The 2010 decade sucked for me. I felt like the 2020’s were going to be my time! I’m a January baby and in 2020 I turned 40. I figured this was it! I was going to rule this decade!
So, we all know what happened there🙄. I don’t really want to claim anything in 2021. I’ll just be happy to put 2020 behind me and take a nice deep breath and hope that 2021 will surprise me. In a good way.
I am holding onto hope. I’m hoping that love wins out in 2021 and the world looks more like the world that we knew in 2013 when Benny died. When people were good and kind and caring.
I hope that the loss that happened in 2020 isn’t overshadowed by the political BS occurring daily. Remember when September 11th happened and we were shocked and horrified as a nation? We are seeing September 11th level death daily. It makes me so sad. To be complacent in others suffering instead of coming together to try to help is not ok. We need to get back to that mindset of holding space for each other and caring.
It has been a really, really tough year. I have been challenged as a mother, wife and business owner like no other time in my life. Maybe except for 2017 when we were homeless (because we sold our home and the housing market was nuts) with a 2 week old baby and just bought a business. But the challenges this year have been different. I’ve felt so out of control and anxious. I’m exhausted. I’m trying the best that I can to make the right decisions for my family (whatever those are) and trudge forward. But my god it is hard.
I’m working on self acceptance. I’m relearning to like myself and trying to show myself a little grace. 2020 has given me ample time to think and reconnect with me. It’s a process.
So there will be no big New Year celebration. I’d be surprised if we all make it to midnight. And that’s ok. I’ll be holding my breath for 2021 and hoping against hope that it’s a little bit kinder to us all. Because I can’t be the only one that needs a break.
I’m going to be honest here, I have no idea how to close this out. I am exhausted by Covid, the holidays, all of it. So I’m going to give myself a little grace.
I had all of these grand plans when I started this little holiday journey. But I’ve honestly forgotten half of what I planned and winged it. Sometimes that works better for me anyway, it allows me to be more honest to myself about what I’m truly feeling.
Right now I am tired. As far as Christmas Eves go, today was pretty stellar. My kids had fun, we ate a ton of food and we got to connect with family I haven’t spent time with in years (thank you Zoom). But I found myself tearing up all day. I missed my Mom. I missed my Dad. I missed my son.
I know this holiday season is tough. Even for those of us that are years out in our grief. Grieve however you need to right now. Do what feels right to you. Give yourself a little grace. ❤️
I miss my son. I’ve made that pretty clear. I miss everything about him. But I miss ‘me’ too.
I miss being able to parent without feeling like something is going to go wrong every second. I miss my ability to make decisions and not second guess myself. I miss not being paranoid over every little thing. I miss me.
It’s amazing to me how inanimate objects can hold memories. I can see something and it automatically sets off my grief without warning. It’s like a slap in the face.
I just spent the morning cleaning up and as I was vacuuming I was noticing all of the things that scream ‘Benny’ to me. Anyone coming into my house would have no idea, but I look at these items and I think of him. They weren’t his items, but something that I’ve connected to him since his death.
Grief is weird. It changes how you see things. It’s like you have a permanent set of glasses glued to your face that can never come off. And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t want them to come off. I’m able to see hope and love in the mundane.
Part of being a grieving parent is holding onto the old memories, while making new ones. Which is really hard when your child is gone.
Honoring and remembering our babies becomes the mission of the bereaved. We become the reminders of what is appropriate in grief and that there is no right or wrong way to walk along this path.
We remember Bennett on his birthday. We celebrate and sing to him every year. He was here and it’s important to us to celebrate his life.
We remember Bennett during the holidays. His memory is intertwined with ours and we make sure to hang his stocking and decorate his tree (thanks to an awesome suggestion by another bereaved mama). We do a 5K in his memory around the holidays every year.
We remember Benny on the day he died. We visit with him and take a moment to reflect on all that has happened.
We remember Benny by lighting candles on days of rememberance. We remember him in the day to day conversations and pictures spread around my house.
I never planned it this way, but we created new Benny memories without even knowing it. I know that he’s not here to be a part of it and that sucks. But he lived, and that life is so intertweaved with ours that his presence is felt daily.
Music has this uncanny ability to evoke emotion. Especially when I’m driving. I can be jamming out one moment and sobbing the next.
While I have many songs that remind me of Benny, Benny and the Jets is probably the one tied closest to his memory for me. We would constantly sing it to him. When we named him Bennett, I never anticipated called him Benny. It just kind of happened. It was never Ben, always Benny.
Whenever that song comes on I think of him. Sometimes I smile, sometimes I jam out and other times I cry. But every time I think of my crazy little dude.
I miss my adventurous boy. After having Darcy, who was so controlled and only willing to do something once she was 100% confident, Benny changed how I parented. He always had me on my toes.
I had started to refinish our kitchen table, so we had a folding table in our kitchen for a bit. I turned my back for one minute and Benny had climbed on the chair and onto the table and was be bopping. He needed eyes on him 24/7 because if there was something to climb, he would find it.
My little guy had more spirit and energy than anyone I had ever met. His little sister Perry is pretty close, and probably most resembles his adventurous spirit. I miss his little boy craziness.
So here’s a first. I put myself out there live. This is so far outside my comfort zone, but 2020 has been a year of firsts, so why not?
Since Christmas is in 8 sleeps (my kids are losing their minds as we count down), it only seemed fitting to discuss holidays. Bennett was just shy of 18 months old when he died, so we didn’t get many holidays with him. That part sucks.
My favorite holiday that we celebrated though would have to be his last Halloween. He was dressed up like a train conductor and he was just starting to understand how to walk up and ask for candy. There was one neighbor who had baby candy and Bennett held onto that candy all night. There were bite marks in the wrapper from where he tried to eat it. We still have that piece of candy. Because like so many other things, it’s just too hard to let go.
Your child could live 50 years or never take one breath, and the holidays still hurt the same. ❤️