-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- and then the walls fell

St Josephs

Any of you who have ever belonged to a church and go on a regular basis know that the sanctuary is always the heart of a church. This is my church, I love this place and the people who go here are some of the finest people whom I have ever met. The people here are from all walks of life, a diverse mix of cultures, it was a wonderful place for my children to have grown up, to received their sacraments. I actually drive 30 miles to belong to this church.- that's each way!!

 It would make more sense to write about St Joseph- the man after all, this past weekend when we honored the patron Saint of  The Universal Church- fathers. I am however going to write about our parish hall;. Quinn Hall  named fondly after Francis Quinn a former pastor at our church. I'm afraid its not included in this picture, its in a separate building on the other side of the parking area.

It serves  the usual needs of the parish, wedding receptions, christenings, The Knights of Columbus breakfasts, church dinners for Ash Wednesday, receptions after funerals, functions for our school, I can go on and on. There are many memories made in this place, I have many memories of this place. But the four walls of Quinn Hall contain a far greater thing than just a "Catholic place" it is a community place it is the symbol of so much more- it is truly universal. The poor get fed there for lunch weekly, there are holiday dinners as well, food gets sorted for Christmas giving, its doors are open on hot days the cities people go there to be in the air conditioning, we have dinners and sales that fund our church outreach to the poor of our city. Many people are helped in this place.

Tuesday at 2:39 a.m an adjoining building caught fire and not only were several businesses and empty apartments engulfed but Quinn Hall burned down....it was a complete loss,  there were no injuries thank God. Our beloved meeting place is gone, the brick shell was taken down for safety reasons.

Quinn Hall was at one time a grocery store that our parish purchased back in 1981. Donations were made and the necessary renovations  were done to suit our needs; it became a place of great importance for us.The parish  is already hopeful about rebuilding, that is their nature. Like our Patron Saint- Joseph they have a genuine faith that this will work out and they look forward to making new memories when we build our new parish hall.

-post card- and then the tears came

Holidays and the kids birthdays can be terribly difficult since their deaths.

Surprisingly enough on my birthday this Sunday I found myself struggling a bit,  here's why.

This is one of the few days when I am truly the center of attention, not the attention giver and thats a hard role for me.

We had a nice dinner out, my mom, my husband, my son-in-law and daughter, the boys and my son. I sat and watched all of the people I love gathered around me and I am reminded of all that I have in my life and I am grateful.  At times like this however I can't help but see the empty seats at the table in my mind and feel their absence in my heart.

 Since the accident I tend to get a bit emotional about these things, here is what my sons card said.....

I love you as a Mom

the wonderful woman

who has done more for me 

than any other person in the world.

I love you as my friend,

someone who understands me, 

takes time to listen, 

 and truly cares about

 how I'm doing.

I love what you made me-

a happy child,

a grateful adult,

and someone who will always

look up to you.

Happy Birthday

and then the tears came.

-post card- a lesson this mother learned

I am a mother of dead children, how exactly does a woman do that; be a parent to children who are no longer alive? I ventured a guess it had a lot to do with what kind of mother I was to my living children.

The timing of accident happened at the point of transition for me. I had two married daughters a married son, grandchildren and a soon to be empty home. My youngest two boys in their early twenties, the one involved in the accident had been in college, living off campus near his college with his brother-in-law and the sister- the one who he died with in the accident. The other son had graduated college was starting a law enforcement career working long hours, hardly ever home- both ready to make the transition themselves to full independence.

What I found out thru a good bit of reflection and yes- therapy was that I had an over exaggerated sense of my own importance in my children's lives, they were adults after all. I didn't need to remind this one of the others birthday or smooth over this or that spat, feel responsible to accommodate get together's "just because" I wanted family togetherness. If the kids were in touch with each other or not that was their own is their business, and they were free to conduct separate relationship free of my involvement or judgement. I was their parent- not the social director-communications director- feeler of all things responsible-my involvement to the extent that it was, was too much.

I could write a list as long as my arm of  those little things I did to accommodate. I am a caretaker by nature the hub of the family- the peacemaker, I think most mothers are. If the people who I care about need me I'm there- that's what I do, but there's another layer to it, why I did it- it fulfilled a need in me.

