The Tenth Anniversary

 It is almost impossible to believe that it has been ten long years since the day that changed so many lives forever. 

What surprises me is that this still seems so fresh sometimes and never far from my thoughts.  It is better in so many ways.  I get on with life.  I enjoy things again something I couldn't imagine just a few years ago.  I don't want to die every day anymore.  We went out of town again for this anniversary and I'd like to say after ten years we really enjoyed the trip.  Subconsciously, I'm sure it was meant to be a distraction (yeah, I'm still pulling that) but of course you are not going to just let the ten-year anniversary just slide. But thank God, it didn't wreck me.  I've had quite a year and that may be why.  My heart was elsewhere.  My sister and my best friend died just 31 days shy of her ten-year anniversary of being diagnosed with Leukemia.  She was the one person that never forgot the day; never failed to acknowledge it with me and always knew my heart.  She had a long hard road and it about killed all of us.  I still cannot imagine how I will live life without her.

We had to have our 12-year-old dog put down three weeks before she died.  And she was the one that had gotten him for us after we lost the kids.  I was so busy trying to help with her and so grieved over her until I barely had the brain cells and emotional bandwidth to share with that loss.  So, he did not get the grief that he deserved.  He too, had a rough year and my heart was broken but my time and attention belonged to her.

And I have finished my second draft of the book. I was hoping to have it completed by the tenth anniversary, but her illness took priority.  

I can't believe that this is also the ten-year anniversary of this blog.  No way when I started this would I have ever believed I would still be doing this ten years later.  Could not imagine living ten years actually.  But it truly has been a lifeline to me.  It has given me a place to grieve, to love, to process all that this has been.  I have lived in anonymity for going on 8 years since we moved here. Doing so has given me peace and a chance at a normal life but keeping secrets is very destructive and it has kept me feeling isolated and alone in this.  The blog has been my main source of how I've dealt with it all because of that.  My family all tired of hearing about it long ago.  I have a new church family and new neighbors and new friends and none of them know.  So, there is no talking it over with them or hashing out some new scenario or talking about Brian or how the baby has been on my heart all day.  I was able to talk to my sister on rare occasions, but she has had so much on her until I felt guilty bringing up my junk so most times I didn't.  Sometimes I can talk to my granddaughter.  She is always willing to listen but I feel like she is not the appropriate person to be unloading on.  My husband still listens as he is a captive audience, bless his heart, but I see his eyes glaze over the minute I mention anything about it.  And sometimes I have Kara's mom, but it is hard for us to talk about it too.  Even though I know that she feels the same things that I do and she would be the one person that would understand still grieving at the ten-year mark. She is a mother.  So, I know she does. And we are better.  So much better.  Both of us.  But we know for sure now the truth that we both I'm sure suspected from the beginning --this is forever.  

Most of my church family eight years in, do not even know we've lost a child or grandchild if you can believe that.  I can't answer the questions that are sure to follow so I literally hide the biggest thing that ever happened in my life.  Talk about an elephant in the room! I feel like I am the biggest liar ever.  Pulling off this deception but I cannot risk the fallout, so I still have not let it out.  I feel like a dog not acknowledging my children.  And it feels like I'm choking to death sometimes trying to keep it in.  I feel like if I could just let it all out, just be honest about who I really am what I've lost and grieve openly for my children --I would feel so free. But it isn't just me involved.  Donald loves the church and if it turned out like I fear - he'd lose that too.  We just cannot take anymore loss.  I know I'm not being very trusting but that comes from experience.  It seems like it's kind of too late to tell it now like that ship has sailed.  

This blog has been pretty much my only outlet.  

  

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.

March madness

Yesterday would have been Brian's 51st birthday and though I did as I have for the last nine years, I had two weeks of funk prior to his actual birthday.  And it took me until almost the day of his birthday to realize what was causing it.  It was just an overwhelming sadness that there appeared to be no reason for --until I remembered it was yet again March.  I felt it but there was a little something different this year in that although the sadness was there when I realized it and acknowledged it --I just let it come. I sat with it, I let it wash over me, I gave it a little space in my life.  But I didn't let it overtake me.  I didn't cry.  And once I recognized it and let it have its space, I was good.  And on the actual day of his birthday, I had a relatively normal average day.  

That was huge. 

Ten years since the last birthday that I ever got to spend with him; a milestone and yet it was a pretty good day.  Four people contacted me and acknowledged it and let me know they were thinking of me and that was so nice but there was no sadness surrounding it.  I mentioned it casually and remembered him of course but it didn't consume my day or my emotions.

