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

2020 - Christmas has been Hijacked! Along with pretty much everything else

In church this morning the preacher was talking about what an awful year this has been for everyone and how this Christmas is going to be the worst Christmas he personally has ever known and he assumed most people felt the same.  

We are in a second wave and huge surge in the first worldwide pandemic that has been seen since 1918.  At best it has hijacked our peace, our family time, our vacation plans, our holidays, our weddings, our honeymoons, our graduations, and birthday celebrations, our educations and the education of our children and grandchildren.  And at worst it has hijacked our health, our businesses our jobs and the ability to support our families, our sanity, our mental and emotional health and the ultimate -- precious members of our families and then the funerals to honor and pay respects to those precious members, 

We have seen our fair and equitable election process be made a total sham of leaving the country in a horribly divided embarrassing mess and the highest office in our once great land has been made a mockery of. The election process and in turn the presidency of the United States have literally been hijacked.

The president elect apparently has dementia and cannot even complete an intelligent  sentence.  And I'm not making fun.  It is sad that he has been put on display in this kind of condition for people to attack him for something he cannot help.  It is disgusting to see and I feel terribly sorry for him but all sympathy aside he is not fit for the office of President and it is my sincere believe that he will never be allowed to serve that in that capacity and I do not believe that it was ever intended that he would. Human decency, it seems, has been hijacked as well. 

Real Journalism has certainly been hijacked taken over by social media and tech moguls. We are now being spoon-fed political propaganda and everything that does not agree with their agenda - censored. The first amendment to our bill of rights - our Freedom of Speech - has been hijacked.

Truth has certainly been hijacked.  There is no truth not even in the face of a worldwide pandemic - we can't even trust what we are told about the health crisis affecting the entire world because the truth has become relative depending on which political party you hear it from.

We have racial unrest and violence in almost every major city that has been bought and paid for and carefully choreographed. They have killed, maimed and destroyed and it has all been sanctioned by the local Governments. 

Cities have been taken over.  Our Historical Statues and Monuments, pieces of our history, beautiful expressions of art, owned and paid for by the American Tax Payer have been destroyed; again fully sanctioned by the local Governments. 

Police have lost all power and are not allowed to even defend themselves from violent protesters.  Again sanctioned by the local Governments. Law and order and democracy gone.  Yep. Hijacked.

All culminating to be "globally" yes, the worst year I've ever known in my 67 years but "personally" well that's a different story.  2014 still has that prize and so far though this has been no picnic, Christmas 2014 still holds the record at my house.. 

The thing about this Christmas vs. 2014 Christmas is that 2014 kind of ruined every Christmas from now on.  Hoping to God that 2020 will not have that same power and effect.  

The world has looked upside down and wrong to all of us for six years and it just kind of feels like to me like the rest of world has just now caught up.

Strange

I had the weirdest exchange take place between me and a "friend" from church the other day. I mistakenly assumed a church friend might be one to call when you needed a little support.  So I texted and told her I almost called her the day before because I was so down and really needed someone to talk to. Her answer left me feeling far worse than before I contacted her.

This was how she responded:

I don't mind listening "but" I hesitate to give suggestions.  I have found that when someone talks, their perception is what is told.  Facts can only be learned by carefully worded questions.  I'm not smart enough for that besides, I'm too empathetic."

Huh?  

She offered no further explanation.  I concluded that she assumed I was going to talk about the kids.  She "supposedly" does not know what happened just that I lost them tragically.  I have never told her -  I'd also bet many thousands of dollars that she actually does know.

So what exactly do you say to this?  I assumed, A. She DID NOT want to talk to me about any problem, either physical, spiritual, emotional or otherwise.

So to just back out of any plea for help, and let her gracefully off the hook I said "Not that I really expected anyone could actually help.  I just needed a friend I guess."  

She said: "I understand." 

 

THAT ended the text exchange.

Not another word; not - Hey, I'm your friend.  I may not have all the answers and I may not can help at all but I can listen and be there for you.  

Nope.  Just "I understand."  No. It is I that understands.  Completely.

It absolutely devastated me.  I felt like she had just slapped me cold in the face.  I really did.  I cried and  have been upset by it for days.  And my first instinct was to quit the church as crazy as that sounds.   

Six years later - Really?  Again, I might as well have called the suicide prevention hotline and been put on hold!

