Grace

We are coming up on Paxton's birthday again.  He would be eleven years old and that is absolutely impossible to believe.  In my head and in my heart, he will always be a toddler - maybe in his dragon costume growling as he ran down the hall or prancing in a diaper and a t-shirt wearing green plastic beads and rocking his mama's red high heels. Or perhaps in his Papa's old gardening hat with green nail polish.  Or sitting in front of my spice cabinet with little dusty brown feet, after pouring out a huge canister of cinnamon looking guilty and smelling just like apple pie!  He was my funny, silly, baby and I cannot picture him as an eleven-year-old child. 

This year for the first time ever I celebrated Paxton's birthday.  And it was awesome!

I had the best, sweetest day yesterday.  Kara's mom and I had a girl's day.  We meet from time to time, but it has been a while since we've seen each other. We were talking yesterday about the "beauty from ashes" and how we kept waiting for the beauty part.  But getting to know her has been a most humbling experience and definitely one good thing that has come as a result of this tragedy. I keep thinking how surprised Kara would be.  I can't help but think it would make her happy.

We had lunch and saw a funny movie and she brought cake for us to share and celebrate Paxton's birthday together!  It was the sweetest gesture and I absolutely loved it.  We talked about the kids; she reminded me of a funny story about Brian that I had totally forgotten.  We caught up on each other's lives, had a great lunch and ate cake in memory of our sweet funny baby.  She will never know what that meant to me or what her friendship means to me.  It very nearly made me cry.  Not the cake, not the memory of him - but her sweet gesture is what almost made me cry. That was so kind of her but that was not the kindest thing she did yesterday that almost made me cry in front of her.  

What made me sit in tears last night when I got alone was just thinking about the fact that she brought Christmas gifts to my great-grandchildren; the babies that belong to Brian's two oldest children.  What an incredibly sweet and gracious thing to do.  That did make me cry - like all evening.  There is no way I can ever express all that meant to me.  

After all of the unkind things totally disinterested strangers have said and the friends and family that have turned away from us the one person that I would have expected to turn away from us is the one person that has shown us the most love and grace.  What a true example of God's love!  

What would Jesus do?  Exactly as she has done.  

I planned all evening that I'd write a tribute post to her today.  I wanted to be well-rested and have plenty of time to give it the thought it deserved although I knew exactly what I wanted to say, now that I've sat down to do it as usual lately, my mind is blank and my words are muddled, and I know I can't do her justice. 

Father's Day

A day that I know is difficult for Alex and Ashley.   It is also a difficult day for me.  It reminds me of several things.  Brian was without a doubt the best dad I've ever known and that there was such a contrast between what a dad should be and what my dad was like.  And how a "step"-dad that stepped in and stepped up gets so little recognition on this day.

This morning however, he got a sweet, sweet gift from Ashley and I just wanted to acknowledge it here.

This was her text to me:

I don't know if I have Papa's number but please tell him I said Happy Father's Day.  We listened to a message at church today about fathers having fathers and men that spoke into them and raised them to be good fathers and husbands and I am so thankful for Papa being there to speak into my dad and raise him to be the father that he was.  Because the generations continue with the things we learn from fathers and I'm grateful to have learned so much from mine.  I've only cried twice today already so far lol.  I love you both.

What a gift to him and what a sweet tribute to her dad.  

It's difficult to be a parent and it is sometimes the most thankless job in the world.  It has to be even more difficult to be the dad that took on three children that were not his; loved them, supported them and parented them through all the hard times while their own biological fathers walked away.

Ashley channeled her own dad today with this message as he is the only one of the three that has ever acknowledged that his stepdad did what he didn't have to do and was truly a father to him when his real father walked away and deserted him.

Brian's spirit was absolutely close to us today because as Ashley was writing this to us - the church handed out packets of "Skittles" with a reminder to pray about bible school!  Skittles.  Notoriously known as Brian's favorite candy - his house was never without a jar of Skittles on the counter.  Kara even had Skittles on his wedding cake!

