Skip to main content

Hope

Wyatt would have been 23 this year. While his birthday has now passed, I can't help but feel multiple emotions about his death. I am trying, really trying, to not allow his death define my life; yet, as I breathe in those thoughts of gratefulness and thankfulness of being his mom, I breathe out the anger and resentment that I had to see my beautiful boy lay dead in a hospital bed and say goodbye to my only child. It's unacceptable to me, maybe even unfathomable.

Those first weeks and months after Wyatt's death, I told myself I would believe that he had gone on a long trip...Montana or Alaska or someplace he wanted to visit.  That following his visit he decided to live there and I would not see him for a very very long time. That he was in remote wilderness where he could not contact me nor I him.  He was just away. I know now that is probably not too uncommon for parents whose child dies, but I've also learned it is a useful coping mechanism that shepherds us through the dark haze of early grief. But the falseness of that belief has bubbled through what salve it may have previously brought and now the wound is festering with volatile emotions that seem to sting me at the most colloquial of things.

I've read a lot about grief.  Presently, I'm reading The Courage to Grieve by Judy Tatelbaum. Maybe it's too early to give judgement, but so far this book speaks to me.  It's not the story of a person's grief journey or the struggles of someone's pernicious life, it is about grieving and how the death of a loved one affects and impacts our being. I feel like she is describing me. That we often feel as if we can not take time to properly grieve and that we treat grief as if it were less powerful that is truly is. She gives three stages to grief: Shock, Suffering and Disorganization, and Aftershock and Re-organization. Just the categories make sense to me and I've not read it all yet.

I know I'm past the shock stage and probably still in the suffering and disorganization stage if I were to guess. But the thing is when you don't want to "re-organize" your life, it's a battle to take that step forward when all you want is to go back to that former life. I think I could re-organize this life if I had all the pieces of my former life.  Now, the future runs through my mind like prickly little events that one must suffer versus milestones to anticipate and enjoy. My future died on January 1, 2010...and I can't seem to make the present palatable enough to begin to re-organize the future. I will continue to hope that one day I'll want to live again and pray that just maybe one day hope will rise from the ashes of my life.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Seeing God Where I am

O God, who created all peoples in your image, we thank you for the wonderful diversity of races and cultures in this world. Enrich our lives by ever-widening circles of fellowship, and show us your presence in those who differ most from us, until our knowledge of your love is made perfect in our love for all your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.   Carolyn A. Rose I've had the distinct privilege in life to have traveled to various places, some vastly different from my home, and some quite similar.  Regardless of the magnitude of differences, I can always feel the uniqueness of the place. After a while, certainly I long for the familiar comfort of home... but I always return with a fuller heart and a more open mind. Then it's like a siren song calling me back to seek more, ask more, learn more and inwardly digest it to build me into a more understanding and compassionate being.  In a class I am taking, we were posed this question: How have ...

I AM

A little step away from my personal grief journey and a turn toward the current times.  As of today, over 100,000 humans around the world have died due to the worldwide pandemic of Coronavirus or COVID-19. People are isolated. Borders around the globe have closed. Schools are closed. Airlines are grounded. Massive amounts of food sits rotting unable to be distributed. People are hoarding and supply chains are stressed. Businesses have closed. Governments scramble. Hospitals are maxed.  Care centers are incubators of death.  Medical personnel are at higher risk than ever yet we demand more and more from them.  The bodies of the dead are left to rot on the streets, held in morgues, or turned into mass graves. Funerals and memorials are in abeyance. There is neither time nor place for grieving. Isolation is wicked. Tensions can be high and panic pervasive.    Blame begins. Anger festers to hatred.  The fragile nature of our ex...

That Dust again...

The death of an only child leaves an indelible mark on the soul. There is a vacant place in living that is never filled, never eased. I know that now; if I live to be 110, it will be true then. When your only child dies it's one thing, when your only child dies before he had children of his own, it's another thing.  I'm not saying any loss of a child is greater than another; on the contrary, they all come with unique challenges. It's just that that when life prances around shouting "look at me, look at me" with the young boy walking around the lake holding his mom's hand, grandma tucking her granddaughter in at night, graduation ceremonies and proms, tournaments, plays and recitals, weddings, new jobs, and babies, they all make it so painfully clear how my time with all of that is over. Stolen. With most things in this life we have a choice, but not this. This is not my choice. This is so different from something we choose, it's not what job to take or...