The Event Center

I had an experience last night that I expected to be strange, and it did not dissapoint. I was fortunate enought to be invited to a lovely wedding. The bride was beautiful. The event center was beautiful. Everything was beautiful.

So why was this strange?

The beautiful event center was formerly Heideman Mortuary. The mortuary that handled Andrew's funeral. I had not been back there since I paid the final bill. The center looked completely different...BUT as I wandered around I could still make out some of the vivid memories. Where Andrew's casket was for the viewing, now a beautiful dining room table. Where the people lined up to greet us, now a beautiful staicase. Where the chapel was, now a dance floor. The elevator that took us down stairs to see our son and dress him, still an elevator. The TV still had a video on it, but instead of the past life of a boy whose life on earth has ended, a video of two people's past lives that are starting a new one, together. And I even thought...the freezers. A walkin freezer that once contained my son's body, now holds food for a wedding.

The whole idea seemed so strange to me. I was preoccupied.

With errands and things to do, I did not get home for a few hours. I showered and got ready for bed, then looked at Andrew's scrapbook that I have started. I am so sad that he is gone. Sometimes it does not seem real. I look at the pictures of him in his casket and ask myself "Is he really gone?" "Did it really happen?" And the lump in my throat, that I fight, reminds me of how real it really is.

I think of the "events" in our life that Andrew will not be here for. His brother's and sister's weddings. Graduations. Missionary farewells. Births of neices and nephews. It makes me ache for him.

So, to not give in to the self pity, and tears. I quickly went to bed, to sleep the bad dream away. I love sleep. It is my best defense mechanism.

Andrew, today I miss all the past events in our life that we shared, and the future events that I will experience without you here, but with you in my heart. I love you.

Memorial Day

I have been thinking about posting this thought since...well ugh...Memorial Day.

I have a strong opinion about Memorial day. I think it is the perfect day to remember and recognize our soldiers who have lost their lives in the line of duty, as well as recognize those that have survived and are serving. I do not, however feel that we should feel obligated to grieve publicly for our own losses on that day.

Mothers who have lost children grieve for their lost children the other 364 days of the year, and should not feel obligated to go to the grave, etc., that day.

I have a good friend who lost her son 18 years ago. She has since moved away from where he is buried. She was feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt for not being able to visit him or decorate his grave on Memorial Day. But he is not there. He is with her, where ever she is. Her son loves her and knows that she loves him. I am sure he does not care if she is able to drive the several hours it would take for her to put flowers on his grave. We all put flowers and decorations on our childrens' graves everyday in our broken hearts.

On the flip side, I did not plan to go to Andrew's grave on Memorial Day this year. However, I was in the area of the cemetary, and had about an hour until I was supposed to meet my husband and son at the movie theater. I did not want to waste the gas to drive home and back, so I decided to visit Andrew's grave. When I got there, the cemetary must have conducted a cemetary clean up and his grave was void of any decorations. I do feel a sense of guilt, or dissapointmet, when his grave isn't decorated. I know Andrew doesn't care, but in a way, I don't want him to think I have forgotten him or put him on the back burner. And yet, I know he hears my every thought, and knows the grief in my heart.

Andrew knows I think of him all 365 days of the year, all 24 hours of every day, all 60 minutes of every hour, and all 60 seconds of every minute.

And if I don't decorate his grave on Memorial Day, because someone says that is what I am supposed to do, I should not feel guilty, and I do not love my son any less.

I don't usually rant, and I hope this doesn't sound like such.

So mothers, grieve when you want to greive, and how you wnt to grieve. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Greeting the Sun

Once upon a time I used to write poetry.

I thought I would like to try writing a song about losing my son. I even thought I would like to try to make a whole CD for othere grieving parents. I know that you are supposed to write the tune then the lyrics, but...since I don't know how to write music, lyrics is as far as I got. The CD may not happen unless I learn how to write music.

So I thought I would share.


