October 23, 2010 at 7:56 am
Never, never, never quit. There are beautiful moments, that I wish I could stay in until the night comes. Since April 5th, the night is the worst. During the night I usually lay awake holding my pillow. I play memories, one after another and cry so hard that I cannot see. I hurt inside, I scream out loud because it is too much, too much to escape, too hard to fight. I step through the moments leading up to finding our son, I play over and over the police officer explaining what was happening. My eyes close and I can only see our son lying on the steel table, with a sheet. I put myself in the church, listening to the service and seeing the hundreds of people there to say goodbye to Fred. I don’t stand in my dreams, I have to crawl. I want to get out but cannot find my way. I am alone, then Fred reaches for me, for all of us. Then I wake up, realizing at some point I fell asleep while analyzing every detail, looking for my clues. I look around and realize it is the next day, I feel inspired to be ok and wish this exact moment could stay with me. I beg on my knees, on the ground. I think I am strong enough, but realizing I do not know what to do in the night.
It is unbelievable how much pain a person can put into a goal. A goal when reached others will ignore. It won’t be long, till one stops to care to go on. You think really hard, still can’t figure out what’s wrong. There’s only so much a person can endure. Thousand and one ways to stop your pain? But is it truly worth it? When you die, none of this is going to matter. Be patient, maybe sooner than later. Just close your eyes, don’t be afraid, and you’ll realize, everyone dies.
I cannot figure out the why, the signs, the clues for any of this. I cannot find where I was supposed to know and try and fix this. I only concentrate on making it through an hour, an afternoon or a day. I cannot make big decisions, I cannot care about things I used to. I grieve for my son every minute and with every breath, but I also grieve for myself. At times I feel that I died right along side of Fred and this life is nothing but going through the motions now.
I share my life with a man that is tough and sensitive. He loves his wife and his children and lives according to his faith and heart. I feel depressed that this has taken over and changed our lives forever. It is not fair, for us to be missing one of our 4 children. We did stuff right, we worked through some of the most horrible things thrown at us and helped each other all along the way. This is different. Everywhere you go in life there are people and children and families. Laughing and enjoying each other. I become envious, I long for those days when all 6 of us were laughing and just being us. You hear about marriages and families splitting up after the death of a child – at any age. I can understand that. The pain and flood of memories is too much to take, paralyzing you or causing you to run from it. So what are you supposed to do?
We are on unfamiliar, shaky ground. We push, pull, snap, comfort, and feel like we are all going crazy. But, we get up, every day. We try and we continue to love. We hold each other and long for our son to come home. We panic, and we find hope.
Leslie’s Cliche
Gazing into the Abyss.
Still waters run deep.
Smooth on the surface.
Depths unimaginable.
A mask,
Conceals the largeness.
Measurable only within.
Plunging,
To break through.
Admiring the size.
Using a compass, find my way.
Realizing,
Deep waters still run.
