Author: sheriroaf

‘It’s always darkest before the dawn
when your world is weary,
when all is dark,
when dreams die and fade away,
and all of life is stark.’

I’m waiting for the dawn.  I know it’s there, somewhere out a few years or decades even.  I wish nothing else but to be there now, to know the journey that I’m on and be on the other side.  Who will I end up becoming?

I have hope that there is light in our future.  I have to, or I wouldn’t be able to get up and face each new day.  The dark can consume you and there are days when it does just that.  I don’t want to leave the house, or get dressed or shower.  I want to wallow, surround myself in it and waste away the day.  I want to wear it like a cloak, because sometimes I just need it.  I need it so badly to hold onto what I’ve lost.

It reminds me to of the light, of the good days.  There are days filled with such happiness and love that I would think, even in my situation, that I am very blessed.  The light is my daughter, my husband, my friends and my family.  The light is having the ability to look at life on such days with open eyes and see what an unbelievable gift it is.  The light is my memories, even though I’ve lost my son, I will forever have them to treasure.

I’ve spent the last 11 months jumping from light to dark.  It’s part of the process I suppose.  I look forward to a time in my life when the light outweighs the dark.  I know it’s coming and I’ve no choice but to continue forward until I reach it.

I don’t know if there’s a specific season that reminds me of my son.  He was born in May, but the Fall is where I have the clearest memories of him,  it’s also when I lost him.  It used to be my favorite season, now I can’t wait until it’s over…

When I think of Benny, a few songs come to mind.  Among his favorite are the Wheels on the Bus, the Itsy Bitsy Spider, the Hot Dog Dance and Roar by Katy Perry.  Quite eclectic for a 17 month old.

Darcy and I would sing the Nursery Rhymes to Benny in bed every morning.  We would do all of the hand gestures and he would watch fascinated.  I’m pretty sure Itsy was his favorite because he was mimicking the hand motions at a young age.

We spent a lot of time in the car together.  He ran errands with me, it was a 20 minute ride to Sandy’s house 3 days a week and then we still had to grab Darcy.  He spent a lot of time in the car with me and his sister.  We always had the radio on and would sing along at the top of our lungs.  The first song that he mimicked from the radio was Roar.  Not my favorite song, but it is about strength and overcoming one’s obstacles.  How fitting that he should chose this song.

‘I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire
‘Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar
Louder, louder than a lion
‘Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar’

Benny, like his sister before him enjoyed watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  I don’t know how much he enjoyed watching the show as much as joining in the Hot Dog Dance at the End.  He and Darcy would do it at home or he and the kiddos at Sandy’s (Sandy included) would Hot Dog dance around.  At the end of his memorial service, we invited the kids to Hot Dog dance up on the altar for Benny.  I miss hearing this song, this one’s for you kiddo…

We asked that people bring photos to share at Benny’s Memorial last November.  We had boards and some people brought pictures to hang up.  Some people filled up entire boards chronicling my sons life and others brought beautiful photos that we didn’t even know existed in frames.  In this world of digital life, it’s rare to have that many pictures of your children printed out and in one place, it was nice.

Truth be told, most of them ended up in Benny’s room.  It was too hard at first to be surrounded by all that I had lost.  Slowly, the pictures made their way around the house and found new homes on the walls.  I didn’t want our house to become a mausoleum, so it was hard to pick and choose what to keep out.  Grieving takes on a whole different meaning when you are looking out for the best interests of a 5 year old too.

In the dining room, we have a ‘Benny shelf.’  It’s where his picture that we used for his obituary is kept as well as many, many other treasures that we have received.  We have the rocks that my friends daughters painted with Benny’s name on them, angels and sunflowers (this is before we made the sunflower connection, right after the accident).  We have a picture of him covered in cake from his first birthday because this makes Darcy laugh.  There is a sunflower that was given to me by my LDS friends in a basket (again, they had no idea about the connection).  I also have a sunflower candle and the Winnie the Pooh quote from my friend Sue.  She said that she had the Pooh quote forever and it seemed fitting, not knowing that we had used it in Benny’s services.  We usually have Benny’s bus there too, which is his little matchbox car that he was obsessed with.  He would walk around and make engine noises, say ‘bus’ and drive it everywhere (including a friends knee’s right after surgery).  This has become our Benny space.

