught up from the long working sessions, cooking for the week all prepared, and getting my car washed.  I got it all done except the car wash thing.  But it wasn't without the rough stuff.  For some reason, I didn't sleep well, and being tired affects me in two ways.  I'm cold when I'm tired, and I'm overly emotional when I'm tired.  That means whenever I sat down, I was snuggled under a blanket.  And watching old ER episodes brought me to tears over and over again. 

I found an old photo from 1972 of a friend who was a neighbor back then, so I snapped a digital and sent it to him.  His wife thought he looked like a gangster!  He was wearing jeans, jean jacket and sunglasses.  It made me smile, remember all the times we shared running our block.

I also found an old photo from 2006 of my kids.  This brought me another smile. 

There's still a huge piece of me who misses my son every single day.  It's been over two years, but this is a hurt that will never go away.  It's something I will live with until the day I die.  

I also woke up with the attitude that I'm going to stop stressing over my job and getting things done every day.  In the huge scope of things, it doesn't really matter.  But I matter. My health matters. I need to take care of me.  If I dropped dead, they would replace me immediately without much of a second thought.  So it's time for me to take care of me.  I have that as a daily reminder on my phone.  We'll see if that makes a difference!  hehehe

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

The Price Of Love

"It is truly remarkable what people in deep turmoil will tell you if you truly listen to what they are saying.  More often than not, they will spill some of the pattern of repeated dark words, thoughts and fantasies that have been spiraling in their heads so relentlessly, so furiously, that they have entered a trance that has eliminated all other thoughts.  If the spiral continues without break, they will essentially talk themselves to the point where the pain of dying seems less than the pain of living.  That's how suicide works."

This is a quote from the book "Deadly Cross" by James Patterson.

And when I read these lines, it brought a touch of comfort regarding the loss of my son.  I know that my son was a lot like me, he lived a good part of his life in his head.  I'm not sure that makes sense to everyone but if you've ever overthought a situation, that's kind of how it is.  And I can see that if he got stuck on a certain thought, it spiraled 'round and 'round until it took over.  

It makes me sad to think that he couldn't reach out past the spiral and get some kind of help. It makes me sad to think that I didn't act on my hunch of loading him into the car and taking him to my mother's for a break from the routine of it all.  

I know that carrying this burden for the rest of my life will weigh me down.  And it's not easy to know that he carried his burdens until he couldn't carry them any longer.  Grief is never ending; and I know I've said it before:  there is nothing like losing a child.  My dad is gone, my sister is gone, even my favorite dog is gone, but I'm still the saddest over losing my son.  He was my reason for buying the small house, living near bus lines, getting it paid off so he'd have a place to grow old.  

Grief is like having a suitcase that you have to lug around everywhere with you:  it's always there, it adds a whole lot of weight to your travels.  And it's a process that never ends.   It's the price of love.

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

Almost a New Year

 Dear Brian,

It's difficult to think that another round of holidays are upon us.  And to think that I'm going through it without you.  It hurts, but we keep moving forward as best we can.

Another surge of this COVID virus is making the rounds and they're advising that we don't get together with others from outside our own home to keep ourselves safe.  It's making things difficult for some.  I know Grandma misses being able to get together with friends and family, but she's very afraid of being exposed.  I spend about an hour a day on the phone with her, and end up doing a lot of reassuring.  She's surviving though!  

Jake and Haley had baby Josie Lee, and Anthony and Krissy are expecting in May - a girl named Aubree!  It's a growing family, and life moves on.

I painted my bedroom this year, two weeks ago, and happy I got it done early.  I caught a cold, and stayed home from work (SHOCK!!) but I was worried about COVID too. I sat on the couch bingeing on 7th Heaven and taking my temp every hour.  But it seems it's just a cold, and has already gotten better.  Thank goodness. 

I forced myself out to the park behind the library, got a few good shots, but I'm a little out of practice.  It hasn't been easy trying to be .... normal in an abnormal world.  But then, I'm not so normal even on a good day!  

