On grief and loss

Right now, I'm wondering how anyone 'gets over' significant losses. I know time is supposed to ease pain, but I also know from experience, that is not always the case. The losses I suffered in the last 5 weeks are different to me than losing my grandmother almost 10 years ago. That loss took me 8 years to even remotely come to grips with. I truly lost myself when I lost her. I'm trying desperately to NOT let that happen to me again, but lately I feel myself faltering in so many ways. I feel I've lost my twinkle, my spark, my happy zest for life. And that scares me (but I guess it's a good thing I recognize that? Perhaps?).

I wake up each morning with a certain sense of dread. I know it’s not healthy, so spare me the advice on that, but it’s an accurate fact of my life over the last 5 weeks. I am truly thankful for everyone’s outreach and to my closest friends who have listened to me vent my heart aches....you will never know how much I truly appreciate that. I was told, by a very good friend, that “Maybe you're not supposed to be the same. Loss is inevitable. It's too soon to even begin to get through it. You haven't even had all the services yet. Even then it wont be the time. It needs to marinate. His life had meaning and it deserves to be mourned.” These words hold true for both the loss of Billy AND my grandma. This is a raw and unequivocal grief. And I am walking it alone, at my own pace with all the feelings and emotions that come with it. I still have my good moments and my not so good moments (this morning is the latter of the two) but I keep one prayer in my heart daily, and that is the prayer that I will, eventually, find my peace through all of this. My grief is my grief. 

Grief is both a universal and a personal experience....while everyone experiences loss in their lives, their loss is individual, as I was recently reminded by another dear friend of mine, who experienced a grief of his own not that long ago. Everyone experiences grief at some point in their lives, however, HOW you cope with it is your own, personal experience. Grief, for me, comes in waves and at times, I struggle to keep myself above the water. It knocks me down, tosses me around in the surf like a ragdoll, and just when I feel like I've got my footing about me and can escape it's pounding, it hits me again, and the cycle starts all over. At our teacher in-service on Monday, my supervisor went around the room, asking everyone 'How are you coping with daily stresses? What are YOU doing for YOU to keep you from slipping into the abyss?' I lost it. I sat and cried, unable to answer her question, because in all reality, I haven't been doing ANYTHING for me. I feel like my sole (soul's) purpose right now is to be whatever my husband needs me to be for him. In doing that, I've not truly allowed myself to fully grieve. I grieve in private (which I know is ok...but sometimes I need to be able to cry into someone's shoulder, too). I accept that I own my own grief. Only I truly understand where my grief comes from, how deep the loss hurts, how I am going to cope, and how to navigate the stages of grief, that I feel I have no control over. Sometimes, I just need to be able to grieve WITH someone instead of alone.

I just need everyone to be patient with me and know that just because I may smile and seem ok, I am far from it. Be strong FOR me because I certainly haven’t been very strong for myself.....

Not everything happens for a reason

I’ve had many trials in my 46 years on this earth. Life has not been perfect OR easy, this much I can attest to. One thing people constantly want to offer as support is, “everything happens for a reason” when trying to ‘comfort me’ over the many hardships life seemed to throw my way lately. This past month has been no exception. It seems to be the phrase that everyone uses in the hopes that what I've experienced was somehow for my benefit and it would make me a better person, or a stronger person, OR to just simply test my faith. Guess what, people? There isn’t solace in those words, that phrase, the assumption that everything that has happened in the past month happened ‘for a reason’, as if I ‘deserved’ what happened in some way or another. Nope. I’m not buying it and I’m done with that phrase. The loss of Billy is not a test. It is not a lesson to be learned. It is not a gift of some sort. IT IS A HUGE GUT-WRENCHING LOSS. AND IT F*CKING HURTS.

There are trials and tribulations in life that you can easily ‘get over’, this much IS true and I'll gladly concede to that, however, there are other experiences in life that are permanent. They have no ending. You are forever stuck in them and clearly aware there is no escape from the pain and heartache that they bring with them. The only thing I can hope right now, is that time will (hopefully) bring a softening of the pain and heartbreak that we are left to bear for the rest of our lives. It feels as if the world has thrown the fastest curve-ball and it has gone straight through the body and soul, leaving a gaping hole that can never be pieced back together. A massive wound is left and it can’t ever be fixed, no matter how hard you try. This is the best example of what it feels like to lose a child, and even though my loss was that of a stepson, it does not lessen the blow. It doesn’t make this any easier to work through. There is no “moving on” or “getting over it” or even a solid 'reason' for why this has happened. There is no end.

