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.

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

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

Holiday Tree

Dear Brian,

The holidays are coming up really quick - like they always do!  I don't usually put up the tree, but I did this year.  I used the stairs you built for Sadie to set it on because I cant put it in the bay window -- that's Sadie's spot!  Not too many ornaments on it, but the lights are cheerful, and I need some of that.

I boxed up gifts for the family,  getting them ready to send off.  It's been an effort for me, but I have to make the effort.  Otherwise it would be too easy to just be a couch potato watching TV and doing nothing.

I also boxed up all your Legos. There's a website to print a sticker and send them back to the Legos folks; they recycle them to under privileged kids.  I thought that would be fitting for the huge box that you have.  I hope you approve. 

Work has been hectic and keeps me busy - sorta busy.  There's work to do, but when work runs low, it's hard to find "busy work" to keep going.  Used to be we could go home early when work was slow, but now if you clock in or out early, you get "points" against your attendance.  Accumulating points takes away from whatever quarterly bonus there might be.  It's pretty sad that it's all so black and white, with no input regarding the person or their circumstances.  Back in the 80s I told myself I wanted to work for a Fortune 500 company -- and now that I do?  Well, the grass isn't always greener ..... *sigh*

I force myself to keep busy so that I don't dwell on missing you.  And when I can't get up the gumption to keep busy, I don't do anything -- the TV keeps me company during those days.  Lately I've taken to watching MASH.  Not sure why I find that OK, but it works.  For now. 

I cooked bacon wrapped potatoes today ... makes the house smell terrific. They went well with the tri-tip burger I had for supper. 

Sadie has taken to sitting on my lap often, and I'm not sure why.  It's kinda cute, especially now that the cold weather is here -- it keeps me warm! 

I started a To Do list so that I can keep track of things I think need to be taken care of, and being able to cross things off the list makes it feel as if I'm getting things accomplished. 

Because we're all working "Brown Thursday", I'll get my 15% discount next Friday.  I have a list of things I'd like to get then, including a carpet cleaner for pets.  Going out and renting the Rug Doctor isn't so easy when you're not here to help. 

I miss you every day, not just for doing things, but your humor, your laughter and the joy of having another person in the house.   I'd better close this and get ready for bed -- tomorrow will be a long shift from noon to 11pm.  YICK

love,
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

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

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!

If .... Then Tell Them!

Dear Brian,

I gotta tell ya, trying to "close out" someone's life isn't very easy!  In fact, it can be downright frustrating!!  There's the credit card companies who need to be told, your bank who keeps using the excuse that your account is "on hold".  You kept everything private, and there's no way for me to know anything or even check on anything at this point.  I know that soon I will get to that "fuck it" point and just let the bank keep the money; can't be that much in there.

I keep getting glimpses of moments that I wish I could forget; I'll be reading a book and something in there will happen, and it will make me think of your choosing death by suicide rather than trying to work something out.  I didn't walk in your shoes, so I don't know, and I won't judge.  But damn, son, it's rather hard to "be strong" like you asked us to do. 

So I just keep on remembering you as you were, and trying to post those stories and pictures every day.  I don't want anyone to forget you, forget what you meant to us.  Maybe we didn't say it often enough.  I thought we did, but now I wonder.  Now you're not here and I'm left wishing I'd said it more often.

The doctor prescribed sleeping meds for me, to see if that helps me out.
I'm going to try my first one tomorrow night -- don't want to try and work if there's some kind of "sleep hangover" from them.  I'll let you know!

Love,
Mom

Treasured Memories

Dear Brian:

There's nothing more special for me right now than to discover a pile of old photos!  I was cleaning out one of my "treasure boxes" and found a few more.  I look at them and remember all the things we used to do! 




Here's a photo of the pumpkins we carved while camping out at Big Basin, which was a great place to go for a quick little get-away weekend.  The smile on your face must mean you were having a great time!

While I know that I'll be ... troubled when thoughts of you drift into my head in the dark of night, I'm trying to be reasonable, knowing full well that it's part of the process.  Will I ever get "over" this?  I think not.   But I'm praying that I arrive at some kind of peace; to be able to accept that your choice is what you felt necessary.  I'll always believe different: that with some talking and some care, things would have gotten better. 

