Yesterday a madman..

Yesterday a young madman murdered his mother, yesterday a young madman murdered babies in a grade school classroom, yesterday a young madman murdered educators; and those educators who lost their lives-lost their lives protecting the children that were in their charge.

Yesterday some twenty pairs of parents and families plus countless other families and indeed an entire community became victims of this madman.

I cannot help but feel shock and horror that this happened. It makes me sick to my stomach.

And I ask why? Why would someone do such an unspeakably violent act?

                                                        And I try like everyone else to make some sense of that which is so very senseless.

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when words are like a hug

Bill and I visited with our neighbor yesterday who just lost her husband after some 60 years of marriage. It was really sad that death separated this couple who were really wonderful together. Sadly however illness had taken its toll on our friend and we had come to accept that his time had come. He was 83.

While we were sitting at the kitchen table with the family it was remarkable how the stories about him just flowed, stories of his capacity to love his sense of humor and his generosity present in each and every story. Our friend was a kind man.

As I watched the reactions of the family it was clear to me that they were grateful to hear each and every word for indeed they were hanging on every word. remember when. When you're visiting someone who has lost a loved one it's so important to take time to share your remembrance's with the family.

To those who are grieving those stories are like a hug.

“They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. 

Death cannot kill what never dies.” ~

 William Penn

2,285 days since you've been gone

I am so fascinated by the moon, the stars, the clouds and the sky

 that I find myself constantly looking up. The heavens take on a whole new meaning 

when your kids are there; in heaven. 

I  know I don't write about the kids 

all that much on this blog. But don't let that 

fool ya, parents never stop grieving 

the loss of their children 

EVER!

And although our family has moved forward with 

living our lives the best we know how,

we take moments to 

remember.....

Today we remember Eric's 28th

 birthday but there will be no celebrating. 

He and his sister Gretchen 

 died in an accident 

  July 3, 2006.

And then I lost it....

I'm doing a Monday Mournings Guest-Interview over on the death writer blog today with my friend Pamela. I do hope you'll go over and check it out by clicking here.

During the interview process Pamela and I traded a few e-mails and I shared a story with her. I told her I was considering putting it on my blog and we agreed that we'd try to coordinate my story with her blog subject/guest for Wednesday. She's having a guest who is a veterinarian who is also a thanatologist. (They study death and dying, especially in the psychological and social aspects.) Don't forget to check that out as well here on Wed  8/15.

What does my story have to do with that? Go ahead and read it and you'll see.

This is a true story about what happened some short weeks after the accident that took the life of my daughter Gretchen and son Eric. It portrays a picture of my emotional state resulting in some behavior I'm was not to proud of.

         **************************************************

I looked at my cat Egypt laying on the floor. He was obviously in pain. I told myself all the usual things he had a good life, after all he was 19. But I knew today was going to be his last day and that made me terribly sad.

I breathed deeply thinking to myself "my life is a nightmare." It had only been a few short weeks since the kids deaths. I hadn't slept for more than a few hours at a stretch and I was exhausted down to my very bones. I was so afraid and I didn't even know what I was afraid but it was my new constant companion. And now I had to leave the house. The thought of doing that was so frightening to me that I started to seriously consider that I needed help. Damn you death, I thought! It seemed that death was rearing its ugly head again. Ugh! Why me? I seemed to be asking myself that question a lot lately.

So I put him in his cat carrier, he cried obviously in pain and I cried along with him.

We arrived at the vets office just the two of us and they took us right away. They're very good that way with long standing patients. I was shocked when the older male country doctor didn't walk through the door but instead a young thirty something veterinarian who was about six months pregnant entered. I told her that I would like to have him put to sleep and take his body home to bury in our pet cemetery. She examined him and agreed it was his time.

Then trying to help she started to address with me how hard it would be for me to loose a pet. At this point I stopped her and told her, thanked her and told her I was an experience pet owner and had done this before and there was no need, but she continued. Again I said there really was no need to address my needs that if she could just.... and she just kept on about how difficult it could be.

And I lost it.

All I can say is it was like a slow motion movie playing out some horrible scene and these hateful words were coming out of someone else's mouth but it was actually my mouth and I was saying them.

I remember saying. "How many times do I have to tell you I don't need you to explain to me about how this is going to be a painful experience?"

Then I went on to say. " I just buried my two kids a few weeks ago so you don't have to tell me a fu...ing thing about what I'm gonna go thru."  