Still

 

I was just telling my sister that grief just keeps coming at you because if you loved someone you will never stop missing them.  It takes turns.  Some days I think about my Mama all day long and it has been over twenty one years since I lost her and some days it still seems so fresh it is impossible to believe it has been so long. I still relive that evening on the hospital helipad helpless and alone as I watched from the ground and an overwhelming sadness overtook me - as they lifted off and she flew away in the helicopter as they “life-flighted” her to Emory – She may as well have been carried off by a band of Angels because I knew in my heart she was flying away for the very last time.

Some days I just think about Shirley and how after Mama and Daddy divorced she literally moved in and rescued all of us.  She gave us the only real stability we had ever known.  I think about how selfless she was giving her all to be there for all of us.  We were strangers to her.  She had never been around kids and she gave up her quiet, peaceful life of never having to struggle to rescue a bunch of needy “strays” and stayed loyal to us for over 20 years until she died.

Some days I think about my brother in law Keith Day, lost way too young to a heart attack at 50 years old.  I think about how funny he was and about how he went against everyone’s advice to start that street ministry that has now morphed into the “Blessings Bus Ministry” that feeds and clothes the homeless on the streets of Atlanta for over 15 years!  I think about how proud I was of him then and how thankful I am to get to be even a tiny part of it now.  

Some days I go way back, and I miss my uncle - Bobby Holland killed in a tragic car accident at 26 years old.  He left a young wife and 8-month-old child that never knew her daddy.  I think about what he was to me.  I think about what a good daddy he would have been to her.  He was the first man that I ever really trusted.  He was kind and gentle and so different from all the men in my life that either, grabbed at me and made me feel gross, or beat the hell out of me for little or no reason.  I had a pretty dim view of men in general most of my life.  He was the exception.  He was also the first person in my life that I loved and lost; at 10 years old he was my introduction to grief. I cried over him for a solid year.

There are days when I think about my aunts and uncles that I’ve loved and lost; my grandparents and as of two years ago, my dear friend Durinda – the first of my childhood friends to die.  My friend and neighbor most recently - Linda Sayre a testament to the way a Christian both lives and dies.  She lived loving the Lord and she died trusting Him.

And of course, leading the pack are the days that I think of Brian and Paxton and Kara.  Those days are still after 6 years - devastating and still that grief surrounds and nearly consumes me almost daily.  I don’t cry everyday anymore but I do still cry.  And while it seems good that I no longer cry everyday I’m really not sure it is because I think holding it in could make you explode.  Because replacing that is a deep, aching sadness that permeates my entire being.  I can laugh but not without guilt.  I have small joys, but they are colored by a layer of sadness and intense sense of loss.  Each takes their turn at me.  Each has their day and of course there are still the ever-lingering peripheral losses that continue to pile up --six long years of losses.  Like after all this time I still do not know what happened.  Not a day so far goes by that I do not think of that.  After six years I still cannot talk openly about them.  I still cannot acknowledge that I ever had them, loved them or lost them because of the questions sure to follow that I still do not know how to answer.  I feel cheated and that feels like a loss unto itself.  I still feel judged, and I still feel guilt where Kara’s family is concerned.  My faith has suffered immensely.  I fight it – daily - with everything I have but there’s no use lying – it is not the same and it has suffered irreparable damage as has my relationship with literally every other person in my life.  Some lost never to return; some have returned but what we have left is so different the relationship is virtually unrecognizable.  I’d venture to say not one part of my entire life has not been seriously affected.  I still don’t sleep well waking up most mornings before 4:00.  I still cringe and get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach on the 23^rd of the month – not just August but every month – for six years.  I do not seem to be getting “better” as I’d hoped and prayed and each successive year, I find myself getting closer to "bitter” than I’ve been for six years. 

Some days I can see their pictures and feel love and warmth and remember sweet memories.  Other days I can see their picture and it is like a knife to my heart.  Three knives actually.   

Still surprisingly, Paxton has been the hardest.  Maybe because he was totally innocent and maybe just because he was a baby and there is something so awful and so tragic about the loss of a child.  And most especially under such traumatic and horrific circumstances.  That said, they have all been hard.  Very hard.

Still, I feel guilty because I never saw any of them and that feels so wrong and yet I know if I had it to do over, I would choose to do the exact same thing again.  I am a coward.  I could not see them and live and the survivor in me always, always knew that.  I am an incredibly strong person, but strength only goes so far, and I simply could not face that.

The conclusion I’ve come to is if people have had a place in your life; have impacted your life, you have loved them, or they have loved you –you will always miss them.  Always think of them from time to time and yes, even always grieve the loss of them – still - and always.