Last week I dreamed about him.  A pretty rare thing though I'm not sure why.  I always long to dream of him but just don't.  But last week was also a first in that I dreamed about him, and it was just a normal day with him in the dream.  Usually in any dreams I have had of him, I seem to know that he is really gone even though I am with him.  I want to talk to him at length.  I want to ask questions.  I want to relish every second of my time with him and it always seems to fly too quickly.  It always seems like 'unfinished business' or like I want to hold onto him because subconsciously I am aware that my time with him is rare and limited.  But not this time.  This time the dream was just an average everyday dream that he was a part of.  Like when he was living, and I spent an average day with him.  I didn't think about missing him or losing him or needing to hold him there for just a few minutes longer.  We went about an average day, and he just happened to be a part of it.  That was huge to me.  Just huge.  It felt normal for the first time in so many years.  I awoke.  I remembered the dream.  And it did not make me sad.  I didn't feel that terrible longing.  It did not dominate the next several days or even that day! 

Of course, even though both of those things are big, I have lived with grief long enough to know not to take that as an indication that this is over for good and that his next birthday won't just wreck me or that the next time, I dream of him I won't again cry for the day and be sad for days on end.  But it does indicate that though grief comes, goes and then comes back again I now know too that when it shows progress and heads in a direction of healing it may circle back a time or two but praise God, it gets there eventually.  So it is still cause for feeling hopeful and optimistic.  

I just had a friend describe it pretty accurately.  She said that grief kind of moves in a 'figure 8' fashion.  And she should know, she lost her husband and soul mate after 25 years of marriage to a heart attack almost 20 years ago.  So she is seeing it from a 20-year perspective.  And that sounds about right.  It moves upward like it is going in the right direction for a while.  You come to a high place and think you are completely out of the weeds and then it starts across and then back down crisscrossing, flirts with the bottom and then starts back up again. 

You move through it one small accomplishment at a time.  It is still there but you've conquered one milestone - at first, they are small milestones like the first time you can casually walk past their favorite food in the grocery store and just go on with your shopping.  Then one day you can look at their picture and it doesn't make you cry.  And pretty soon you remember something amusing they said or did and you actually begin to laugh about it.  So, they are baby steps for sure. Then one day you hit a bigger milestone -- like a dream that doesn't wreck you.  

And sure, you may wind and twist about and still have your unexpected small things that cause a meltdown, but you find that one day when you least expect it --you realize you've conquered a birthday!  

 

2014 - 2024 --Ten Years! How is that possible?

I find it almost impossible to believe that we are now going into our tenth year since we lost Brian, Kara and Paxton. No way did I think that we still would not know the truth about what happened 10 years later.

Ten Years!  

And I'm not sure but I think ten years is long enough.  I think I am going to make this my final year of posting on the blog.  Seems like a good time to say goodbye.  And finally cease with logging my thoughts, emotions and grief over this tremendous loss.  In ten years I should have told the story, processed the grief, learned the lessons, uncovered the insights.  Told our side of how this horrific tragedy along with the speedy determination of murder/suicide has affected us.  Let anyone that never knew him, know who Brian was before the tragic day that now defined his life. I should have revealed the injustices we faced through law enforcement, let anyone that cared know why we never believed this story and told you of the inconsistencies and loose ends that we knew about that no one else ever heard. 

I have beat that dead horse enough already and there is very little left to say about all of that that has not already been said.

So, in this 10th and final year, I hope to spend our time together telling how I have healed even through the ups and downs.  Letting you  know how my faith survived in spite of what seemed to me like insurmountable odds.  I want you to know the lessons I've learned through catastrophic grief. I want to tell you what insights God has revealed to me through this and how I have grown through this.  I hope to let you know what good has come in spite of this and what good may have come because of this.  And I am sure as we go through 2024 - our last year together I will still be learning and growing and hope to pass on those things that may benefit you as well.  

I want to let you know what I have done that has worked to help me through this and what I have tried that has not.  And let you know how I have hopefully helped others because of this so should you ever face a tragedy that you think you cannot survive you might remember that I did and you can know which paths to take and which to avoid.  And that you might know going in that though it will be hard and it may seem impossible - if I could survive it, so can you.

I want you to know that your faith will be tested beyond what you ever thought possible and though it may not look the same as it used to -- it can survive.  It can even strengthen and grow.  I want you to understand that sometimes God can be right there with you, holding you, protecting you and you can still be unaware of it in that moment.  It was always the absolute most important thing to me from day one of this that my faith survive.  

I want you to know how your relationship with grief changes over time and that was something I could not know until I had walked with it and lived in it ten years.  Some things you only learn from seeing them in the rear view mirror.  Some lessons and some insights can only be seen from a distance.  And you need that perspective to see them clearly.