And if that wasn't enough. "Now take that fu.....ing needle stick it in the G-damn cat and kill him and do it now!"

And I can say with certainty that's pretty much word for word what I said. Why do I remember? I can't say but I do. I can hardly remember putting him in his carrier after the shot or paying the bill but I know I did. But I do remember laying him out in the living room at home so our other pets would know he was gone before we buried him.

To be perfectly honest I never apologized to the lady vet. and I suspect she avoided treating my cats for years afterward. And really who could blame her? My behavior was awful, shameful.

Then, five years later our cat Daisy was attacked by a pack of dogs. They hurt her terribly and we knew she would have to be put to sleep. When we went to the vets she came in to treat my dying 12 yr old cat. Her internal injuries were so severe she agreed the was no hope. After five years she looked me square in the eye and touched my hand and said and it was very brief " are you ready" and I said " yes thank you."

 Maybe a little peace and understanding was reached there or at least I'd like to think so.

But I didn't offer an apology and it still bothers me.
So what do you think dear readers?
Is it ever to late to offer an apology?
Any other thoughts or comments?

little ones have that ability don't they?

"L"

This is a story is about a few "L" words it's about little ones it's about loss and its about laughing. Children are a blessing aren't they? And when we see our little ones do something adorable then it's a story that needs to be shared. It's a good one, you're going to love it.

My brother and my sister in law usually visit us every summer for at least a week. This is what happened one summer day about ten years ago. My grandsons were visiting, that's three boys, Adam, Emmanuel and Xavier and my brother has two girls Sydney and Alexandra and a boy Gerard, the oldest child was my niece Sydney {6yrs.} followed by my grandson Adam {4yrs.} This story is about the two of them.

It's important at this point to mention that my nephew little Gerard has allergies so they do not have any pets so they were very attached to ours. We on the other had always had both dogs and cats; at this point we had one dog Charlie and five indoor/outdoor cats. Since their last visit our other dog Cosmo had died of an immune disorder so my brothers kids were devastated that she was gone. I should also say we have a little pet cemetery with little grave markers in our yard.

Lazing on the back porch my brother Gerard and I see my grandson Adam and his daughter Sydney heading over to the pet cemetery. From where we're sitting we not only have a clear view but we can clearly hear every word they are saying; but they seemed to be unaware of our presence.

In a very solemn voice Sydney says to Adam. " We need to pray for Cosmo Adam." Then she crosses herself showing her little cousin the correct form for the sign of the cross. " In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit." Listening from our perch on the back steps we then hear as she recites; "Hail Mary Full of Grace the Lord is with thee.......  over my dead dog Cosmo's grave.

What an adorable site to see, my brother and I were in tears it was so darn cute.  When the prayer was complete Sydney turns to Adam and says in her little voice. "It's your turn now Adam OK?" Adam looked up at his bigger older girl cousin shook his head in affirmative and without missing a beat put his hand on his heart and said, " I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America...... His cousin serious as a heart attack followed suit hand on heart and they both recited the pledge.

By this point, my brother and I are in tears and laughing simultaneously at the level of cuteness as  they express their loss at the pet grave in a way only little ones are capable of doing, with innocence. Never taking our tear filled eyes off them we watch as they finished their pledge. Then they embraced and walked together hand and hand towards the front of the house.

credit

This is one of my very favorite family stories. I will always cherish those moments.They can bring us to tears one minute and make us laugh the next.; little ones have that ability don't they?

the pain of the holiday's

I had to keep myself from writing some really terribly gloomy posts this Christmas season. I tend to find myself being drawn to the past, getting very reflective as the year draws to a close and that can be both good and bad.

I know all of you would be very supportive but frankly I didn't want to be a Debby Downer for the holiday's. I found it becomes easy to fall into the negative pattern so I thought I'd attempt to keep a  mostly positive attitude on the blog and in my personal life. I'd say it worked....sorta! Except when the migraines come.

How'd you like to spend most every holiday with a migraine? I have just come out of a three day migraine. It is the most horrible feeling; but I'm a trooper so I tend to push through them. And there comes a point when I max out on my meds and I have no other choice!

Gretchen  Christmas 2005

Eric Christmas 2005

When you've been through what I've been through the holiday's are hard enough without physical pain added to the emotional. And I remember their last Christmas and the death of my precious children a few months later and I am SO grateful to God for all the Christmases we had together before they went home to be with You.

coming home sick and a movie

My son Matthew came home on his swing days off of work, he was sick. Some type of virus was going around work and unfortunately he was on of the people to get it. So, I put a chicken in the pot so he can have some soup to eat and hopefully give him some relief.

