Well, the eight year mark is here. I dread this day, but I also spend it with thousands of memories I have been left with!! Actually, I think these memories are now ‘Cody’isms!! They are everywhere! They can make me laugh, cry, or cringe! Sometimes, all at the same time! So, what is a ‘Cody’ism? Let me explain and see if you find some too…
I have ‘Cody’isms every time I go shopping! Those are the moments when I see something and think, “Cody would have loved this!” The first time I had this Codyism was at Christmas that first year he was gone. It had only been four months and the wind blowing the wrong direction opened the flood gates of tears!! Now, I love to imagine buying him something that I know he would love… a Codyism!!!
Another Codyism is driving! I think that boy had more miles on roads with no center lines than anyone I know!! People in the country know what I mean! These are the county roads less traveled. He lived in his trucks! If you ever rode in it or helped him clean it out, you know what I mean! Seeing a Gatorade bottle is a Codyism for me, and those roads and trucks are combined with those stupid spittoon Gatorade bottles. Obviously, a package deal Codyism. And now, everytime anyone reading this ends up on a road with no center lines, you will have a Codyism! Welcome to the club!
The major Codyism I have a lot, and especially on these anniversaries, is music! If you knew Cody, you know he was a music connoisseur! He loved all music of all genres. Today, this Codyism will be in full force. I believe he speaks to me through music, and I can hear him singing!! It is a double-edged sword because it makes me happy and sad at the same time. I think that makes some of these oxymorons Cody’isms too!! There is no escape! And, for the record, that’s ok with me!
Hunting is another one! I see a deer, coyote, anything, and think “Cody would swerve to hit that!!” Especially a deer! He was an avid hunter and loved doing anything outdoors! I think that is an “ism” a lot of his friends have! I remember when his nephew was super little and he thought everyone in camouflage was his “Uncle Cody!” So cute! He loved his uncle!! Now camouflage is a Codyism!! Who knew? Well, we all did!
There are so many more Codyisms that I can mention! Like I said before, they used to make me cry and now, I look for them. I want them to happen! I feel closer to him during those moments! I hope his friends all feel these ‘Cody’isms’ too! As a parent, I still want people to think of my child and smile when they remember times they had with him! I want all of his friends reading this to stop and count their Cody’isms!! That would truly make me happy to know I am surrounded.
As I sit and think about all the ‘Cody’isms’ he left me with, those moments must outweigh the loss today, although I think that may be a draw at best! Eight years and I am still in a fog that he is not here! Still missing the kid and all his Cody’isms! I will spend today crying because he is gone, but smiling because he was here!!!
Twenty-plus years ago, I gave advice, probably unwarranted, to a loved one who was recently divorced. Granted, I have never been divorced, and I am not a marriage counselor… or any kind of counselor. My advice: heal from the inside out. I meant it then, and I mean it now. For her, I was speaking about divorce. My emotional sense tells me divorce can be harder to accept than death. It comes with feelings of inadequacy and/or rejection irregardless of if that is the case or not. The bottom line, it is still a loss: a loss of hopes, dreams, events to share, etc. It changes everything you viewed the future to be. For the better part of this comparison, the loss of the future is the biggest of the similarities, though not the only one.
In reference, I refer to the side of the divorce who did not have knowledge of a problem or failed to acknowledge the problems thinking things would work out. Those are the people who are in a state of shock the relationship ended. For that person, the who was ‘blindsided’ at the end, one common thing they do is start looking to fill the void. According to the ‘experts’ I learned the “inside out” concept from, that is not a good idea. Reason for that is because, if one rushes into another relationship, nine times out of ten, they will end up with the same type of relationship they just left. The experts’ rule for trying to avoid this repetitive behavior is take one year per every five years in a relationship before jumping into any new serious relationship. If someone was with their mate for ten years, they should take a break for two years before delving into another serious relationship. Doesn’t mean they can’t have any relationship, just don’t get married right away. Makes sense, but the biggest hurdle is healing the heart. So, I took this concept one step further.
How do we heal the heart after the ‘blindsided’ death of a loved one? Even if we knew it was inevitable, we are in a state of shock! We have a huge void! But, when the void is death, no one contemplates filling it because you cannot. It just is. My advice remains the same: heal from the inside out. This process, for me, starts with the first two choices given after the loss: live for the person you lost or dig a hole and die with them. For me, I chose to live. I still had a void, just as in divorce. The feelings were different as divorce, but, nevertheless, still a void. To heal my heart, I chose to love the life he lived and not concentrate on the things I missed because he died. This was the beginning of healing my heart from the inside out.
My next step to healing was understanding what helped the process. Writing was, and is, great therapy for me. Finding a positive in every single day was another therapeutic exercise. These actions all worked together. I am not sure if this would help for the divorce side of therapy since I have never been divorced, but it could not hurt! Finding something uplifting should be a priority for everyone, whether they write it down or not.
