"If a mother is mourning not for what she has lost but for what her dead child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created." ~ C.S. Lewis
There have been things that have occurred to me in the last couple days that I found odd at first. But as the time goes on, I have discovered that there is a lot to be learned in the battle with loss and with the life that goes on after.
The first is that it seems like the needless loss of life lately has really gotten under my skin. You hear about tragic events which are going on currently, things like school shootings and people running from their counties seeking help. Right after Dominic died was when the first photo was published of the children who's family had put them on a boat to get as far away from their country as they could. So much loss of life... it hit me square in the chest, like a hammer which had come down. Why do we hate? To what extent of fear would these parents have to be under in order to put their children through an experience they may not live through? My son was ripped from my arms through happenstance, through no act of neglect or for any reason which would justify it in some strange way. These parents are braving putting their children through endless trials... some did not make it. Do they regret or stand by their choice? A parent, a true parent (not the ones who pretend like having a child makes you one, just like not having a child doesn't mean you aren't, though that's another topic for another day) would do anything for the health and well-being of their children. I can stand here today and tell you that I or Frank would be willing to sacrifice ourselves for our son to live again. So much needless death... it hurts the soul.
The second thing that came to me was that people grieve in different ways, but people react to grief in different ways. Anyone who knows me knows I am not really a touchie feelie type of person. Granted, with the children I'm extremely affectionate, but after you hit about 15 that affection changes to a degree. While at work, my first day back fulltime mind you, a co-worker who had not seen me since stopped me as I was walking out of her office. She's a mother of little boys too... this hit home for her more than another might feel it. She broke down as she asked me how I was handling everything. It was interesting, she felt guilty for the fact she was crying and I was not. How do you tell person you have no more tears to cry at the moment? That two days before you had been weeping at your desk because you forgot about a date that had passed by which had been significant to you? How do you tell that person their tears helped just a little bit, that you aren't alone and so you feel a little better? I hugged her instead. Because the truth is, at times... I don't have the words for you just like you don't have the words for me.
There are no words in the English language that can accurately describe to you the chilling feeling I have. I go from fine one moment to not the next. Work is both a thrill and a horror at once. Will someone mention him? Will they not? At times the fact someone hasn't said anything is almost bothersome more than those who do. I grieve... actively... and so sometimes I scare people around me. Let's share a secret... I am a stoic member of society. To see me cry, to see me joyfully laughing, all fo these things are oddities moreso than another might be. I feel things either extremely hot and extremely cold.... there's nothing inbetween anymore. But, the point is that you get people who run from you, avoid you, weep for you, stumble over their words, or simply those who just look and smile sad.
The person who said it best this week was my Physician's Assistant who was checking out my shoulder. The nurs asked me how physical therapy was going. Very stoically (which is resting b*tchface for those who are not aware), I told her simply I had stopped going. She gave me a tsk and asked me why. I looked at her... considered for a moment if I should be kind or be harsh, I decided on neutrality: "My son died. I don't have the energy." She stopped in her tracks... she couldn't get out of the room fast enough, you should have thought I had had contracted the plague. As she left, barely even saying goodbye, mind you, I considered her reaction. It was a few minutes later the PA come into the room, she sat down and discussed my shoulder with me, had me do some resistance tests with her and she told me I was doing great! (yay!) And then she looked at me, I have started to recognize this look and both dread and anticpate it.
"How are you holding up since Dominic passed?" She asked with a slightly sad tone, her head tilting to the side as I paid attention to her.
I felt myself square my shoulders, answering back simply, "I'm okay, it's not easy."
She leaned forward, taking my hand and scooting so that she was in my space. Quietly she said to me, "Honey, it's hell... it's head and it's okay to own it. There is no one in this room you have to be strong for."
How this woman, this complete stranger, knew in that moment that was exactly what I was doing is beyond me. Because that's what I tell everyone. What else are you supposed to answer with when someone asks? The truth? Hardly... here's a list of truths I cannot say:
- Every day is a different nightmare... because every day I have to wake up to the sound of silence in my son's nursery.
- Every day is a battle against myself, in controlling myself.
- Work is a blessing and a curse, it's full of memories but it is a distraction. It hurts to walk in... it hurts to not.I'm not okay sometimes, I'm great others.
- I cry for no reason at all now, because this hurts too deep to find the words.
- I look onto joy for your happiness of a new child, but I wonder why God took mine from me.
- I want to sleep...
- I don't want to sleep....
- I want the thoughts to stop spinning around in my head...
- I want to be able to remember a single thing today.
- I want to forget I exist.
- I want to remember everything.
- I want to celebrate life, but I feel guilty doing so... how can you live for someone who is gone?
I need to be kind to myself. I need to be kind to myself first... others second. But any mother will tell you that is an impossible task. I turn my mind to attempt to improve my life... one moment, one breath, one step at a time. I will live for my son... who is gone but still lives in my heart.
Tonight, of all nights, I miss my baby... but I take comfort in the fact I got moments with him. Though brief, they and him were real....
Until next time.
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