It hasn't been easy going through these days without you.  If you were still here, I'd have no qualms about moving to Calif to take care of mom, and leaving you in the house.  But they were my long term plans, and that hasn't worked out.  I miss you every day, and think of you at least once every day.  When you were 16, you told me you'd live with me forever -- and we both laughed!  But now ... how I wish!  Things will never be the same, never feel normal for me.  I'm trying to follow your wishes and be happy, but it's hard to be happy when one loses a child.    I'll always love you

Missing you every day,

Love, Mom

Busy, but Still Sad

 Dear Brian,

It's October now, and we're rolling quickly into the holiday season.  There are so many things going on, and it's times like this when I wish time would slow down -- or have a day where it kinda stops! -- because I feel like there isn't time for me to sit and think.  About you.  About should haves and would haves.  And about what the next phase is going to be.  

Grandma is struggling more and more.  Technology is beyond her grasp at times and she worries when she can't get the info she needs.  And it's little things, like calling the bank.  Before COVID, you could just visit your branch and see a banker with your questions or issues.  Now, half the branches are closed, and you need an appointment to even get inside the bank.  Withdrawals are only done thru an ATM and she doesn't know how to use that, either.   I help as much as I can but it isn't easy long distance.

I need to somehow get a vacation to Cali in between all the work issues and doc visits that are scheduled.  Maybe the second week of Nov.   I just need to decide and go for it.  

I had to call Joe from across the street to help me with the new fridge.  I just couldn't figure out those weird little compression fittings.  I hate it that you're not here to help.  And I'm still sad over that.  It makes me wish over and over that I could have helped, or that I could have said something to make a difference ....  *sigh*

I loved you, will always love you.  And I miss you like craaaazy! 

Love, Mom

Too Much Going On

Dear Brian,

Life has been hectic lately, and with everything going on .... boy, I miss having you here! 

The fridge has been acting up, so I called in a Sears repairman.  The logic board went out on the freezer side, and the parts are no longer available.  So I had to dash around to Home Depot to see if I could find another one.  But all the side by sides are taller than will fit in the space.  Ugh  So I dashed over to Lowe's.  They had a Whirlpool that would fit but the ice machine was in the door and looked kinda jinky; next to it, a Frigidaire that's exactly like the one here.  AND it was on sale.  So I didn't waste any time and bought it.  It will be delivered Weds, and I'm wishing you were here all over again so that the ice maker line could be installed.  Here's another thing I gotta figure out how to do on my own.  

I was sewing more masks today, and my sewing machine seized up.  If you were here, I know you could figure out how to fix it.  And now I have to invest in a new machine, or have this one fixed.  Having this one fixed is better, because it's all metal and a real workhorse.  New ones are all plastic-y ... *sigh*  Another reason for wishing you were still here. 

I miss having convos with you, even though I have them every day in my mind.  I still tell you things and then wish you were here to help me with this thing or that chore.  Not a day goes by that something doesn't need doing, and I wish for your help. Or your company.  

I burst into tears yesterday and today, just from missing you.  I'll never truly get over not having you around.

Love you always, 

Mom

Family Time

 Dear Brian:

Just got home from a trip to Calif; we were there for Auntie's burial.

With the COVID pandemic, things are certainly off.  We had to make an appointment for her burial, there was a limit to how many could attend (20).  Once we made the appointment, we turned in a list of names with addresses and phone numbers for everyone who would be attending.  It wasn't easy determining who could be there, and who couldn't.  Of course, you know how it is with Auntie -- literally everyone in Santa Clara knew who she was.  If it had been open to the public, there wouldn't have been room to hold everyone.  

It was a warm sunny day; chairs were spaced six feet apart and we all wore masks.  The heck with the social distancing rules, some of us hugged each other!   It was sort of a clusterfuck in that the cemetery doesn't open it's gates for those attending until 5 minutes before start time.  Grandma and I tried to be there early -- that didn't go well.  lol .   We parked then had to wait, and Brandon escorted us in to the correct gate.  Too much anxiety for a day filled with so much anxiety!  