I have noticed in many situations, human nature has us looking at any type of change as a take-away. This could be in the workforce, sports, anything. I know when contracts change for personnel, someone will focus on one less sick day a year as opposed to an increase in wages. In employment contracts, I don’t even think you have to have a take-away to invent one. Death is a take-away, but I wanted to focus on what I had been given prior to that take-away, the life my child lived. That was a gift. When you lose someone super important to you, everything else can seem insignificant to an extent. I was happy to have a place to go that included some sense of “normalcy” that I had not had since the tragic day I was told my son died. I wanted to be anywhere that had not changed because of his death. Somewhere, anywhere, and at the same time, felt nowhere. When I was in my ‘normal’ place, I preferred to focus any thoughts I had of my child on the “gift” he had been and not the “take-away” I suffered. It was the beginning of the inside out healing I needed.
People today may not notice the grieving I still do. It isn’t like I hide it. It is more like since I take my son with me in my heart everywhere I go, I am not as sad. Do I think he is really with me. Mentally and spiritually, yes. Physically, no. I know he is no longer of this Earth. I am not going to pretend he is. That does not mean I don’t celebrate his life with the memories I was left with. Again, I want to live my life where he lived, not in the world where he died. That is a dark place, and I have seen what it can do to a person.
My heart will never be the same. I will never stop missing him. What I refuse to do is die with him. He lived life. I want to live life for him and because of him. My heart may be different, but it is healed. It was healed with Faith that he was here for a reason and I don’t want to contradict that reason. He made my life better despite the gray hair I gained because of his “shenanigans.”. Both my kids made me a better person. My life going forward will always be different because of the life I brought into the world. As always, I cry because he is gone, but smile because he was here.
I recently crossed the seven and a half year threshold of how long my son has been gone. On that day, I sat reading posts of where I was at that month’s marker, then one year later, and so on. I realized as I read these posts and reflections, I don’t want to live where he died, or to live in the time in which he died. I want to live in the places and times he lived!!
This explains why I didn’t put a cross on the side of the road where he wrecked. So many times, I drive down the highway and I see a wooden cross on the roadside representing a person who died there. Sometimes, they are covered in flowers or have stuffed animals leaning against the cross. This may be the family members “coming to terms with death,” but, every time I see these crosses or displays of “love and loss,” I relive a death. I don’t want to relive a death. I want to relive a life! I want to go where my son lived and feel as if he would still really enjoy being there. It could be a trip into the garage (where he spent a lot of time) or around a campfire, or in the mud, or just listening to music.
One tradition my husband and I have started is taking a vacation or a long weekend on or around the “death” anniversary each year in August. We call it the “Watch This, Hold My Beer” vacation. We try to go and do things Cody would have loved and know he is with us in spirit. The first one we took was on the two-year anniversary. I can tell you, the common thing we asked each other was “What would Cody do?” We went zip-lining, walked across the “Sky Bridge” and drank a beer (hard cider for me, but close enough for this wino). I think doing this every day for the rest of my life would be even better.
Those who knew Cody knew he loved working on cars and trucks, getting muddy, being outside around a bonfire, hunting ANYTHING, and music. There are so many ways I can “live” for Cody every single day from now until we meet up again. That is what I want to do. I want it to be a part of my every day life, and truly, I believe, already is. I live every day for his sister and his niece and nephew. They are my life too. I can encompass all of them together. I know his niece (who never got to meet him) knows who he is. That is my goal for anyone who never got to meet him.
As I sit here thinking about ‘living’ for Cody, I realize I do that for all of the family I have lost, and I didn’t even realize it. It must be a coping mechanism I didn’t fully analyze until now. Lately, every time I open my mouth for any kind of encouraging words of advice, my mother seems to comes out. She was the best at spinning the positives. That is what I feel I am trying to do, spin the positive. Live and not die all over again, and again, and again. I want to remember and provide stories and memories to others still living about my brothers and parents… and my son: share lots of stories (over and over again!), turn the radio up louder than usual when a song comes on that they would have liked or that talks about our loved ones in Heaven, laugh at the stories that embarrass me or makes them look silly (my mother is in quite a few of those and she owned them with pride). If I write them all down, it could be a good book to read, or an even better sitcom. Trust me when I say, stories involving my brothers sound made-up, but they are not!
Life matters, even after we die. I have mentioned before, my brother Steve said people die twice:once when they stop breathing and then when they are no longer remembered. I don’t want to forget any of them. Ever. Every life is important. It doesn’t matter how long they were here: one minute, one hour, a few years, or a few decades. What matters is we never forget them. Never stop talking about them. Never stop sharing stories. Live where they lived, not where they died. I share my son’s story of his death twice a month to a court-ordered group of individuals, but I also share his life! I don’t want them to die where he died, but to live and enjoy life where he lived. If my son did anything, he lived to enjoy life. Period. I never want to forget that. I may cry because he is gone, but I smile because he was here.