Dear Brian,

I am thinking of you and Paxton a lot today for some reason.  It has been a sad day today.  I saw a movie that had a baby that looked so much like Paxton.  Even had on a shirt identical to one that he wore a lot and he was the same age.  I still see you both everywhere.  I  catch myself looking for both of you in crowds and sometimes when I see babies that remind me of Paxton I want to just stay close to them and soak in their sweetness.  Sometimes in stores I follow their moms down a few aisles just so I can see him a little longer and feel him close to me again.  

I've set Sunday afternoons aside as the time I give myself  to cry.  Dad watches the race downstairs and I have some private time to myself.  So that I don't "break" in front of people or in public anymore I designated a day when I know I can be alone and I come in the office and I can miss you both all I want and out loud if I need to.  I allow myself time to just sit with my grief, cry and be sad. And sometimes I just sit here and think of things I remember because I want to keep you both fresh in my mind.  I had you a long time but Paxton has been gone way longer than the two years and eight month that I had him so I am so afraid that I will forget.  Not him, of course but the essence of him.  His silent sweetness, his funny little ways, our little games and how much they amused him, his first words, the sound of his voice and the "baby" way he pronounced words. That sweet baby smell, his giggle, what he felt like snuggled up to me asleep.  Little sweet or funny things he did like pretending to sneeze when he was so little and laughing when I said "Bless You!" because he knew it was a joke.  And how we used to play hide and seek and he'd lead me to the linen closet and shut me in and then pretend to look for me until he would open the door and "find" me right where he'd left me.  

These are the precious things that I never want to lose but I am so afraid that I will.  

I know there were a million little things that you all did or said that I was sure I'd never forget - but I did.  So I know its possible and so I try to remember all the little details that I can so that they will stay fresh in my memory and he will stay alive in my heart.  

So today is Saturday --not my day and yet I'm sad and grieving fiercely today. Not sure what's up with that unless it is the baby in the movie. 

Sometimes those little coincidences, like dreams, seem like little gifts from God.  Little snippets of you or Paxton that I find in crowds or in movies that give me a little private visit from you. I will take them.  And I am thankful to God for them even if they do make me sad afterwards.

I think lately about how everyday I'm a little closer to being with you all again.  Until then I will see you in my dreams or at the mall or in the babies I see on movies and I will think of you all and miss you still everyday.

 

What I would tell Brian if I could talk to him one more time...

My grandson asked me this past week if I had one more chance to talk one on one with Brian - what I would say... Just a few days before he asked me that, on his 49th birthday, I had wondered that same thing myself.  I decided I would give that question some thought and entertain that answer here as I did about three years ago.  

Brian,

First and foremost I would absolutely want to make sure that you knew that I love you with all my heart.  I would want to make sure you know that I didn't say I loved you, but that I love you --present tense- and always will.  Death has no impact on my love.  That would  be the first and most important thing I'd want to tell you.  But I would also want to tell you that I have never entertained the belief not for a single moment that this happened as they said it did.  I knew you 41 years before that day and I knew who you were in your heart.  I knew you were a sweet, kind, mindful conscientious child.  I knew you were a good and loyal brother to your siblings, and I remember how you could never hardly even fight back in a scuffle with your older brother because you were afraid of really hurting him.  I knew that you were a good and loyal husband to Kristen and when she left you pregnant with another man's child - I watched you walk my floor all night till 5:00 am for weeks and weeks second guessing every unkind word you'd ever said that may have caused her to want to leave.  You hurt over her, cried over her, loved her and you just wanted her to come home.  You immediately forgave her and you held no animosity toward her - you just wanted her back.  I remember me being mad enough to want to strangle her and still you defended her.  When I begged you to get a lawyer and fight for the kids - you angrily refused, saying you could never take your children from their mother, and you would never do that to your wife.  "She is my wife!"  You yelled.  You were hurt.  You were devastated.  But you never really even acted angry at her.  All you wanted was her to get past this and come home.  

