The First Year

A year ago tonight at 10:45 pm they say you took your last breath, but for all reasonable purposes that was when your death was recorded. I, for other reasons, believe something significant happened 11 minutes earlier…at 10:34 pm. I haven’t shared this with many people, but for my youngest son and me it was a significant moment in the chain of events that dreadful night. Dillon was abruptly woken at 10:34 pm and came to my room. He said he had a bad dream and was scared, but didn’t know why. It was hours later that we fully understood what had happened; after I told him that his oldest brother was in an accident and was no longer with us. Even hours after I had to tell him BJ was gone… that was when he told me why he woke the night before. He had a dream, or vision, while he was fast asleep of a white pickup truck going off the road, rolling over, and someone walking away. When he woke he did not know what it all meant; he was just scared and wanted mom. Those were the events that happened that night; in a nutshell, and whether it was the moment the accident occurred, the moment my oldest son took his last breath, or another significant moment…we will never know, but it was something.

This past year has had many moments, many emotions, and many reflections. It all comes down to one word…GRIEF. We are all grieving the loss of a wonderful person, my son, my oldest baby, our BJ. It is gut wrenching, it is tearful, it is heartbreaking, and so many miss him in so many ways and for so many reasons…but none of us miss him more than his baby girl; his sweet Cheyenne. My heartache does not even compare to hers, my loss is not as great as hers, and yet my heart aches every single minute of every single day.

One year ago my life changed forever, I changed forever, and the lives of those that love you changed forever. As much heartbreak as I feel personally, I feel as much heartbreak for each of his friends that miss him, for each of his family that miss him, and for his baby girl that misses him and will miss out on having her daddy with her as she continues to grow into a wonderful and strong young woman. I cry immensely at this loss and the impact it has on so many people. I cry wondering how I have endured such pain, how I have managed to get through this past year, and how I will get through this day. BJ, I miss you so much sometimes I want to curl up into a ball and just cry until there are no more tears. I miss you so much I can’t stand it. I cry knowing I can’t call you, I can’t hug you, and I can’t tell you how much I love you. I want you back and I’m angry that you were taken from me when you were so young. I feel selfish when I should feel grateful. Grateful that I had you, grateful that you were my son, grateful that God chose me to be your mother, grateful that you were with me for 35 years, 5 months, 4 days, and some six odd hours. But somehow I only feel heartbroken that you are gone, that you were taken from me, and that I don’t have more time with you. I shed so many tears I wonder if they’ll ever run out. I want to wake up tomorrow and answer the phone only to hear your voice on the other end and feel this was only a dream, but after this much time I know that isn’t going to happen. I know one day I’ll be with you again, but I want you to be with us here now…I know, I am selfish.

Today’s post, the first anniversary of losing my precious son, his 1st Birthday in Heaven, is dedicated to all those that he loved and all that loved him; especially his daughter Cheyenne, his brothers Bryan and Dillon, his dad and me. Thank you for loving our BJ and thank you for loving us this past year and being a source of comfort and friendship. We love you as he loved you.

Queen of Hearts

A year ago tonight, October 17, 2016, I heard your voice for the last time. There was so much excitement and love in you. You and Cheyenne were laughing as you were both talking to me over the Bluetooth in the truck. You had such a fun weekend at the Pumpkin Patch and then carving the pumpkins. You excitedly told me that you ordered Cheyenne a Queen of Hearts costume for Trick or Treating and you couldn’t wait until it arrived. I don’t think you ever got to see her in it but she looked great and you would’ve absolutely loved taking her trick or treating. I’m so sorry that you missed that, son. You were so proud as you told me that Chey carved her very own pumpkin…all by herself! And then you said, “Mom, Little D will love the pumpkin I carved. It’s a big one eating a little one! I’ll send you a picture when I stop the truck. Show him, mom; be sure to show D.”  I can still hear those words. There is just something about the last words, the last conversation you have with someone when they are gone. It is on repeat in your head. I miss you as much right now as I did when you were first gone. I write this and I can’t stop crying at the heartache left in me. I relive our conversation and how happy and full of love and life you were. How thrilled you were about the weekend you just had with your daughter and Chicka.  How excited and anxious you were for Halloween and to see Chey as the Queen of Hearts as we all know she was the Queen of Your Heart. I know she misses you so much baby, but I also know that her mom is doing her best to keep her mind busy and her life moving along. She really has to. No one should get stuck in grief and especially not your precious little girl; your Queen of Hearts.