I want to update you this year on chronic, sporadic depression - and the ups and downs of grief ten years out.

Over these ten years if you've followed me here you've likely already realized one thing you may not have already known -- that grief could last ten long years. Even that is a lesson that could benefit you one day. When you wonder as I did - if this is normal.  When you are discouraged, confused and find yourself asking on a regular basis: What's wrong with me?  Am I going crazy?  When will this ever end?

And I want you to know that for the most part of this ten long years it remained the second most important thing to me that someday we would find out the truth about what happened.  And I want you to know where I stand with that today ten years later.

So hopefully, I can spend the next several months relating all of this in hindsight and if it has helped you or helped you see things like this in a different perspective then I have accomplished what I set out to do.

Here's wishing you all a happy and healthy 2024!  

Catastrophic Grief Makes You Crazy

It really does.  

Need proof?

Crazy - like keeping an open, half drank Pepsi in your fridge for two years and only tossing it as you move.  (Hey, at least I didn't pack it.)

Crazy - like tripping over a houseful of toys scattered everywhere for six months after there was no one under 40 that even visited. (And sadly, yes, I will cop to the fact that did pack some of them.)

Crazy - like getting that "deer in the headlights" look every time someone asks how many kids I have.

Crazy - like nine years later still not knowing how to answer that question. 

Crazy - like when I finally tell someone I lost my son, I never say "and my grandson and my daughter in law" which makes me feel awful but I know if I do there will be questions that I can't answer.

Crazy - like breaking off the closest friendship you've ever had - screaming that you never want to hear from her ever again.  And then crying because you miss her so much - for nine years.

Crazy - like bursting into tears in Walmart when you pass by baby shoes, Hot Wheels cars, pumpkin pie, eggnog, a box of Rice Krispie Treats or losing it in the checkout line over a pack of Skittles. 

Crazy - like postponing an appointment with a surgeon made for the 24th of August.  A surgeon! 

Crazy - like having a hard time planning or doing anything on the 23rd of any month because in my mind I have 12 anniversaries of their death every year.  Yeah - that's crazy.

Crazy - like unconsciously looking up and noting the time at 3:15 (March 15) on any clock I pass every single day and stopping to think about Brian

Crazy - like noticing the numbers 315 on phone numbers, signs, car tags, addresses etc.

Crazy - like stalking and snapping pictures of a total stranger in Chick Fil A because he looks so much like Brian till its spooky.  Realizing that's crazy and doing it anyway.

Crazy - like thinking every single dark haired girl with Italian features on TV looks just like Kara

Crazy - like seeing a man that looks like Brian going into a store and actually seriously wondering what Brian was doing in South Carolina! Because for just a moment I forgot - five years after he died.

Crazy - like going into a funk and crying on and off the entire month of March --for nine years.

Crazy - like waking up at or close to 4:00 A.M. almost every single morning for nine long years - when you are retired!

Crazy - like binge-watching crime shows trying to find a scenario that fits or a similar scenario that disproves the story we were given.

Crazy. 

It makes you just plain crazy.

Happy Birthday Pretty Girl

Today would be Kara's 38th birthday.  I've thought about her all day long.  She was such a breath of fresh air.  Fun and light and easy going and absolutely beautiful.

Happy birthday sweet girl.  We miss you so much.

My Heart...

I had 58 years of my life before he was ever born and he has now been gone 9 years.  I only had him 2 years 8 months and 2 weeks.  Such a small percentage out of the whole and yet that 2 years and 8 months and 2 weeks will dominate the rest of my entire life. And yet I am afraid that the small percentage of time will fade as it becomes farther away and I will forget what loving him was like.  I will never forget him of course but emotions fade, memories fade and I am afraid he will occupy such a small segment of time out of my life that I will forget a lot.  You do as time goes by.  And I don't ever want to forget one minute of my short time with him.  I enjoyed every minute of it and photographs and memories sustain me.  Losing him was awful but not as awful I think as never having had him.

Paxton at five months old pulling up at the baby gate 

Brian built to keep him safely away from the stairs.

Paxton at 20 months - in my yard playing in the leaves

                     

The Panda Bear blanket - the very first thing I bought when I first learned Kara was pregnant

Sitting on my window seat watching the birds

On the front porch

Playing in the yard

At the mall with his mom and Aunt riding with Garfield

Napping in the kitchen floor

Paxton three months old with "Jeffrey" on his head.  

Brian named all of his toys

Paxton new born the day he came home from the hospital

Sitting in Nana's bed laughing after he swiped the remote

Paxton two months old spending the weekend with Nana

Nine Years...