I suspect his roommate was secretly glad he came home and wasn't vomiting and other things we will not mention in their bathrooms and spread germs all over their townhouse.  My son did say he caught a glimpse of Trey while saying goodbye with bleach and Lysol in hand!  One can never be to clean!

 I'll take my kids home anyway I can get them whenever they want; grandchildren too. For me the holidays are quite difficult, it's hard not to reflect on my losses and not to miss my children. I suspect he knows that and that's why he's here. That and the soup!

It's been two days since he's been here and his stomach is back to normal pretty much. He's finished all his chicken soup and is feeling somewhat better. He ate a normal dinner and we're both enjoying some time together. And even under the weather there's always something to do in our house.

We are huge movie hounds in our family. Since we live in a rural area we tend to buy our movies after they've been released. I am not a big theater goer. That would be due to my restless leg syndrome. I find it really difficult to sit still for long periods of time during the movie; I'm that person, you know, the one whose moving and getting up throughout the movie. The one you want to strangle!

After Gretchen and Eric died  in 2006 Matthew and I got into this habit of watching movies together it was a great relief from the stress and grief. It's something that we still do from time to time when he comes home to visit and I must say we have our favorites. We tend to like the same types of movies but not every single movie; I am never going to warm up to the Fight Club, not in a million years. But there is this quirky little Christmas family (adult) movie we are drawn to every year.

Have you ever seen The Family Stone? This family's holiday has equal parts joy and dread add a lot of comedy, and even some sad bits; such is life, right?  But what draws me to this movie in particular and what I love about the characters and this family is no matter what there is  loyalty and love, lots of love. 

If you get some time you should try to see it. We just spent last evening watching it....again! My daughter is gonna be mad at us that she wasn't here with us but she's home at her house with the kids, and they wouldn't appreciate the germs, we'll just do it again on Christmas with her!

Do you have a favorite movie that you'd like to share, we'd love to give it a look see. Who know's maybe it will become part of our yearly ritual like this movie.

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the life I never planned

I never planned this life, I planned another one. BUT I have accepted the life I have as the one I was destined to have. Was it easy? Of course not! 

But in doing so I truly have been left with the gift and that gift is gratitude. Gratitude for every moment however short that God put my children on this earth and I treasure each and every one of those moments with my heart and soul. I am blessed with the best family and forever friends. They fill my life will love and inspire me to be the best person I can be. Some days are better than others, and I am reminded how flawed a person I am on those bad days!

I could easily feel sorry for myself but despite my circumstances I will never feel the victim, it's all about attitude so I try to keep a good one.

I'd like to think that maybe now I'm a nicer person, a bit more patient, rather more generous then before. My heart if open to forgiveness and I love deeper and am more respectful of others than before.  

Just maybe through my experience of loss I've gained a bit of perspective. That I appreciate what I have just a teensy bit more than before because I've lost so very much....

Do you deal with your life with a glass half full or a half empty attitude? 

We all face illness, death of our loved ones, job loss, our kids, loneliness and isolation, marital or relationship and financial stresses. 

I've kept a personal journal, done therapy, relied on my friends and family, blogged, prayed, screamed, walked on the beach, used sleep techniques when i wasn't sleeping and then prayed some more.

How do you do it? How do you deal with your life's challenges?

the sadness creeps in

I find that it starts like this......I'll think about them a little more, ache a little deeper, start feeling a bit blue, the tears will flow a bit easier than usual. And it's still a two weeks away. I never really know when it's going to happen. It might be the holiday's or their birthday's or the anniversary of the accident- their death. I made it through this July and the fifth year anniversary of the death of my daughter Gretchen and son Eric pretty well. My brother and sister in law were here with their kids, they are such life savers and have been more wonderful then I can possibly say.

But now Eric's birthday is coming up ( or what would have been his  27th birthday ) and I'm feeling the sadness creep into me.

My son Matthew was sharing some of his music with me for my I-pod the other day when he came home for a visit so he cleared off my little thumb drive. On that drive were all my journals that I wrote during my darkest days after their death and I'll take a peek at some of the things I wrote back then.

 Things like this excerpt from back in late 2008.......