BJ's Queen of Hearts and her Uncle Bryan

BJ's final pumpkin carving

Fifty-one weeks; that is how long you have been gone. We are nearing one year of that horrible night you lost your life and that horrible day following when your loved ones lost you. The pain still cuts through my chest like a knife as I try to stop the tears and as I try to write how I am feeling.  There is no doubt this will be a difficult week. I am thankful that I will be plenty busy this week with work, as I leave town for a conference. I love my job and I love the people I get to spend time with. I know it will be a great distraction and I am thankful for that. In so many ways this past year has been a blur. I’ve done many things and I’ve went lots of places, but I have a hard time absorbing it all. I experience a lot of empty motions as I work my way with grief. My fuse is shorter and my patience is less. I keep struggling to get myself back together and feel life again, but I still feel like I am just going through the motions and can’t grasp it as it goes by. Some day... I'll feel a little better, have less pain, and learn to adapt to my new normal...some day.

BJ and Chey at the Pumpkin Patch

You Can't Rush Grief

I recently attended a Celebration of Life for someone that I didn’t know personally, only professionally. Yet, I knew him to be kind, friendly, and always smiling…a genuinely good man. This celebration was much different than my sons because it was for his professional life as he was a city employee of one of Oregon’s largest cities. It was wonderful to see his many accomplishments throughout his long career in Public Works. As I heard his wife speak and the tremble in her voice and the tears you could hear her holding back, I held back my own tears. Tears I later shed for his wife and what she is going through, for their kids and grandkids and the man they are missing and learning to live life without. Tears of my own loss; as the memories of my son’s celebration came flooding in and the moment I was in front of everyone speaking and trying to hold back my own tears. I hardly remember that day, nearly a year ago. I remember faces, hugs, the venue, and watching my other son speak of his brother and the pain I could hear in his voice and the pain I could see on his face and the face of his “brothers” standing beside him on stage. No one could speak; the pain was just too great. But as the family, you must speak, you must pull yourself through one of the worst days of your life, you must be as strong as possible because there is someone somewhere that still depends on you. I cry for his family, their loss, and what lies ahead of them in their journey. I pray for their strength, courage, and comfort.

In one very short or one very long week it will be a year since my son died, since he took his last breath, and since he went Home. I know it has been on the minds of many of his friends and of course our immediate family. When you lose someone that means so much to you, you can’t help but track the time, notice things that remind you of them, and wish they were still with you. We are fully aware that he lost his earthly life on October 20, 2016. I have been experiencing terrible anxiety over the past few weeks and day by day as we draw closer to that day it increases. My body has more aches, I have less focus, and I can’t escape the sadness as easily. In one respect, I am dreading next Friday and on the other hand I just can’t wait for it to be over so I don’t have to feel anxious about its arrival.

There is no timeline for grieving. You can’t rush it. You will likely grieve, in some form, forever. Death and grief make people uncomfortable, so be prepared for awkward encounters and people that don’t know what to say. Its ok, you probably wouldn’t either if the situation was reversed. The pain of loss is a reflection of love you felt, so don’t ever regret loving.  Grief can make you question your faith, it is messy, and it is confusing…and sometimes it will make you feel like you are going crazy! However much you think grief is going to hurt, it is going to be a million times worse. Grief triggers are everywhere. You will see things that remind you of your loved one all over the place, and it may lead to sudden outbursts of emotion. Get used to it, it happens frequently.

A couple of weeks ago as I was driving home I noticed a license plate on a car; it looked like a normal license plate, it had three digits and three letters. And then, I noticed it. It jumped right off the plate in my face and I began chuckling out loud and fully ready to tell Dillon why I was laughing…and then I noticed he had his earbuds in listening to music and didn’t even notice I was laughing…so I continued to do so.  The letters on the license plate: Y U P…Yup!  Anyone that has received texts from BJ knows he responds with YUP instead of yes. I have found myself responding with YUP over the past year.  Reminders are everywhere and especially when least expected; sometimes they make you cry and sometimes make you laugh. Be grateful you loved enough to experience grief; even the raw, painfully ugly experiences of grief…it means you were invested in that love.