And that's the rub here of course, when I did all the things I did I told myself it was for them, but under all of it what drove me was this need- this feeling to be involved to stay relevant and to hold on to how it felt to be that mother of children that were actually children. So with that knowledge I transitioned rather painfully I must admit from the mother who was rather enmeshed in her adult children's lives to a concerned mother who was involved but no longer enmeshed.

Even though not the original  purpose for going, the death of my children brought me to the therapy which helped me to grow as a mother.  I gained valuable insight into my relationships with my children. I learned that stepping back, that letting go isn't withholding attention or love but the complete opposite and that lesson applies to my dead children as well as my living ones.

-post card- protect us from all anxiety

In the hours and days following the accident that killed the kids the phone kept on ringing. There were reports that the accident site was a terrible scene, the coroner was away for a holiday so there would be delays releasing their bodies. The accident details were reported on the national news, reporters were calling the house, Fed- Ex was delivering packets from high priced attorneys promising to "represent" us as if somehow money would compensate us for our loss. I had lost all sense of what was normal as my anxiety grew to levels well beyond what any one person should be able to bear.

I've never really given much thought to why the words  that are below are part of the liturgy but my pastor brought it up this week in his homily since the gospel teaching dealt with Jesus teachings on worrying. Many Catholics, myself included tend to listen to those parts of the Mass that have always been- without ever questioning why.

There is a part in the Catholic Mass after the Lords Prayer and before the Sign of Peace where the Priest does a declaration of praise or a doxology if you will; at each and every Mass he says:

 Deliver us, Lord, from every evil, and grant 

us peace in our day. In your mercy in, keep us free from sin,

 and protect us from all anxiety, as we wait in joyful

 hope for coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

It seems in a previous parish my pastor had a parishioner who was a mental health professional who had an issue with part of the prayer ( protect us from all anxiety ) he felt anxiety was necessary even a healthy part of life. I tend to think worry is healthy to a certain degree, anxiety when it reaches levels so great it can't be managed and interferes with your life is just plain unhealthy.

My level of stress and anxiety was off the charts those first days and stayed that way for a long time, this type of stress makes you alert to everything- does something to your brain. The bumps in the night were real to me then, I heard each and every one of them since I hardly ever slept. Its hard to explain the feeling of being intensely afraid but not really knowing what I was afraid of, it is an awful experience. My sense of safety was gone, I was constantly plagued with this feeling that another shoe would drop, that something awful was going to happen to us again. So I waited and waited some more, rarely able to get the rest I needed to function normally.

Once ordinary occurrences like the sight of State Troopers speeding down the Interstate were enough to make my blood run cold until I checked to make sure my children were OK; the vision of their cars lined up in my driveway the morning of the accident seared in my memory forever. A dashboard light on the car had new meaning to me, the slightest threat that anything would place me stranded on the side of the highway, the place my children perished filled me with paralyzing fear.

My life as it was felt horribly wrong to me for a very long time, there was part of me clinging for all I was worth to the past before the accident; as another part of me was at the same time acknowledging  the need to move on, my turmoil was intense.

I think the point I'm trying to make is that prayer takes time, a quiet mind, focus and dedication,  none of which I was capable- due to my anxiety. I would venture to guess that might be why this is included in the Mass. Anxiety can be a barrier to God and it was for me for a time. So if you ever attend a Catholic Mass and wonder if praying to protect a person from anxiety is worthy of your time, take it from me it is.

- 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.

-post card-Connecting with friends and family

Do you know which is the best part of life?? 

It's simple, when your family understands you 

as a friend and your friends support you as a family.

.....author unknown

When I was considering what I was going to write in this post I started to reflect about my group of friends.We have been meeting for years regularly every second Friday of every month for dinner as a group, this Friday will be our night together.

Of course we see each other at different times on other occasions but this is really a treat for us, a chance to catch up as a group. Most times it's in the local restaurant, but sometimes we'll have dinner at our homes. Christmastime at my house, dinners pool side at another gals home, and evenings like this Friday at different friends home,  sharing a meal, with people who you really enjoy being around.

