It's Ok to Be Ok!

When you’re in grief and often asked, “how are you doing?”,  and if you respond with, “good” does that mean you loved the person you lost any less? Absolutely not! When you are grieving and writing about your journey, in the hopes of helping other mourners, am I doing a disservice to them if I write an uplifting post rather than one from the dark side of emotions? Absolutely not! No matter where someone is in their journey, I am likely not in the same exact place as another. It is important for others that are in the first few months, or even the first year, of grief to know that it’s ok to be ok.

You are not less of a spouse, child, or parent if you are learning to navigate yourself through the journey and finding a way to be happy without them. It is important for your well-being and for those around you, that you learn to “live” on your good days and still cry when you have the urge to cry. Grief is not scientific. Grief is filled with emotions; all kinds of emotions. Good emotions and ugly emotions…and you will be doing the best for you if you learn to express them as they arrive on your doorstep.

I recall a little over a year ago; BJ had been gone just shy of six months and I had just unexpectedly lost my oldest brother, me and a couple of my sisters (and a niece) were headed to Salt Lake City to spend a few days with my brother’s family. We planned a stop our first night to have dinner and see our other two sisters for a little while. We were enjoying dinner, having fun, and kidding around…as we always do. When we were finished, we knew we needed to take pictures of the 5 of us sisters because we don’t get the chance often. Well, the goofiness continued, and it was difficult for my niece to get some good shots because someone was always doing some shenanigan. Finally, I hear an outburst from my oldest sister, “You guys knock it off; this might be the last time we’re all together!” Instantaneously I burst into tears and turned my back to hide so I could weep. I wept, not at what she said or how she said it, but because all through dinner I kept thinking to myself…this might be the last time I am with all my sisters together in one place. She said the very thing that had been on my mind. After you lose someone, that is a part of you like BJ is a part of me, your thoughts about life and loved ones change. You value them and your time with them. You know they can be gone in a blink of an eye; that is reality. My sister has not experienced death in the same way I have, and she had absolutely no idea what she said would affect me the way it did. She had no idea what to say and I could see all of them huddling together with a loss of words to me. I pulled myself together pretty quick and we continued with photos.

I shared this story because that was only a few months after losing my son, compounded by losing my brother, and I was still in a very raw state of grief. I would likely handle that comment a bit differently now and would be able to keep myself composed…or, so I think. When in grief, we don’t often know what will set our emotions spinning and often the tears just flow. Now, nearly two years after losing BJ, the tears happen less often but still seem “bunched” together. I found myself weepy two days this week, at thoughts of him, his life, and my loss of his life. He is still hugely in the forefront of my mind and thoughts; he will always be with me. I am learning to navigate my journey and to share that it’s ok to be ok. It’s ok to express happiness on good days and it’s ok to cry on bad ones.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly…and The Grateful

The Good…

I am no stranger to grief. Over the past 20 years there have been waves of loss followed by waves of grief. Each time I lose someone close to me I discover more inner strength than I ever knew I housed. This time is no different albeit this grief is so much more than any other. The Good is that I am grieving, I am walking the process, and I am learning to continue life without daily access to one of my children. I am learning it is ok to be happy and not only be happy, but to show happiness to others around me. My other children and my grandchildren need to know grandma is happy, even though I sometimes have sad days or sad moments. Overall, I am happy, and I know I have BJ’s blessing to be happy. Not only have his blessing; he would insist upon it. It is a good feeling to know that on the 21^st month anniversary of losing my oldest child, I can say, “I am happy. I am still grieving, but I am happy.” That is Good.

The Bad…

Once you lose someone; a parent, a spouse, a good friend, and especially…a child, your way of thinking changes. I’ve mentioned before that after losing my youngest sons father a natural question for him was, “if something happens to you, mom, what will happen to me?” No matter their age, you just can’t tell them, “that won’t happen, honey.” First, it’s not the truth and second, they likely won’t believe you; not even at 10 years old. After that loss, I set aside the time to get guardianship papers, a will, and life insurance in place. You would be surprised how many people think “they have time” and continually put it off. Don’t make that mistake, friend.

After loss, a difficult thing to overcome is the concern you have when you hear a family member is traveling to another state for a ball tournament, or a friend is on an adventure to another country, or even a wildfire that sounds too close to someone you know. Hearing any one of these things, I first smile…and then, involuntarily I get this vision of an accident that takes them away or causes severe injury. I can’t help it. As quick as I have that vision, most of the time I can shake it off just as quick. But there are those times that I can’t shake it off; sometimes it is a vivid dream with too many graphics and I wake up crying over the loss I experienced in my dream. Although not real, it was vivid enough to feel real. Sometimes, I even have added thoughts of grief for the families that lost their loved one…in my dream. These involuntary thoughts are part of The Bad you don’t want to experience, and I am thankful I don’t experience too often and usually triggered when I know someone is traveling.