The pictures… as I look at them as I reflect on my past, it dawns on me that the kids dying somehow transformed it, ruined it somehow, it feels painful to think about it now. The past as I knew it is gone, changed forever because the future i wanted hoped for died when the kids did. This accident robbed me of my daughter,and my baby son. This is something that is going to take some time to get used to, if I ever do. I didn't realize I would feel this way and as I look at these pictures. I always believed the past was written in stone once experienced, that my history was unchangeable. I feel foolish or naive, I’m just not sure which I am. What the pictures actually depict, what occurred  most of it good and pleasant memories, but the sadness, the regret even the guilt I feel are new additions to my present about how I feel about my past.  I long for what was and I want what I dreamed  for my family for myself for my children not what I ended up with. 

Gretchen age 7

I actually remember taking these pictures at my parents house at the beach. We had our whole lives in front of us on that day the promise of a bright future. Who knew then that Eric wouldn't see his 23rd birthday or Gretchen her her 31st. 

My husband and Eric age 6 months

It took me a few years after the kids died to be able to even look at pictures, boy was it painful. Every photo was a lost dream and evoked deep and intense grief. Now it's easier, but around the accident anniversary or a holiday or their birthdays it becomes harder because the emotion bubbles up. I try not to let it take hold of me; maybe that's the reason I decided to write this post- share this with ya'll just let it out.

blog and release!

This weeks Fridays Confession Booth is going to be a bit serious, so if you're looking for a laugh or want to read a light post about how I taste out of the pot while cooking and don't wash the spoon, well this isn't your lucky day. Come to think of it I do do that really, I confess.

Thanks again Kristen at a little something for me for letting me bare my all in a safe place. This little bit of something has been on my chest for five years actually. I rears it's ugly head every once in a while so I thought I'd take a page out of you're book Kristen and write about it; air it in a public forum and see if I can let it go then.
Blog and release!

Five years ago my daughter Gretchen 30 yrs. who I had the privilege of raising from the age of five when I married her father and my son Eric 22 yrs were killed by an inattentive tractor trailer truck driver.

Gretchen and Eric

The death of a child is a horrible nightmare but somehow those words don't seem to do justice to what that loss does to the world of a mother. But there were blessings too, my family, my husband who was a rock, my loving children, my mother, my brothers and their strong a loving wives, my Aunts and Uncles and my cousins who are so close that sometimes they feel like siblings; especially the girl cousins since I don't have sisters!

Their funeral was a blur the grief and pain of their loss was incredible and yet numbing all at the same time. Most every family member attended and were incredibly supportive even though they all live in different states some as far away as Hawaii and New York. Their presence was such a comfort, I needed them and they too were feeling the loss and shock of the suddenness of their deaths.

The ( I think three cousins) who were unable to come because of work or child care issues called, sent Mass cards and beautiful notes of love and condolence. And that support and love was endless and continues to this day some five years later.

BUT THERE WAS ONE- I have one cousin who never called, never wrote, never acknowledged the death of my children. My mother called her on the morning of the accident and told her about their deaths and  I never heard a word. NOTHING till this very day.

How do you ignore the death of your own flesh and blood? She is my mothers niece, her father my Uncle Joey was my Godfather, our mothers were sisters.

We had just seen each other the year before when our mother's other sister passed away and she hung out with my son, me and my husband at the funeral. And although she didn't know my children really well because of the generational differences, we were close as children.

As we moved into adulthood we kept in touch, seeing each other from time to time, family functions, weddings, funerals (never as frequently as my cousins on my fathers side of the family) however there was never a harsh word passed between us.

As you might imagine, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about my children. Then every once in a while I think of my cousin and I wonder why. The reason remains a mystery and calling her after all this time to ask I'm just not sure I can or even want to.

I confess, I don't believe I could ever forgive her for ignoring the death of my children for forgetting to care; it hurt me to deeply. And I now know it's time for me to let this go.

my girlfriend with the beard and a PhD

If you've ever been to therapy you know it can at times be a bitch. I went for over four years after the kids died, my grief was deep, my world was crushed. I used to be so hard on myself I constantly wavered between wanting to rush through the process and being stuck with my issues, but through it all my goals were clear. Work on my grief issues, develop better boundaries in my relationships,  bring balance who I was as an individual, manage the stresses of the accident as they arose, address my PTSD symptoms, address my dysthymic (depressive) symptoms.The list seems rather short but it entails many things to go into in this post without boring you to tears.

