Today would have been their 15th Anniversary

 It's so hard to believe.  Fifteen years ago, today they walked down my driveway to a flower-covered gazebo, surrounded by all their friends and family and promised "to love, honor and cherish till death do you part..."  Little did we know death would part them just a short five years later. 

They were out celebrating their fifth anniversary the last time I kept Paxton, and he sang "Haddy Dirtday" to me.  It's been a long, hard ten years and I've aged a lot more than 10 birthdays worth.

Ten long years riddled with sadness and loss.  

And May 27th, I lost my sister. One month and one day shy of her 10-year anniversary of being diagnosed with leukemia.  She managed to beat the leukemia but the effects of bone marrow transplant and the resulting Graft Versus Host Disease took a full eight years and October 2023 she was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer --- one of the side effects of all of the previous treatments. 

Grieving her has been different but every grief is.  Sad to say but after the "Freight Train" plowed through my life not much can top that.  But it was an awful loss or should I say another awful loss.  She has been my best friend all of my life and she and I have been through so much together.  I feel like I lost a huge part of who I am and I'm not sure in fact who I am without her.  She was my rock and has been such a huge encourager and my true north.  It was a horrific final month. Leaving us all with mixed emotions.  Seeing her like she was and knowing she could never get any better literally made it a relief when death finally came.  And I do look at things differently now.  The world is in such an awful mess now until I truly feel she is the lucky one.  And she knew that too. 

And as much as I've thought I knew all there was to know about grieving and loss - I find that I am still falling into a deep ditch of denial.  I have not faced the loss yet and it's been over a month.  I am hiding from it with useless, mindless activities the only difference is that now I recognize it for what it is - and still cannot seem to do anything about it.  I am afraid to look it full in the face.  As I said it has been ten years of many losses and I just don't know how much more I can stand.  

I'm sure, that I had experienced some of the grief ahead of time during the eight months that we knew about the cancer and found out there was to be no treatment and during that last month I was there with her several times a week and the last week, every day. I saw and experienced the worst that I have ever seen, and I will carry that vision with me till I am with her again.  But it makes me know one thing though and I can put that question to rest. I have always felt very guilty and always worried that I should have gone to see Brian, Kara and Paxton at the Coroner's office to say my goodbyes and tell them I loved them.  But I just could not. I felt like such a coward, but my survival instinct kept me from it.  I wasn't sure I would survive it anyway but always knew if I ever had to look at them, I would not. I have often been sorry I didn't go and grieved wishing that I had.

No.  I do not.  

I am glad that the last memory I have of them is sweet and the last picture I have of them all in my mind is one I want to treasure.  The one I have of her will haunt me forever and I had no choice but to be there and face it because I had to be there for her as best I could.  I ran away from the horror of seeing them, but I could not run from this.  

Losing her was and is awful because I will miss her in my life for the rest of my life.  But the death, the grieving, the inner feelings they are all so different.  God has given me the strength I prayed for. And for that I am eternally grateful.  

What does not kill you absolutely does make you stronger.

God's Strength in Your Weakness

As difficult as it has been to sit with my friend as she cares for her son in his last days I have been a first hand witness to God's gracious provision.  Her strength, stamina, resolve, faith and peace have been nothing short of a miracle.

She is caring for his needs almost around the clock getting up every two hours to administer medication so that his pain does not get ahead of them.  She is helping him to the bathroom and helping him shower and feeding him as if he were her small child again.  She talks to him like it was any other day, laughs with him, jokes with him and puts his heart at ease by keeping conversation light and breezy.

She has spent night after night in his hospital room before he came home; sleeping whatever way they could; in chairs or crammed together with her 76 year old sister on a small, vinyl, half moon shaped uncomfortable sofa - in a freezing cold room eating cold food out of bags.

I have yet to hear her complain and I have yet to see her break down.

God has blessed her with His strength in her weakest moments.  Some may assume that her strength and stamina stems from adrenaline and I'm sure that plays a part but nothing but God could account for the peace and resolve bestowed on her in the wake of the worst situation any mother can imagine.

He has provided, like He did for me --family, friends, neighbors, professionals to love her, provide food and supplies, to sit with her for moral support, to help with her son's care,or to minister to his spiritual needs.  God's people being the hands and feet of Jesus to help however she needs.

Speaking of which, I have never seen a family come together like her family has done during the last few weeks.  Never.  It is amazing to see the love and dedication that they have shown.

Her sister had just driven 8 hours to Jacksonville, FL when she got the news.  She turned the car around without a minute of rest and drove 8 hours right back to be with her.  She stayed at the hospital with Kathie every night she did.  Her sister's friend offered to stay at the hospital one night and let them go home get a shower, a hot meal and sleep in a bed.  He did not even know Kathie or her son. Her oldest son has been with them nonstop helping his brother with bathroom duties, clothes changing and just attending to his needs any way he could and sitting there as support for his mother.  Her sister's children have every one been there.  Her nieces staying the night over the weekend so she could sleep and not worry about his needs or medicine for one night.  Her nephew coming every day and helping with his needs.  And they do not live next door or even close.  They live 50 or 60 miles away through Atlanta traffic.  They all have families.  They all have jobs.  What an absolutely unheard of blessing.  To me, that is what family should be.  But so few are.  It is refreshing and amazing to see.

We spent the day with them again today and it does not look like he will make it through the week. And while I am so sad for her still - I feel blessed to be able to be a part of ministering to her and having the unique opportunity to see God's strength in action and be a witness to the way her family has pulled together to be there for her like they have.  Everyone should be so blessed.

I am humbled and awed. What a gift.

I Need...

Desperately to talk to someone.

And yet again I find myself with no one to talk to about all these emotions that keep pounding at me.  So again, I turn here.

My friend's son's situation has brought so many of the emotions that I've thought were long past - front and center.  I cannot be with him more than a few minutes before I start to fall apart.  I cry at the drop of a hat and feel so very unstable again.