Greeting the Sun

V1:
Making my shield to the world,
I’m pulling the sheets up tight,
Trying to forget you’re gone,
But I’m not winning the fight.
You’re all around in my room,
You are every where I look.
On the floor, your crumpled clothes,
the table, your fav’rite book.

V2:
Shades are holding back the sun,
While lying in this cold bed.
Didn’t really sleep last night,
With your mem’ry in my head.
With this aching in my heart,
Don’t think I can greet this day.
Feeling empty in my sole.
I’m sleeping the pain away.

Chorus:
The sun can’t find me here
I’m alone in the dark.
Sun please don’t find me here,
I’m not ready to start,
Op’ning my heart, sharing with friends,
Taking on this new day.
Living my life, greeting the sun,
Pretending that I’m o.k.

V3:
People say get out of bed,
I can’t find the will to try.
Feeling like I just can’t live,
I am wishing I could die.
I won’t make it with you gone,
No way can I make it through.
Won’t you please come back to me?
Or just take me there with you?





Chorus:
The sun can’t find me here
I’m alone in the dark.
Sun please don’t find me here,
I’m not ready to start,
Op’ning my heart, sharing with friends,
Taking on this new day.
Living my life, greeting the sun,
Pretending that I’m o.k.

Bridge:
You break through the tears I cry
To say:
“My mem’ry can’t live when you choose to die.”

Revised Chorus:
I’ll let the sun find me here
To brighten up the dark.
Sun will you please find me here
I’m ready to start,
Op’ning my heart, sharing with friends,
Taking on this new day.
Living my life, greeting the sun,
Learning I’ll be o.k.

Reprise:
Op’ning my heart, sharing with friends,
Taking on this new day.
Living my life, greeting the sun,
Knowing I’ll be o.k….

Someday…..… I’ll be o.k.

Why?

Why is it that the minute we post that we are doing well, (or better) that the world seems to start crashing down upon us? It is as though somebody heard and said,"Oops, didn't realize she was doing so well. Time for some more character building."

I firmly believe that people who have lost children should be exempt from any more trials in their life. Grief is an ongoing trial, and there should not be room for more.

I don't post EVERYTHING in my life, to protect those that are a part of my blog not by choice, but because they are my family. Blogg subjects by association. My family tends to get upset with me because I say WAY too much to people.

But this time, I choose to put it out there. I know, to those of you who know me...big shocker!

1 week ago today, at 2:15 pm, my 15 year old son ran away. He has called a few times to let me know he is ok, but loves having the life of no rules or responisibilies. At first I was upset and pleading with him to come home. Now I have turned angry and have been letting him know that. I am frustrated. And my anger isn't winning him over. Go figure.

Yesterday my husband was able to talk him into meeting him for lunch to try to talk him into coming home. During that time the police called to check on Garrett's status. Since he agreed to eat lunch with Greg, he is no longer considered a runaway and was taken off of the missing list. Which I am not sure what difference that makes anyway. If he is found by the police he is just turned over to us, then he can run away again. So I guess until he wants to come home, it doesn't really matter if he is a "missing person" or not.

So mostly I am upset with the fact that I have yet another trial in my life. Sometimes I will list the crappy milestones of my life to a complete stanger and they will just look at me like I am crazy. How am I still standing? And with a smile and a chuckle I will either say "It wouldn't be my life if it wasn't crappy" or "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

Throught it all, my testimony stays in tact, and I smile most of the time. I just think, I have learned enough for a while, and I would like a summer vacation from this school of life.

Thanks for listening to my whyning.

Living

A few nights ago, I walked into Wal-Mart. I was alone. This is most unusual for me, as someone always wants to get out of the house, even if it just to go to Wal-Mart. However, I was alone.

I walked in, and I was overcome with grief, missing Andrew. It was not an anniversary of any kind. It was not Andrew's birthday. There was not a little boy that reminded me of him. I did not see any of Andrew's high school friends. There was no explanation for my grief. Well, no explanation, except for the fact, that in my chest, I carry a broken heart. But I still didn't understand why now? Why am I sad now?

