This was not planned. The car happened to be back in the shop and Parker and I looked at each other and both saw ‘the Benny photo’. Life is funny sometimes. Round and round we go.
Tag: grieving mom
What You Shouldn’t Say
A blog that I read that is normally snarky has been sharing the grief articles en masse this week. Here’s another one that I’ve already written about, but bears reminding.
3 Years ‘AA’
I have been hiding out. Every part of my being has resisted writing about this since November 8th. It has been a long, dark road from there for me.
I haven’t wanted to write this out of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of judgment, fear of offending someone. Please understand that this is my point of view based on my life experiences. Walking a mile in my shoes and all that.
I’ve been desperately sad. Three years is a very long time to not hold or kiss your child. It’s nearly double the amount of time that I got to have him on this Earth. That broken part of me that happened on November 8th is still there. It will always be there.
My daughter is now 3 years older as well. She was so little. Even though we speak of Benny often, I can see that her memories are fading a bit. It’s awful. I hate it.
My youngest son has now surpassed his older brother in age. Think about that for a moment. It seems like that defies logic. It does for me. I wish more than anything that they would grow up together as brothers.
I look at my husband as the only other human being who completely understands me and this pain. I cannot imagine what this would be like without his love and support.
I have made it three years, survived the unimaginable. I hate this anniversary that marks the passage of time away from my son. Every year is different and hard for various reasons. This year was different however. Because November 8th was also Election Day.
I tried so hard to separate my son’s tragedy from the circus that was going on. It was hard not to get sucked in though, it was hard not to be excited. It was the first time that my daughter was old enough to understand what was going on.
We went to the cemetery and brought Benny some be trinkets. My younger son sat in the grass and played with his departed brothers toys. It was bittersweet to watch. On one hand, they were playing together, on the other hand, it was close as they would get.
When we came home we began watching the electoral map. I tried so hard to distance myself from it all. It shouldn’t have mattered as much as my Bennett. Maybe that’s why it was so alluring, it was a break from our reality.
I stayed up and watched. Completely heartbroken. Completely shattered at what was happening. I honestly couldn’t figure out why I was so upset.
My husband kept saying, ‘don’t let this get to you. Today is about Benny.’
That’s when I understood. He was right, today was about Benny. It was about why I’m still here. It was about all of the love that we felt after our lives fell apart.
I felt disillusioned. In the moment that I understood that Trump had won, I felt that love had lost. You see, love is why we’ve made it as far as we have. The love that I share with the many family, friends and strangers that have lifted us up.
At least if I have to live in a world without my son, I was convinced that it was a good world, a kind world, filled with love. Now I’m not so sure. I’m confused. I’m devastated that what I thought all along, isn’t quite true. For me, it’s like learning that Santa isn’t real.
So bear with me. And if you don’t share my views, at least please respect them. I cannot help the way I feel.
Getting Older
Today was a great day with my family. We carved pumpkins, watched football (yes, that’s very odd for us), worked on Halloween costumes and just spent time with one another.
This has been a rare day for us because Autumn was crazy. Parker traveled a lot for work, school started back up and so did dance, girl scouts, etc. I welcomed this opportunity to be home with my family.
Darcy and I ran to Target and AC Moore to get the finishing touches for her costume. We had to drive across the parking lot and she asked if she had to buckle up, to which I said yes. We had just recently talked about how her booster seat in the car isn’t going away just because she’s 8. She’s just as serious about vehicle safety as I am.
I swear, there are times when I can feel it coming, when I know she’s going to ask questions about the accident. It’s been nearly 3 years and it’s lessened some, but it still gets me every time. I cannot describe it, it’s like feeling a ghost, because I just know.
She asked if I remembered the accident as we drove across the parking lot. I told her yes, bits and pieces. She asked if Benny had been run over and I answered honestly. She said, ‘I thought so.’
She asked me if I dropped him. I tried so hard to explain that it wasn’t on purpose. At that point we were getting out of the car and she started to tell me how she would have held on tight and hopped out of the way. To passersby it probably looked like she was doing a dance as we walked into the store while she described how she would have handled it.
I forget she was only 4. She knew what we told her. She’s nearly 8 and has had plenty of time to process and look at the situation from her 8 year old perspective.