Cancer has been the one thing that I have told myself could have been worse than what we had.  And now faced with watching cancer slowly, horrifically take a life I'm seeing firsthand the horrific side of watching your child suffer, be in pain, face the fear of dying and having that horror drag out - facing the loss over and over as you have the emotional highs and lows of terminal illness.  Grieving that loss many times over and still I know that that does not make the final grieving after death one ounce easier.  I'm not crazy enough to believe that for one minute.

But being the hopeless analytical that I am I've turned every side of this scenario over and over comparing it to what we had to deal with and I now also see that she may look at what she has and be glad she did not face what we did...

She has something we did not have.  She has time.  Precious, valuable, priceless time.

She can make up for all of the little things that she feels she did wrong by caring for his every need now.  She has time --to adjust to the possibility of the loss and make sure to say all of the things that keep me up nights.  She has time --to hug him and kiss him and cherish every nuance of his face. She has time --to listen to him, memorize his voice and hang on every word because she has the luxury of "knowing" everyday could be her last time.  She has time to watch while he sleeps and study his face so that she never forgets.  She has time --to bond with him like she hasn't had the chance to do in years while he was grown and living in another state.  She has time --to mother him once again and love him and make sure he knows how much.

Her family also has this time.  Her oldest son can be there for his brother; talk to him, physically do things for him to make him comfortable.  He can read to him, feed him, listen to him.  And in doing so he can salve any guilt feelings that he may have had from years of being estranged and later instead of drowning in guilt and shame like my oldest son, going over and over every harsh word that passed between them and turning bitter and biting at everyone he comes in contact with, her son will rest in knowing that he was there for him when he needed him.  And I pray that that keeps her son from running off the rails in his grief later.

His "people" have come out of the woodwork to be there for him and for her.  People that his chosen lifestyle has kept at bay for years.  He has that comfort.  They have that time.  He can die knowing everyone he ever cared about has been there for him.  If he ever questioned their love - he doesn't have to question it now.  He can rest knowing "He was loved."  He will not die alone.

And her friends and family, all the way to her husband's ex-wife have rallied to her side to help her deal with this sorrow and bear this sad horrific responsibility. I am so glad that she has this.  This is going to be the hardest thing she has ever had to face and I love her and I am so thankful she will have the comfort and support that she needs and is not having to bear it alone.

I know how much it hurts when you do not.

My conclusion?  There is no good way to do this.  There is no one way better than another to lose a child.  There are only bad ways.

I pray for her --peace that passes all understanding and for God's strength when hers in depleted.  I pray for everyone that can to come along side her for comfort and support.  I pray that our friendship survives this.  It was a miracle we survived one loss but it's a double hit so I have cause for concern.  I pray that I can be there for him without falling apart and I pray I can be there for her from here on out.

Here Comes Another Wave...

Just like Brian said in the email I kept getting over and over five years after it was sent...five years after he died...

My best friend forever since we were five years old got a call from her youngest son last Thursday.  He was in the E.R. with severe back pain.  He thought he'd slipped a disk.  After his blood work an MRI and CT Scan his slipped disk turned out to be stage 4 metastatic cancer.  Lungs, pancreas and liver involved. I have known him all of his life --I have known of him before he had life. I was there when he was born.  He's 49 years old.  The same age my oldest son turned today.  They played together as children.

The doctors have said it is likely he will never leave the hospital.

Needless to say they are all in shock.  He is in denial and shock.  I am devastated for them.  All of them.  I have cried until I was sick.  Terribly sad for him and the life that he had planned that will now be left unfinished.  Devastated for my friend because I know what she does not know.  I know what is coming for her for many, many months and even years to come.

I know the sadness, the regrets, the guilt, the sleepless, endless nights; I know how this will change every part of her life and even her personality.  How it will change and even possibly destroy what's left of her small and dwindling family. I know the many facets of hurt that will hit her one right after the other.  How strangers and even people she loves will say the wrong things and hurt her and how friends that she thought would be there for her --will turn away and even family that can't handle the "grief-sodden" person that she will become and will grow weary of the sadness and try to hurry her past it and if she doesn't comply --eventually drop off the radar.

I know how she will call into question every belief she ever had about goodness and fairness in the world and even at times, doubt God's goodness and possibly grow weak in her faith.

I dread to the point of panic her having to face the decisions that she will eventually be faced with.  Decisions I was not faced with like making the choice for life support or not, hospice or home care, continued feeding or withholding nourishment and God-forbid, removal of life support.  Then there are the decisions I did have to make: Burial or cremation; scattering ashes or keeping them in an urn, vaults, caskets, memorial stones, memorial service or funeral, what to say, who to call on, music, preacher, graveside service.  These are all horrible, horrible decisions that a parent should NEVER have to make for their child.

I want to protect her from having to watch her child suffer to the point that "death", the most feared word a mother can imagine --will be the lesser of the two evils.  And cringe because I know I cannot.

I fear myself - saying the wrong thing and causing the pain so many have unknowingly caused me.  I pray I never do that.

I fear losing her after 61 years as friends as close as sisters.  Sounds ridiculous --but I know it can happen because I lost the closest friend I'd ever had after a 38-year friendship. I've lost my other two children because of it so yes, it can happen, and I know that.

I wish I could shield her from all that is ahead, but I cannot; no more than anyone could shield me from it.  I hope, I PRAY that I can be there for her.  Be there as someone that truly understands what she is going through.  I pray that I have learned something from all of this in order to be there for my friend like so many were for me when I went through it.  I pray that after the dozens of books I've read on the subject that I can say the right things and that I can minister to her in the way she needs.

We both see now why I was strategically placed "here" 17 miles from her instead of the 80 we had been.  We were never looking here.  We had no intentions of moving here.  We only looked at this one house and it was certainly not the house of our dreams and yet, here we are.