I wandered aimlessly through the aisles. I already had the few items I had come for, and a few more (as is always the case at Wal-Mart). But I continued to wander as if I was searching for the one thing to cease the pain.

Floods of emotion continued to consume me, as if in waves. I would feel the tide roll in. I was quick though. A few deep breaths, and I could hold it back. I did not want to become a sobbing mess in the electronics department. So with deep breaths, and deep concentration, I was able to control the storm.

I found myself in front of the books. This is rediculous, because I do not like to read. I am a slow reader, and my mind wanders. In school I always tried to get by, reading just the cliff notes.

And yet, I have a compulsion to read. All of a sudden, I have 5 books on my list.

This may seem small and insignificant, but at this very moment I have the overwhelming desire to become actively engaged in my life. Standing there in Wal-Mart, I want to read, write, speak, serve, enjoy... LIVE! Goals and desires are flooding my mind. I can hardly wait to embark on my life.

Sunday morning no one wanted to go to church. Everyone had their own legitimate ailment. Normally I would have used this as an excuse to sleep in. But today, I looked forward to church. I arrived 20 minutes early and enjoyed the prelude music. I listened to the choir practice. I decided that it was time to start singing again. I remember when I loved to sing solos. I could always feel the spirit. Now, I struggle to sing, without crying. So for 3 years, I have not sung. I called the choir director, and will join the choir.

The lessons and speakers all had the perfect message. That night I chose to go to a fireside on the Atonement.

I am so grateful for Christ and his sacrifice. Through Andrew, I feel closer to Him. Andrew is passing on my hopes, fears, and dreams to Him, while reminding me that He is there for me, waiting for me to partake. With Him, I am becoming actively engaged in my life.

The flowers seem so bright today. I feel as though I can not take it all in. The beauty of the world is overwhelming.

I opened my window as I drift off to sleep. The crickets seem to be singing a lullaby just for me.

It is amazing to me that this world has been here for me, all of this time. Where have I been? Where I have been, has brought me to where I am now.

I am here, and I am ready.

Easter

I have been reading all the Easter blogs from all the other mothers today. I am staarting to feel really inadequate. All these amazing women who share how grateful they are for the resurrection and did all these beautiful easter traditions. And then I reflect on myself.

I was one of those people who loved holidays. I would sew themed halloween costumes for my kids and they would win contests. My poor kids didn't get to choose what they wanted to be. I would inform them, "This year we are doing the Wizard of OZ. Jessica, obviously you will be Dorothy. Andrew you will be the Tin man, Warner you will be the scarecrow. And Garrett, you will be the lion." The next year, "Poccahantis." The next year "Peanut's Gang." ETC.! My husband and boys think that all the silly decorations of holidays are useless and hide them from me. But I would always fight, and get my way, even if I have to hang the lights on the house myself. But not anymore. I seem to have lost my fight.

I always had this Christmas clock that would chime every hour with a different carol. I found out after christmas that it broke and was thrown away. I didn't even notice it was missing until January. I hung the lights on the house, but they didn't work and never bothered to figure out why. I've started just giving the kids the cash for Christmas, where I used to love shopping for the perfect gift. I have become lazy about it.

Saturday night about 10:00 I decided that I had better get a few pieces of candy for the kids for Easter in the morning. At least go through the motions. So I got the few things that were left at Wal-Mart. Only spent about $10, and they each got about 10 pieces of candy. Then they had to get 3 bingo's in conference bingo on Sunday before they could have their candy. It is as though holidays don't exhist in our house any more.

I just feel bad that I am not the same bubbly holiday person that I once was. Are my kids suffering, or do they even care? I dread holidays now. It feels like work and pressure. And the sad thing is, I thought I was in a different place. I thought I was doing so well. I guess how I handle holidays isn't the grand measure of how I am doing, but I want to be like all those other amazing angel moms.

Please don't get me wrong about Easter though. I am so grateful for Christ and His atoning sacrifice. I am so grateful that I will see my son again. I believe it is all true. I just don't feel like I have the energy to display it even though it is swelling in my heart.