 The Ugly…

Plain and simple…the first fourteen days of grief are The Ugly, followed by another six months of ugly.

The Grateful…

You’re in shock, you’re confused, and you’re angry! After all, you just lost someone near and dear to you and you want to know why! Why are they gone? Why did this happen? And…Why didn’t you protect my son, God? Yes, you will likely be angry at God…if you are a believer. I didn’t even realize I was angry with God; until the first time I returned to Church after his death…February 18, in Southern California, with family. As praise began, so did the tears, and I couldn’t control them. I sat down and hung my head low, searching for tissues. I realized in those moments that I was angry at God, angry that he wanted my son. A few months later I was Grateful; grateful that He never left my side, grateful that he comforted me in my worst hours, grateful that he gave me strength when I was weak, and grateful that he gave me grace to get through each day. I knew it was ok to be angry, but I was more thankful to be grateful in His faithfulness, His love, and His peace. I am grateful God is walking me through grief; day by day.

My World Would Be So Different

Today's post is inspired by Britney's post on my FB page. Thank you for thinking of me and sharing words that inspired me to write my own version of "My World Would be so Different if You Were Still Alive".

It doesn’t matter that it’s been nearly two years since you’ve passed away.
It doesn’t matter that that I think about you every minute of every day.
I still wish you were here and that I never had to cry.
My world would be so different if you were still alive.

If you were still alive, I wouldn’t have to push through each day because it’s so painful not to have you here. I’d be able to pick up the phone to give you a call and share all our latest news. If you were still alive, we’d have one more person at our table, one more person to share our holidays, and one more person to tell stories with. We’d have more bonfires, more barbeques, and definitely more beers.

If you were still alive, then there would be one more voice cheering over the fireworks on Fourth of July. There would be one more voice yahooing over the person that got their 4x4 stuck and one more voice singing along to his favorite country rap songs.

If you were still alive, there would be one less date that made me burst into tears every year. Your birthday would be the only date that reminded me of you, and we’d have a heck of a good time celebrating as we always do. I wouldn’t dread dates that I’ve always loved, and I wouldn’t have one added...if only, you were still here.

If you were still alive, there’d be one more person I could call when I’m lonely. One more person to hug me when I’m feeling down. One more person to make me feel like I’d be missed if anything ever happened and I wasn’t around. If you were still alive, there would be one more invitation to send out for parties. One more person to dance with when we’re celebrating. One more person to tell me how much they love me and that I’m a good mom.

If you were still alive, I wouldn’t have to talk to you through prayers or see you only in my dreams. I could send you a text or give you a call or be excited when you show up on my front step in the middle of the night. If you were still alive, I wouldn’t be so terrified of losing someone again, someone I care about as much as you. But if you were still alive, your loved ones might not have realized that “live each day like it’s your last” is reality. That we need to treasure every moment while we still can and tell our family we love them as much as possible.

As much as I miss you, I’m thankful for what you taught me while you were here, and what you’re continuing to teach me now that you’re gone. How you taught me first to be a mom and how you are now teaching me that it’s ok to go on. That memories can last a lifetime and when asked how many kids I have, I will always humbly say, “Three; one is a teen, one is an adult, and one is in Heaven.”

Pain is for Survivors

Today I find myself thinking about the subject of last Friday’s post; suicide. Far too many people make the choice to end their life for one reason or another…or many reasons. I don’t suppose we ever really know what is in their mind and what is the “last straw”. I suspect they end their life to end their pain. But, unfortunately, it begins the pain for their survivors.

Earlier this year an acquaintance’s son became a missing person; last seen in downtown Portland. I have known this family for twenty years, spent time with them periodically, and even had a couple of beach trips with the mother and some of our other mutual friends. Even though we got together over the years, I would not say I knew the family well, but I do know their son had a troubled youth. His parents worked diligently to seek the best options for their son to bring him into a healthy adulthood. Nearly a week ago I heard that their son had been found; washed up in one of the waterways in Portland…found just one day before his 23^rd Birthday. I don’t know any of the details surrounding his death; whether it is suicide, foul play, or accidental. I do know that it must be painstakingly horrible for his survivors; mother, father, brother, and a young toddler.

Just as alarming to me, I read the statistics that nearly one body a week is found in a Portland river. Are they suicides, victims of foul play, homeless, or accidental? I imagine a variety. One thing they all have in common…survivors. Being a survivor is not always easy; sometimes it is the toughest thing to do. Some survivors wish their life would end too and some even end their life. In all the pain I have endured at the loss of my son, I still love my life. I love that I get to wake up to two healthy, loving, living sons that I need very much, and I know love and need me. I get to look forward to making memories with my grandbabies and revel in the thoughts of where life will take them.  I am grateful that my love of family and life far outweigh the pain of loss. I am grateful I have never experienced suicidal thoughts; that my pain and anguish over losing my son was never “that” painful…painful enough to consider ending my life.