It was not for the reasons that I assumed - so that my son would come.  He doesn't.  It was not because it was an ideal location.  It certainly wasn't to help my daughter and I bond.  And we could never figure out - Why God would have chosen to put us here of all places.

I guess now I know.  God help me to carry forward the comfort that I have been given.

Fairness...

I had a revelation the other night that I felt added some clarity to a subject many including me, struggle with.  Thought I'd share...

Many places in the bible make reference to the fact that we, as believers, will suffer for Christ.  Most take that to mean literally suffer at the hand of a non-believer for admitting we are Christians.  And while this is certainly the case in many third-world countries, thankfully, most of us in this country do not have to face persecution because of our beliefs –Or do we?

Have you ever found yourself wondering about the unfairness of the way the world seems to work? I know I have. When you see the highly over-compensated CEO of an unscrupulous company that has clawed his way to the top by stepping on others along the way; not caring who he hurt, what lies he had to tell or who he had to cheat to get there; seemingly unscathed by any hardship while the dedicated young Pastor loses his forty year old wife to a medical mistake and leaving their children without a mother; or the Christian woman that has given her life to serving the Lord suffers and loses her battle with breast cancer; or the Sunday school teacher loses his teenage son to a drunk driver? Makes you wonder how that is just doesn't it?

When the bible speaks of suffering for Christ, it doesn’t just mean facing a terrorist’s gun and being given the choice to deny Christ and live or admit you’re a Christian and die.  It also means suffering through all Satan and his world can throw at you because you’ve chosen to follow Christ.

His mission is to hit you with everything he’s got to cause you to stumble; he wants to cast doubt on your beliefs; destroy your faith and ruin your witness for the Lord.

"Take up your cross and follow me." should have been a hint that the Christian life would not be easy remembering where Jesus's cross lead Him.  Satan has placed a target on your head because he doesn’t already have you.

Could it be that Christian's pay the consequences of their sins here where Satan rules and reigns and have eternal life in Paradise while that unrepentant CEO may live in comfort untouched by tragedy here, but have eternity in Hell waiting for him? 

The Second Year

It is so hard for me to believe that in so many ways the second year really is more difficult than the first.  I know I've read that for some it could be.  I just could not see how that was possible.  And it isn't in all ways but in many ways, it definitely is and I'd like to talk about that.


While the crying and the melt downs in public places is better; the grim realization has set in that this is forever and in many ways this year is actually worse.  I am much more depressed.  The shock has worn off now completely and I now see that long after I'd thought it was gone, it had still been lingering, protecting, pushing me forward.  Long after I thought I was facing this full on and that I was at least in "mid-recovery", I was steeped in deep denial; glossing over it, covering it up with "busy" and pretending.  Busy has come to a screeching halt and now I can't muster enough strength or energy or wherewithal to be busy no matter how hard I try - which by the way is not very hard.  I just don't care anymore.  If I could just sit and eat dinner on a TV tray in front of the television, read an hour, sit in a tub of hot water and then lay in bed and play solitaire on my Kindle till I get sleepy - I'd be good.  That would be my perfect evening.  Oh wait, that is my every evening.  But sooooooo not like my evenings "before".  Never been a big TV fan.  Maybe an hour in the evening to wind down was about my max.  It just always seemed like a major time suck and I always had far too much to do to justify very much TV for all of the housework, cooking, laundry, family time, pets, church, writing and I could never find time to stay ahead of it all. And all of those still exist but suddenly they are all so terribly unimportant.  I can sit for hours and binge-watch ten year old episodes of Alias without feeling a twinge of guilt at the pile of laundry I tripped over to get to the television. Dishes in the sink - fine.  Bathrooms need cleaning - so what.  Floors looking like you need to run the mower and grass catcher - I'm good.  Nothing seems important me anymore.  Everything except family seems like petty annoyances.  I have zero desire to actually "do" anything.  I can barely find enough energy to function on a low level and get by from day to day. 


In the beginning I couldn't think about these things and I was in the middle of caretaking and doing what I could for the living - postponing grief as it turns out .  Just getting from one day to the next the best I could.  This year that is no longer the case but you still have to have a reason to get up and I have no reason.  No hope.  No purpose.  I don't want to "do" anything anymore.  I think I need that puppy now or a donkey or something.  (Latest book - Flash) Whatever - but I need a reason to go on.


The second year is harder too simply because it is the second year and I thought if I could make it through the horror of the first - I would have "made it."  I would be better.  I would want life again.  I would be able to see good in things again.  I would have energy and hope and faith again.  I would be out of the danger zone.

Not so much.

Last year when I first started this blog it had been "Four Weeks" - the blog was a life vest to a drowning man.  Now...well I am floating adrift.  I don't need a life vest but I'm still in the water.  I'm not drowning but this is not living either.

Last year I had "coping skills" - this year now I'm contemplating drugs in order to make it.  What a hypocrite.  I thought if you just kept pushing on and forcing yourself to function, ignored the pain, pretended the holidays were not holidays, kept the kids alive and with me through happy stories, funny memories, pictures and videos.  If I read all the books, attended the right meetings, listened to the preaching, listened to the right music, talked to a counselor, wrote out my feelings and managed to cling to life by tooth and toenail and just make it past that magic one year mark - I would be "out of the woods".  The reality has hit me like a brick that not only is it not true that I will be okay after the first year but in fact that I will never be okay again.

Losing them did not change the number of chairs at my Thanksgiving dinner table or how many gifts I would buy at Christmas or how I spent my Sunday afternoons.  Losing them --changed everything.  Absolutely everything.  Not everything for a year or two years or five years but forever.