You were angry at the other man and even got into a fight with him when you were totally blind-sided to find out that they were actually married before you were even aware the divorce was final.  All the while you had thought she'd eventually come back.  You lost your home, your wife, your children and the life you had known in less than 24 hours.  

You later grew to literally hate her as much as I ever knew you to hate but you also knew you had to keep peace or have your children kept from you.  So, you stuffed it down and made nice.  You were kind and accommodating to them both as they totally ran your life and extorted money from you to support their drug habit for the next 15 years. Then when Ashley came to live with you, most men would have put a quick stop to that child support but not you, you continued to pay her because you said she only wanted the money, and you wanted the child and you knew if you continued to pay her, she would leave Ashley alone and let her stay with you and if you stopped the money, she would fight to get her back and of course, you were right.  

You put up with untold misery out of them both for the next 15 years --for your kids. So no, it never crossed my mind that you could have done this.  Your kids were your life - all three of them.  Again, I knew who you were in your heart.

Though you had a quick, hot temper, you were always on the side of right.  You were conscientious, you had moral integrity and always looked out for the underdog.  You were soft-hearted to a fault and could never, never hold a grudge. That is who you were.

I'd just want to tell you how proud you'd be of your kids today.  And I'd tell you what a good little mother Ashley is and how she's going back to school and wants to take college courses for a degree in early childhood education, she cooks like a pro and has a home of her own, two beautiful little boys and a great husband that she says reminds her of you.  She is in church regularly, does regular bible studies and goes to cub scout camp-outs with her son.  I'd love to tell you about how much she misses you and how much she now looks back and appreciates all of the things you ever did for her and she tells me all the time how much she realizes now what she was too young to see and appreciate then.  She tells me how she wishes her husband could have known you because she is so proud of the way you raised her, the things you taught her and the stable, loving home you gave her.  She says you were the most positive influence in her life and the only stability she ever really had.  And she would give anything if you could see her now and know that all you tried to teach her was not in vain.  

I'd want to tell you that Alex has a new baby girl and he is doing very good now too.  Took him a little while but whenever it happens, it's right on time.  He has his own place and is a stepdad to three little girls.  He seems happy and though he doesn't talk to me as much about his feelings.  (He's a guy) He wants to make you proud and I can see your influence in him as well.  He has a good heart and he misses you and I know now that he has a baby of his own he, like Ashley will think of all that you were to him.  He will realize the sacrifices you made and all that you tried to do for them.  He will see now, what he couldn't see as a teenager and will miss you all the more.

I would also have to tell you that it has occurred to me, that your kids have straightened up and turned their lives around, I truly believe not "in spite" of losing you but perhaps "because" of it.  You were always too soft and let them get by with far too much.  They walked all over you and you rescued them and never made them stand accountable for their actions.  I truly do not believe that they would be where they are today had you still been here to rescue them.  Sorry, but I honestly believe that is true.  Hopefully, that is some good that has come out of all of this horrible bad.

My heart hurts for you still -every single day.  Not one day so far has gone by that you were not the first thing on my mind in the morning and the last thing on my mind every night.  It has been seven years now and though I'm settled with the idea that you are gone, I have good days and I can laugh again, the grief and pain are just as alive today as they were seven years ago.  I am glad that I did not know that would be the case seven years ago.  I would not have made it.  And if I am honest, some days I still wonder if I will.  I used to pray I'd get through just one more day and pray I'd get through this grief and now I realize that this grief albeit, a tamer version of it, will be with me forever, just as the love I have for you will and that's okay.  Grief is the price you pay for love.  In fact, I think I could almost define it now as "love".  At first it feels awful and rips a huge, ragged, bleeding hole in your heart and you just want it to go away because you relate it to the worst pain you can imagine but later it slowly evolves into your way of loving the someone you lost.  So now it feels as if I were to lose the grief, it would be wrong like I'd be giving up the love I have and so I'll keep the grief.

