I wept

I went to see you today. I stood by your grave my fingers lightly tracing the etching of your face. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I silently stood there and wept. I wept. I wept for myself. For me who even after two years the mere mention of your name brings my heart to a stop and immediately my eyes overflow with tears. I wept for myself who misses you beyond words. Myself who feels like a piece of me is always dying. I breathe to live but only because I must. Some days to stop would be easier. I wept for myself who comes home to an empty house and closes the garage door before I get out so the neighbors won't see me sit in my car and weep. I enter the house which was once filled with laughter and warmth and now feels so empty and cold. I wept for my afternoon call as you drove home from work, your text at night that you love me, your body sprawled out on the furniture while you read, ate, drank, listened to music while watching tv. I wept for your laughter and hugs. I wept for your brothers who struggle with God and fairness. I wept for your brothers who go on but behind every smile is the sadness they can't shake because you are gone. I wept for their yearning to call you, to hug you, to share you with their children, to be by your side. I wept for the loneliness that invades them when they walk through the doors of this home. Yes, glad to be here but constantly searching around every corner for you to appear. I wept for your father. Your father who grieves so silently but yet so deep. Who when he thinks no one is looking with shoulders shaking so hard he can barely stand up will let down his guard and weep until he can weep no more. Who constantly watches over us all to keep us together and tries so hard to protect us from the harsh reality that you are no more. Your father who holds us and gently strokes our head and tells us whether he believes it or that it will be alright. I wept for your family of grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles and more who miss you and see you everywhere they turn. Who want, no need to connect to you. Who want just one more hug, one more smile, one more song. Their lives a little less colorful, a little less lively, a little less you. I wept for your friends who still mourn you every day, who love you so much they tattoo your name on their chest or face on their arm. Who still come to your grave and have a smoke or a drink to tell you how heavy is their pain. I wept for their loss, not knowing what to do, how to deal with a death far too young. I wept as I looked around at the many who have joined you. The numerous who have died lately at an age far too early. The senseless of yours and their deaths. I wept for their families whose grief is far too close. Then I wept for you. Who won't go old, who won't get married, who won't have children, who won't have a future here on earth. Then I stopped realizing the grieving stops here. It stays and penetrates our lives to the very core of each one of us. But I don't weep for you. You have moved to a place far beyond our comprehension. A place where there are no earthly demons, there is no addiction, there is no sadness. Just joy and hope and a future. No, my precious boy I wept for the body lying there in the cold ground. But for you my son, I rejoice. I rejoice in knowing that 18 years ago you came to me and said, "Mommy, I want to ask Jesus into my heart." I rejoice in knowing that day you were sealed with permanent marker, a child of God for eternity. No more sorrow. No, son. I wept for those of us left here that miss you so much. Who ache for your arms, your smile and laugh. I wept.

