My Boy

I miss my boy so much today. 

I miss his dimples, the brightness of his eyes.  I miss his funny little laugh.  I miss seeing him climb into his little arm chair to watch a movie.  I miss chasing him around the living room.  I miss holding him close and dancing with him.  I miss taking him to the park and exploring our yard.  I miss seeing his eyes light up when he saw other children, or animals.  I miss him handing his blanket to me each morning before I pulled him out of his crib.  I miss Jordan's joy in holding his little boy.  It is all too much to miss.  Today life seems so unfair.  The grief and longing is too much sometimes. 

Today I feel like I'm treading water.  Waiting to drown or to be rescued.  I continuously kick to keep my head above water, and at the same time try to conserve my energy, because I don't know how long I will have to tread.  My grief feels as endless and lonely as a vast ocean. 

Most days I can look for a silver lining.  I can find things to be grateful for.  But some days, days like today, I hate the impulse to try to find joy in such pain.  There is no way around the pain, no sugarcoating it.  I am left with the constant jolting realization that I have experienced something so traumatic.  It can only be felt.  I can only go through it. 

I share this with you because I don't want grief to seem easy.  A friend told me a few weeks after Jonah died that I was making grief look good.  I understood that she was trying to compliment me for handling the situation well.  I appreciated her kindness.  But grief is a horrible messy business.  The compliment would not have been given today.  A day when I quickly left the house, unshowered, with crinkly bed head hair, no makeup, rosy puffy cheeked from crying, seeking the comforting arms of my mother.  Even when my outward appearance is pleasant, the grief is still messy inside me.   

I don't ever want to make you think that losing a child is easy or manageable.  That would be a lie.

I'm sorry there is no hope in this blog post.  I don't want to give the impression that I am hopeless or desperate.  I am neither.  But, today all I can do is tell you how much I hurt, and how much I miss Jonah.  Maybe tomorrow I can return to finding perspective and truth and beauty amidst the heartache.  But today I will just miss my boy and continue to do just enough to keep my head above water. 

Better Late than Never

I know it is cliche to say "better late than never."  Like all cliches it is said so often because there is truth at its core.  In the past three months I have learned that sometimes late is not only better than never...but late can be perfect timing. 

For weeks after Jonah died we received so much mail.  I longed for the mail to come, because it gave me strength.  Cards, letters, money...some from dear friends, some from acquaintances, some from total strangers.  It was overwhelming and beautiful and kind.  I was so grateful that people took the time to write a note or email and let me know of their grief at Jonah's passing.  It helped me to know that friends prayed for us, and wept with us.  Gradually this mail has tapered off.  When I go to the mailbox now I find the usual...ads, bills, etc...  But every so often I get a card or a note about Jonah. 

I wonder when I open these cards if the author was hesitant to send it.  Maybe she thought she was too late, that she should have acted sooner.  But the arrival of these notes is perfect for me.  As the world moves on and I have fewer natural conversations about my beautiful boy, I am so grateful that someone is thinking of him, that someone is thinking of me. 

I often feel like time is sweeping me down a swift river and I have left Jonah on the shore.  No matter how I try I cannot fight the current that pulls me away from his existence.  Another cliche...time marches on.  There is no stopping the progress of life, no going back.  These simple notes are like calm pools of water where I can stop for a moment.  They are a resting place. They bring me hope and usually make me cry.  I need moments that make me cry.  Sometimes I can't cry on my own.

If you are a sender of tardy notes, thank you.  Thank you for sending your love to me, whether quickly or slowly.  I truly need it.  I hope you will remember that beautiful words, and kind acts are always needed.  It is never too late.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.  Ecclesiastes 3:1

Here is a video of Jonah listening to music and licking tupperware, for your enjoyment.  It makes me laugh.

Plans

I interviewed for a job yesterday.  Its a job that pays too little and requires too much.  Just what I'm used to.  I applied because I need something to do.  My life is so unstructured.  I don't get out of bed until 9:00, creeping closer to 10:00 each day.  I stay up late doing who knows what.  I need some purpose, so I'm looking for a job.  Not a career, just a job.

I haven't interviewed for a job in 4 years, so I was a little rusty.  I didn't really prepare for the standard interview questions.  I have been so happily immersed it the world of motherhood that I really had to dig deep to remember my work life before Jonah.  I find it funny that the job of motherhood is inappropriate to reference in professional interviews.  When they asked me "Tell me about a difficult work experience and how you resolved it?" I wanted to tell them about trying to teach Jonah to sleep through the night.  I wanted to tell them about Jonah's cleft palate surgery, how I held him and tried to stay calm when he was in so much pain. Both experiences are so much harder than anything I've ever dealt with at work.

