Sorrow Walked With Me

Last Thanksgiving seems so long ago. Nick was here with us. He was still recovering from his bone marrow transplant. He was out of the hospital and although it had been a rough couple of months in the IPOP, Nick seemed to be headed in the right direction. Nick was feeling pretty good and I remember he had a pretty enjoyable time hanging out with family and just being Nick. He even played some basketball!! I remember freaking out when he came in all winded and short of breath, but, he was happy. I wish I could say that there were more happy times to come. I wish I was going to have the future with my son that I always dreamed I would have, that all of us dreamed we would have. Those dreams and hopes are gone forever and yet, I am still having trouble comprehending this reality. I am sure I will never be the same. Words cannot express how I continue to miss my sweet son. To me it doesn't matter what day it is, what holiday it might be. Thanksgiving is no different than any other day. I miss my son to the core of my being, it is an ever present force in my life, a hole in my heart, an ache in my chest, and a pervasive sadness that colors everything in my world. Today as Glenn fixed dinner, I thought of Nick and how he would have helped his Dad peel potatoes or cut celery. I thought of how Nick would have so enjoyed being with his family this year and sitting down together to eat such a wonderful meal. He so loved his food after all he went through with his illness. We all wanted Nick to be with us this year. We wanted him to be on the mend and healed. We wanted so much for Nick to be able to move forward with his life, for he had so much to give and he was so willing to give it. We wanted him to be here with us forever and always.

I love you my beautiful son. I miss you with all of my heart. I long to hold you in my arms and never, ever, let you go.

"Along the Road"

I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chattered all the way.
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow
And ne'er a word said she;
But oh, the things
I learned from her
When Sorrow
Walked with me.

~ Robert Browning, Poet

Turn To Stone

This post is not very coherent, which actually reflects the usual state of my mind these days. So here are the random thoughts that have come to me.

My life is like this photograph. I live in black & white and every now and then a spot of color jumps out at me. I like to keep flowers in the house. It always made me sad that Nick couldn't have live flowers. I remember during one of his times in the hospital, I bought a bunch of fake flowers and put them in a vase. They were pretty, but, not the same as real. Now I buy a bouquet and split it up between Nick's bedroom and the living room. The Bonsai trees we bought for Nick's memorial are thriving, but, they are sad reminders of yet another thing that Nick never got to do. Nick always wanted a Bonsai tree. He never got around to picking one out. I wish he had. When I get flowers, I like to get white ones, I guess because the color white reminds me of angels and Heaven and clouds and the innocence of our lives before we lost our wonderful Nickolas.

I have a book where the year is broken down into months and each month is broken down into days. The purpose of the book is to write down important dates like birthdays, anniversaries, and deaths. The tears blurred my vision as I wrote my son's death date in that damn book. I don't want my son's name in that book for a death date. I want it to be in there for his wedding anniversary and the birth of his children, for happy reasons. Not for this horrible reason.

I was going through a box of cards. I am in the mood to throw shit away. What's the use of being sentimental? I found a letter that Nick wrote to us in February of 2006. He was in Savannah, Ga. for his work. He wrote the letter with a calligraphy pen (he was trying to learn how to do calligraphy) and that was something he wanted to get better at doing. He had even asked me to bring his calligraphy pens and ink to the hospital. But, HE NEVER GOT TO USE THEM!!! The letter makes my heart happy and sad at the same time. I cannot tell you how much it means to find things he has written to us in his own hand and words. It is better to see the actual letter but, here is what he said.

Family,
I write you from Savannah, Georgia
It is a most beautiful city
with warm charm & charisma.
I have little skill with this pen and am covered in ink.
I miss you all and is the reason for this letter.
It's nice to be on the road, but, it's quite lonely.
Hopefully, I'll talk to you soon.
your loving son & brother, Nick

Then he drew some funny pictures of him with crazy hair and a beard and a sun shining down.
Now it makes me sad thinking...why didn't I call him more, why didn't I talk to him more? Why must I have these regrets? I miss him SO MUCH every single moment of the day. I see his scrawly handwriting and it reminds me of all the writing he did during his last month at the hospital when he couldn't talk anymore. I cannot even look in that book right now, for it will tear me apart.