When we all get to Heaven

"When we all get to Heaven what a day of rejoicing that will be." This old hymnal sounds in my head constantly. I can hear the piano player in our church pounding out the keys while we bellowed out the lyrics. When I was little and my grandmother would talk about Heaven and how she couldn't wait to get there. She said she longed for that day and it would a day of rejoicing. I thought to myself, "Well, I can wait. I have a whole lot of living still to do." I wanted to grow up, have my first kiss, go to college, get married, have a family, grandkids. Yes, I wanted to go to Heaven but later. Much later. I didn't understand why she looked forward to it. This world was too exciting to think about leaving to go sit on a cloud and play a harp. I have grown so much since that day when I thought we would be cloud sitting. I know Heaven is a better place. A place that is filled with the sweet sweet peace that only comes from being in the presence of Jesus. But until Jacob died I still had a whole lot of living left to do. Now, I long for Heaven. I long to see my son again. That is what I was thinking about today in church. When I think about dying and going to Heaven my first thoughts are about seeing my precious baby boy. I can't wait to see his face aglow, his hair blowing in the breeze, as he runs to wrap those arms around me and tell me how much he loves me. I can sit here right now and feel him giving me a big bear hug. Oh how I long for that. Then my daddy will pick me up with his big strong arms and twirl me around like a little girl. My aunts and uncles will be there loving on me oh so much. My Uncle Virgil will be so happy to see me he will even let me kiss his cheek without running. Oh how I long for that day. The day when I am reunited with my loved ones but especially my baby boy. But then it dawned on me how I longed for Heaven to see my baby. I had listed all the people I would run to meet. A peace passing through me. But where was Jesus, God the Father in all of this. I had lost my focus on why I truly wanted to go to Heaven. Why was I struggling so much here on Earth. I had lost my focus on God. All of my thoughts are focused day and night, totally consumed with seeing his face, not His face. The last month has been so hard. Tears slip down my face whenever I am alone. I will be fine one moment then faded memories will come racing back. And once again my heart feels empty, a giant hole that will never heal. As the 20th approaches next month, I grow anxious, fearful, alone. My thoughts go continually to that day, that moment, that ring on the phone when my life as it was ceased to exist. Why when I look back and see how much progress I have made I wonder why are my thoughts so dark and whirling. I don't remember the happy times. I replay each fight, each harsh word that came out of my mouth, each moment I chose cleaning over sitting listening to Jacob's thoughts. I dwell on the negative. Maybe the negative is easier. The negative is just filled with regrets and guilt. The good memories are too painful. Once when Jacob and I were having a fight Bart stopped us and got out a family photo album. He told us both to stop and sit down. He pointed to picture after picture where Jacob and I were laughing, hugging, loving each other so unconditionally. He looked at us both and said we fight so hard because we love so much. Jacob knew he could say whatever he was feeling to me, lash out his anger or hurt because I would love him no matter what. He was my first born, my precious child, one of my reasons for living. We fought because we loved deeply. A mother's love is infinite. There is no stopping or ending. It goes on and on and on no matter what separates the two. So I go to the fighting memories to escape the pain of separation. The pain that will only completely be healed when I see his face again. Which brings back to my reason for Heaven. God understands my preoccupation with Heaven and running to my son. He knows my human heart. He understands my loss. But He also knows my focus needs to remain on Him. I need to focus on God's being with me every step of the way and only with God holding me gently during all of this time have I been able to survive. Psalm 27;13-14 says it best, I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD In the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the LORD Yes, seeing my son will be an added bonus but God who has held me through this all, who has brought good out darkness, who walks each and every step, who weeps when I weep, who feels my pain as His own is the real reason I want to go to Heaven. It is just so much sweeter to me now as my loved ones wait. So tonight as I lay me down to sleep I will thank God for being my constant, pray He puts His arms around my baby boy and tell him his momma loves him, and ask that in the morning when I rise He will give me the courage to face another day until He calls me Home.

A Black rap singer

Now that I have ranted may I please rave? My son. Who is he? He is so much that it would be hard to write it all down. But this weekend I was reminded once again how talented he was. A friend of his posted his rap, This is Who I Am. I listened to it this weekend. His voice so alive and right there at the kitchen table with me. If I closed my eyes I could feel him there with me. I wanted to share it with you all so you could see how incredibly talented he was. But my first thought was I didn't want to put it on my facebook because of the language. You see I never fully appreciated Jacob's talent because I got so wrapped up in the language. All his life Jacob wanted to be a rap singer. When he was little he wanted to be a black rap singer. I would tell him he could be a rap singer but he could never be black. That was not the way God had made him. He argued with me constantly about that because I had always told him, "When you grow up you can be anything you want to be. You just have to work really hard." I would laugh because he had me there. He was a talented bass player and when he branched out to rapping it made me uncomfortable. I would ask him when I was there would he please tone it down. He said, "Mom, it is rap. You just can't do that." Therefore I never really listened that closely. I never appreciated his talent. I was embarrassed that people would judge him or even more so judge me. What type of parent raises a son who uses that language. Because of that fear I did not support him like I should have. He would tell me all he wanted to do was rap. I would discourage and say to go to college and then he could do it on the side. All the while hoping it was a phase. I didn't embrace who he was. This weekend too a friend shared with me the advice Jacob had given her when she was upset over her sister's drug abuse. She was tired of her sister running and using and was giving up on her. He said, "it may not happen when YOU want it to, but just don't give up on her. The 'when' part is gonna suck the most. But If you love her, just don't give up EVER because LOVE NEVER FAILS. And she will come back... she loves you guys too. She knows she messed up. And right now she's probably scared too, of the consequences and of having to see your disappointment and face all the judgment. She is scared she might be disowned. She thinks about the day when this is all over, every night and every morning she's Thinkin about it, but right now she's just more scared than she is ready. But she will get there one day, and if you can force yourself not to lose ALL of the faith you have in her, and maybe find a way to be in her corner instead of throwing stones, it might help her to forgive herself one day too. Just hang in there ... Just don't give up on her. I promise ... You'll see." Wow, what wise advice. When I read that I felt like he was talking to me. Don't give up on me mom. I am scared. I hate seeing the disappointment in your eyes. The judgment from you and others. Never give up one me. I feel I failed him. Yes, I loved him but did I truly embrace what an amazing person he was or did I get caught up in what others would think? He would try to explain his demons of drug abuse. The constant physical and emotional pain he was in. But I didn't want to hear that. I just wanted to hear he would quit. I just wanted him to look and act like others. I totally looked beyond who he was. Others got to see the real Jacob. Not the one he tried to be for me. I didn't see his talent and genius until it was too late. I wish I had supported him more. I wish I had listened closer. I wish I had said forget what people think, you are much more important. I forgot to see he was a scared young man who didn't want to disappoint. He just wanted to be a black rap singer.