I am glad to know that you are home.  You came to me in a dream about four months after you all died and told me you were "Going Home!"  And you had the biggest smile on your face.  You were young and light and looked happier than I'd ever seen you look.  And I believe with all my heart that you are home and that you are smiling that huge smile everyday now with no more pain, no more earthly torment, no more disappointments, hardships or heartache.  You are where we all long to be and I for one, am so envious.  I want desperately to be with you. And that desire gets stronger every day.  I too, want to be home and as much as I love and miss you every single day - I truly would not call you back to the mess of this world even if I could.  I would love to go to you, but I would not want you to see and experience what is going on in our world today.  You could not stand it. 

I always thought that the first thing I'd ever say if I could talk to you would be to ask you what on earth happened - but funny when I saw you in that dream, for the first time in months - that really did not even cross my mind.  It did not seem to matter.  "Going Home" was all that mattered.  It was as if that just said all that needed to be said.  I was at peace and satisfied as if that answered all of the questions that had tormented me day and night for months.

I look so forward to the day when I will be with you again.  I miss you all every day and I love you.  

Mom

Grieving

 After seven years I have finally been able to write something I guess fit to publish again.  It was of course on the subject of grieving and recovery.  On that I feel I have expertise.  The story will be in a new anthology on grief, loss and healing.  Seems I have a lot to say on the subject of grief as that has been the only thing, I have been able to write about (here) for seven years stands to reason that would be my break-through story.

The story was meant to be a story of hope and how I have survived the triple tragedy we were dealt seven years ago.  And how someone else might also survive.  And I have survived.  I have managed to find my way out of the darkness by looking for others that are grieving an unfathomable loss and trying to do what I can for them.  Like it says in 2 Corinthians 1:4 who comforts us in all our affliction, so, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 

In speaking of grief, I feel I need to note here that I have definitely discovered that there are many kinds of losses and many different levels of grief.  We grieve when we lose anyone we care about.  We grieve our beloved pets when we lose them.  We can grieve a lost childhood, failed relationship or the loss of one's dreams due to life's disappointments.  And while loss is always loss, and all have an impact, they are not all the same.  

There are losses we grieve that we will "get over".  We won't forget those we loved, and we will always miss them. But we will go on with life and move past the loss and truthfully, seldom think of that grief after a few years.  Then there are the "catastrophic" losses; the kind of losses that cause PTSD or disenfranchised grief or complex, complicated grief.  Psychologists describe these losses as sudden or tragic losses, losses where violence has occurred, multiple losses, suicide, murder, losses where there is guilt or shame involved, losses that seem unnecessary or preventable, losses where you are left with more questions than answers, unresolved or losses without closure, losses that for one reason or another you do not feel you can openly acknowledge or the loss of a child.  

These losses are not even on the same level as a normal loss and when I look at the causes of complicated grief - I realize that my expectations of getting past this were totally unreasonable and almost --insane.  Even thinking that I could ever get over, move past or overcome "this" was ridiculous.  Any one of the above kind of losses can cause catastrophic or complicated grief and we did not have one of the above causes for catastrophic grief -- we had them all.

Then there were the secondary losses on top of the initial catastrophic loss.  The loss of my home of 23 years, my church and my neighbors, my standing in the community, my "hometown" and my entire support system.  Then I lost long time friendships some over 30 years long. And the worst of all of the secondary losses was my relationships with my other two children.  A loss like this, changes you. It changed me and it has changed them. I have the sinking, terrible feeling that those relationships are just as gone as my relationship with Brian is.  I have never felt more isolated and alone as I do now seven long years later.  It is very difficult.  The initial loss still alive and well, and the secondary losses gaining momentum.  

I remember when I was in high school my very closest friend at school called me one night screaming and crying - her older brother whom she adored had just committed a very violent and very public suicide.  He was sixteen years old.  He left a note citing his reasons as: Linda had all the looks and their oldest brother all the brains in the family...leaving a 14-year-old and a 17-year-old to bear that undeserved guilt the rest of their lives.  She was never the same.  Her relationship with her brother ended that day as well as every other relationship she had.  She shut herself off and from me and everyone else after that.  I did not understand and was devastated.  I sure understand it better now. That kind of loss changes you at your core.  