Every year, on your birthday, February 10th, I write you a letter. I know it sounds insane because you will never read it, but it is what I do! I will continue to do this for as long as I can. I like to recap the year and, hopefully, share the moments so I can feel as if you were there. People can argue if they want, but I know in my heart that you were present anyway!
So, thirty-two years ago today, I was sent to the hospital to be induced. It didn’t happen. I went into labor on my own before the doctor could prescribe pitocin. What an event! Two days overdue with my rainbow baby and then you entered the world as if you were on a slip-n-slide. Maybe too much information in that statement, but it’s the truth. You spent your time on Earth the same way, fast and furious. I celebrate you this day and know God gave me you to fill my heart with 24-1/2 years of memories I will never forget! Some of those memories, though they still make my hair turn gray, are who you were: a daredevil from the moment you entered this world!
This is the eighth birthday of yours we have celebrated your life since you left this Earthly realm and it still seems unreal to me that you would be 32! I have not aged a bit! I would love to know what you would have been like at this older age. I have so many visions in my head. My guess is, you would have little to no hair (not much different than what you had at 24). Runs in the family, sorry. You would probably not be as active unless you had little ones to chase. I can only guess. If you were like my brothers, this is when you would have truly grown up. I wish I could have witnessed it.
So many things have happened this year that I am sure you would have been quite redneck about. Between politics and the uncivilization that seemed to be going on, I think your redneck might have gotten much redder. Your lame logic would have kicked into gear at full speed. People can speculate as to what I am referring to, but we will never truly know how you would have responded. I have no doubt the American flag would be waving and you would be yelling. That wouldn’t change no matter what was going on in the world around you.
Your sister took on a new position where she is working. If you have any clout up there, can you send some good vibes her way. She is taking on a lot. I know she can do it. What I am not convinced of is if she knows she can do it. I know you would be rooting for her on the sidelines if you were here. You were always a great one to cheer her on, as she was for you. Even if you didn’t do it in front of each other.
Your niece is turning into you more every day. She hates school, but loves socialization. She wants school to be fun and now she has to work when she is there. If you have any additional power over her direction after assisting your sister, please change this one for the better in regards to education. She is super smart like you were, but doesn’t want to do anything with it with the exception of playing a very bossy teacher when we “play” school at grandma and grandpa’s house. Granted, she is only six. Just trying to circumvent the path so she likes school.
Your nephew is so super smart. He excels at school and is also very good about assisting other students. I know you were like that, too, with the younger kids at school. He is almost as tall as your sister and me. I know on my part, it isn’t saying much since I am apparently shrinking in height. Your sister teased me about it (just like you would have) and I told her she used to be my favorite living child. She thought that was terrible of me to say, but I reassured her you would have thought it was funny. That’s another family trait – dark humor.
I ran into some of your friends recently and one of your past coaches as well. It never ceases to amaze me how you are still so fondly remembered by those who knew you. They still share their “Cody” stories with me and it swells my heart. Most of them call me “Mama Trueblood” and I love it! I never want you to be forgotten for the fun-loving kid you were. And you were… most of the time! We all know how rowdy and loud you could get, but again, that is who you were.
I know you were joined this past summer by your Uncle Steve on my side. He loved you on Earth and I am sure you had quite a reunion! I pray he didn’t suffer before he left us, but I know he was welcomed home by so many up there with you. Your sister and I both have asked that you be put in the yellow time out chair. I have that vision in my head and it makes me smile thinking of your sitting there sulking because you got in trouble. It’s a mom thing! I say that a lot, but it is true. It keeps you real for me. I still yell down the basement steps for you to come and get your crap out of the laundry room. And, I will continue to do so!
As I conclude this letter that is already longer than I thought it would be, I want you to know we celebrate your life, mourn the vacancy, and pray for signs every day that you hear us as we remember so much life lived in the short years we were given. I treasure the memories every day! And, as always, we cry because your are gone, but we smile because you were here!
As I have ‘muddled’ through another holiday season, I truly appreciated those in my life and the memories I have with those no longer here on Earth with us. This time of year is full of “Christmas Wishes” and holiday spirits, but to those of us who live with caution, I am very careful about the wishes I make.
They say we wish our life away. I get that. We wish for Friday night every Monday morning as we trot off to work. We wish the house would clean itself so we don’t have to spend a Saturday cleaning. We wish dinner was made when we get home in the evening so we don’t have to cook. Watch what you wish for. Life happens in those moments we wish to bypass and most memories are made during these moments in time.