I don't even recognize this life.  I had goals, hopes, dreams and a strong abiding faith.  My whole life, those were the things that kept me going.  I truly do not understand how this can make me no longer be me?  I am not me.  God is not God.  Everything is just wrong.  And these are the things that I did not know last year.  I guess I couldn't face it or didn't realize it or God knew I couldn't withstand the full impact of all of that yet.  I guess it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other and remember to breath.  And yeah the first year was horrific and yet in many ways the second is still kind of worse as you come to the cold realization that the horror is never going to end.

Not The Same...

Well it was a good thing I had that experience with my co-worker about the loss of her dog last week as I had time to think of a calmer and more appropriate response because believe it or not, within four days a second co-worker actually finished that sentence to me...  

Believe me, I understand completely that people love their dogs.  I love my dog.  I love all dogs.  All animals period.  I cried for days over a little wild bird that drowned in our lake as well as a possum that was hit on the road.  I have dragged home and/or rescued more animals than most people would ever have in a lifetime and not just your run of the mill stray dog either.  Pregnant cats --and I spent weeks taming the wild kittens, had the females spayed, found homes for all but one (and I still have her!)  And I have had ferrets, skunks, raccoons, birds, rabbits, rats, mice, guinea pigs, chickens, ducks, geese, hamsters, turtles, frogs and even snakes and I will patiently chase a lizard for an hour that has gotten trapped on my screened porch just so I can free him and also do the same for a cricket lost in my house.  Suffice it to say I love animals.   

And I know people have a tendency to make that comparison and say that losing their dog is as bad as losing a child - and apparently they say it a lot more than I ever realized.  And don't get me wrong, love your dog.  Please love your dog.  I love my dog but make no mistake that losing a dog is absolutely NOT the same as losing a child!  It is NOT "just as bad".  It is NOT in any way to be compared.  Trust me you do not have any idea what you are saying or how you are rubbing salt into a horrific wound that already will never heal when you say that to someone that has lost a child and for the record, you do not have any idea who that may be.   

I have learned since losing my children - that there were a lot of people that I thought I knew fairly well that I never knew had lost a child.  Friends, in-laws, neighbors, co-workers and business acquaintances - people that you come into contact with every single day in all walks of life.  It might be that when you say losing your dog is the same as losing a child in casual conversation to the realtor that is helping you find a house - that she watched her 12-year old daughter suffer and then lose her horrific battle with cancer.  Or that when you say it to the counselor in the student center of your college - that she lost her handsome and talented 21-year old son to a drug overdose. Or to the person that delivers your mail as she still struggles with guilt and still blames herself over her 16-year old son's suicide.  Or that your librarian lost her beautiful brown-eyed four-year old daughter to a freak accident in her own front yard.  Or that the sweet lady that takes care of your child in the daycare everyday lost her beautiful daughter and her only grandchild to murder... Not the same.  I promise you.  It is so not. 

And this time I did respond.  I did not run away in tears or get mad and lash out.  I simply looked her straight in the eyes and quietly said, "It's really not.  It really is not the same."

A stubbed toe - an amputated foot - same thing right?

Well I broke down and ate in the break room today with all of the co-worker friends I used to eat with; something I had really not done in a year and a half. 

It was a colossal mistake.

I only sat there long enough to eat a bowl of soup and was back at my desk in less than twenty minutes.  It was long enough however, to wreck the rest of my day.

The table conversation was about one of the girls’12-year old dogs.  She had four when we used to eat together.  A few years ago we both had a Chihuahua and I made the mistake of asking about hers. She told me that he had died around this time last year.  I told her how sorry I was to hear that at which she replied “I know. It was awful.  Losing him was just as bad as…” and she stopped dead in her tracks leaving the unsaid words hanging in mid-air.  Both of us sat in awkward silence knowing what she was about to say.  I was sitting desperately trying to think of what I was going to do if she had actually said it.  I probably would have stuffed it down, pretended I had to run back to work and brushed it off to keep from making a scene and making her feel bad.  But I was sitting there looking down at my phone staring at the wallpaper into those beautiful smiling brown eyes and what I wanted to do was shove that picture at her and say:  “Really?  Really losing your dog is exactly like losing him? I beg to differ with you.  I’ve had dogs.  I’ve had dogs I really, really loved but at no point would I compare the loss to losing my child.”

I remember sitting and watching the videos in GriefShare and hearing the story from a mother that had lost her two-year old to a drowning, tell about being somewhere in a social situation and having someone come up to her in a gesture of “comfort” and tell her to “Look at the bright-side, at least you won’t have to potty-train him.” What is wrong with people?

A few weeks back I ran into a friend.  She was visibly upset and when I stopped and asked her if she was okay the dam broke and she burst into uncontrollable tears.  I grabbed her and said, “Hey what is wrong?  What can I do? Are you okay?”  Instantly I felt the pain of her grief because judging from her reaction clearly someone important to her --had died. 

Nope.  Turns out she had a fight with her best friend and she had not called her in four days…

I seem to compare every loss against "this" and everything seems small in comparison. However, in all fairness I have sat and thought about what was earth-shattering drama to me just weeks before this happened.  I've thought many times about what I worried about, lost sleep over and even obsessed over.  How I would love to go back to a time of innocence where my biggest worry was getting in the long check out line at Publix or how aggravating it was to get cut off in traffic. Oh to go back to when I was blissfully unaware about how terribly cruel life could really be.  