Though we may survive, the life we are left with bears no resemblance to the life we had before and we bear no resemblance to the people we used to be.

Some develop a new respect for life.  Others go on to find some divine purpose in their loss that will help them make sense of it or create some good that can come from it like M.A.D.D. (Mothers Against Drunk Driving) founded in 1980 after the death of a 13-year-old killed by a drunk driver or America's Most Wanted founded after the abduction and murder of 6-year-old Adam Walsh. 

Some have more sympathy and empathy for others in their shoes and develop positive ways to show that using what they have learned perhaps as facilitator of GriefShare group meetings or volunteering as a peer counselor for Stephen Ministries.  Some write their memoirs in hopes to get their story on paper and process the loss through the telling of their story as well as create a way to let their experience help others.  Some throw themselves into their hobby or their work or some charitable effort in order to stay busy, feel productive and create a distraction.  

But some, well some grow bitter, less tolerant of others, becoming more focused on themselves, making their world smaller thus more controllable, pushing others out of their lives for fear of being hurt again by something or someone they cannot control. Sadly, missing out on love, support, opportunities and personal or spiritual growth.  And others turn to drugs, sex, alcohol or crime because they are apathetic and have lost all hope and do not have the strength or the coping skills to survive any other way. These are not choices for healing.  These only lead to more loss.  

It is not easy, and there is no quick fix, but we do have a choice. 

Serious Writers Block

When I first began this blog I barely knew what a blog was.  To me, it started as an online journal.  Private at first and I had always intended for it to stay that way.  To me, it was a way to process all that had happened, all we had been told, all that we had lost, all that we couldn't talk about, all that I needed to get out of me.  I seemed to be "filled" to overflowing with emotions that I could not get out. Anger, confusion, deep, all-consuming sadness.  And there were so many questions hanging in midair that had nowhere to fall. 

I was also caring for my sister and sitting in the bone marrow clinic 5 days a week from 6 to 12 hours a day and trying to work my job in the evenings after things settled down.  I could not get a counselor to even answer my calls but if I had, there were not enough hours in the day to see one.  So this was "my" self-care my own answer to therapy.  This was my safe place to fall.  When the day was done with my sister and she was settled, when my work hours were logged, when everyone was fed and the kitchen straightened up - this was my time.  My time to cry, to talk about Brian, to express my confusion and scream out my anger, to question, to process - right here.  I looked forward to my time with my writing like a lifeline.  Nothing could make me skip it. It was key to my survival.  

I was so angry at the whole mess until I couldn't stand myself.  I was throwing terrible temper fits.  Screaming and throwing things and snapping at all the people I loved. All I could think about was how could anyone that really knew Brian ever, ever believe he did this.  It was all consuming.  And it was killing me that none of his accusers even knew him nor did they make the effort to even try.  After the official determination even those that had known him suddenly seemed to forget the person that he had always been, the dad he had always been. Never once in his entire life had he ever laid a hand on any woman not even the wife that tormented him for 18 years. 

All of his talents, his work ethic and abilities, his quick wit and keen sense of humor, all of his comical antics and practical jokes, his dedication to learning the bible prophecies, his love and dedication to his children for over 20 years --all of his previous life, any and all good he had ever done had been laid to waste. Erased in a moment even sadly, by some that knew him best. 

I decided I could not allow the general public to just believe what they were told about him without ever having known him or given him the chance to defend himself.  Although I had not wanted to make my pain, my anger and my devastation public and lay myself vulnerable to the biased scrutiny and wrath of the general public. And I knew from what people were saying on public forums I was opening myself up to the possibility of more pain and judgment - but I was Brian's mom.  Still - Brian's Mom. Now and forever and if I were his only ally and only defender then I would take it public and if I accomplished nothing else the general public would at least know a little of the Brian I knew.  I refused to let him be thought of only as a monster tried and found guilty in a court of public opinion without ever giving him a chance at a defense.  He may carry that title as I'm sure he will but some small part of me hoped and prayed that they would read enough of who he was to us before that god-awful August day erased all the good in his life.  Maybe if even, one would see him as a person with feelings, as an employee with goals, as a funny, talented, hard-working single dad trying to be both mom and dad to two children alone for 12 years, as my funny, goofy loving son, as a betrayed, devastated husband that lost his home, his wife, his children and his confidence in one fell swoop. If I could bring him to life for even one person and let them see him, know him before that day - then I had to try.