Losing a child hurts like hell and I won’t pretend it is anything but awful, agonizing, devastating, gut-wrenching and heart-shattering. It isn't something I would ever want someone else to have to experience. "Everything happens for a reason” does NOT apply here. I’m sorry, but there will never be a good enough reason that Billy was taken from us. There won’t ever be a good enough reason for the memories that should have been made to be gone. There won’t ever be a good enough reason for everyone else’s lives to still go on as day in day out normal, but yet Billy’s life devastatingly stopped after 34 short years.

I know when people say “remember, everything happens for a reason” it is meant to somehow help cope with the loss. I completely understand that it is said out of love and from a good place. I understand people are at a complete loss of what to say.  Sometimes it is better to just be there with a listening ear, soft shoulder, a simple 'thinking of you' text, and an understanding that life will NEVER be the same for us again.

I will do what I can to keep Billy’s memory alive, always. Please do the same……..

One day at a time

First of all, happy 8 years to my Think Thankfully mindset. It was 8 years ago today that my nightly thankful posts began. So, happy 8 years of nightly posts expressing gratitude, even when it was hard to do so............ 

......and that quickly focus shifts to blog posts because writing is my only outlet right now. There are too many things swirling around inside my head (and my heart) and I feel like sometimes the only way to help get them out is to write, write, write. I don't always share my true feelings with people. I tend to keep things inside and just 'deal' with them on my own. I have moments where I can smile and laugh, and then in a quick second, I could just sit and cry.

If there is anything I've learned in the last 3 weeks, it is that major losses are extremely overwhelming. Experiencing two pretty significant losses in a span of 20 days has taken its toll on me. I am struggling terribly, but I am pretty sure it is just deep grief and not a depression. I put on a happy face, but it does not mirror what I'm feeling on the inside. I am struggling. I am struggling to make sense of things, to figure out how to grieve two people in two very different manners, to see a light at the end of the tunnel, to see a brighter future. Life has taken on a 'one day at a time' kind of mantra. Today is one of those days where I do not feel like being at work, I do not feel like being around people, and I do not feel like smiling. I'd much rather be at home, snuggled with my little dog, and letting the world go by with no expectations from me. That's the truth of my life right now.

So many people have told me that I am such a strong person. I can handle this because I am strong. Let me tell you, that is farthest from the truth right now. I do not feel strong. I do not feel like I 'can handle' this. It is hard for me to talk to people about this because, unless you've experienced a loss like this, (you know, two significant losses in a matter of three weeks time), you cannot even begin to imagine. Losing one has been heart shattering. Losing the other compounded the grief and intensified the feelings. Losing both has been a bit too much for me to handle. And I am ok admitting that. I'm not strong. I'm human. I'm trying to deal the best way I know how.

My husband amazes me with his ability to wake up every morning and tackle his days with, what appears to be, minimal darkness. He is the epitome of strength and reassurance. I'm truly in awe of him each and every day. That is not to say he isn't grieving. I know he is. I know this is a hurt that he will take with him every day of the rest of his life. I know my husband will not be whole again until he sees Billy again. I also know that my husband grieves for my grandmother, too. They had a special bond, the two of them. Up until the end of her life, she still made sure he knew that HE was going to get the 'red envelope' from her forever. But the grief we share for my grandmother's passing is so different that the intense sadness felt over Billy's passing. My grandmother lived almost 91 very full years. She had a long life, filled with many ups and downs, but one thing for sure, she was the best role model of what a strong woman looks like. Billy lived for 34 short years. He had so much life ahead of him. And in moments when I think abut this, it just doesn't seem fair. But life is the farthest thing from fair.

I was reminded that it is OK to take life one day at a time right now, considering what I've been dealt with the past three weeks. I was reminded that my light will shine through again, in time. I was reminded to be patient with myself. And I am trying.....it's just very hard.