For example here's a couple (the symptoms) - being afraid ( scared to death and not knowing what i was afraid of), not sleeping, blue even black moods, God awful feeling of emptiness and longing for the children; the list goes on,  you get my drift ?

Anyway, when you do all this work in therapy with your therapist or doctor you build a rapport. Thing are far from easy especially when they do that thing they do and you push yourself past your comfort zone and you go to places you don't want to go; that my friends is basically their job in a nut shell.

I have the warmest feelings for my therapist, he pulled me out of the darkest moments in my life threw me a life preserver and showed me how to get my life back. I have a good life, I have hope, I am happy again I'm not so sure i could have done it without professional help.

We talked yesterday for the first time since Feb when I had my last session. Bill and I are going to drop by his office for about fifteen or twenty minutes today to deliver some tomatoes from our garden (something I always did as a patient) and to say hello.

Through my rose colored glasses I see in him sort of  a girlfriend with a beard and a PhD. Of course he's not a girl or my friend, however he does have a beard and a PhD and the man is a damn good therapist for which I will be eternally grateful.

People have told me I was really lucky with him and I've heard some horror stories from others about their experiences with therapy. What say you?

I longed for a hug

Affection.

Choose a time when either the abundance or lack of affection (either by you or someone else) stands out, and show us.  Bring us to that time.  Help us feel what you felt.

I picked up the phone on the third ring, it was my Mom. She's getting on in age; in a fragile voice shaking with emotion she said to me “the doctors office just called they told me I have colon cancer."  “I’ll be right over." I replied. I hung up the phone but not before the tears came.

My husband rushed into the kitchen I slipped into his arms the place I know so well, my safe place. The place I went to time and time again after the kids died; the familiar hands that held me as I cried, as we cried and talked about our loss. From the shelter of his arms I mumbled, “how can they tell her that over the phone, it just seems so cold doesn't it?"  The familiar feeling of dread crept into my senses again it was my constant companion after the death of our son and daughter. I took a deep breath and said, "Honey we better get over there she shouldn't be alone." 

We didn't even dress we just filled our coffee cups and crossed the short stretch of wet grass to Mom's house, we arrived within minutes. We held hands gaining strength in that connection; two always stronger than one we walked up to the door. The door flew open and before I can even kiss or hug her she exclaimed. "I have cancer the least you could do is bring me a freekin cup of coffee," then she turned and walked into the kitchen. My heart just sank and my stomach twisted into a knot. I had imagined walking in and embracing my Mother comforting her but that didn't happen of course; so I made her the coffee she desired. 

When all was discussed and Mom had calmed some she walked us to the door.  I put my arms around her, her spine went rigid, and her arms remained stiff at her side. I told her that she would be OK that we loved her that we'd take care of her no matter what. I was surprised by the powerful feelings of rejection I was experiencing. I would have done anything for her to hug me back; I longed for that connection to her especially now that she was sick. As I released her I could feel the tears stinging at the back of my eyes; the thought of losing my mother so soon after my children was too much to bear. Then quietly my husband and I slipped out the door.  

Determined to do whatever I could for Mom, I got back to my house and put a call in to the doctor’s office and made inquiries about what they told her on the phone that very morning. As it turns out they wanted her see a specialist to have a screening test for colon cancer; she didn't have colon cancer! I exhaled a deep sigh of relief; I must have been holding my breath; then I walked into my husbands arms.

solace

My community is a small one; it is not uncommon for young and old alike to know one another or at least know of one another. My son Eric's second grade teacher and her husband are our friends, my daughter Gretchen even baby sat their children. Her husband’s parents are lovely people; they of my parents’ generation and are the quintessential southern couple. He the gentleman farmer, she the devoted mother-grandmother and both are born and bred in this community. They also have another son and although I had only met him once years ago before he moved away, when he passed away tragically from cancer; my husband and I knew we would go to the funeral.

I must admit I had some concerns that I wouldn't have been strong enough to deal with other grieving parents. I was worried I was too weak to be in the presence of their pain without getting lost in my own; after all this was my first funeral since my own children's some months earlier.

Upon entering their church their son greeted me with a hug so hard he almost crushed my ribs. I think it was when I looked into his eyes and saw just how vulnerable he truly was I knew I would be OK, that I was stronger than I had originally thought. He then said to me, "It will mean so much to Momma that you came today especially considering;" and his words hung but their meaning was clearly understood to me.

