Living with Loss

I can't seem to stop my mind from racing with all sorts of thoughts.  Mostly, I think of Wyatt.  The grieving process is so challenging.  I'm still not sure of what I should be doing or feeling right now.  I'm so afraid I'm going to wake up one day and the world will crash in on me...I keep waiting for it. Waiting for the world to stop....but it doesn't. I walked outside the other day and there he was, I walked in the house and there he was, I sat at the dining room table and there he was, I looked up at the sky and there he was.  I see my son everywhere. I feel his presence at the most needed times.  Yes, I talk to him.  Yes, he answers me; the way the light shines, the chirp of a bird, the moon in the sky, the rain on my face...he speaks to me through God's world in God's language. I know he is not physically present, but he is still so real to me, so here.  I wrote a poem a while back that said, "nothing can separate you from me."  I believe

Why did you come knocking at my door, why did you come here?  My house was so quiet and nice, there was peace here. There was no one we opposed, we harbored no ill will nor nefarious thought.  Simplicity and comfort was all we wished, to live with each other in peace and kindness, commune with nature and live in this world with little force.  Why did you come knocking at my door?  I've no bone to pick with you.  I've been good and paid my dues.  I raised my son to be good and right.  He harbored ill toward none and harmed not one.  He was good and right.  Why did you come knocking at my door? 

I left work today around 5:30 and as I walked outside the moon was sitting in the sky. There it was, telling me hello, telling me "I'm OK Mom." It was my sign, my little miracle moment; in that instant I knew Wyatt was with me.  We have to listen for those miracle moments. Sometimes they don't speak as loudly as others. There is not always a billboard saying,  "Hey, I'm here!  Hello!" But today, the moon told me, without question that Wyatt was good, Wyatt was telling me he was OK, telling me that he loved me, telling me that all was good. I need that today, and as usual, Wyatt was there for me. My little miracle moment.

I was thinking about death, those whom I've lost and how that changes my life.  It's more than just the intense longing for their presence, that is just painful, it's the loss of my past and my future that is so difficult to deal with.  I miss my son, I miss my step-brother, I miss my step-father, I miss my father.  I miss their presence in my life.  I miss their contribution to my life and all the things they brought to the feast. It was their personalities, their lives, their contributions, their love, their compassionate and giving natures that made me who I was, without them I am simply not the same person...and now they are all gone.  That makes me wonder who I am.  Frankly, I'm just not sure anymore.

Life seems to be an abyss right now, it seems to have swallowed me whole, covered me in a heavy sadness and shrouded my view of the living.  I hate my existence. I hate where I am, who I am, what I do and everything that goes with it. I hate my obligations. I want to run away, turn aside everything that is familiar and known and go toward all that is foreign and new. It is the "where I was" that is so painful to me...it is all I want, to be "where I was" and it is the only thing in this world that I absolutely can not have.  This time and place is so unbearable, it's an indescribable agony.  Day after day, I work so hard to hold back the floodgates and let the world think I'm OK.  I'm not OK.   I look at photographs of my beautiful boy, my wonderful, gorgeous, handsome, kind, generous beautiful boy and I can't stand the thought that he's gone. How can that be?  I can't bring myself out of this bad place anymore, not only that, I don't wan

Perhaps, they are not stars But rather openings in Heaven, Where the love of our lost ones Pours down through and shines upon us To let us know they are happy. I find comfort in these words. Those times when I miss Wyatt so deeply, I can go outside at night and look at the sky with its bright moon and sparkling stars. He is there; I can feel his comfort around me, the presence of love and and an embrace that time can not steal.  He sits in the night sky and watches over me and says, "I love you mom. I'm OK. Go, do good things." Then I say to him, "I love you son, I love you so much and I miss you.  I love you and I'm so proud of you."  We say goodnight and then I smile and go inside knowing my son is always with me.

We often think time is healing, that the passage of time itself will somehow scab over the wound and heal our shattered lives. It doesn’t.   Time does not heal, it passes.   Time is selfish; time thinks not for anyone or anything, it just is.   With time, civilians, those who have not lost a child, often believe we revert to our old selves, we somehow return to “normal.” Such belief is so flawed.   It would seem human nature is to believe we are so resilient a creature that we can transform ourselves into whatever we wish regardless of what tragedy befalls us.   Ain’t so; I lost normal on January 1, 2010 at 2:42 pm.; normal will never again be a part of my existence. There is a feeling I get that tells me…people believe I have or at least should have moved on with my life.   Again I say, time passes; there is no healing here, just time. I get up every day and go to work.   I go about my daily routine and handle all the crap life has to throw at me.   I trudge through the slime of life