Oh my gosh I cannot believe that today was nine years ago that they found my son, my daughter in law and my 2 1/2 year old grandson shot to death in their home - the home we helped them purchase three years prior.  How my husband and I now wonder and fear that somehow that contributed to this tragedy  

Nine years later that still sounds too bazaar to be real.  Nine years.  Never would I have imagined a grief that could last nine years and I am so thankful I did not know that then.  I can't help but think about where I was exactly nine years ago at this time of day.  I was sitting in church waiting for Sunday School to begin.  I was already calling Brian and then Kara worried about them because I had not heard anything from them and they had not shown up for the visit that he called me Friday evening to schedule.  By this time, I had called both at least twice.  This time 9:50 am Sunday morning August 24, 2014 - I was still blissfully unaware of the freight train that was about to plow through my life and the lives of so many others.  Innocently, I was only slightly concerned that no one answered my calls and that they never showed up the day before because they could have gotten tied up at the birthday party they were to attend first.  I am unaware at this time that they never attended the birthday party for the six year old next door and that the carefully chosen and beautifully wrapped gift was sitting abandoned on their coffee table in their living room.  I was as yet unaware that Kara's mom had been actively trying to reach them at this point for more than 24 hours.  And she was unaware that her birthday would be the last time that she would ever hear her precious daughter's voice.  And that her birthdays from this day forward would never be an occasion to celebrate but a reminder of that birthday.  Brian's oldest son's birthday was the 25th and so at a very young age, his future birthdays will only be a reminder of his worst birthday.

One hour before, I had been in my closet obsessing over which shoes to wear and wondering what I could have for dinner when Brian and Kara finally made it over Sunday evening as that was the backup plan. Feeling a little concern I still refused to give in to the panic that was quietly making its way from the pit of my stomach to my throat where it threatened to strangle me as I suddenly recalled the strange incident that happened Saturday morning at exactly 4:00 AM  when I sat straight up in bed from a sound sleep and burst into tears for no known reason.  There was a reason that was yet unknown to me. And after I remembered that the panic was hard to hold back.  I tried several more times to call during the fifteen minute break between Sunday School and church.  I even left a desperate message for Brian that said, whatever was going on he needed to call and let me know they were okay or I was sending the police - which I assumed would prompt an irritated but immediate response.  It did not.  

After church several members were going to go grab a burger and enjoy an hour or so of fellowship. Chiding me for the panic I felt they finally convinced us to go. I could not keep my mind on anything.  I kept trying to call.  While waiting for my meal I thought to call my brother who lived just a few miles from Brian to see if he would run by and check on things.  He did and called me back to say that both cars were in the driveway but he could not get anyone to the door.  By now I was in a full blown panic attack and the friends we were sitting with insisted they drive us over and put my mind at ease.  I refused.  I knew - without knowing, that it would not put my mind at ease and I wanted to put off knowing as long as I could.  If I didn't go and didn't know I could live in my blissful innocence a little longer. 

Then I called my daughter.  She and Brian were very close and Kara was like the sister she never had.  I knew if they had just gone with friends somewhere she would know.  She assured me since they'd been going to the little girls next door's birthday on Saturday they probably just stepped next door for a bit.  That eased my mind just a tiny bit and she said she was close and could be there in ten minutes and she'd call me when she got in touch with them.  Then she mentioned that Kara's mom had also called her to see if she knew where they could be.  Twenty minutes or so passed as I sat on pins and needles and she called - and now I detected panic in her voice too.  She said, “something is wrong.  No one is coming to the door and I cannot see any movement inside the house.”  She confirmed that both cars were still in the driveway and that she thought they may have been gone with friends until she realized Paxton's car seat was still in the back of Kara's car.  She said she went next door and talked to the neighbor and not only were they not there but that they never showed up for the birthday party on Saturday like they'd planned.  She then said she noticed that the one and only ground level window behind the shrubs was "open" just a little.  It looked locked but had not been pushed all the way down so it would appear locked but was actually open.  She said, "Mom, Brian would never leave a window open and unlocked."  We both knew he was a fanatic about locking doors. She asked if she should climb in and check the house.  I said, much louder than was necessary - "NO! Absolutely not."  She said, "Well, what do I do now Mom?  I'm worried something is wrong."  I told her to call Paulding County police and I repeated, "no matter what  - Do not go in that house.”  It was at that point I knew. Then I asked her to put her husband on the phone and I repeated to him - "David, do not let her go in that house!"  