I started attacking that overgrown tree in the backyard.  Not sure I'll be able to finish doing the digging out of the root ball, but as with everything now that I"ll be doing alone:  a little at a time!


I'll be posting a few of your old photos found on the website ForeverMissed.com and telling the story behind them.  It's been fun being able to share.  But I'm a little sad about it too.  I don't think your dad and I know Grandma just can't look at your photos and stories.  They're so sad.  Grandma told me she had a photo of you from Anthony's wedding that she put in a frame, but she can't bear to look at it.  Which makes me sad as well. 

I want her, I want everyone to remember you
as you were, just like you asked us to.
Which is why I just keep writing .....
Love you always, son!
Mom

Another Saturday

Dear Brian:

Here we are, another Saturday.  At least that what my FitBit tells me.  I feel like I never know what day it is.  After 10 years at the same position, my store decided to make it mandatory that we are off Sat And Wed.  Which means I have two Mondays, and two Fridays.  It also makes it feel like I never have a day off.  Oh well, I need this job for just a little bit longer.  Hurry up retirement!

I tried hanging the frames I put your old Metallica T-shirts in, but I didn't like the arrangement.  I've laid it out several different ways, and still don't like it.  Maybe I'm trying to make it too ... squared up and I need to just start from the center and work my way out, hanging them hodgepodge.  Because that seems more like you anyhow.  OCD is one thing, but looking good is another! hehe

Sadie and I took a long walk today, first around the block, then I stuck her in the stroller and walked another half hour.  It was good for her, can't wait for cooler weather so we can walk after work again.  I think that might help.  With a lot of things.

Every now and then out of the blue - usually in the late night hours or wee morning hours - that images of you swim through my mind and it's both wonderful and painful at the same time.  It's hard not to think about our choice, and harder still to accept that you won't be coming back through my front door. 

I should try and get something actually accomplished today.
I'm still adjusting to everything.
Missing you,
Mom

SOS - A Month Afterward

SOS - Survivors of Suicide
I've been doing a lot of reading and note taking about suicide, or more so, about being a survivor of suicide.    Suicide is such a mess.  It is unbelievable how one person's decision can affect so many lives.   Even as we begin to understand our loved one killed them self in a desperate attempt to end their pain, we often feel that their anguish has not been extinguished but simply passed on to us.

In my own case, my son left a trail of bills to contend with.  He also had just broken up with his girlfriend of 3+ years, causing him to move back home.  A month after, he started dating someone else.  When the ex found out about his dating, it is my belief that she started hounding my son, perhaps making him feel guilty (and he shouldn't have felt any! He's the one who had to vacate the home he'd been living in!)  After Brian died, I was hounded by both of these women!  First they resorted to sending me text messages, then trying to "friend" me on FaceBook.  His ex also had people leaving notes on my car two separate times.  I finally had to send her a text that read "My son DIED!  Please leave me alone to grieve in peace."

The "what ifs" plague survivors of suicide.  A person's decision to end their life is solitary and unconnected to survivors of suicide.  When we accept that it was their choice alone is when we can move past the what if's.  I've done my share of them, wondering if only I'd said "this" or noticed "that".   The loss of a child is devastating.  Suicide is an act of violence - not only against yourself, but against others, the ones left behind to deal with it all.

Sometimes we feel guilty because of what our loved one did;  it shouldn't affect how we think of them or remember them.  That's why I keep writing to Brian, and logging stories as I recall them on a website , to keep him alive in my mind the way he was, and not focusing on his last action.

Suicide leaves in its wake a tremendous sense of confusion and displacement for those of us left behind.  Family members who have lost a loved one to suicide are blamed and avoided more often than relatives of people who have died under other circumstances.  This can reinforce the quiet and self blame that already preoccupies survivors of suicide.  The irrationality of suicide leaves the survivor no room for definitive resolution.

The roller coaster of emotions following a suicide causes intense feelings of isolation and a breaking apart from all that once seemed familiar.  Survivors of suicide experience a wide range of often contradictory emotions following the suicide of a loved one, it's impact alters our lives forever.