Then he guided me through the throngs of people that were crowded around his mother. She stilled for a moment; it was almost as if she sensed my presence, raising her head tears filling our eyes as our gazes met. I stepped closer and we embraced for a moment as I spoke words of comfort to her. Pain and sorrow were etched deep into the expression on her face. Then in a quiet voice almost a whisper cracking with emotion she said to me “I expect we'll be talking soon" and without a thought I nodded my head in agreement to her statement.

I expect we'll be talking soon - powerful words of acknowledgement of a connection that transcended any generational differences, which transcended the fact that she is a southern woman and I am a woman of the north and it transcended the manner in which our children perished.

With those words we recognize our mutual need for the depth of empathy and understanding that comes only from another mother who is grieving.

-post card- my wishes

After the kids died I remember I was frustrated. If I could only have a few wishes granted- just three- it would have helped me tremendously as I went thru the process. Here's what they would have been.

Wish one would have been the obvious I wanted my kids back, that the awful accident that took their lives had never happened, that it was all some terrible dream. That I would turn over in my bed, my husband would wake me up with my usual hug and a cup of coffee and life would go on as usual. But we all know that was not going to happen. And although I didn't get bogged down in a lot of “what if’s” or "if only-s” I did indulge in this wish if only for a moment.......

My second wish was that my grief/pain and the journey that I was about to take came with an instruction manual. I didn’t know what to do if what I was feeling was right, if I was going crazy. I desperately wanted someone-anyone to tell me to do this on this day feel this on this day, something suited just for me. Too much of what I went thru was frankly “about me” and nobody had the answers I needed because it was personal. It scared the pants off me more often than not, never knowing what to expect next. Up one day, down the next it is so disheartening; it really is, and everyone heals in their own way, so who knew? I would more times than often get impatient with myself, my healing seemed to move at glacial speed if you ask me.  It was hard not to compare myself to others, to feed off their pain so I avoided those who were in my circumstances and used a therapist for support.

And my third wish was that I wanted “it” to be over, when in fact it’s never really over. What I really wanted and tried to do was to rush to get past the pain- because pain is"it". But the fact is there was more than one "it" in my reality, there were two. And unfortunately there's no getting past either of them. I had to feel every stinking bit of the first one; the pain. I've mentioned this before; I did a lot of suffering when my children died and I can’t imagine a mother or father who wouldn't. It is a necessary part of the healing and I found that out. I had to set aside wanting to be strong, wanting to do what I thought everyone else expected of me and just gave myself permission to feel whatever I felt without judging myself.

The other "it" I have come to understand is the journey itself, that will be the rest of my life. The bond I have with my children cannot be broken, not even by death.... so now I just live the best I know how.     

        

 “Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel a free to delight in whatever remains to them?” 

Rose Kennedy

-post card- my journey-my road

I will say this I have received more loving compassion, sympathy and empathy then any one person can ever hope or imagine receiving since the death of the children.

But to truly understand what it is like to travel the road of a mother after the death of a child or in my case two then you must travel it yourself. I will also say that I would not wish this fate on my worst enemy if I actually had one. It is my hope however when I write about my experience I give you a glimpse and a better understanding of what it was like for me. Who knows maybe some day it may be helpful to you- heaven forbid- if you have a friend or a loved who is experiences the death of a child, or maybe your just curious, that's OK too!

I was looking through some pictures and this picture jumped out at me. Most people refer to grief and bereavement as a journey. If I could illustrate to you what the road were to look like- feel like, it would be this picture. The death of the kids put me at a crossroads in my life, it left me never knowing where I was going where my life would take me next.

My road had many pot holes however, it was filled with emotions that at times I found difficult to control and I was plagued with self doubt. I was easily overwhelmed by things that were once natural for me to do and I had great difficulty making even the simplest of decisions.

I stopped dreaming for a long time until my dreams turned rather vivid; they became a window to my subconscious. They believe it or not revealed many things to me which helped me along the road.

I have questions that will never be answered- that is a hard fact to accept. I had difficulty with the changes that the kids death forced upon my life and had problems adjusting to the changes. It is frightening, was depressing and could sometimes be isolating.


Every stage of this experience  was so profound so overwhelming when I was in it until the next stage came hit and then I'd do it all over again. I was hard to imagine that things would ever get better that the barrage of emotions that was ripping me apart internally would ever subside; but it did. Letting go of different issues that arose felt like losing my kids over and over again. It sounds a bit crazy but its true, it goes without saying that trauma made me feel pretty crazy most of the time. 