By that time our friend and my husband had arrived at Brian’s house.  They dropped me and his wife off and went to ease my mind.  I sat wringing my hands and praying for a miracle.  When I had not heard back from my husband or my daughter I knew something bad was wrong.  I called both and got no answer. I knew they did not want to tell me on the phone. My husband finally answered and said I'm on my way home.  I screamed “What?  What is it?”  He said, it's bad but I will talk to you when I get home.  I looked up to see our preacher coming in the door.  I knew they had called him to get here as fast as he could.  I remember screaming at him "What is it?  What has happened?"  He kept saying, "I don't know.  I don't know.  I just know it's bad."  At that, my legs buckled and I hit the floor and started screaming.  A lot after that was a blur.  I don't know if it was ten minutes or two hours and I don't remember when or how just that I looked up and my bedroom where I had retreated to was full of the women from the church, my husband, my daughter and eventually Brian's two oldest children as they made their way from Carrollton and Jasper.  

All I could think about was wishing I could go back.  Praying I would wake from this horrific nightmare and go back to the morning when shoes were my biggest concern.  Back to the innocence of life before nothing would ever be the same again.  Back to the Sundays when Paxton and I played hide and seek behind the throw pillows and pushed his firetruck back and forth across the den floor.  Back to when Brian's birthday was a celebration for my youngest son and not a week of crying and depression.  Back to family Christmases again with all of its crazy scheduling issues around ex-wives time constraints.  Back to July a few days before my birthday and the last time I was able to keep Paxton before my sister got out of the hospital and Paxton was singing "Haddy Dirtday" to me while Brian and Kara were out celebrating their 5th wedding anniversary.  Back to blissful, innocence before grief took over my life and my faith was tested beyond what I ever imagined.  Back to before in my grief and anger I pushed away my best friend of over 30 years. Back to before we became "those people" to the community we'd been a part of for 23 years. And before we had to leave our church of over 20 years, our home, our neighbors, our friends, my daughter and moved 100 miles away to a life of isolation and anonymity simply to be able to try and survive what I was sure would eventually kill me.

I have survived it.  Nine years today.  Thank God.  It still hurts of course and always will but with God's help I am better.  Better than I ever thought I'd be.  The move and the anonymity were hard but they were the only way I survived and not only survived but in many ways thrived too.  We have a new church, new home, new friends, new church family, rekindled our relationship with grandchildren that have lived over 100 miles away all of their lives.  Kara's mom and I have developed a relationship that even we don’t understand. And though we no longer have Christmas like we used to - thanks to the request that first year of Brian's only daughter, we have a huge wonderful, family Thanksgivings and we now let Christmas be what it should be - a celebration of Christs birth.  We have great grandchildren that we love and enjoy and though we will never stop loving or missing the ones we lost we try to rest in knowing they are actually better off than we are and we look forward to seeing them all again someday soon.

A Flash of Insight...

I think I need to talk to someone.  

Now I can't seem to cry.  I'm crying on the inside but I no longer seem to be able to hit that pressure release valve and really cry.  It has been several Sunday's now and I'm feeling desperate.  Vacation and camping trip and Mother's Day and Father's Day and races that were rained out --have all preempted my Sunday Relief Day and now I'm stuck.   Back in the weeds with no relief in sight.

I’m quite familiar with the signs of depression but somehow I missed them as I wrote:

And I don't know if you'd call it mental or spiritual or emotional or a combination of all but I have zero attachment to this life anymore.  I don't care about things like life's silly competitions, making new friends, or even hanging onto old friends, I don't care about "things" anymore; like new cars, clothes, furnishings or just stuff in general.  I still buy what I need but --I don't care about it one way or the other --I just don't care.  I have health issues that I refuse to go get seen about because --I don't care.  I no longer want to struggle to stay in this life.  This world truly does not feel like my home anymore and I'm ready to go home.  Things of this world no longer have a hold on me.  I"m okay living in this world and I function in it.  I will fix food and eat, I will buy clothes and shoes because I need them.  I will take the medicine I have for chronic high blood pressure because I do not want to be dibilitated and be a burden on anyone else but would I go to extreme measures to buy a few more months or years by taking chemo or having mutilating surgeries - I don't think I would.  I don't necessarily want to die but if it is my time, I'm really okay with it. 

Classic depression and yet I didn't recognize it as such..Crazy after all this time how that could slip past me.

I've been getting some online help with some issues and I think it is helping.  My granddaughter is getting counseling and now going to Griefshare.  I hope it helps her.  I'm learning its never too late..

A walk through the memories

Single dad

Engaged

Planning a wedding

The Big Day

I've got news...

New Addition to our family

New Family

 

After Almost Nine Years...

 Brian's natural father finally now knows he is dead. 

Unbelievable.

