September 28, 2010 12:45 pm
Today I struggle for my breath, I continue to share, in order to make my story become clearer while I find my way and see the plan for me.
I don’t understand suicide anymore today than I did the day before my son took his life. I am still in shock and keep myself numb, probably to hide my pain from others and myself. Sometimes I see Fred, but then realize it is someone else, not my son. I just cannot believe and accept that he is gone.
On Saturday morning I was awaken by a loud vehicle outside. It turned out to be a lift that was used all day to paint our house. I looked outside that morning and froze inside my house. I did not want to go out and didn’t for over two hours, instead I sat in the house and cried. I could not come up with an answer as to why 50 people would come to MY house and fix things, glaze windows, scrape, prime and paint and even invite me to eat lunch with them at their church. I felt embarrassment, sadness, happiness, guilt, shame…you name it. That day was an emotional rollercoaster. I am left not knowing how to thank them or show my appreciation. The things they did Saturday are things that have overwhelmed Chris and I on top of already being overwhelmed.
I looked back on some old stuff I had written and on short story started out with the question, “How can one person endure so much pain and suffering and survive it?” Of course I was not writing about Fred or myself but something completely irrelevant to what is going on in my life today. But I read it and instantly felt that the story itself was lame and needed to be thrown away. This is pain, what we live with now is pain. I, myself have thoughts of suicide that briefly enter my head, because I too want the pain to stop…but I want to live and take care of my family and make sure my son is never forgot. But what is my purpose anymore? Nothing is remotely interesting like it was once before. I blame myself, I blame God. I just want Fred to come home and fill my house with laughs, smiles, conversation….I just want to tell him how much I love him again and hug him close like I did the day before he died.
I am putting together a calendar that will go on sale for our old church in Denver, Park Hill United Methodist Church. I took on the project to help my Mom out and to help the church. Each page is full of pictures of familiar faces, our beautiful church buildings and sanctuary, and events in appropriate boxes for other church members to plan for. We still belong to PHUMC, and Fred’s services were held there. This is a very large church, and very beautiful. The day of Fred’s funeral/celebration of life, I was reminded at how much I have missed that place since we moved away. Since living in Wiggins we have not moved our membership or attended any of the churches here. I think I got lost somewhere in between 2001 and now. Now I am just torn. Look at what the church and community have done for us. Look at how I blame God for what happened and how angry I am at him. My questions about Fred will forever go unanswered and so will the question of why.
Most of the time I think I am going crazy. I forget everything, I can’t sleep, I have extreme anxiety, I play the what if game in my head all day long…. Things just do not feel right anymore and I find myself feeling like I have been a horrible parent. Friends that I really depended on or thought would be here for me have faded away because of our grief. I daydream long and hard, playing over and over in my head that tragic night looking for Fred….and then finding him…..and then each horrific event after that.
Before looking for hope in my days and nights, I look for a way to cope. “One learns to live with the loss, the tragedy, the waste, and the gaping hole in the fabric of one’s life. There is no closure, nor would I want one. I want to remember him all my life, vividly: his laughter, the smell of his sneakers under his bed, his moments of joy, his humility, and his integrity.” Holidays are hard, Monday’s are hard. And it is hard to go through such a monumental task like grief without a rhythm or timeline. Most things in our lives follow a routine and structure. Kids, school, marriage, work. Nothing prepares you for something out of the natural order or routine…like losing one of your children so tragically.
Last night I was following Chris home from Greeley in the van, he was driving the pickup. Nothing can prepare you for a meltdown either. I had my meltdown yesterday on Highway 34. We left the pickup and he drove me home.
Whether you know what you want to do with your life or not we all seem to have purpose for the moment and for the next week or month at least. Today I am watching my new grandson again and will continue to do that until I am told they no longer need me to. Then I will find new purpose. This baby is my purpose right now, it is what I can touch and see, and what I can understand has a need from me. I know you need to be needed also, you need purpose and definition. But if you look at my profile page….under my picture…I have had the same quote in that box since I started using Facebook in 2004 while the boys were at Metro in Denver. Read it. I would not dare change it now…and believe it and I struggle back and forth thinking I do not deserve to say it.