They are a great bunch of  ladies my neighbors- did I mention there are husbands and a few ex's but these dinners are strictly ladies only? What we do varies however we have a few former stay at home mom's- turned empty nester's, teachers, business owners, nurses, women who run at home businesses, most with grown children or -pretty much grown, there are a few little ones too. We have single children, married children with or without their own children, college completed, graduate degree's in the process. Our children  male and female alike are either friends or friendly, many went to school together-passed thru those same halls just at different times, played the same sports, attend each others weddings, two are even room mates.

I think we have the same values, we share the same faith, and we truly enjoy each other- support each other- like a family.

As far as my real family, that would be the noisy mostly Irish might have drank an adult beverage did i say noisy people? We originated in the great state of NY, after three of my four grandparents emigrated to this country and finally settled there. Now we are stretched all over the country over so many states I've actually lost count, but primarily the east coast. I can't stress enough how amazing they are.

People think I'm exaggerating when I talk about the love and warm closeness I have with my brothers, sister-in-laws, their kids, my godchildren, my mom, aunts, uncles, cousins- not to mention my own husband, our children, son in law, and grandkids- who are adorable. Whether it be just those for "no reason times" when we visit each other or holiday's, birthday parties,vacations, christenings, an anniversary, weddings or even those unfortunate and sad times when the family gathers and we lose one or two of our own-  being with each other...I can think of nothing better.

-post card- FEELING THE PULL

I walked out of my church on the day of my kids funeral in 2006 and didn't go back until last month, couldn't get in the door. Life's journey brought me back to the place I considered my second home. And the wonderful thing about God is He waits patiently by your side when you forget to remember Him. My church family welcomed me back with open arms too; it was good to be back.

God spoke to me many times over those years, it never made it past my neck however so that I never heard what He was saying in my heart. The past few weeks  when I go to church- the announcements or in the church bulletin say they're looking for volunteers;  it seems that they're looking for several of the things I used to do before the accident in 2006. His message to me or just a coincidence- this I do not know-yet!

There have over the course of my absence been many changes there, a new pastor, new parishioners but most prominent- the closing of our Convent after 120 years. Our sisters are some of the kindest, gentlest hearted women I have ever met. The are Daughters of Charity of St Vincent De Paul , many of which are teachers who filled various functions in our parish school and social workers who oversaw the parish outreach. I spent many hours in that parish outreach with the poor and needy of the community listening and I hope helping. Getting so much more then I ever gave from people who had little reason for hope but always seemed to have an abundance of it.

The question now is if I go back to helping with the less fortunate in our community-how will my experience with the death of my children affect my interaction with my clients? Will I be more compassionate, more empathetic?

My fear is-  that their circumstances and distress might overwhelm me and it will be to much.

But I'm feeling the pull.

-post card- YOU CAN'T TAKE-EM WITH YOU WHEN YOU LEAVE

I'm going to write a regular post starting today , about things I think are important or interesting-something personal to me but not exactly private. 

Here's my first......

                      
I thought I'd tell you about my big day. For me a bitter/sweet day; one that I have been both planning and dreading for a long time.  My therapist and I had our final session today.

Anyone familiar with the process of therapy knows you have goals that you hope to accomplish, and if you're lucky and you have a good working relationship with your doctor you have a better chance of achieving whatever they are. I was understandably a mess in 2006, we did a lot of work together. I can honestly say I worked my ass off, had more painful moments than I care to recall or admit.

And now, four + years have passed and  it was time for me to move forward, therapy free. I have regained my sense of self, I am a women with more balance in my life, I am back to most all  of the activities and relationships I enjoyed and was involved with before. That feels not quite like before, it's more like my "new normal". My life now is mostly without that fear and anxiety that had kept me from moving forward- letting go- that- my constant challenge since the accident that took the life of my son and daughter.

So I'm on my own for now, no more scheduled visits to the leather couch with the orange-ish pillow. He saved my life and then helped me put the pieces back together, make some sense of it all.  I have an attachment to this relationship, there is no doubt. What makes today a good day is the sure feeling- the knowledge that I don't need it anymore.

The good news is you get to symbolically take-em with you. Spend enough time in a room with a therapist, you hear him in your head after a while. The expression "it's all in your head", how true this is! That expression holds a new meaning for me now- and it's all good.