Enter the Cuckoo's Nest

Well, it's hit me; At least it seems that way. I could do it today, I could leave this place and never return and never miss it. All I want is my son. All I want is to see him, to hear him, to put my arms around him and hold him tight, to tell him that I love him, that I'm proud of him.

Do you know what it's like to want something so badly and at the same time know that you will never, ever have it? Nothing you do, no matter how hard you strive, no matter the prayers, the begging and pleading, the good deeds or simply asking, it will never ever be. We go insane from things of this nature…I’ve seen it happen, I feel it in my soul. Enter the Cuckoo's Nest, my lair of nefarious thoughts and ill repose, replete with danger, fraught with fear and horrific dreams; no longer free to live this life, I fight to be.

I don’t want to be, not here, not now.

I’ve no future, I’ve no hope, I’ve no dreams, I’ve nothing, nothing at all…

Comments

Shrines

People have amassed shrines for years. In Prague there is a wall dedicated to John Lennon; flowers and photos adorn the gates of Princess Diana’s home in London; an eternal flame shines for the unknown soldier; Shinto shrines celebrate wind, rain, mountains, trees and rivers; we bury our dead and mark the grave with a headstone….we want a marker of those things valuable and important to us. That is how we feel about our dead children; we don’t want our children to be forgotten, we must remember them, others must remember them. My son's boots are my shrine to him. His boots are the only thing left from his accident. They sit there, worn but whole, and I see him, I think of him, I remember him, I love him. His boots do that for me….they create an instant recall of him, his person, his character, his life. Don’t tell me to put the boots away, don’t tell me that is it unhealthy to hold on to things that recall his memory…it is...

Hunger

There is a vast void in my heart right now; just emptiness. I can't seem to collect my thoughts or make sense of much of anything. I don't have any desires, no wishes, no hopes, just a body devoid of life. It's like when you open the refrigerator and it's full of food and there is nothing in there you want to eat, so you shut the door and walk away yearning for something to satiate your hunger. I'm hungry and I know there is plenty of food out there to ease my hunger, but I don't want any of it. Yes, at times I can laugh and smile at things in life and I believe it is essential to embrace this life for what it is....embrace those you love, laugh with those who entertain you, cry with those who need comfort, and dance with those who celebrate. It hurts to embrace it, but it also comforts, it is the ultimate paradox. I receive comfort from helping others who are experiencing pain or grief, there is something palatable about being able to empathyze...

Looking at New Grief

I looked new grief in the face today. I hurt. I saw the pain, the hopelessness, the deep sorrow of grieving a child. His eyes were tired, and then he laid his head down on the mailbox that stood between us, my neighbor and me. The fatigue of grieving covered his face and his body was bent with the heaviness of it all. This is his second loss, the twin to the son he lost thirty years ago. This one comes with trapping and thoughts unlike the first. It’s hit him hard. There are no more children, his wife is dead. He’s alone. He’s lonely. He’s sad. I ache for him. I want to make it all better for him, but I know I can’t, this is his journey. He says I’m strong. He sees me breathing, walking, he believes me to be strong. I share that my times of wailing and crying are done in private, and it hurts so badly to open your heart and allow the sorrow to be, to know the absence, to acknowledge the death, to understand all that was lost and to have it seared into the soul and vanq...

Living with Loss

Search This Blog