I looked at her and said,’I don’t think we ever told you, but the police came over to the house with my car and reconstructed the accident. They timed how long it would take the car to get from the top of the driveway to the bottom. It was 6-7 seconds. I ran and the car door hit me and knocked Benny out of my arms. There just wasn’t enough time to get out of the way.’
She got it. I think it gave her a clearer picture of what happened. Her response was, ‘oh, well yeah, a car is much heavier than you. And now you park the other way so it won’t happen.’
It just seemed like something clicked with her, that she had a better understanding. In that moment, she seemed so old. Here’s a little girl that believes in Santa and the Tooth Fairy, yet I felt like I was speaking to an adult.
I never really thought about her looking at our situation as she grew up. It must be like watching a movie as a child and then seeing it as an adult and being able to identify the adult humor or situations.
I’m glad that she is giving me the opportunity to speak frankly. I’m so happy to have open lines of communication with her.
I’m so lucky to have this child in my life. She carries our Benny memories with her. She’s what keeps us going, she’s what makes us want more of everything that life has to offer.
This is Us
You’re Here
Even though you’re gone, I can feel you.
You were a part of me for nine months, and I watched you grow for seventeen, that doesn’t just end.
I feel your happiness in the sunflowers that now fill my home. I didn’t intentionally add them, they just started showing up as gifts through others, probably your doing.
I see your face, from baby to toddler smiling back at me from our walls. It’s as if you are watching over us with those bright blue eyes.
I touch your blanket and surround myself in its warmth. It reminds me of your snuggles.
I see your name, just about everywhere, from tv credits to magazines. It is still in block letters in your room and now your brother’s name has also been added to your wall.
I see your likeness in your brother and sister. Both physically and emotionally, they have little pieces of you that they will carry on.
I hear your crazy laughter still in my memories. I’ve never met a happier boy.
As much as I miss you, I know you’re still here, all around us. That doesn’t end.
Pause
Fletch is not feeling well.
He’s whiny (more than usual) and running a slight fever. It’s most likely teeth, but now I panic.
He’s finally sleeping AND napping and doing it well. It’s like he’s a new baby. He won’t settle tonight though and is uncomfortable, which tells me he’s not feeling so hot. That and he really didn’t eat much at dinner.
I’m scared. This is the first time that he’s really been sick. I’m writing this with him in my arms as I try to convince myself that he will be ok tonight.
No one likes seeing their child sick. I don’t like where my thoughts go, how paranoid I get. This is what happens. There’s no trust that something awful won’t happen.
I think it’s become worse now that he’s older. Every day we creep closer to him hitting 17 and a half months. I cannot bubble wrap him and stick him in a helmet. He’s going to get sick, he’s going to get hurt, it’s just so tough not to completely fall apart when it happens.
It’s time to pause and just breathe.
Mother’s Day History
So I did some googling tonight as to the history of Mother’s Day because I was curious how it all started.
A woman by the name of Anna Jarvis held a memorial ceremony in May of 1908 three years after her mother’s death. She wanted to celebrate her mother’s life and all that she had done for her children. She was honoring her late mother.
Anna’s mother Ann Reeves Jarvis had had thirteen children over the course of her life. Seven of her children had died before Anna was born. Seven. She was a bereaved mother.
Because of a lot of hard work on Anna’s part, the US recognized Mother’s Day as an official holiday in 1914.
For those of you missing your moms today, this holiday was started for you. For those of you missing your children today, this holiday was also started for you. It was grief that brought forth this effort to create a day just for Mom’s.
So when you think of Mother’s Day, don’t just associate it about being for those that are here. It began for those that are not. Happy Mother’s Day!
Fear
In the last year I’ve found that I have received most of my news information from Facebook. Since the accident I do not watch the news or really follow current events. People post a lot of that (especially now), so I have no choice but to see it.
Parker and I are friends with many people on both sides of the political spectrum, so we see some really interesting stuff. Political beliefs are one thing, but very often I will notice that someone from the right will post about XYZ and then someone from the left (completely unrelated) will post something refuting XYZ. So this is when I feel like I need to be educated and go in search of the facts.
I liked it better when I was ‘in the bubble.’ Where the worst thing that could happen, already did. Ignorance is bliss and I liked my small little world where very little information got in.