Acceptance?

There are days when I dread coming to the computer. Dread having to find the words that express the depths of my soul. Days when I stumble over words that will get exactly how I feel onto the page. Today is not one of those days. Today I can't get home fast enough. My head is spinning with my thoughts, my feelings, my tears. I want to put to paper those things whirling around and make sense of them. Today I come eagerly to find out what my heart is truly feeling. Acceptance. That word has been spinning around in my head all weekend. Acceptance is the final stage in the grieving process. According to Webster acceptance is "the act of accepting" accept is "to receive willingly, to take hold of without protest or reaction" According to the Kubler Ross model acceptance is the final stage of grieving and means "individuals begin to come to terms with their mortality, or that of a loved one, or other tragic event." Come to terms, take hold of without protest. To move to this final stage of grieving would mean that I come to terms, I receive it willingly. Willingly? Will I willingly ever come to terms with the fact that my son is dead? No and I hope I never do. I think the people who write these books on grieving must not have loved and lost passionately. Yes, I will willingly accept the death of a pet, a public figure, a celebrity. But will I ever willingly accept my son's death? No. I accept the fact that my son is dead and I will never see him again in this lifetime. I know that. It is a fact. Nothing can change it. But do I have to accept it? And willingly? No. Every day I wake and come to the realization my son is dead. And every day I pray for God to help me continue breathing, moving, living, but I never pray for acceptance. For to accept means I have to willingly come to terms. I have to say it is ok. It will never be ok. I will never accept the fact that it is ok for him to cease to exist in this world. I will fight that to the day I die. It is not ok, it is not fair that my son is dead and others are walking around. Twenty years from now it will not be ok. I will not willingly accept it. Do I need therapy? Probably but I think I am very normal. I think there are others out there who are being told it is time to come to terms with their loved one's death. It is time to move on. It is time to let go. I am not being delusional. I go to his grave. I see the dirt where he body lies below. But do I have to willingly accept it? No. So am I stuck in the process of grieving? No. I have moved through and back again through the different stages, denial, anger, bargaining, depression. But grieving is not a five stage process. There is not a way to do it. There is not a 5 step process and presto you have arrived. It is a day by day hour by hour way of life that will be ongoing until I take my last breath. To the mother of a child who has died your journey will not end until you meet them again in Heaven. I will grieve until the day they put me in the ground. I will walk about and look fine to you but my heart will continue grieving every moment. I have hope that one day I will quit grieving, the day I enter Heaven. That is the hope I hang on to for every breath. So please don't tell me I need to move on. Don't tell me I need to "accept" Jacob's death. I won't. It will never be ok. Someone needs to rewrite the book on grieving.

Side Note

A little note about the Sand Dollar post. I never did find the sand dollar. I searched and dug. But I did find parts of sand dollars. It gave me hope. My whole sand dollar is out there and someday I will find it but until then I will be content with the pieces. My life is in pieces and I have hope and faith that someday it will be whole again. God has promised me my sand dollar. It may not be in this life time but I will be whole again. Love you all and thank you so much for allowing me to write and you reading it. You do not know how much that means to me. God is faithful.