I could sit down at any given time and cry and scream solid until this time next year and not even put a dent in all I have to cry about.  We could start with how the pain of losing my child, my daughter-in -law and my baby just goes on and on and how still seventeen months later I keep reliving that horrific day or waking up in a panic as I realize it is, in fact, really “real” over and over again.  Or I could cry about my sister and all that she is having to go through as I worry over her every single day as she fights the effects of not only the leukemia but worse still the treatment; overcoming one trial just in time for the next one to hit and sometimes they are overlapping.  Not to mention the frustration of going from doctor to doctor to doctor and the multitude of medication she has to take and all of the diagnostic procedures she is still having to suffer through not to mention the financial devastation of millions upon millions of dollars in medical bills that she will never be able to pay.  Or maybe on a slow day I could cry for the way that Brian’s existing two children are running off the rails trying to deal with all of this and the feeling of despair that I feel as I watch helplessly as their lives slowly deteriorate as this cancer slowly eats away at my family.  Or when I have nothing else to cry about – I could cry about the fact that after a year and a half I still do not even know what happened to my children or why and worse still is the fact that I may never know that.  Or I could cry over the fact that my other son has not spoken to me in almost a year because he has so much anger and nowhere to constructively place it so it landed on me.  So instead of losing one son, a daughter-in-law, the baby I adored – I can, for no real reason that I can understand, lose two. 

My entire family is in shambles and if that is not enough and friends are the subject of the day if I have any tears left I could cry about the friends I have lost as a result of this – not just one but several in all areas of my life.  Church friends, neighbor friends, work friends as well as the one friend that has shared every aspect of my life for the previous 37 years.  And I don’t even have tears enough left over to cry for my loss of her.  Sadly she is way down the list.  I’m sure I will get to it eventually – maybe in eight or ten years I can find time and tears to grieve the loss of that relationship. And then as icing on the proverbial cake there is the loss of my faith as I knew it and the loss of the relationship I have always had with my God and my comforter and really --what can compare with that? 

I have so much to grieve over that I don’t even know where to begin.  It will literally take years to even get through the list and so far I’m not having much luck getting past number one.

The View From the Caboose...

I have mentioned in several posts as well as in personal conversation how I relate the events of this past year to being hit by a hundred-car freight train.  We have passed the First Year anniversary and here is a look back at the freight train that plowed through my life in 2014. 

The Engine – My sister and best friend was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia and there were at least 25 cars attached to that alone as I watched my sister and my best friend my whole life go through the most devastating all-consuming "vacuum" that sucked what used to be her life into a dark and spiraling black hole.  Fatal disease, 21-day hospital stay, having to move out of her home and completely away from her pets, her church and her grandchildren and in with a 24 hour a day caregiver, 100-days in the bone marrow transplant unit every single day for 6 to 12 hours a day while she is poked and prodded and little pieces of her literally sliced away, four types of high-dose chemotherapy; hair loss; mouth sores; nausea; diarrhea; high dose total body irradiation, multiple painful bone marrow biopsies, bone marrow transplant, my niece being the donor and having to go through all that entailed, graft vs. host disease of the skin, lungs and eyes,  dangerous/life-threatening treatments including high doses of steroids, at least eighteen other scary medications, UVA light treatments, three different dangerous viruses, complications of diabetes and liver disease.  I am committed to be her caregiver for at least the next six months and six weeks into her treatment and a mind-numbing schedule…the rest of the cars begin to hit.

·        There is a death in my immediate family – Huge.  But not just a death but the death of my child. And not just the death of my child which would have been horrific alone but my youngest son, my 29-year old daughter in law and my 2 ½ year-old grandbaby – the child I have cared for and helped raise since his birth --are all gone. 

·        It is a tragic, horrific death – all three found shot in their home and not found for more than thirty-six hours.

·        I now have a grueling schedule trying to care for my sister – without a brain and a body that doesn't work.  I am so devastated I cannot function.  I cannot grieve or cry or curl up in the bottom of the closet like I want to.  Yet I am incapable of doing the job I have committed to and my sister's life depends on it. Guilt. Fear. Devastation.

·        The captive audience and brunt of my raging anger is my very sick sister that I love desperately and fear losing.  Guilt.

·        We were never allowed to see any of them and because of the condition of the bodies they could not have a traditional funeral and burial.

·       They say it was a murder/suicide committed by my son!  Impossible.  They don’t know him.  This cannot be true.  But they will not listen or investigate for any other possibilities.  They have made up their minds and they are done.

·        Because of the situation and the belief that Brian did this –

o   There is instant breakdown between the families - understandably.

o   They will be separated forever.  Kara and the baby in one state and Brian in another.

o   We do not even get to attend the memorial service for the daughter in law I loved nor the baby I adored. 

o   “We” actually feel guilt, remorse and shame even though we did nothing and do not even believe for one minute that Brian did this.

·        There is strong evidence that suggests it was a staged suicide and a possible hit on their lives:

o   Weeks later we hear from Kara's mom that Kara told friends and family over a year ago about an incident that happened where an acquaintance of Brian’s young adult son came to their door high on something and looking for trouble when Brian refused to let his son go out and called the police to the boy he left screaming threats: “This is not over. I will come back and kill you and your whole ^&^%*$ family!” 

o   Fear was the reason Kara asked for a gun.

o   The only ground-floor window was unlocked and partially open, hidden from the street view behind tall, thick shrubbery while all of the doors in the house were locked and dead-bolted.

o   Only two spent bullet casings were ever found. 

o   The missing bullet casing was from the shot that killed Brian - the last one alive; so how exactly does that happen? And why was this not a red-flag?

o   Though Brian is an avid writer – no suicide note is ever found.

o   Nothing was wrong in his life; we talked to both he and Kara just hours before and everything was fine.  They had plans to take the baby to a birthday party the next day and he called me asking what time we would be home so he could come over and bring the baby for a visit afterward.

o   According to the investigators, they had “all” put on pajamas and gone to bed. And no one found this even a tiny bit odd?

o   There was no reference to any domestic issues on their phones, I-Pad or computer – just sweet bantering back and forth between Brian and Kara the same afternoon this happened.  Why were these items not taken as evidence for the investigation?