We had a party for family afterward.  Jake brought pizza and plenty of booze.  It was nice being able to share the day with all of them.  They even got Grandma to drink a shot of Fireball --- needless to say she didn't like it, and made quite the face!  They recorded it.  haha  Was too funny.

The boys were drinking shots of Fireball and beer and .... I don't know what else.  They were soused by the end of the night.  We chased them out at 10pm, Grandma had had enough!  The next day, Jake wasn't feeling well but he brought Zane by to see us all, what a cutie!  

But the whole time, I kept wishing you'd been there with us.  You should have been.

I miss you every day.

Love, Mom

Crazy Daze

Dear Brian,

It seems like there's never enough time to sit and put my thoughts down here.  It doesn't mean I don't think of you, and frankly, while I tell people I talk to Sadie, most of what I "tell her" are things I'd be telling you.  So maybe you're listening every now and then so I don't have to write every detail out.

If you have been listening, you know that things are family crazy right now  Antie lost her fight with cancer and took her wings.  But in the meantime, I think it's making the family crazy.  I went off the deep end and got all over their cases because they all went off and "did their own thing", leaving Grandma home alone,  4 days after her own daughter had died.  After hearing her in tears on the phone, I was livid.  You know how I get when I'm like that.  hahaha

Arrangements have finally been made, and we're all trying to make things work from our end.  With any luck .... what with all the COVID its hard to know what's actually able to happen, California being on lockdown still.   I picked out a dress and I'm going to wear the necklace you gave me.  Whenever I wear it, I feel closer to you. :)

I miss you each and every day. 
And I wish you were here.

Looking Back One Year

Dear Brian,

What a rough weekend for me to get through.  It's been a year now, and I'm still as lost as I was a year ago.  And yet in some ways I've been able to get through it.  I know I move through my days doing the things that need doing, but there's not as much purpose any longer.  I can feel this happening, and yet seem unable to change any of it. 

With COVID, I'm not able to go places or do things, and I'm finding it quite a relief that I'm not being urged to be social in any way.  Which makes me chuckle.  I wear my mask all the time because it's the law, and I don't even have to smile at customers -- they have no idea what my mouth does behind my mask!  It's amusing to be able to move through my day without having to do the whole small talk and smile -- hard to do that when you're forced to stay six feet apart all the time.  hahah

I sat down and read your note today.  It hurt to see your handwriting.  I'm not sure if I was looking for comfort in your words -- I already knew I wouldn't find it.  I think I have that note memorized. It still didn't give me any answers.  I still have so many "what if" scenarios that I run through my head.  But I can't change what happened.  But I wish I could have.

Aunt Lori isn't doing well.  I don't know if she's at the "I give up" stage of fighting her cancer, but it seems like it might be. She's always been the one in control, and she's trying to do her medications by herself.  From what Grandma tells me, it sounds like she's over medicating; she sleeps through her days, and barely eats or drinks.  She's at Grandma's now.

I cleaned out a few of your things.  I put some of the hot wheels cars from your shelves into the carrying case.  I wonder if Zane would like to have them?  I didn't know what to do with all your wallets and pocket knives, some of the comic books and your drumsticks.  I have a couple thoughts, but since I wasn't certain, I'll just sleep on it for a while longer.

Writing to you here keeps your memory alive for me in a tangible way.  And I need the outlet.  So I'll just keep doing what I'm doing.

Love you and miss you every single day
Love,
mom

Happy Angelversary

Dear Brian,

It's been one year since the day that changed all the rest of my days. 

I live each day in a sort of suspended animation mode:  I go through the motions, but expect that at any moment you'll come through the door and surprise me.  In my mind, I know that's not possible, by my heart still believes. 

It's still "Brian's room, Brian's bathroom, Brian's garage" and I don't suppose that will ever change.  I'm sure that some people would say that I need to move on, change things up, or something like that.  But your guitars hang right there, your wallet and pocket knife are in the top drawer as if you're just gone on a trip.  There may come a day ... and maybe not, and Tanya will have to deal with whatever is still here. 