Letting Go

I have a problem with letting go of things. I have always known it but yesterday it became even more apparent. When I was little I would save every memento of my life. My mom would go through my things periodically to thin things out. Now I am not a hoarder but I just hate letting go, especially of memories. My aunt and uncle lived in a white two story house with black shutters and a deacon bench on the front porch for over 30 years. They owned the yellow house with white shutters and the blue house with white shutters right next to them. I come from a large family and we all, the cousins, grew up there.We played in the yards, trees, up and down the stairs. We lay awake at night looking out the window from the second story sharing dreams of the what was yet to come. We ran in fear past the guest room which we were convinced was haunted, so many memories. When they decided to down size I was crushed. How could they sell these houses which had been so vital to our growing up. How could they let other people live in the very home we grew up in. So I decided I couldn't let them go. I bought the pretty little yellow house and the quaint little blue house. I couldn't let go. I wanted the big white house. I was going to make it a boarding house for college students who would live and share their dreams together. But Bart wouldn't let me go that far. So today I own the blue and yellow house as they are still called. Other people live in them but I still have a piece of the memories and no one can change them. To me they are a link to my childhood. I have trouble letting go. Yesterday, Kyler and Cheyanne, my youngest son and his lovely new bride, moved into their new apartment. They came to pick up all their worldly belongs from our house. Their clothes, books, tv, wedding gifts and more. It was ok. They were starting a new life. I was ok. I was letting go. I was so proud of myself. No tears. No sadness. Until. Until, they wanted their glasses. Two simple sets of glasses. I had bought them at estates sales of my Aunt Lena and Aunt Peggy. I had bought them Kyler, for that day when he set up house with his new bride. I knew they were his. I was just storing them until that day. That day had arrived. They wanted their glasses. But you see to me they represented more than two sets of glasses and a pitcher, they represented the past. A link to my aunts. A link to my past. I wanted them to have them but shook at the idea of letting go. What if they broke them. My head knew that would be ok but my heart screamed, "No, that is my past. That is my aunts." I took them slowly down from the cabinet. I looked at them and saw my aunts. I knew they would tell me this was silly. My past, my memories are not in those glasses, they are in my heart. Let go. Let go and realize you will never lose the past. My aunts would be thrilled Kyler and Cheyanne were using their glasses. That would make them so happy. Sitting in my cabinet they would do no good. Letting go. But it was more than just the glasses. I realized I was letting go of my baby boy. Yes, he had been married for almost a month now but he had still been living down the hall in his bedroom, eating dinner, playing video games, watching movies, being a part of our family. But now he was creating his own family. Letting go. He would come home to visit but that is what it would be, to visit. No longer would I be the one taking care of him. I have worked for 18 years preparing him to leave this house and create a life for himself. I should be proud, happy. But my heart screams out I need more time, I want more time, I can't let go. But I know as I take each glass down I am getting closer to letting go. I can't keep him in the same existence like I have the blue house and yellow house. I can't preserve those memories in their same state. I take the glasses down one by one and one by one I know that I am letting go. I am letting go my youngest son to become the most amazing man and husband that God has called him to be. I have faith he will be fine but my hand trembles at the thought of him and those glasses leaving this house. Is it over? Is this all there is? You bring a precious child into this world and throw your heart and soul into every being of their life? And then they leave? Yes,that is what happens. You do spend every moment of their life preparing them for this very day. And even when your heart is breaking thinking you are losing your child you slowly begin to realize as you pull the final glass down they are ready. Your job is done. They will visit, they will call, they will come to you for advice and comfort. But it will never be the same. You can not keep them at home forever. You have to let them go. You pack the glasses carefully knowing that someday one may get broken or all my shatter onto the floor. But nothing, not even a thief in the night can steal the memories. They are forever. They are in your heart. Letting go. It never gets easier to let go. I know that I will never get very good at it. But I am glad. That means I love with all my heart and even through my tears I know that letting go is the right thing to do. But precious baby boy know that I am so glad I have such happy memories and I am proud of who you have become. Take care of the glasses, take care of your wife and make your new memories as a family. I let you go.