Wednesday, May 20, 2009, 11:22 AM ( 8 views ) - Posted by HeidiThis is the time of year when I feel lost in a deep and heavy sadness. I keep reliving a time only two short years ago. It was the end of the school year and the kids were excited. We spent our time preparing for end of the year activities, Field Day, Awards Ceremonies, the last day of school, and making our summer plans. Life was effortless, the days filled with swimming of our dock and eating sandwiches outside, all my little ducks in a row, one, twoÖthree. Now I live a little lost in what was, spending my time whishing I was back in those simple moments. We still try to enjoy the dock but the memories are heavy and the lake feels like swimming in wet concrete now, the picnics have grown quiet because we donít know what plans to make and J.T. canít come along. It seems sad I know, to hear that the weight of grief still sucks some of the joy out of the present but without those blue eyes and that yellow surf board, that front flip before the splash, life just isnít the same. My joy is in the past and my mind keeps rewinding to it just to try and borrow a smile.
Thursday, May 14, 2009, 10:25 AM ( 10 views ) - Posted by HeidiHere is a subject that I havenít yet touched upon but I seem to struggle with, especially as of late. Words. Now this blog isnít referring to the people that walk up and say ďI know how you feel, my dog Duke died last summerÖĒ Letís just assume those people are missing a chromosome, chalk that up to ignorance, and move on. Iím talking about the people who hold special places in our lives, those people we love and value, and normally say things that we would try and accept. I knew it was inevitable to hear this one someday, but even that knowledge didnít keep me from the sweaty palms and rapid heart rate I received upon its delivery ďÖItís been two almost years, Itís time to move on.Ē Ouch, there it is like a grenade with the pin pulled moments before it explodes my heart. At first my mind went to logic, thinking thatís ridiculous, the death of a child is not something a mother just gets over. We all struggle through our existence trying to live a life that matters, and believe me, J.T.ís life mattered to me and it always will. Angry feelings followed that up of course, but I have become an expert at anger so that was no surprise, then days later, after the statement had time to marinate in my mind, the guilt set in. You see there is no book entitled Grieving For Dummies, therefore I donít know if what I am feeling is right, and for someone to suggest that it isnít makes me feel guilty, as though holding on is wrong, even though I know itís impossible not to.
That first statement I thought I might hear, this next one didnít even make my radar. ď Heidi, you have to learn to separate THIS from other situations.Ē THIS? What is THIS exactly? To me this is my son, my child, and just like my ďlivingĒ children J.T. is a part of every situation and every decision I make. To have to separate what happened to him from every other aspect of my life would be cruel and unusual punishment. It has become almost as certain as blinking to openly cry when I am reminded of him or interject him into a situation where he is obviously and painfully missing. As the words began to bore holes in my brain, images of me in a black cloak alone in my room secretly grieving like a leper emerged, then the questions, Is that what I should do? Spare those around me from the pain I feel? Keep it to myself? That doesnít honor J.T. and as much as I know how the people that love me donít want me to hurt, I do. Is it better for me to conceal that to protect them, or for them to accept my pain to comfort me? I donít want to cover my scars with a cloak, I am proud of them, they represent my son. Are these the wrong things to say? Perhaps, but inside every situation is a lesson and this week during my unwelcome ďgrief interventionĒ I have learned that life is a fine mingling of some holding on and others letting go.
Thursday, April 30, 2009, 02:49 PM ( 7 views ) - Posted by Heidi
Kirby Crow did this watercolor portrait of J.T. Jeremy e-mailed it to me this morning. When I opened the picture I found it fascinating that Kirby was able to capture the joy in J.T.ís face. That joy was always there and it was contagious. What a beautiful gift.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009, 10:48 AM ( 4 views ) - Posted by HeidiThe days are seemingly passing by a little slower now Iím not sure if it is the anticipation of school being over soon or the sheer lack of excitement lately. Spring came in with such a burst this year the process could hardly be enjoyed. It was like being lost in a swirl of activity so visually intense that by the time I figured out how and what to focus on it was over. I often ponder what causes time to do that, fly by one moment then crawl the next, much like the DVD player on fast forward then pause. I have been feeling a bit anxious lately like I am waiting on something or someone and if the days would just pass that moment of arrival would come, but as usual I canít quite put my finger on what it is Iím awaiting. It is making me feel a little stagnant and directionless, just sitting here preparing for the unknown territory called tomorrow. Will it bring a little more peace or a little more pain? Will it bring good news to my door step or another mountain to climb? Will someone be there or will I face it with that all too familiar loneliness? I donít know so I just sit here with the remote in hand lost in the distraction of a mini blender, an eight pound vacuum, and a home gym I can purchase for six payments of $19.95 waiting for whatever tomorrow has in store and trying to remember to be confident in my ability to cope with it.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009, 10:22 AM ( 4 views ) - Posted by HeidiAs the days roll by since our ďlittle victoryĒ I find myself renewed in hope, a hope that people banded together by similar tragedies can make a difference in this world, but the shadow of winter still covers the warmth of the sun allowing it to only partially thaw my heart. I celebrate this step in our cause halfheartedly because the one ear who I want to desperately tell about this remains unreachable. Iíve spent hours out behind the house sitting in J.T.ís memorial, where the cedar trees grow tall and clack together when the wind blows, just watching, waiting on that cold stone bench for him. Waiting for a glimpse of him running by his giggles ringing out like a sweet song saying ďcatch me!Ē but heís not there. I while away the afternoon on the front porch where spring has awakened the flowers and their blooms stand tenderly toward the sun hoping he will show to smell their sweet fragrance. Sticking his nose right to them and pulling it back all covered in yellow pollen then moving along to count the buds on the Gardenia, but he has yet to show. I want to see his face, to watch his eyes dance and his smile light up as I tell him what his life has done, the people he has saved and the difference he has made. I want to celebrate this victory with J.T. but as close as I can get is to just sit and whisper at the sky hoping my words go beyond what I can physically see. Perhaps not to his ear but to his heart, and as I close my eyes to imagine his reaction the sun sets on the lonely longing of another day.