I've pondered over and over the why's and what if's.  I know I can't change it.  But it hurts like hell to think that I couldn't have done something differently, said something.  If only ....

I always thought that I was a strong person, always believed there was a "circle of life" and that everything dies at some point.  But to lose you, my son, has been the single hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.  What makes it seem worse is that it doesn't go away, and you don't just "get over it".  I carry this with me every single day.

I know that I'm just passing time now, going through the motions without the same purpose.  I always had the goal in mind of making sure that I get things set up in such a way that you'd be taken care of after I was gone.  Now it doesn't have the same meaning for me. 

Probably the hardest thing to bear in all of this is that I never get to talk about you with anyone else.  Grandma has her own challenges at the moment; T has her own life and is living it.  So that's why I have this blog -- a place to write to you, to let all the feelings come out when they need to, a place where I can say things that no one else wants to hear.  It's also why I created that memorial .... so that I could post every single photo I ever took of you, tell all your little stories.

Because your life mattered.
And you should NEVER be forgotten.

Happy Angelversary!

I love you. Always.
mom

Missing Our Chats

Dear Brian,

There's so much going on lately, and I haven't written in a while because rehashing all the stress just makes things that much harder.  I don't know what the world is coming to -- there are protests and riots, looting and shooting.  We're still in the midst of the pandemic, but they're starting to open things up slowly.   But even at that, things are at a new normal.

Every day at work, I'm wearing a mask, and sometimes gloves, to keep me, my co-workers and the customers safe from the coronavirus.  I'm required to answer health questions and have my temperature taken each morning at the start of every shift.  Retail stores are forced to limit the number of shoppers in a store.  In some places, folks have to wait in line to get inside and make their purchases.  

Supplies of everyday goods, such as toilet paper, paper towels, cleaning chemicals are all slowly rising back up.  Some days, you can get what you want, other days if you need something, you settle for a different brand of some things.  Food supplies are leveling out as well.  In April, our store shelves were completely wiped out of canned goods, most meats, fresh vegetables weren't available every single day.   There are still some days where you have to settle for something you might not have normally bought in the past. 

Grandma finally took herself out shopping for groceries after not leaving her house for three months! Incredible, and quite hard to believe.  In addition, she hasn't had any of the family "hanging out' at her house, so she's alone many days.  I worried about her getting depressed, so I made sure that I would read or listen to some kind of news to have things to discuss on the phone.  We've been chatting almost an hour every day now.  

Our first monsoon was before June 1, so about two weeks earlier than normal.  Our high temps - extreme heat over 110 degrees - was also about two weeks early.  I'm afraid this will be one of the hottest summers on record, or the wettest.  Or both.

I had a major breakdown on the first day of our heatwave.  I opened the back door, and a waft of that hot air hit me in the face, and I was right back to that awful day last summer.  I sat down and cried.

But what hurts the most is not having you here to share all this with.  We used to have good convos about life events, and the weather.  I miss your jokes about whatever topic was around.  I miss sharing our same likes when it comes to people, and customers.  

Let's face it. 
I just miss you.  

Very much.

Love, Mom

I cry

Dear Brian:

It's Friday, and I'm off work because I am covering the next 5 days for Reena, who is off on vacation.  Not that anything is a vacation these days, just time away from work, since we're all still stuck at home in so many cases.   This COVID thing is still making people a little bit crazy ... except for me.  Things for me seem very normal -- I go to work and then I'm a home-body and enjoy my solitude!

But it's been a rough week for me.  It feels as if every time I turn around, there's a reason to think about you and I get sad all over again, my heart breaks, I cry.  I can't believe you you chose your way out.  No matter how strong you think I am, it's not the same without you.  I was strong because I needed to be, for my kids.  Now there's not as much reason.  

But I keep going because that's what I do.

How I wish ....

How I wonder ....

But I will never know.

I love you

Mom