There is no easy way to eradicate the pain of grieving.  The toll that suicide exacts on its survivors is very high.   Oddly, my son's final note said that he knew I was strong, and that he wanted me to be happy.  For those of us who have been left behind, the legacy of suicide lies not in reconciling ourselves to inevitable defeat, but in recognizing that our spirit of survival remains both resilient and intact.

My life was forever changed July 2, 2019, but somehow I will survive. 
I know in my heart that my son didn't want to die forever,
just on that day, when he had been in so much pain.

A Little Luck and Fewer Piles

Dear Brian,

I think your good luck rubbed off on me!  I'm a part of a group that teaches and trains how to change your lifestyle for a more healthy one.  It's text based, you answer questions and participate that way.  Every time you answer a question correctly, your name goes in for the drawing for a $250 gift card -- and I won one!!!!!   Used it today at Walmart -- 2 weeks groceries and 2 pairs of Levi's for work = $0 out of pocket. 

I just posted the photos of your trip to Space Camp in Alabama (1999) and it brought back such good memories.  You were a little apprehensive about going, but Judy (your vision teacher) was going along, so I knew you'd be OK.  Once you came back, you didn't stop talking about all the cool things you got to see and do.  From the photos, it looks like it was a fantastic opportunity!

I started tackling some of the "little piles everywhere" -- but I keep getting distracted.  I started unloading the dishwasher and ended up re-doing the silverware drawer and the plastics shelf.  I think I have too many of all of these things now! lol  But we'll just keep things as they are for now.  I started cleaning out in the garage.  Alonzo has your bike and bike parts.  He will be able to use it to go back and forth to school, same some $$ on gas, even if it isn't every day.  Dumped out your fuels into kitty litter.  Sorted out some of the nuts, bolts and washers that were in every tool drawer lol  Now they're all back in their compartments!

They've changed my work schedule and now my two days off are Sat and Weds.  WTF is up with that?  Not what I signed up for .....  if there was a way I could retire right now, I would.  Right now isn't the time to be making changes.  Wish it was! I've been pondering options - moving to CA, or to Tucson.  Or staying in town, getting something smaller, maybe in a 55+ community.  It's too soon, but if you can foresee something ... let me know, ok?  :)

Time to get back to the rest of the little piles ....
Love,
Mom

Every Little Story

Dear Brian,

It's been a moody week for me; I move from task to task as best I can, but multi-tasking is beyond me and each interruption is like a burr under a saddle -- irritating as all get out.  My mind doesn't stay on any one thing, and I find I need to constantly check that I haven't lost or misplaced anything.  I've already lost my debit card, a booklet that I read every day and found comforting.  I set things down and can't remember where I left them, and I wander around doing tasks and only half complete them.  Not that many of the chores at home matter -- if they don't get done today, tomorrow is another day!

The family is worried, so I promised to see my doc.  That's next Thursday.
Today was the day I had the oil changed and tires rotated on the car at Earnhardt.

But in between the ordinary, every time I remember a story about you, I stop whatever I'm doing and write it down.  I've been posting them on www.forevermissed.com/brian-court .  Because I can't bear the thought that no one else will know you as well as I did.  You were an awesome son, intelligent and humorous; you didn't show all these things to every person.  You kept a lot of your thoughts to yourself, and let little bits shine through.  Anyone who got to see those little bits was special!

Your Uncle Dave asked me for something of yours to have.  It was easy enough to decide.  The knife that was your grandfather's ... he has that now and will pass it to Christopher or Anthony some day.  I also sent him a guitar pick, and your shot glasses from the Corvette factory - he collects shot glasses!  As I was gathering up things, I noticed your VW hot wheels with the Nickelodeon logo on it, he just bought himself a cute little VW to drive around town.  He sent me a text and thanked me for sharing. 

Tomorrow is Friday, and I'm thankful, it's been a long week.  But work is messing with my schedule -- isn't it always that way in retail ??   So I'm off Saturday and Wednesday for the next two weeks.  Ugh.  Sadie misses you, and seems to be lonely when I'm at work.  She wandered in your room and took a nap in there Tuesday. 

Just a few tidbits to share with you!
I miss you always,
Love, Mom