That one day erased his future.  I couldn't stand idly by and let it erase his past as well.  I couldn't stand knowing that all that he was up to that day counted for nothing.

I kept thinking of how it would feel if I were accused of some terrible, tragic crime that I did not commit and how awful it would be for everyone to believe I was guilty.  And I thought how I would at least be comforted in knowing that those people that loved me and knew me best would stand by me and would "know" without a shadow of a doubt that I was innocent.  I would know that no matter what the public thought the people closest to me, in my inner circle who knew who I had been up to that day -- to those people --I would not need to prove my innocence.  I would assume that my previous life, my history with them, all that I stood for and all that I had ever done right in my life --would be proof enough.  And I thought about who I was - Brian's mom - having to look him in the face someday and tell him I believed he was capable of something so horrific.  The person that knew him best; the one that knew all his faults, his fears, his weaknesses, his strengths, his beliefs, his good side, his moody side --all of him.  I just kept thinking about how he would feel to know I believed he was guilty.  I knew him.  The public didn't know him, but I knew him.  I had to stand up for him.  I had to be his voice.  I had to let others know a little of the person I knew then they could judge at least a little more fairly.  

At a bare minimum I hope I have done that.  

The blog began to take on a life of its own.  It was my way of processing.  It was my way of letting others know Brian.  It was my way of honoring and remembering all that Kara and Paxton were to me.  It was my first way of communicating with Kara's mom when I wanted desperately to contact her but was afraid to call.  I didn't know what was right and I wanted to be respectful and give her - her space always painfully aware of what she was going through and that in her eyes we, my family caused her pain.  I was also aware of the possibility of anger and even hatred at all of us. I so wanted to let her know how devastated I was for her and her family's loss.  When she asked my daughter if she could read the blog - it did what I never expected, it opened the door to a friendship.  And in some strange way she found comfort in what I wrote.  So, I wrote. And while I had spent my entire life writing suddenly that was all I could write. And now...well I can't even seem to write here either. Not sure if writing will ever come back to me.  I pray that it will.  In the meantime, I will just always be thankful that before it left me, I would be introduced to Praise and Worship music, I would find a dear friend in Kara's mom, she would find some comfort in my written word, and I could find peace and solace as I always have --in words right here.  

Kissing 2020 Goodbye

Well I should have known it couldn't leave without kicking and screaming its way out.  I am sick.

So for the first New Year's day in probably 15 years now I cannot spend New Year's with my best friend Kathie.  Doesn't feel like anything drastic but I don't dare expose her or her sister or her husband to anything because these days you just don't know.  So we will sit home alone - quarantined for the next 10 days I guess.  So now 2020 has officially hijacked New Year's Day 2021!

Today, for some unknown reason has been a very down day.  Its dismal outside but it was dismal inside as well.  Knowing I can't go to Kathie's like I have done for years has not helped but actually I think I'm okay with that.  Seems like we have had weeks of hoopla because Christmas was celebrated in several small gatherings so it kind of dragged on and I'm a little tired.

I've been reading a novel which is not usually my cup of tea.  Not much of a fiction lover but this is based on real events and I felt like I needed some down time reading.  It was a very good book but the subject matter was very sad and depressing and as it turns out I don't think that was what I needed right now.  The book was about a children's home in Tennessee that stole children and adopted them out to wealthy and powerful families, politicians, movie stars for a huge profit.  It was called "Before We Were Yours" By: Lisa Wingate.  The characters and details of their lives were fictitious but the premise of the story was true.  The Children's home was real.  The woman behind the baby brokering business was real.  The stories of cruelty, neglect, molestation and even murder were real.  It was a depressing, sad and horrific account and an eye opening realization of how cruel and horrible people can become for money.  It also cements the reality that as bad as the world is today - it has been just as bad in times past. People have committed inhumane atrocities for profit and power throughout the pages of history.  But it was not a light read by any stretch of the imagination and this was not a good time to read it. 