We decided to take a birthday trip for both of our birthdays.  We are six weeks apart in age and it's a big birthday so we opted for a trip out west.  

We flew into Denver and then drove to Moab, Utah and went to Arches and Canyonland National Parks.  We crossed the Rocky Mountains and did a lot of nature sight seeing.  It was the most unusual landscape we had either one of us ever seen.  It was gorgeous and it was a very good trip.  On the way to Utah, we stopped at a State Park to gather rocks (my souveniers - cheap date) from the river bank of the Colorado River and while there I got a phone call that literally stopped me in my tracks.

It was my ex-husband --after 32 years.

I almost fainted.  And my anxiety level was through the roof.  Strangely enough even after 47 years away from his control I was shaking and a complete nervous wreck.  I knew either he was calling because he'd finally heard about Brian or I was going to have to tell him.  

Turns out I'm still not sure which it was.  He claimed he called me first to see if I thought Brian would be willing after all these years to talk to him...Not likely.  So I as gracefully as I could told him about Brian's death.  He did not sound shocked.  He asked what happened briefly but did not seem to need a lot of details.  He did say he was sorry for walking away from him 32 years ago and even apologized to me for what all happened in our marriage and after.  It was unnerving and kind wrecked the first two days of my trip.

He and Brian's ex-wife were the only two people that I was furious with in the beginning.  All I could think about was they were the two people in the world that had hurt him the most.  I'm glad that phone call did not come 8 years ago.  It would have gone very differently.  And as many times as I've played that conversation out in my mind - it did not go anything like I'd planned.  surprisingly, I was not angry.  I felt no hatred.  I dreaded telling him and I felt sorry for him.  The only thing I did say was that it was a shame that the call came 8 1/2 years too late because Brian would have been delighted to have gotten that call.  And that just made me sad.  

He now lives out of state and he claimed that he was in Atlanta for a week and wanted to try and reconnect with Brian but decided to ask me if I thought Brian would even talk to him after all this time.  What I believe was closer to the truth was that he was in Atlanta for the week --and this is important - without his wife, and decided to reconnect with Brian but certainly not me and he would not have needed my permission or my opinion so that made no sense unless when he started his search to find Brian's contact information, what he found was his obituary.  And he called me and concocted that story to get the details and confirm that it was in fact Brian.  Either way, he didn't have to lie.  Didn't matter.  He was nine years too late.  Sadly, he has two still living grandchildren and three great-grandchildren that he did not bother to ask about or show any interest in meeting.

So he is still who he is and Brian was just as well off that the call came in now.  God's timing - just right.

But anyway that was a shock.  Eight and a half years later, he finally now knows.  

*Related post September 13, 2017*

How Catastrophic Grief Changes You

 As I've said before "this" did not just change how many places were set at the table for Thanksgiving.  This changed everything.  Besides the obvious of what losing three members of your familiy can do to you  it also changes you in so many other ways that you never expected. Secondary losses I guess they're called.  But not in the manner that I have heard secondary losses referred to such as who cuts your grass or takes out the trash or takes the car in for servicing.  These are more on a personal level and not task related but since they are directly caused by this loss they would have to be considered secondary or second level losses and after 8 1/2 years I have to now assume they are permanent changes. I don't know.

The things I am referring to are more like personality changes which I would consider at a far higher level than whose job it is to take out the trash so I really think they deserve the title and trash duty should move to fourth or fifth level losses.

I feel like "I" have changed.  Mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually.  Totally changed.  Some changes and the rationale for them are normal and expected physical changes - like gaining weight from stress eating and/or depression. And speaking of depression - 

Mentally, depression for one. I cannot seem to stay out of the weeds. Momentarily, I can feel better with more exercise, regular contact with my family, regular church attendance and keeping almost too busy.  But I don't stay there.  Let me get some down time and I'm right back digging my way up just to get to ground level.  Mentally, my short term memory is terrible.  I still have problems concentrating on anything and I'm having problems with my speech too.  I've always been a talker.  Some people are natually quiet and have little to say - that has never been me.  Suddenly, I can hardly complete a sentence before I stumble and lose focus and just stop mid-sentence.  

Emotionally, I notice a couple of things here.  I can still get angry really quickly with frustrating "business dealings" like terrible customer service and people that do not do what they say they're going to do but it dissapates quickly.  And I spend no time thinking about it later.  But anger with the people I love - just doesn't so much happen anymore for more than a fleeting moment.  I get my feelings hurt much more easily though and that's hard.  But nothing really seems important enough to get mad over, hold a grudge about or make myself or anyone else upset over.  I don't seem to have really "strong" feelings about much anymore but then that too may be depression talking.  