So to any of you Angel moms out there that read this, You are my hero today! Thank you for being such a great example.

Andrew's Angel Day

I have determined that the expectations that I put on Andrew’s Angel day are way too high. I go out of my way trying to make it such a special day, that of course it will fall short.

In the past the boys have gone on a “ride” on both Andrew’s birthday and his Angel Day. But this year we had no working machines so that was not a possibility. So instead, I tried to do things that I knew deep down the boys would not appreciate, or even enjoy, and somehow, because I wanted them to enjoy it, miraculously they would. I must remember that they are still teenage boys, and hanging out with their friends ranks much higher on their list than going to the grave with the family.

So in my clouded wisdom, the first stop was to get CTR rings. I saw some great rings that you can’t even tell that they are CTR rings, which is good, because my boys wouldn’t be caught dead in CTR rings. Lately my boys haven’t been making the best choices, so I thought, if they got CTR rings to remember Andrew, this would help them want to make better choices so we all can return with Andrew someday. They appeased me, because are they really going to tell me “no” on Andrew’s Angel Day? I don’t know why I thought they would be excited about the idea. So I kept asking them over and over, “Do you like your ring?” Duh! Have I not lived with these boys their entire life? They kept saying yes, and are still wearing them, but I am waiting for the day they just lose them.

Next stop was the grave. I have always known the kids opinion about the grave, and yet, I am sure they are going to love decorating it for Easter. We did, and it was fine, but not the “moment” I was hoping for.






They all goofed around blowing the air horns and shooting each other with the dart guns that they conned us into buying at the Dollar Store. Which truthfully, what do I want? Do I want them to stand around and cry? No. Then how can my expectations be met, if I don’t really know what I want? I am sure they are acting exactly how Andrew would like them to act. It isn’t like we need to stand around and “reflect” because we reflect all of the time. So, ultimately I should be happy with how the grave went. I also picked one of each color of the plastic Easter eggs and set them on Wyatt’s grave. As I set them down, I thought they seemed more fitting on Wyatt’s grave, since he would only be 2 ½, where Andrew would now be 18 ½, and would probably have nothing to do with silly colored eggs.

Then Garrett went to hang out with some friends, and the rest of us went to the gym. It began to feel like “just any other day” at this point.

On Saturday, I just felt uneasy, as if I didn’t really experience Andrew’s angel day. So I decided to go to the grave by myself. I took a folding chair and my iPod and just enjoyed my surroundings. I listened to my favorite song, “Heaven Was Needing a Hero”. I cried, and that made me feel better. I walked around a little.

I noticed another family with several members at a grave. I felt somehow connected to them. I wondered if it was an angel day or a birthday. I wondered if it was a parent, a spouse, or another child. It’s not like you can just walk up and say “hello. What brings you here?” I am sure there is a rule about that somewhere. They were still there when I left so I didn’t go by to look at the headstone, but decided that I would the next time I went out there.

Some guy rode up on his bike, walked all around, and talked, nonsense, loudly on his cell phone. I started to get irritated. Doesn’t he know I am grieving for my son? I did feel he was being rude. But I didn’t say anything, and left.

On Sunday, my mom called and said that they went to Andrew’s grave. They asked if I had ever noticed this one or that one. Then they asked about the very grave that I was noticing on Saturday. It was the grave of a 15-year-old girl that died the day after my 15-year-old Andrew. I thought, how could I not have heard about this? I understand the thought that it was the day after Andrew died, and I am not sure I would have noticed if the earth stopped turning. Which, for me, it did quit turning. But I really think I would have heard about another 15-year-old dying the day after my 15-year-old. I googled her name, trying to learn what I could about this girl. I came up empty handed. It is crazy what drives bereaved mothers? I have to go up to the grave tonight to make sure I have the spelling right and see what I can find out. I worry that people reading this will think that I am this crazy stalker. But I mean, it is another teenager, the day after mine, in the same cemetery, in a town as small as St. George. I have to know! I can’t help that I feel connected? Are we connected? Or am I just crazy. I am hoping it is a little of both.