This has sure been a horrific year and I am glad to see it go however, the realist in me will not allow me to be overly enthusiastic about 2021 taking its place.  Too much lying in wait to believe that it is all going to magically get better.  Like we were going to wake up this morning and the virus will have disappeared overnight, all of our civil liberties and personal freedoms will have been restored, all of the businesses that have been bankrupted by this will have revived, people will want to work again and we will not be living with the threat of socialism and communism looming large on the horizon. We will be living once again in the land of the free in a United States that I recognize. And all will be sunshine and daisies.  

And as bad as this year has been and it has been like none other in history, I mentioned this morning to my husband that it is not the worst year we've ever seen.  And although I have always known that I would never get over losing a child - you say that without really knowing what that truly means.  And even after it happens you hope and pray that you were wrong.  That some day that pain would let up and you could live a normal life again.  All you have to compare it to is other, less horrific losses.  The grief was bad.  There was sadness and months and months of crying and guilt and sleepless night but then life began to slowly come back.  Days looked brighter.  You laughed.  Life continued.  You still missed the person you lost but you lived with the loss, remembered them with laughter and fond memories. And you picked back up and you lived again. So there is no way I could have imagined that 6 1/2 years would go by so quickly and that I would still be crying.  That I could still find it hard now to look at their pictures, that I would still be haunted by the unknowns of what happened and why.  Almost seven years.  That would have been far too much to live with had I known that in the beginning so I am glad I didn't know this then.  

However, today it no longer scares me because I realize with "acceptance" that it will always be.  Some days are better than others and I understand now that "some days" is the best I can hope for.  And I understand now that some days it will always hurt.  Some days it will be unbearable.  Some days I will cry.  Some days it will be like it is brand new again and some days it will be unbelievable.  And I know now that those days will always be with me.  This is not something I will ever, ever get over.  I will live with it and the pain will not be as sharp.  I will cry but alone and controlled and not as often.  I will wake up in total disbelief, but I will quickly recover and realize it has been like waking from a dream.  

I have finally come to the realization that this is life now and that's just how it is.  It will never go away.  How could it?  How naive of me to have ever believed that it could.  

I don't know how much the shame and secrecy contribute to that fact but I'm sure they don't help.  Perhaps if I could have grieved them openly, received love and support like normal people, if I could have been able to talk about them or hash out the confusion and anger and mystery or bounce my thoughts off someone, get feedback, miss them out loud, perhaps if I could speak of my children to people I meet like a normal person or perhaps if I had a socially acceptable answer to: "what happened?" instead of hiding my hurt and hiding the most horrific tragedy a mother could live through, hiding my children --all of them and the details of our life because I don't know how to answer: "How many children do you have?"  If I say three, they ask conversation starter questions - where do they live, what do they do?  Are they married do they have kids?  If I say two, I feel horrible.  If I say three and one has died, they ask what happened.  So, I avoid all talk of my children and feel as though I am living a lie at all times.  I feel guilty like I am rejecting or abandoning my living children like I am not claiming them, bragging on them, talking about their lives.  And keeping secrets will eat you alive.  How can I possibly make friends or get to know people when I have the worst tragedy in my life that has to remain untold.  They cannot ever "know" me, and I feel like I'm living a lie, not being true to myself, not even being myself.  Not at all living authentically and am not a "surface" person.  If I feel comfortable enough to tell them anything I begin to feel judged.  I start reading stuff into little slights and feeling as if they are treating me differently now.  It is changing me.  It is making me a loner.  Making me not want friends because it is too hard.  I can't be me so how real can a relationship with them be anyway.  I am sure that the nature of the situation has had a great deal to do with why I am still where I am.  And just like 2021 can't erase the tragedies of 2020 nothing can ever erase the tragedies of 2014