In His Corner

A little corner of our world…that’s what we give the loves that go before us. As parents, we sometimes find ourselves saving every little thing our child makes us or taking pictures of all the cute things they do. I am no different; even when we didn’t have digital cameras and we end up with boxes of photos and boxes of negatives.  My kids are considered “Millennials” and some photos are in photo albums and boxes while others are saved on an external hard drive.  I was sometimes called the “picture queen” because I took SOOOOOO many photos and a hoarder because I was thought to keep every little thing they made me. Well, I did and do take a ton of pictures. I love my family and friends. I didn’t keep nearly EVERYTHING the kids have made me but I did keep a LOT of special things they have made me. And, you know what?  I am glad that I did; especially after losing one of my babies way too soon. I cherish every single item my kids and grandkids make me and give me and I always will.

Today, as I was cleaning out the garage, I began putting away one of my “Evacuation To-Go” stacks.  At that moment I realized BJ had a little corner of my garage. Several months ago I hung his artwork there that had been displayed at his Celebration of Life nearly one year ago. I couldn’t bear to throw it away, even though they are all copies. I have all but one hanging up; Willy saw the artwork and said, “Grandma, can I have the picture of Scooby Doo that Uncle BJ drew? I love it and I love him and I miss him.” I would never deny a child and of course that picture went home with Willy that day. I also noticed I had been storing my shovel in that corner; the shovel he gave me two years ago for my birthday. It was his “camping” shovel but I mentioned I needed one for my gardening and he went to his truck, handed it to me, and said, “Happy Birthday, Mom!” That’s just how he was. As I continued putting things away, I hung his ripped up Carhartt jacket in “his corner” and I hung it off the ball of the tow hitch he gave me the year I bought Rex (the Flex). It has a tow package and he said I needed a tow hitch, so he gave me one. I really didn’t intend for this to be “his corner in my world”, but it is.

We always love things our kids and grandkids make us and we keep them, but when we lose a loved one everything becomes more special…artwork, shovels, guitars, backpacks, ratty old jackets, and pictures…lots of pictures. Dillon has accumulated things that were once his dads and they are special to us too. His dad climbed Mt. Rainier with his brother, James, that Dillon is named after and that also died at a very young age; Dillon now has the backpack they used for that climb. Dillon has his dad’s guitar, his bicycle, and many other things that are sentimental. That’s just what happens when someone dies. We treasure everything about who that person was and what that person meant to us.

If you find yourself hanging on to things and you don’t know why, it’s ok; some day you will know why.  There are no rules to life, there are no rules to death; it is learn as you go. Life can be hard; death is harder, and grief just plain stinks!

Another item from his Celebration of Life I couldn't get rid of; some of the messages from Facebook that filled his page. I printed and displayed to share with those that don't have Facebook. In His Corner.

#PrayForLasVegas

Heavy on everyone’s heart this week is the tragedy in Las Vegas and the many lives that have been lost as a result of the careless and cowardly act of one fellow American. I am not here to be on a soap box about my thoughts of the gunman, but rather to remember the many lives that were changed by him. I am not just talking about the 59 innocent lives that were lost or the more than 500 people that were injured; I am also talking about the thousands of other lives that those people have touched. When someone dies, it leaves a whole in many other lives. My heart goes out to the mothers that lost their child, to the children that lost a parent, to the husbands that lost a wife, and the wives that lost their husband. Tragedy is tragedy and grief is grief…and none of it is easy. I cry for the living that has a long journey of grief ahead of them. I am nearly a year into the loss of my son and it doesn’t get easier, it gets more manageable.  I still cry, I still have a hole in my heart, I’m still reminded of the wonderful part he is in our family, and I’m still saddened and sometimes shocked by his death. There is a part of me that wishes I could hug just one little girl that lost her daddy on Sunday night in Las Vegas or comfort one mother that lost her son that night and tell them they are not alone. Tell them that they are loved and being prayed for. Hold one little boy that is now missing his mommy or reassure one father that lost his daughter and pray with them and tell them they are not alone and they are loved.

Death, tragedy, heartache, grief…words that people don’t like, words that people do not know what to do with, and sometimes find difficult to say out loud. Death is a tragedy for the living left behind; it causes much heartache, and is the beginning of a new journey called grief. If you have lost someone recently and are grieving today…you are not alone and you are loved.

I thought it was a sad time that followed the death of someone you love. And you had to push through it to get to the other side. But I'm learning there is no other side. There is no pushing through. But rather, there is absorption, adjustment, and acceptance. And grief is not something that you complete, but rather you endure. Grief is not a task to finish, and move on. It is an element of yourself, an alteration of your being. A new way of seeing. A new definition of self.