Spiritually, here I've noticed a lot of change.  I do not feel even remotely like the same person as before the tragic deaths of my children.  I don't seem to have the same strong spiritual connection that I did before.  I still love God.  I still seek truth.  I still want to do what is right in the eyes of God.  I still go to church regularly and work at the church and still try to do what I can for others.  But now those things are conscious choices and the "feelings" that I used to have that prompted those choices without thinking about it - simply are not there.  Unfortunately, (I think)  I am less prayerful than I used to be.  I kind of have the attitude that God will do whatever He chooses to do to accomplish His purpose and that's okay.  What I want doesn't really matter.  It's like its just a fact of life that I accept now.  I trust God and His ways a lot more and fighting against Him to have things go my way is no longer something I do.  

And I don't know if you'd call it mental or spiritual or emotional or a combination of all but I have zero attachment to this life anymore.  I don't care about things like life's silly competitions, making new friends, or even hanging onto old friends, I don't care about "things" anymore; like new cars, clothes, furnishings or just stuff in general.  I still buy what I need but --I don't care about it one way or the other --I just don't care.  I have health issues that I refuse to go get seen about because --I don't care.  I no longer want to struggle to stay in this life.  This world truly does not feel like my home anymore and I'm ready to go home.  Things of this world no longer have a hold on me.  I"m okay living in this world and I function in it.  I will fix food and eat, I will buy clothes and shoes because I need them.  I will take the medicine I have for chronic high blood pressure because I do not want to be dibilitated and be a burden on anyone else but would I go to extreme measures to buy a few more months or years by taking chemo or having mutilating surgeries - I don't think I would.  I don't necessarily want to die but if it is my time, I'm really okay with it.  

Death is no longer my enemy.  Perhaps that is what's meant by: "O' grave where is thy victory, O' death where is thy sting?"  

It does not frighten me to talk about it or even plan for it and when I lose another friend - I no longer cry.  I feel like they are the lucky ones.  My only fear where death is concerned is losing another of my family.  I do not want to lose anymore family and I think that drives a lot of these feelings because the older we get the more likely that becomes so I'd rather it be me so I don't have to live through another horrific loss.

I don't feel numb exactly but dulled for sure.  And I'm not sure that it is not exacerbated by the secretive nature of all of this.  Not being able to deal with it openly.  Not being able to talk about it.  Not being able to grieve them openly.  Not having the support I needed because of that.  And of course not knowing what really happened and not feeling like we got an adequate investigation or adequate information.  

Secrets are destructive.  

My Silly Baby Boy...

Rocking Mama's Red Heels

Photo Shoot at the barn

Trying on hats in Charming Charlie’s 

                                            

First trip to the beach

Flying through the house in a monkey blanket

Riding “YeHa” at Nana’s 

                                                  

Napping in the nightstand

Playing in the bathroom cabinet

New "Do" after his bath

Paxton's coffee table campout

Mommy and me

Paxton and Teddy in the Island Cabinet with his 

favorite blue Blankey

Napping in the kitchen floor 

Trying on Wigs

First Trick or Treat - Dragon Costume that he would not take off

He was very creative. "Soda Box" costume. 

 Kara sent me this with the caption:

"Yeah, this just happened!"

 

Where I am with the book idea...

Nowhere. 

I have not made one single effort in the attempt to write the book.  I just cannot wrap my head around this story becoming a book.  I've only told a small handful of people about the prospects and have gotten nothing but positive opinions.  The consensus is that since I could not find anything at all in the way of positive, hopeful or encouraging stories that I could relate to concerning a situation like this - that I should write it so others can.  And I get that and maybe I should.  I want to or at least I want to want to.  But something about it seems kind of "wrong" too.  Like capitalizing on such a god-awful tragedy. I was only able to do this blog because I had to have an outlet for all of my emotions.  I had to do something to give Brian a voice and make him human to those that only saw a monster.  It was all that kept me going for such a long time.  I had a positive reason for it.  I felt like it had a higher purpose, and it did not give me any opportunity for credit, recognition or profit.  It was just a way to honor the three of them, remember them and grieve them the way I was not allowed to do.  It helped me vent.  It helped me process.  It helped me --period.  

I just wish I could get it in my head that a book might do the same... And, if I'm honest, I'm a little afraid of it.  I'm afraid that in writing it all again from the start and reliving it all again from the beginning that I will go back into that deep pit that it took me years to come out of.  It may give me insights and possibly help someone else going through this --but I'm just not sure I could take it all again and I know that is a large part of what is holding me back.  When I started this blog, I had no way to go but up.  My progress through this has been slow, start and stop, backwards a little and forward a little and it has taken me eight long years.  I don't think I could take it if it took me backwards and I'm just afraid it will.  I am afraid of those emotions again.  I'm older and not as strong or resilient as I used to be.  Eight years of this has taken its toll.  Some days I'm still not sure I'm going to make it.  And on those days going backwards ...No.