One day at a time.......

California reflections

I'm struggling to juggle two huge losses in such a short period of time and I feel like I'm swimming in deep grief for one and a more shallow grief for the other. My heart breaks at the loss of my grandmother, just yesterday morning, but at the same time, my heart was prepared for this for a while. That doesn't make the loss of my last living grandparent any easier, but it gives me more comfort than the loss of Billy just 20 days prior.

This was written on September 29, 2019 as we flew from LAX to Newark.....

The past 10 days have been the longest days of my life. I was saying that to Nanda this morning before we left their apartment. Normally when you ‘go away’ it seems like such a short trip. You get there and in the blink of an eye you are packing up, ready to leave. Not this time. This has been the longest 10 days of my life. Last Friday seems soooooooo far in the past. There was no blink of an eye here.

We are currently flying 37,000 feet somewhere over the US en route to our home in Pennsylvania. I’m listening to my ‘Billy Playlist’ and trying to collect all my thoughts about this trip to California. I thought I could use this time to recall, reflect, and release some of the emotions that seem to have me trapped like a hamster running on its wheel with no real end in sight, thoughts turning and turning in my head with no way to get them out. I know that’s not healthy and as my dearest best friend told me on Friday, I need to get out of my own head and listen to my heart. All I can think about is the trip as a whole; the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. And perhaps that is ok.

From the time we hit San Diego on September 20 until this morning (September 29), we’ve been on a roller coaster of high points and low points and some extremely low points. There are parts of the past 10 days that I’d love to forget in their entirety, and while that would be so nice, I know that without the extreme low points I’d lose sight of the bigger picture and I’m pretty sure that is a more important thing to keep focused on.

We’ve been running on adrenaline and emotion and, quite honestly, it’s been absolutely draining. Together, we’ve had to do things that no parent should have to ever do. Together, we attended 3 California celebrations for Billy. Three. San Diego. Fullerton. San Bernardino. Together, we went to the California Dept of Vital Statistics to obtain death certificates - true gut punch as they were handed to us. Together, we greeted friends and listened to stories of Billy. Together, we cried. Together, we laughed. Together. 99% of the past 10 days was spent, together. As one.

But there was also a dark side. One I won’t write about because that is something I need to process and while I don’t think I’ll ever completely release it, I will not let it consume me, because I know that is not a healthy way to live. I have to try to remain the positive person I aim to be each day. As I type this out, a song by Needtobreathe is playing. It’s a song that I posted to Bill soon after Billy passed away. Forever on your side. It’s the reminder I need that regardless of the worst experience and absolute darkest place I had gone to this week due to some circumstances, I am forever on his side. And I will always be. I don’t know what’s around the bend, all I know is that my love, it knows no end.....

Music has always been a source of comfort and peace for me. I created this Billy Playlist of songs since his passing on September 10. I’ve also added songs to it that friends have shared with me, to help me cope with his death and everything that has come from it. As I listen to it, I smile and at the same time I feel the tears that have been bottled up, ready to fall from the corner of my eyes. And I think that’s ok.

I truly believe Billy placed people in my path during this difficult time so that I never was truly alone, even when I felt it. Jenny, Mike, Cam, Hallie, Big Steve, and even Joe and Nanda, even though I’d known Joe for about 12 years. Prior to California, there’s Nadya, in the OBX. All people who have been physically there for me but who, prior to Billy’s death, had only been names in stories or videos (except Joe and Nanda - they are family). The connections made with each of these individuals is something I will forever treasure and be thankful for.

I’m not sure if this will ever see the light of day or if I’ll keep it just for me to look back on, but an hour plus worth of writing and many songs later, my black hole of emotions doesn’t feel so dark anymore. And I know that’s a good thing.

As I look out the window at the vast expanse beyond the airplane window, I picture Billy in the clouds, grinning that Billy grin, and happy that I’m doing what I can to be whatever his dad needs right now and in the moments to come. I will miss my texts and reassurance when I needed medical advice or explanations. I will miss the joking about football. I will miss jah jah pizzas. I will miss his voice. I will miss his hugs. I will simply miss him.

I miss you, Kid. So very much.