We also have a space in our front hall, which is right on the other side of the wall from the dining room.  Sue and her family had given us a memory lamp after Benny’s passing.  It wasn’t until after we tore the house apart and then put it back together that I realized it belonged in the front hall, right next to another beautiful picture of my son, given to us by Parker’s, sisters, mother in law.  This lamp is on day and night and never gets shut off.  It’s our ‘candle’ that always stays lit in his memory. It’s a reminder of how he brightened our world.  A fitting tribute to the dude.

When the accident happened, many people were quick to rush to our aid.  They wanted to be there, they wanted to help and they did, immensely!  We couldn’t have gotten through those early days without our friends standing by our side, holding us up.  They were the light in our darkness.

We have limited family support, but the family who is there for us has been amazing.  Parker and I are both blessed with sisters that would do anything for us and they have.  We are lucky to have a cousin who is a social worker who has helped to guide us and an Aunt who has been where we are who writes to us all of time and supports in no way that any person can, unless they’ve lost a child themselves.

We’ve had the community, that I’ve spoken of a lot in my blog already.  The strangers that showed up with food, or whose children helped my daughter at school.  It made this big city that we live in feel really small, in a good way.

These were all good things, great things.  We were surrounded by love and met lot’s of new friends.  What’s strange to me is who is in our lives 11 months later.

Do you really know who your friends are?  When it came down to it, would they be able to stick it out for the long haul?  Would they be able to hold your hand and cry with you and face the fact that their own children are mortal?  Would they know that all they have to do is be there, even if they don’t know what to do or say?

I can tell you, that I never expected my two best friends from Long Island would never show up.  The two people that I’ve known longest on this Earth that I chose, that aren’t related, and they couldn’t even show up to my sons Memorial Service.  It was a crushing blow in the beginning.  Now I see it for what it is and I’ve (somewhat) made my peace with it.  Perhaps we grew apart more than I had noticed, perhaps they were more selfish than I noticed, perhaps they didn’t know what to do.  I would like to think that if the tables had been turned, I would have been there in a heartbeat.  When these things usually happen I cook or bake and freeze food, because I honestly don’t know what else to do.  I’ll never know what I would do in their shoes, because I’m in mine.  All I can say is this, people grow up, grow apart, have families and move on.  It doesn’t mean that that friendship that you had as children should be honored any less.

There were lot’s of people in the beginning.  They can handle you crying about your son, because they cry too.  They can understand your hurt (to a point) and allow you to wallow in it. Then they go back to their own lives and move on.  They move forward, their children age and you are standing there stuck, all alone.  I can tell you from experience, it’s not the people that you would expect to be standing by your side when the smoke has cleared off the battlefield.  Who of your friends is able to stick around while your face your grief head on?  Who really wants to be a part of that?

I understand that life DOES go on for others and they do have jobs, families, etc. Part of me is very jealous because I’m stuck and they GET to move on.  When is it my turn?  I try very hard to understand that it’s not ALL about me, I say this in all seriousness.  It’s hard to look outside of myself or my family right now.  I really do try, it just doesn’t always happen.  It’s much easier to blame everyone else.  Have I reached out to them?  No, because I’m the one that’s hurting and they should know that.  See, back to being selfish.  I’m just not in a place right now where I can forgive others for what I perceive to be their shortcomings.  Is that fair?  Probably not.  Honest?  Yes.

If you’re uncomfortable with grief, then I suggest that you isolate yourself from the rest of the world.  Everybody dies!  You will have to handle it at some point in your life.  You will also have to go through it.  Think about who you would want standing by your side and holding you up.  Think of how much time that you might need and then double it, triple it!

I’m not asking for someone to be at my side 24/7 holding me up, I don’t need that.  Please just don’t disappear.  If you’re uncomfortable, then call, email, text, there are a million ways now to have an impersonal conversation.  Hide behind technology, but please don’t disappear.  As grieving parents we try not to look at it as a reflection upon our lost children, but it does happen.  You start to wonder who your child was actually important to.  Is this fair-no, but it happens.  Just stay in touch.  It’s a reflection upon you if you disappear and no one else.

Now, for every person that has disappeared, a new one has taken their place.  The neighbor that you were friends with, but now you’re really close, the strangers that are now your friends.  New people entered my life because they were meant to, Benny put them there, just like my mom gave me my BFFer’s.  There’s a void to be filled.

I don’t know what the future will bring, or who else will not be able to travel this road with me.  I know that the ones that have stuck it out deserve a thank you.  Thank you for letting me be selfish, jealous, stuck and above all for letting me grieve.