·       We begged the county sheriff’s department for ten months to give us all of the information about the investigation that led them to this determination.  We were told the GBI would be heading up the investigation and there would be a ballistics test, a toxicology screen, an autopsy and a report of the findings would be sent to them upon completion.  Somewhere around four weeks later in a call to the GBI we find out that none of that is true. Four weeks after the bodies have all been cremated and after Serve-Pro has cleaned and decontaminated the house – destroying any evidence.  I demanded a meeting with all of the investigators --twice and all we got was “cover your ass” answers and even blatant lies.

·       They did not take finger-prints or physical evidence from around the open window, ballistics tests or test for blood evidence that proved Brian was the shooter.

·        They offered no explanation for why the other shell casing was never found.  Small room, wood floors and Serve Pro completely emptied it and went through every inch of it and no bullet casing was ever found. The Sergeant actually said and I quote. “Giving you closure is not our responsibility.  All we need is cause and manner of death and we have that.”

·        WSB TV showed up on the scene, then stole from Kara's Facebook account, my copyrighted photographs of the family taken in my yard the fall before and blasted this horror all over National Television – before we could even notify family.

·        Brian’s children had to be told by phone for fear they would see it on the news.

·        One of the best dads that I ever knew was now left with the most horrible legacy imaginable.

·        The entire free world now saw him as a monster.

·        That legacy spilled over onto what was left of my family as friends and even some relatives turned away from all of us in hatred and disgust and said horrible things about Brian on Facebook hurting his children as if this horrific tragedy was not bad enough.

·        I am devastated and in disbelief that people actually do not think that I should love or mourn the loss of my son.

·        We have to hold a private Memorial service and hire security to keep the news crews out.

·        We live in a small town.  Everywhere we go strangers ask us about it, stare at us and even point.  I no longer feel comfortable in the town that I have made my home for 23 years.

·        A formal company-wide announcement was made on my job.  That was comfortable.  I have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

·        Guilty by association - “We” are treated as if we are guilty by the Coroner’s office, the Sheriff’s Department, the GBI.  We are given no information, no consideration, no respect and certainly no sympathy.  There is the family of the victims of this God-awful tragedy…and then there is us.

·        I actually feel guilt with regards to Kara’s family because they believe my son caused their loss.

·        We quickly realize there is no justice for Brian – no matter how we fight.  No one is going to do anything to try and prove his innocence because their minds are made up.  A judgment call made on a gruesome crime scene in about fifteen minutes will leave a tragic legacy for him and the rest of us completely destroyed.  They have been his accuser, witness, judge and jury with a very biased point of view.  Sentence is passed – guilty.  He is guilty.  We are guilty by association.  They half do their jobs, piss away evidence, release the scene and allow any evidence of a crime to be destroyed. They lie to us about what has been done that proves this. Without knowing him, without giving him the benefit of the doubt, because of the horror of the scene they let their opinions of him get in way of them doing their jobs.

·        The house is contaminated with hazardous bacteria and all of their personal belongings have to be thrown out.  There are no clothes, no shoes - absolutely nothing “personal” left to us.  All of the baby’s clothes and shoes, his beloved blanket, his binkies and the handmade heirloom memories – made and given by both grandmothers - gone.  The house looks as if he never even existed.  There is no evidence anywhere of the beautiful little boy that graced our lives for 2 ½ years.  As if he had just been erased.

·        There is no will so his two older children are left not knowing who the next of kin is. They have no idea how to file an estate and since no one actually now owns it, no one can legally sell the house. 

·        There is no insurance.  The children cannot pay for his service or cremation.

·         My heart breaks for his other two children.  They are lost in a sea of grief and confusion.

·         My heart breaks for my daughter who has to oversee the decontamination and clean-up of her beloved family’s home.  Meeting with Serve-Pro discussing gut-wrenching details of things no one should ever have to see or hear.

·         We have the sad job of having to find homes for their two dogs.

·         My daughter and I are left with a huge physical and financial mess trying to intervene and sort out everything, deal with the personal property, the bills, calling the creditors, the house, the stray belongings left unclaimed in the house.

·         We have to start foreclosure proceedings on the house in order to be able to do anything with it and get out from under the bills that keep piling up and the yard maintenance. 

·         In the wake of the worst tragedy one can imagine we hire a lawyer for help and he decides like everyone else that we are in a vulnerable position and he decides to capitalize on our tragic circumstances so he bills us 2 ½ times the price he originally told me it would cost to handle the standard foreclosure - and it was, regardless of the circumstances, just a standard foreclosure to him.

·        Since there was no will the home that he and Kara worked so hard on has to be sold on the courthouse steps for a fraction of what it is worth; leaving very little to his children and it was split four ways with Kara's parents.

·        All of the things the children or Kara’s sister did not take is still sitting in my building.  Six truckloads.  I now have the gut-wrenching job of going through it and then trying to “dispose” of what is left of my children’s lives.

·        From the fallout of this – I have lost the friend that I have shared the most intimate parts of my life with for the past 37 years.

·        I have lost many friends and relatives through this.

·        It has changed my perspective on EVERYTHING until I don’t even recognize who I am anymore.

·        It has aged me by ten years at least.

·        I have had a huge faith crisis through this and consequently have little security still as to who God really is in light of this horrific tragedy.  I have a difficult time knowing what to pray for and why.  I have a difficult time believing all I read and hear about God’s protection.  Though I am better, I am still left feeling very vulnerable and empty at times.

·        It has threatened my other son’s marriage.

·        It has left me with a huge insecurity as far as how I feel about law enforcement.

·        It has left me feeling as if I do not belong in my home town and I am living in limbo not knowing where to go now.  This was my home.

·        There are actually family members that now avoid us and refuse to come to our home because it, and we, remind them of this loss and horrific tragedy.

·        I have had my feelings hurt over the people that I thought were friends that have completely deserted me through all of this. 

·        I myself am avoiding people that I care about that used to be in my life because I do not know how to tell them this.

·        And it is our belief that there is a killer walking free.