"What adjectives would you use to describe yourself?"  I wanted to say incredibly strong, hopeful, devastated, confused.  I think I said adaptable, passionate, creative. 

Here is the question that really got me.  "What are your plans for the next two years, what are your goals for the future?"  This question almost made me laugh. I have always been goal oriented. I like to have a plan.  I like to know where I'm headed and that I'm achieving something.  I like to put things on my resume.  Four years ago I would have had a great answer for that question.  Instead I said,

I have spent a lot of my life achieving goals, and working on plans.  In the last year of my life I have had all my plans turned upside down.  I wish I could tell you where I'm going to be and what I will be doing in two years.  I wish I could plan that far in advance, but I can't.  All I can tell you is that I want to be involved in something important, and I will do my best at whatever job I am given. 

I don't know if they liked that answer.  It felt honest, although not the whole truth.  I do have a plan.  I want to be a mom again.  I have come to realize that pregnancy is not always as easy and effortless as so many teenagers make it look.  It may be months, or years, or eternities.  I cannot plan my life.  I can hope.  I can wait.  I can try.  I can pray.  I will do all those things and try to appreciate the days I am given, the opportunities that present themselves and the love that comes my way.  And maybe someday I will get a job.

If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.  Woody Allen

Imagine

"I can't imagine what you are going through."  These are words I hear a lot.  No truer words can be spoken.  Jonah's death is something I imagined occasionally when he was with me.  When we were at the pool or the playground I thought about all the difficulty and danger in the world, and wondered how I could possibly protect him.  I would gaze at his perfect body while he slept, and contemplate how I would ever survive if I lost him.  And then it happened.  I quickly discovered there is no imagination that can match the difficult reality of losing a child.  There is sincere sympathy and empathy, and yet experience is the strictest and finest teacher. 

Kelly, Finn, Ryan and Colum Pa

On Christmas Eve the Pack family were driving home from a family party.  An SUV jumped the median and hit their car in a head-on collision.  Both parents were critically injured, and their adorable little boy Colum (who was Jonah's age) died on Christmas day.

As I read about this family I wept, and I heard myself say to Jordan "I can't imagine..."  I truly can't.  I have lost my own little boy, but I can't imagine losing him because of a drunk driver.  I can't imagine having a broken body and a broken heart.  I can't imagine the heartache, the anger, and the physical and emotional pain that this family is feeling. Only they will ever know how it feels. 

While I try to fathom their loss, I find hope in imagining the goodness and service, that will envelope the Pack family this year.  I know it will come to them because it has come to me.  This is an experience that I know by heart.  There are many sympathetic hearts in the world.  Many will try to imagine how the Pack family feels and then they will act.  I am amazed by the simple and sometimes extraordinary ways people find to lift the burdens of broken hearts.  I know that Ryan and Kelly will have the same experience.  The abundance of pure love that follows tragedy is a phenomenon I could never have imagined. 

Colum Pack

I hope when you hear of someone's tragedy, like mine, or the Pack family, you will find ways to help.  If you can't think of what to do, use your imagination!  Or read this post.  If you have sent us letters, donated money, brought food, visited, called us, and countless other acts of service...thank you.  It all helps.  It all heals. 

A few additional notes:

Colum's strong healthy heart now beats in another baby's body.  Organ donation is a selfless choice, and a healing miracle.  You can sign up to be an organ donor here.

If you feel inclined to help this deserving family you can do it here. 

If you ever drink and drive you need to stop today.  

New Year

Jonah's Laughing Heart

In the past I have made complicated resolutions at the new year.  I have divided my life into categories, physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and created specific measurable attainable goals to achieve in each area.  This method has helped me feel productive in the past.  I find that this year I am not interested in being productive, I want to be whole.

A few days ago as I contemplated the new year I remembered this poem by Charles Bukowski.  I love this poem and love the title.

The Laughing Heart.   

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

My life is different than it used to be, but it is still mine.  I have come to realize that there is very little that I control, and heartache is inevitable.  Despite this I control the most important aspects of my life, my heart, my hope, my willingness to step through open doors.  My resolution for the new year is simple.  No complicated plans, no exercise goals, no self-denial.  It breaks all the rules of goal making, it is not time specific or measurable.  I simply want to recognize light in my life.  I want to see the beauty along with the pain.  I hope that the light I find will magnify.  I hope that this effort will make me whole again.  I hope to remember that I am marvelous and that the gods wait to delight in me. 

I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. Psalm 139:14