A friend of mine recently posted on FB that she ‘chooses humanity over fear,’ in referring to the refugee crisis. Of all the posts that I read concerning this, hers was the most researched and she was able to back up her viewpoint.
But I’m not here to write about politics. I’m the last person that should be making an argument for either side. What struck me was how she said she ‘chooses humanity over fear.’ Parker and I have been talking about it for days now and I’ve come to the realization that we don’t have a choice, fear is what we know.
Now I’m not speaking in reference to the refugee crisis, but rather this whole ISIS threat. As far as I’m concerned, they have won with us. They have met their end goal. I’m fucking terrified. I know what it’s like to lose a child. I don’t ever want to be there again.
A week ago we were considering taking Darcy to see A Christmas Carol, that idea ended last night as I’m reading that we should ‘stay away from large crowds.’ Yes, we’re being paranoid and we get that. Yes, we let ISIS win by sheltering ourselves, but it’s not a choice for us. I didn’t choose fear, it chose me.
I do not like the hold that it has over our lives, but it’s going to change how we do things, where we go. I honestly started looking into home schooling, this is how paranoid I’ve become. Parker, who is so often my voice of reason when I’m being crazy looked at me last night and said, ok, I’m onboard. He said to me, ‘we know what it’s like to lose a child, it changes how you view things, what you feel threatened by.’
So now I sit here in panic and wait for something bad to happen. I know it’s not healthy and most of the time I can snuggle the kiddos and make it disappear for a bit, but it’s always there in the back of my mind. What if…
2 Years ‘AA’
So I need to write one more entry for CYG to close it out, but in order to do so, I need to look back at where I was last year relative to this year. Suffice it to say, it’s going to be awhile.
I’m curious how different things look through the lense of 2 years out opposed to 1 year out. Yes, there are obvious things have changed, such as Fletch, but it’s supposed to be about where I’m at in my ‘grief journey.’ I don’t know that I like that term because ‘journey’ implies that there is an end. There is no end to this.
I cannot believe that I’m writing about this 2 years out. It all seems so foreign to me now. It’s like that awful thing that happened to someone else-but it actually happened to me. How is that even possible? 2 years out and I still cannot wrap my head around losing Benny and I was there! I guess not too much has changed in that department.
He would be 3 1/2 now. I can’t believe that. He would be in preschool. Maybe he would play soccer or do gymnastics. Maybe he and Darcy would fight like siblings do. A lot of ‘maybe’s’ and ‘would’s’ here. More like ‘should.’
I miss him every day. I watch Fletch, who is so like his brother, and wonder what kind of mischief they might get into together. They have the same flirty smile and deep dimples. I watch Fletch play with Darcy and I’m so filled with happiness and sorrow all at once. There’s someone missing from their game, there always will be.
I’m not surprised at how much I miss him, but rather how much I miss my mom. I feel like every time something big happens, I miss her more. I missed her at graduation, both high school and college; I missed her at my wedding, but most of all I missed her when I first had kids.
My grandmother was right down the street from us growing up. She came over after school and did our laundry, ironed and always had fresh baked cookies and butter cake. My mom’s family is close and I have so many amazing memories growing up with that family during holidays. I miss that. I want that for my kids.
I think what made me miss her most this year was the absence of our remaining parents. Not one of them acknowledged November 8th. No phone call, no email, no text. It probably wouldn’t bother me so much if at least one of them remembered. The worst thing for a grieving parent is the belief that their child is being forgotten. Well, thanks for that.
I know that if my mom was here, she would have been there. She would have been there so much over the last 2 years. She would have been an amazing support, she would have been a parent. It kills me. It’s grief compounded.
2 years out sucks too. All of it still feels so unfair. I mourn for Benny, I mourn for my mom, I mourn that Fletch will never meet his older brother. I’m assuming it will just get harder too, because he’s our after. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. Kind of like Darcy with my Mom. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. It breaks my heart for both of them.
I wish that I could say that it gets easier. It’s like parenting I suppose, it doesn’t get easier, the grief just changes. What used to set you off a year ago is ok and another trigger has taken it’s place. You start to lose another part of that person. It sucks.
Sunshine, Angels and Rainbows 