      So this is why I say it is like being hit by a train.  The hurts, the tragedies, the devastation, the insults, the guilt, the changes, the horrors like the separate cars of a freight train just kept on plowing over us one right behind the next for the whole entire year.

My Very Eventful Weekend

It has been a very full and positive weekend.  I got out and did several things that were way out of the norm for me since last August.

I actually hired a man to take care of a repair job on the ceiling at church.  I spent the day working on a grief-related memorial project for someone else; I went to see my two granddaughters that live about 100 miles from us, stayed over-night and got in two good days visits with them and also a good visit with their mother my ex-daughter in law.  I got to visit and have lunch with my cousin that I dearly love but haven’t seen in a long time;  I got to test my theory about whether I would actually step up and say something of comfort to someone in an uncomfortable situation of loss – cancer in this case.  And...I met with Kara’s mom for the first time since last August.

The Memorial Project - I spent five hours editing photographs and putting together a photo book of memories of my friend’s brother that passed away suddenly just last month.  He wanted to do it as a memorial gift to his family but did not know how.  I got it to the draft stage.  He was very happy with it and it was a creative release for me and it felt really good doing something positive and comforting for someone else.  And I think it turned out beautifully.

The meeting with Kara’s mom - This was a long-time coming and it was not without mixed emotions on both of us.  It was so good to finally get to see her and talk to her face to face but I have to admit I was terrified thinking about how emotional it would be; fearful of how she would react to us; and wondering if we would be able to talk --really talk –about all of this at all. 

She and I both were hesitant and a little fearful of whether it would be good or extremely uncomfortable.  I don’t think I could have custom-designed it to go any better than it did.  It was a tangle of emotions; a little sad and emotional at first, a little bitter-sweet yet extremely comforting though I can’t explain why and such an emotional relief to finally get to be with her.  We met for dinner and stayed and talked four hours!   It was, to me, one of the most gracious acts of love and kindness I’ve ever personally been a part of.

The visit with my granddaughters and daughter in law - My granddaughters are both grown and on their own.  Have their own homes and one is married so we don’t see them as much anymore and in most cases there would be no reason to ever see my ex-daughter in law again…Except that I will always love her.  I appreciate the fact that she always allowed me to be a part of their lives and I have the other side of that coin and know better than most how much that means.  It was really good to spend quality time with all of them.  We had individual time with each of the girls in their homes; shared a meal with both and also had time with them together as a family.  We laughed and reminisced and talked until we were falling asleep.  It was a great weekend.

Then at the hotel where we were staying the next morning when we went to check out I noticed the clerk was wearing a scarf on her head and I heard her mention a rash she had that she thought was caused by the chemo.  My first and most natural response “before” would have been to pretend that I did not notice the scarf or hear her refer to “chemo” since she was not talking to me and just quickly turn in my keys and leave.  But I remembered my own sister and all of those other people in the clinic.  I remembered how isolated and alone cancer can feel because it makes everyone uncomfortable.  I remembered how I felt in my isolation and how my friends “discomfort” with “this” hurt me and made me feel so alone and abandoned.  And while I said I would never again walk away – I wondered how I would really do when put to the test.  Well, I didn’t just do what I probably would have done before.  I actually stopped acknowledged her and told her I overheard her mention chemo and told her how sorry I was to hear about her illness.  I told her about my sister and that I understood a little of what she was going through.  And she was clearly thankful to have me acknowledge her.  It was like a dam had burst.  She started talking non-stop like she was so “full” and I know personally, that she probably was.  We both teared up and I just let her talk.  I asked about her doctors and her treatment plan and if she had a good support system.  And she talked on and on.  And then as confirmation, she actually said, “It’s weird.  Like some people have a hard time relating to me anymore because of the cancer.  It’s like they don’t know what to say or how to treat me anymore.  I guess because of your sister you seem so open like you understand.”  I just said, “Yes, that must be it.”  I wished her well, told her I would be praying for her and left. 

It was not hard.  It didn’t take that much time.  And it literally made my day!

More Grief Lessons

I wonder if everyone thinks like I used to and has sort of a line drawn in the sand about what you think “can possibly happen to me” and what “simply can never happen to me”.  For instance when I’d hear of a certain tragedy that befell someone, I’d think either “Oh my God - that could have been me!” or it would simply never cross my mind because things like that “just can never happen to me.”  There was kind of an “awful” factor that determined where everything fell under one of the two categories:  - Could possibly happen although I hope and pray that it never does and - Much too horrible and can never really imagine “that” could ever happen to me. 

Seriously, is it just me or does everyone kind of think like that?

I mean realistically I knew you could/would lose family members and that if you lived long enough everyone would experience loss to some degree.  I had lost aunts, a cousin, my grandparents, two brothers in law and they were all terrific losses to me.  But there still were certain things that I thought were kind of off-limits; just not the kind of thing that could ever happen to me.  Like: I will never get cancer; I will never lose my mother or a sibling; I could never lose a spouse; I will never lose a child or a grandchild and maybe still a little bit of “I will never really die”.  Unrealistic?  Absolutely. But true just the same.  Like the average sixteen year old that thinks they are invincible.  They know death exists, they know what the risk factors are: like drinking and driving, experimenting with drugs, jumping from a nine story building with an umbrella etc.  They know other people die from these things.  And yet, somehow they magically believe that it can’t happen to them??? As parents of that sixteen year old, we drill home the fact that that is magical thinking and it certainly can happen (“so don’t do them!”) but as adults in the secret recesses of our own heart, we think at times just as illogically about what can and cannot happen in our lives.

But when you lose a child, an in-law child and a grandbaby in one single horrific day – suddenly you realize you are open game.  If “this” in all its multiple layers of horror, can happen to me --ANYTHING and everything can happen.  The line between those categories has been erased and everything falls under the “Oh my God, that could have been me” side of the list. 