I have a lot of anger, impatience and sadness bottled up inside of me. I must expend a lot of energy trying to keep my mind a blank while I am out and about. I don't stay away from home for very long. I cannot be away from the house for too long without getting antsy. I cannot explain half of what I am experiencing and I am endlessly trying to figure out how to get it all out. I don't know what to DO to fix this, since the only thing I want is for Nick to come back. I have decided that I have a lot of sad and dare I say traumatic memories of the fifteen months spent taking care of Nick. I don't know what I am supposed to do to work through all these feelings. Those bad experiences are the worst and when I think about them I get really upset. I am going to the doctor in early December, hopefully she can refer me to someone who can help.

I went to my second meeting with the Compassionate Friends group. It is a good group of people who happen to be mourning the loss of their children. I wish I didn't belong there, but, I lost my child and therefore I have a lifetime membership. I like the group because we all share the same horrible loss. Our stories may be different, but, the pain of the loss is the same. They have been there, they are still there, we will always be there. We are all traveling this road together and yet, it's quite lonely. I long for my handsome and sweet son to return to his family. WE ARE ALL HURTING SO MUCH. I miss his company and his good heart. I want to hear his voice and feel his arms giving me a great big hug. I want to be able to go to bed at night without crying when I turn out the light to his room and leave him alone in the darkness. I want to wake up and find that he is with me. I know this will never happen and my world seems forever black and white.

"He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels." ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence - o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
And memory, like a drop that, night and day,
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
~Thomas Moore

Missing You Baba Looey

Three months and our hearts still break
Three months and we feel still feel the pain of your loss as if it was only three days.
Three years and we will still feel the hole your passing has left in our lives.
How many days will I mourn for you my son?
I don't know the answer. I am so sad without you.
I hate that you had to be the one that got leukemia. Some days I still cannot believe that it is real. Did all this really happen to you? To all of us? Why, why, why? I hate that you died. I hate the day you died. I hate odd numbers and I hate the number 13! What kind of a day is August 13th? That is not a good enough day. It is a day that now sucks every time it rolls around on the calender. I am not superstitious. Friday the 13th means nothing but a day of tears and disbelief that another month has gone by and still I cannot wake up from this nightmare.

At the hospital Nick had a dry erase board in his room. The nurse would write the date and his or her name. But, we always drew pictures (Kate drew the best pictures) for Nick to look at and we would write messages there for him to read. There is a dry erase board in Nick's bedroom now. I write on it sometimes. I wrote this a while ago and it hasn't been changed in a while.

My dearest Nickolas,
I miss you so much.
I miss your smile.
I miss your hugs.
I miss your bright eyes.
I miss giving you hugs and holding your hand.
I miss your gentle spirit and your welcoming soul.
I love you more than a wagon full of puppies. Mom

"...I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived til I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think that I will ever get over you.
Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years." ~ Colin Hay

Falling Apart

Well my computer crashed the other day...just like my life crashed almost three months ago. The diagnosis was a busted hard drive. After much rumination decided to just get a new computer. Just like that...presto, chango, new computer. But, I don't know how to do everything on this computer. I HATE IT! I have no patience for this sort of BS. Short fuse, getting shorter. My stomach has been hurting a lot lately. I wish I could get a new hard drive for my life. Sara had a dream about Nick last night. I was very jealous. She said that Nick had come into her room to look at her paintings. I always ask if it was "sick" Nick or well Nick. She said he was well and looked good. It made me happy that she got to see him. It made me sad that I didn't. I rarely have dreams anymore. Nick & I often talked about this when he would have dreams. Sometime near the end, he would have bad dreams. This would make me so sad. Nick never used to have bad dreams. I want to see him so badly. I want him to come home. Please come home Nick. I miss you so. Mom

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.” William Butler Yeats

The Darkness Shall Be Light

I picked this picture because it is dark, but it also has its own beauty. If you look closely you can see it. Nick wanted to be buried under a tree. This is the kind of tree I picture. He is not buried under a tree. His ashes are with me. I don't know when I will be able to let him go. Maybe in the spring. Maybe never.

