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