I have an acquittance who is a Minister whenever I saw him, I would worry aloud about this or that but mostly about that I had't been attending church for a period of time- had questions about my faith. He would say to me "this is your journey- on this road you are never alone don't forget that". He of course was referring to not only to the blessings of my amazing support system of family and friends but to remind me that God was by my side.

I know I will travel this road forever but not alone, until the day that I am reunited with my children. My road is lighter now not at all as dark as it used to be. The pot holes are mostly filled with more positive things like joy and hope and forgiveness and finally I am no longer afraid.... finally.

‘Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you,

 for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, 

surely I will uphold you with My righteous right

 hand.’ Isaiah 41:10

- post card- the letter said "please forgive me"

It came in a plain white envelope on what would have been Eric's 23rd birthday it said, "please forgive me"- he was responsible for the deaths of my children, it was an accident. Of course there was more, but that was what counted all that really needs to be shared.

I always know eventually I'm going to be writing something more about my experience with the loss of the kids, although I'm never sure exactly what I'll write about on this blog or when. However sometimes my mind is made up for me, by circumstances beyond my control.


The state police said the truck driver was distraught was beside himself with grief. Even though I was in complete and utter turmoil  over the death of my children I couldn't help but wonder how he must be feeling? I couldn't stop thinking that his life would change forever that day as surely as ours would.

For some reason I couldn't get another image out of my head. What would happen if my oldest daughter was driving with the boys in her mini van and got distracted - hit someone by accident- killed them, how would I want her to be treated? With malice and vengeance or with compassion?
Then I knew I would forgive him, I had to- wanted to.

I've struggled for the past few weeks listening to the gospels while in church, the beatitudes, blessed are they who mourn for they shall be comforted, blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Love, compassion, mercy, forgiveness, I have an entirely new understanding of these words the things Christ said on the mountain side thousands of years ago.


Ordinary time when we hear many of the Gospels of Matthew.  I've always thought that was such a funny name for this time of year as we prepare for the Easter season since the messages are far from ordinary for me- since their deaths.

Then I was reading another blog a few days ago, it was just heart wrenching- a loving mother reflecting about her child's birthday- the first after his loss. For us mothers I'm afraid its like we're in this club that nobody wants to belong to. I hear another mothers story and my heart breaks, I relate.  But for me something  happens that I can't help, I guess I should be used to it by now. When I hear of another's loss I go right back to "that place" and for me my thoughts turned to those first birthdays after my kids deaths as I read that mothers words.


It should be said that truck driver never responded to our letter giving him the forgiveness he asked for, part of me knew he wouldn't. However his sister was leaving court on the day he was sentenced, looked me straight in the face bowed her head as if showing a sign of respect. I think of him from time to time, its my hope he's found some measure of peace. 

It is freeing to become aware that we do not have to be victims of our past and can learn new ways of responding. But there is a step beyond  this recognition... It is the step of forgiveness. Forgiveness is love  practiced among people who love poorly. It sets us free without wanting anything in return.   
 Henri Nouwen

  

- post card- Death of a child- guilt and marriage

It has been said that the death of a child can put a strain on a marriage.

When our son Eric was in high school, a team-mate on his baseball team died in an accident, that boys parents didn't make it. Now I can't say what caused the break up, or how their marriage was before the boy died. What I can tell you is the strain is terrible, parents grieve differently, communicate differently have different needs that the other spouse has to try to understand and respect. Then there are the added pressures too of -caring for siblings, jobs, court, criminal proceedings, financial concerns, our children's death was very public, some parents blame each other; the list is endless.

Today I was thinking about guilt- I am a Catholic after all. It's been said we know all about guilt. But I was thinking about regular guilt not the Catholic kind (that comes from divorce or missing church, turning your back on Catholicism) I was thinking more the kind I felt after the kids died. For the first two years, my husband and I went to therapy together as a couple. I continued in therapy on my own for at least that much time after. But as a couple our marital strengths and attitudes towards each other before the accident vital to how we would weather the storm, my therapist hinted at this in the beginning. The night the kids died I remember laying in bed shaking in shock and I turned him and said, "this is the worst day of our lives, every day after this will be better". My therapist viewed us as solid enough as a couple- that statement as hopeful. Little did we know what hard days we had ahead and that the days getting better part would come with doses of guilt.