Every day I miss Nick more than words can express. The pain never goes away. I might not be thinking about it for a brief stretch of time, but, it never goes away. I am fully convinced it never will. I cry every day...random thoughts, visions, pictures, music, stories, will send me straight to my dark place and my heart will hurt so much. I feel like I will never fill this void, no matter how hard I try. I don't really want to fill it.
I WANT MY SON BACK. I am still retreating. I don't want this reality that I must face every single freaking day. I continue to go through each day as I guess I must. I don't want to do anything. I want to lay in my bed and drown in my own sorrow, but, then I might get accused of not "allowing my grief to change." God for-effing-bid that I should get stuck in some crazy phase of grief, like a needle sticking on a record and scarily repeating over and over until everyone gets so fricking sick of it that they tear the needle off the record player and break the record into a thousand pieces. Did I mention I WANT MY SON BACK!" I want to be happy again, I want to look forward to watching his life unfold. I want to see him get married and have kids and live his life. I want to see everything he is going to do with all that good humor and intelligence. I want to see him teasing his sister and rough housing with his Dad. I want to be able to look forward to the upcoming holidays instead of DREADING them. I don't want memories, I WANT NICK TO COME HOME. I want to wake up in the morning and not have my first thought be that my son is still gone. I want to walk by his room and see his smiling, not the box filled with his ashes. Can anyone out there imagine that kind of pain? I hope you never have to know.

I remember the time right after his BMT when I had to go in and give him his medicine in his IV and I think about how he always told me he loved me and thanked me for taking such good care of him and then I just cry and cry. I miss him so much. I just want to go back. I want a re-do and I can't have one. I cannot accept that. I cannot fathom my world without him. I still feel like a zombie. Went for a stress test the other day...chest pain. Back in a hospital, sitting there waiting, memories of my time spent with Nick flooding back...wheelchairs with oxygen, hospital beds rolling down hallways with patients buried up to their ears in equipment; holding back the tears until I can get to my car. Stress test was normal. Really? Hey, that's great, don't give a crap anyway. I guess the scanners don't pick up on hearts with big holes in them.

I said to my soul be still, and wait without hope;
For hope would be hope of the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the the wrong thing; there is yet faith.
But the faith, and the love, and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
For the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. ~T.S. Elliot

Swim Out Past The Longing So Deep

It matters nothing what they did to you
The storm is over, the wreckage through
Leave them in your wake, no more for you to take
Be like the sea

If it hurts your heart, cast it up on the shore
Let it go forever, ceart go leor
Wash away the sorrow, the tears of no tomorrow
Be like the sea

The sea, the sea, dive with me
We'll lose these rags we're wearing and be
Like the sea, the sea, wild and free
We'll swim out past the longing so deep

Down below these waves in the deepest depth
There are echoes sounding true as your breath
The still, small voice in you, the endless open blue
Be like the sea

Go on forever, shine out in the sun
The full a tá sé everyone
Dance yourself around, give up the small ground
Be like the sea

The sea, the sea, dive with me
We'll lose these rags we're wearing and be
Like the sea, the sea, wild and free
We'll swim out past the longing so deep
Away out past the longing so deep

Dark Place

Let me explain.
This is not me you see.
My body has fallen to the ground.
Do you see me there?
The pain overwhelms and I want to hide from eyes that cannot see.
As I lie here on the cold ground, I wonder how it will feel tomorrow, next week, next month, next year...how it will feel forever?
Stuck between mind-numbing shock and overwhelming sadness.
I cannot find the energy to get up.
Staring into space, caught in a web of unending grief, helpless to move forward.
Only wanting to go back.
Back to my son's smile, his laughter, his bright eyes, and his gentle soul.
Back to the days when he was healthy and strong.
Back to a time before time stopped and I was set adrift alone and afraid.
Still lying lifeless on the ground.
What will I do now?
It is a ghost you see walking around in my shoes.
She is not me.
She is going through the motions.
Don't think she is "over it."
She is just marking time until the next
nauseating wave of loss washes over her.
Hurry home.
Find a safe place to release all the pain in a flood of tears.
Am I still lying on the ground by the dark house with the gloomy sky?
Yes.

"We can see the smoke of a burning home,
but who can know of a burning heart." ~Malay saying

"The passions of the heart are not always visible, particularly when we are suffering a severe loss. Survivors often say they wish they could wear a sign or a badge to signal to other people how damaged they feel. Grief is isolating and it is deceptive. Sometimes a person who seems perfectly fine on the outside is going through extraordinary inner torment day after day, hour after slow hour."

Excerpt from the book "A Time To Grieve - Meditations For Healing After The Death Of A Loved One" by Carol Straudacher