They Run

           My husband, kids, they also lost my son, and additionally, they lost me. I didn’t know it was happening, I didn’t see it in time. My grief had consumed me, and my relationships with it. At first I was angry, how can they leave me when all I am is sad? How dare they leave me because my heart is broken! 

           After calming myself, I realized my world had started to revolve around my grief, that I had been so immersed in my grief that I had been giving all my energy to it, and not to my family that was here. I’m sure they felt unloved. I’m sure they were angry, and lost. I was losing the people that I loved the most. I’m angry for slipping so far from myself. It’s a hard journey back, and I may have already lost, but I will not give up, one way or another I need to find me, before they run, before I can’t find my way back. 

        

Sometimes, you don’t cry

After losing a child, or when having PTSD, we tend to cry often. Small things may trigger a thought, a memory, or a feeling that has emotions tied to it so strong, all you feel is sadness. But sometimes, you don’t cry. 

       I cried, alot. I thought I would never stop crying. Then my tears turned into something else. Negativity, bad moods, silence, and just plain old anger. It didn’t go unnoticed, but very hard to stop. You can feel yourself doing it,  but can’t make it stop, just like the tears. Surprise, it’s a new way to grieve. Once you realize that, it only makes you angrier. I cried all the time, and then I stopped. I thought I was making progress, healing. Then came the anger, and just like that, I felt like I was at step one. I’m angry.  I’m angry that I lost my son, Im angry that he would be so careless with his life, I’m angry that it has affected my family both with his loss and with losing me in the process. I’m furious that I lost myself, and the person I used to be. 

              It’s the hardest road back, and you walk it alone. 

        

The prettiest one there

 I went to the cemetery today, to talk to my son. As I pruned his flowers and pulled any small weeds from around his stone, I started to look around. At the top of the cemetery hill were the older stones, all covered in lichen and barely able to be read. Some of the stones were not as old, but still had the look of a stone that had been still for awhile. I soon realized that those that were recently placed, had flowers and decorations, lights and coins placed around them carefully, as tokens of love from those left behind. Austin’s stone was this way. In fact, it was the prettiest one there. His mark on us still fresh, the sadness too. The older stones no longer had someone to care for them, there was no one there to grieve for some time. No flowers, coins or lights. But down the hill, not far away, is the prettiest one there. 

So many threats

What’s worse than an already paranoid, over reactive parent? A paranoid, over reactive parent during a pandemic.
We are in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic, and my son is a diabetic. It has been explained that diabetics are of great risk, and my fears are at an all time high. My days consist of bleaching the house and sanitizing any and all things that come from public places. What is this doing for my anxiety?! I haven’t slept well, I look at everyone as a potential threat, and I’m doing my best to control every movement in my home. I think of all the scenarios in which I could’ve missed something, or someone in my house gets sick, and what I would do. The short answer is,I don’t know, and that is terrifying . The one thing that a parent fears the most after losing a child, is to lose another. The fear that courses throughout a mom that cannot completely protect their child, is like no other fear known.
                  I have had many nights, after bedtime, thinking of how to minimize the risk and keep them all safe. I can do all that’s possible by my own means, but ultimately, I have no control. I’ve done all I can, and yet here I sit, still scared. I wonder if I would be as scared if I had not lost a child before. Would I have trusted my methods to work, and keep him safe. Would I be able to spend this time playing games and working on projects, had I not endured the unspeakable in the past. Moms with angel children live in a constant state of panic, and have lost the faith in themselves to protect those we love.  It’s true that this is a threat, but there have been threats before and they will come again. Be gentle with yourself, and remember that your fears are validated and trust that you have done all you can.
               

Overreaction? Check yourself

One thing I learned after losing my son to drugs, was that everything became a threat to your children. Kids try stuff. We know this, even as much as we beg them not too, or how wonderful a kid they are. Cigarettes, vape, drinking, are all examples of things that rarely escape experimentation with teens. Most parents will sit their child down, explain the dangers and why they do not condone this behavior. Parents that have experienced loss, see a potential threat to your child that could cost the ultimate price. We see cigarettes or vape and drinking as gateways to bigger and more dangerous drugs, and we will stop this from happening! We choose penalties that outweigh the crime significantly,  and essentially make our kids afraid to talk to us. Of course,  this is not what we wanted.  We wanted to rip that from their life in a way that would prevent them from ever trying anything again! They get in that car with someone drunk, rather than call you for help. 

 This is not what we wanted. We wanted to protect you from harm. Stop a potential habit immediately, rather than watching it rip your child from you. You see drugs,  you see your child laying lifeless. 

      A lesson I have tried to teach myself, more than once. Not everything,  is worth this reaction.  A once tried cigarette,  or a vape in a school bathroom, are not likely going to take your child from you. Massive overreactions will not open up communications between you and your child. Before you say anything, as yourself, would I be this scared if I hadn't lost a child? Keep those lines open. 

Please don't Run

Today, my husband ran down the stairs with the phone.
It doesnt seem like that big of a deal, right?
If it were any other person, and their husband was running the phone down to them, they wouldn't think much of it. Hes just bringing down my phone to me, because I have a phone call.
Not me. When I heard the phone ring, and my husband run, my first thoughts went to catastrophic places. Which child !? Which family member?!  Who died!?
I nearly fell to my knees and the breath was just taken, from my chest.
All because a phone rang.
PTSD, and other panic causing mental illness is a certain after losing your child.  Anything that brings back any memories of that time, when seemingly out of place, will create the panic you felt that day. For me, it was a phone call. It could be any matter of things for someone else.
Knowing what may be coming, or what can take place before it's you, is a great way to strategize how you are going to handle when those things happen. Coping skills,  and talking to loved ones about triggers are all great ways to combat this fear. 
All I could really think of was to say, "stop running." I said it with the only breath i had in my lungs. "Please, just don't run."

My Purpose

After the loss of my son, I was trapped. I was trapped under a smoldering pile of ash that at one point was my family as a whole. When we lost a member, it felt as if the whole thing burned, like it couldn't exist with one, and burned itself to the ground. They are all here, but yet, It felt a way I could not fathom.

I laid under that pile of pain, anger, sorrow for a long time, as if the absence of pain meant I had stopped missing him, or loving him. In that pile of ash and sorrow, I had to find a purpose. A reason to rise in a world without my precious gift to it.

Of course my biggest reason is to return as a mother to my children, who needed me as they grieved. I cant say I was the best at this, but I tried. I returned to being a wife to my loving husband that was burning a candle at both ends to care for us all. Again, I'm not sure how well..but i tried.

After I had stepped out of the coals, I realized not long after, that I was not a party of one. That others like me were feeling what I feel, and they too needed to come from the ashes. I had to find a way to ease my pain, and one that would make my son feel proud. My beautiful, loving son, that had left me there in the ash.

I choose to help others from the ashes. I can only hope that I may help. I write in Hope's they reach someone that needs to hear these words. Its my purpose