When the kids died my husband was just like me- devastated.  I just would have crawled under a rock and died if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't find me and pull me up every single day. He on the other hand would tell you the same thing about me, that I held him up. I know we were fortunate to have each other to lean on that we didn't have to do it alone.

We spent long hours talking, it was not uncommon for us to be up all hours of the night crying together always asking the question why them, why us? Endless mornings sitting in the den over coffee looking out the windows as the seasons changed figuring out how to move on with our lives. Always asking and never getting the answer we needed. How could one tractor-trailer in the middle of the night on an empty Interstate drift off the road and run over our kids at the exact minute they were walking from Eric's broken down Honda to his sisters SUV. What are the chances in this universe that that would happen? And why couldn't it have been us, we would have gladly traded places with them.

When you are in such pain, when you are stripped bare of all that you are you slowly but surly you crawl back out of your despair and then it hits "the guilt". I felt that since my kids death my marriage was better, stronger than it had been before. My kids were dead and I was reaping benefits as a result. I knew my husband felt the positive changes in our marriage too, the guilt however was mine alone. My marriage which was a good and loving one before the accident had transformed into a  much deeper more satisfying one. You learn a lot about making peace enough to end many wars. Since it seems that all I  did while grieving was to have little wars within myself,  I made peace with the guilt. I made a choice to look at the positive changes in my marriage as a gift. Was it a gift from God, from Gretchen and Eric or the gift of a talented therapist- maybe all four? Either way we happily received it and are the better for it.

How about you? Have you had any experiences with guilt? How did your experiences affect you?

-post card- I am a grieving mother, what I am not is....

What I write on this blog will be about my experience from my perspective.

I will honestly share my personal experiences to the extent that I am comfortable disclosing them-  I was affected to one degree or another with grief, trauma, panic attacks,  adjustment problems and depression after the kids died in the accident. 

I'm not comfortable quoting nor will I ever show parts of the DSM-IV manual (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) in this blog, you will never find me purporting to be an expert because I am not one.  I see this on some other blogs regarding all kinds of subjects and frankly it disturbs me. Anyone can Google anything and post it on their blog. I think this kind of information is good and powerful when it is presented in the proper way or by a person who is qualified.

My therapist never once whipped out that DSM-IV, I would have hit him with it. What I needed was to be guided thru my nightmare by a person qualified to do so, I needed reassurance that I'd make it thru to the other side. Did he use the DSM-IV? He's a PhD, I'm sure he did, that's why he got paid the big bucks!

My therapist and I spent long hours working on reducing my symptoms of trauma- difficulty coping with change both by talking thru it and by me writing my thoughts and feelings in a therapy journal.  I worked hard and created a personal awareness of my thinking patterns that were ultimately the cause of a few pretty dark depressive episodes which were keeping me stuck.

We worked on rebuilding my identity making sure that the mother I  am  now after the accident is balanced with who I am as a wife, daughter, sister and friend moving forward.

There were so many layers and  issues that we uncovered that needed to be addressed; my fear, sadness, guilt, anger, questions of faith and yes....... forgiveness for the truck driver that took the life of my children. 

If you'd like to read my story just because it interests you, if you feel you can learn something from it, if what I write helps you,  then I will be gratified. The writing of this blog is necessary part of my continuing healing process, but I am not an expert.

I am grieving mother.

-post card- Grief- is like a sweater

The thing about  blogging is you get to invite  people into you life to whatever extent you feel comfortable; and  in return you get a peek into theirs. I guess it's human nature that we tend to seek out others with the same interests- hobbies, senses of humor, and people who have the endured the same trials in life.


I have read a few blogs since I have started this blog; blogs written by mothers whose children have died. For some their loss is new for others more time has passed. For all the grief unimaginable- unexplainable to those who have not endured it. We all travel this road differently, no two journeys are the same. We are as unique as were our children. But the longing that ache we feel for our children never goes away- this we all share.

Our sadness comes at us in waves like the ocean; our emotions can feel like the most horrible roller coaster ride that one never gets off. I can't help but remember on the day of my children's funeral I spoke to my Godmother, my Aunt Frances on the phone, she was in the hospital quite seriously ill and unable to attend the funeral.  What she said to me I will always remember...

She said "grief is like a sweater some days you wear it and it's so heavy that you can hardly stand it - other days you wear it and you hardly know you have it on". 

Aunt Frances knew loss, one can hardly reach well into their 80's and not be touched by it. She knew that day to lovingly tell me that sweater wasn't ever coming off, that I better make peace with wearing it- forever.