But it is true that I read over 100 grief books trying to find something that would help me or encourage me or give me hope and could find nothing I could relate to.  I just had to take all of them glean what I could and create a composite of little generic positives from each and do the best I could with that.  It wasn't what I needed.  It wasn't what I'd hoped for but it was the best I could do.  

There is definitely a need.  I just need the courage to try.  And of course, the desire, the talent, the enthusiasm, the motivation, the encouragement and the time!  

Good ending to a hard Day...

It's Sunday and since I have now trained myself to hold my tears and emotional meltdowns until Sunday, it's kind of always a bit of a hard day but today was harder than most.

 As I've said before I've been cleaning out and clearing out and letting go of memories.  So today, Brian's daughter came, along with my other two granddaughters and their families and we had a nice dinner and a great afternoon together - all 12 of us!  

It was established before Ashley came that she would be taking some of Brian's things back with her.  Some I had intended to keep because at the time the kids came to clean out his house and take what they wanted --these things were left.  Some I knew all along that one day I would give to one or both of them.  I just wanted to wait until some time had passed and they were more settled so they would keep them and care for them.  Today was that day.

I had Brian's baseball card collection.  His biological father had started the collection for him when he was little, and Brian had kept collecting them for 40 years.  Today I gave them to her for her son.  I gave her a box of his little odds and ends things, old movies, games, photo albums. 

The main reason for the trip here was a portable kitchen island Brian had built for Kara that I didn't have the heart to leave in the house when we sold it, so my husband brought it home.  Kara had said she always wanted an island in her kitchen and was a little disappointed that this house did not have one so Brian told her he would just build her one and he did. He built it to her specifications, and she always loved it.  I have a video of Paxton pulling up on it and opening the door and sneaking snacks out of it before he could even walk and the very last "hiding" picture she sent me was of him inside that little island’s cabinet with his giant teddy bear and his fuzzy blue blanket.  He loved to play in the strangest places.

But the hardest thing that I let go of today was a canvas bag of his old, ragged socks.  His "sock puppets" he and the kids made.  I wrote a blog post on the infamous sock puppets several years ago.  It was such a gift when my daughter found them in his attic before the house was put up for auction.  I had packed them away and had not seen them since.  That is until last week when I started going through stuff to give the kids.  I laughed and cried at finding them again as did she when I opened the bag of puppets.  I wanted to show them to her but had fully intended to keep them, but she assumed they were part of the stuff I had for her, and she wanted them.  So, I let them go.  Rightfully, they were hers.  And I needed to let them go.  But it was so hard, and I knew as soon as they were down the street the tears would start.

I've also had a toolbox that his son took in the beginning and then because he was not settled or stable  at the time, left it with a girlfriend.  Fortunately, her mom called me and made the two-hour drive to meet us and see that we got them back.  We've had them ever since.  I wasn't particularly attached to them and had never opened the box.  But today we did and as soon as I saw his tools --well...suffice it to say, it was hard.

Eight and a half long years later I'm still losing pieces of him.  Last spring, we lost his little dog that we took in the year he and Kara married. She was 21.  It's not like we didn't expect it but still it was losing another connection to him, and we loved the dog, so it was doubly hard. 

We had a day today that was a day of remembrance of him.  Like what I wanted for his birthday.  And that part was great.  Alex was not here, but Alex did not want to participate in that kind of celebration anyway.  He says it's too hard for him, so this worked out well.

This was not planned as such, it just kind of happened.  As we sat here together all of us recalling each of our memories of him - I could not help thinking about Kryss, Justin and Andy.  The spouses and significant other of my granddaughters.  All they know of him began that one horrible day.  They will never know the person he really was.  And again, I was saddened by the fact that his whole life was defined by "that".  All of the good he ever did and all of the man that he was, the dad that he was and all of the things that he ever did right - were all erased by one tragic event.  

My now youngest grandchild is wise beyond her years and surprises me with her wisdom.  She says Brian's life was not defined by this to us nor was it to God and that is what matters.  We can spend our life hurting over the injustice, or we can share stories like we did today and know he loved us all so much.  She says she found Jesus because of it.  That fighting through that trauma made her come to know God and she is so grateful for the way God took that tragedy and made her new with it.  

Unbelievable.  

What a gift.

Happy Birthday my sweet, sweet boy.