Though I’m pretty sure I never actually consciously thought that I was immune to horrible tragedies. I mean I’m of average intelligence and that is really not logical but being a Christian and fully believing in the goodness of God and the power of prayer I was somehow lulled into a false sense of security.  Maybe it was simply because it made life a little less scary and slightly easier to deal with.  But that is one example of those things that you can’t undo.  Like I said about being unable to go back and be five years old again.  I cannot go back to the innocence of believing ever again that I am safe and protected from anything.  Anything that the world has to throw at me without limits – can be my fate at the drop of a hat.  Instead of being immune to these things; I now feel like I have a target painted on my forehead. 

I think it is human nature to look for things that make the evils of this world make some sort of sense, or perhaps we look for something that may give the illusion of having control over what happens to you.  To feel that everything is just “random” is a scary thing. 

Like in the book of Job, when all of the tragedies that literally destroyed his life came on him; his friends, instead of comforting him, wanted to make the tragedies somehow justified by his own actions – I think it is human nature to believe that when you are inherently “good” or you do good deeds or you try and help people and you are not cruel or selfish or dishonest --that you will be spared the really horrific things life has to throw at you and if you are dishonest, intentionally hurtful, self-centered and cold – that those are the ones that suffer horrific loss.  This is both a logical assumption and a safety net of sorts.  It gives you the impression that you have some semblance of control over how much bad comes into your life.  However, If you are familiar with the book of Job then you already know not only was that NOT at all the case but God reprimanded Job’s friends for their assumption that Job had done wrong and was being punished for it.  Just like we jump to the conclusion like Job’s friends that when horrific things happen to someone that it is somehow their fault or repayment for some un-repented sin; we also believe the opposite is true if we are basically a good person we can somehow avoid the horrors of this world.  I think Job was as confused by the outcome of things as his friends were and frankly the book of Job has never quite set well with me and that would be because I believe it is human nature to feel that good should be rewarded with good and evil with evil but the truth is, just like in the book of Job, that is not the way the world works.  Good and evil falls on all of us just like the rain. And our belief in how we feel it should fairly happen is really our desire to be able to control what happens in our world. 

But, we are not in control.  Never have been.  Never will be.  And just because evil has not yet touched your life – it does not mean: 

A – That you are all good or that being good will ward it off

B - That you are immune to such horrific tragedies or

C - That it never will.

I learned that the hard way along with a lot of other things that the school of grief has taught me.  Like, I am stronger than I ever thought I was.  That what you think would absolutely kill you – does not – no matter how much you wish it would.  Your life can be forever changed with one phone call.  And there really is no security in life this side of Heaven. 

New Normal

It has been ten months now.  I wish I could say I'm completely resolved to again trust God & pray as before.  I am better.  I am beginning to pray a little from time to time though I can't say that I am actually sure who this version of God is yet.  And quite frankly I'm not real sure what I can pray for anymore.  But I'm trying to make a conscious decision to trust and have faith.  I am trying to find my way back from the darkness.  Some days --too many days-- it still overtakes me.  I am now closing in on that magical "one year" mark.  I remember reading over and over that "The first year is the hardest."  Leading me to believe it would be better after that first anniversary.  Ten months in I realize I can stop looking for that.  No miracle is going to suddenly take place and magically erase all the pain and emptiness that has become my constant companion.


In the beginning that is all I could think of --getting to the place where that would happen - muddling, struggling, hanging on by my teeth and toenails just to survive it and make it to that magical first year mark; which of course I knew would be very difficult in and of itself but after that very difficult day - I'd be all better.  We could finally move.  We could sell the house.  I could make major decisions again.  I could sleep.  I would stop eating myself to death.  I could stop sobbing at random.  I could be in crowds or attend social events again.  I could go through the kids things finally.  I would be healed.  By then, I would have learned to live with this horrific loss.  I would be able to trust, pray and find comfort in my faith again.  I could rekindle my shaky relationship with God.  I could enjoy family functions, holidays and vacations again. I would find purpose in all this pain, realize that something good has come from it and be able to thank God in it - not for it - but in it.  And all of my friends would come back - sounds kind of like a country song in reverse doesn't it?


And at one time, I actually believed all of this.


I now know better.  And I know that I am at least five months of "sitting in the bone marrow clinic" behind in the process.  And I know that since I pretended my way through most of the first year I have postponed any first year progress I might have made but besides all of that I have come to the realization that "this" will never be over.  There is no magical point in time that is going to make me not want Brian back again; no appointed date that will make me okay with never seeing any of them again.  There is no set time when I will not ache for that baby and want him back in my life and back in my lap again; no day ever when it won't matter to me what really happened. 


There will likely come, as there are now, days that I will be able to get through without dwelling on it, outwardly grieving for them or crying for them whenever I'm alone.  But I now realize that those days are fluid.  They are not here as permanent fixtures but only as much-needed reprieves.


The misery will return.  You adjust to the reality of the truth.  You do integrate the loss into your world.  You get up and you function inside the misery.  Sometimes giving in to it and sometimes not but you do not wake up one day and it is just gone.  There will not suddenly come a day when you are fine and you function just like before.  You are not the same person.  This is not the same life.  It can --I believe, I hope, I pray-- be good again but if so it will be a long, long time coming. 


I can no more be "healed" and have the same life I had before anymore that I can go back to being a five-year old again.  That ship has sailed.  I cannot go back to the innocence of childhood and I cannot go back to the innocence of life before this catastrophic loss.  I am not that person anymore.  Just as I am not that five-year old anymore.  My view of the world, my faith, my version of God, my trust, everything not only in my world but inside of me --has been forever altered. 


Whatever I next grow to believe and whoever I am when this shakes out - will absolutely not be who I was a year ago.  I may be better and I hope and pray that I am but nothing is going to magically restore me.  It may be new but it will never be normal.