My granddaughter told me just the other night how she wished she was “big” because she doesn’t want to go to school. She is only six. I asked her if she wanted to work for a living. She said “no.” I said, “Well, you have to work as a grown-up to pay bills.” She said she wanted to be big like ‘grandpa.’ I said “Retired?” and she said “yes.” I reminded her grandpa has to pay bills too, but he had to work to get there and had a lot to show for it. All I could think is that is a big leap from 6 to 62! I don’t want her to miss growing up, although not many of us ever want to repeat it! All I thought about as she told me her wish is “watch what you wish for, baby girl!” We may not like the ride sometimes, but it is a ride worth taking!
Several weeks ago, I watched the movie “Big” with Tom Hanks before my granddaughter’s wish. He had wished he was ‘big’ because he did not meet the height requirement for a ride at the carnival and embarrassed himself in front of a cute girl. Truthfully, he may have just wanted to be taller. Who knows. Well, his wish came true and he woke up the next day an adult. He was able to get a glimpse of what that wish did and, luckily, got to go back and cherish his childhood. Wishes are literal and do not have ESP so when making those wishes, we need to be specific.
I actually ran into one of those Zoltar Speaks machines that was in the movie “Big” about six months ago . I wished to be thin again. It didn’t work. Then, I looked and it was still plugged in. That’s my excuse for it not working. Tom Hanks’ machine was unplugged. Who knew? But what would an immediate wish coming true do for me anyway? Would it have changed the process that caused me to not be so ‘thin’ anymore? Making a wish doesn’t change you, it changes the process to reach those goals.
In the movie, we saw Tom Hanks muddle through the changes because he was not ready to be ‘big.’ As in the movie, when my life took a sudden, unexpected turn, I muddled as well. Seven plus years later, I still feel as if there are times I am muddling through the process of this change since my son died. I don’t remember making this “wish” but I am sure there are times I made a wish without thinking of what I would miss. I reiterate, watch what you wish for. Wishing someone is grown and out of the house comes with repercussions. How I long to do his laundry today, or clean up his mess, or make him a meal I know he would love. I know a Zoltar machine was nowhere near me at the time, but I guess that is why it worked for Tom Hanks without being plugged in…
I wish holiday cheer for those here, and wish happy memories for those who are “muddling” as I do. If Zoltar was in front of me today, I would wish for a little ‘Heaven’ here on Earth. I can’t wish for someone to come back from Heaven. He wouldn’t want to leave there anyway from what I understand of Heaven. Heaven is the ultimate wish most of us have in the back of our minds, but at the end of our life. If I were to wish anything, I think it would be that both my children have peace in their lives, whether here or in Heaven, even if for a moment. We know the chaos of life can be overwhelming, but peace happens in small segments sometimes. I want to think those segments are “wishes” coming true and I should be getting my Zoltar card that states “Your wish is granted.”
Cheers to a new year. May your wishes be specific and your time memorable, even if it is not the “fun” of a six year old. Always remember, those moments we want to skip are moments we will look back on and realize those were our growth moments. Even the sad moments will assist us in relishing in those happy moments.
In this world of ‘right here, right now,’ I want to ask everyone to stop and smell the roses for a minute. Life is too short and way too precious to rush it. No one seems to be able to savor anything anymore. It is the little things we take for granted that truly make us appreciate every single day.
People today go to fast food places for ready made meals, buy pre-cooked meals at the grocery store instead of the ingredients, and wish their life away on Monday wishing it were Saturday. My challenge to those reading this today is to take a moment and do something that might be outside your comfort zone or “fast” time frame. It could be as simple as making a grilled cheese sandwich instead of rushing to McDonalds; talking to the person in front of you in line at the grocery store; or holding the door for someone behind you entering a building and letting them go first knowing it will put you one person behind in the line. It may not seem like much, but it can change the trajectory of the day for you, the person you are speaking to, or that you held the door for. Simple as that.
Lately, I have been overwhelmed at some of the beautiful sunsets the change of season brings. I keep taking pictures to try and capture their beauty. My husband thought I was crazy because you see one sunset you seen them all, right? No. It will never be duplicated. I marvel at how the colors are so random sometimes. The greatest artist there ever was painted that sky. These little things are so uplifting… and free for anyone choosing to see the beauty right in front of them.
After the loss of another sibling this past summer, and seeing my grandkids growing up every day, I want to make time stand still a little while so I can absorb the feeling a wee bit longer. I know how precious this time is and it is fleeing quickly. Out of eight children, four have now joined our parents. I sit and wonder how much time I have left with my remaining siblings. Those of us left are all in our 60’s, and none of the ones before us made it through this ’60’ decade. When we were little, we had infinity ahead of us. My oldest brother has been gone thirty years this November. Infinity faded when we lost him. We lost another brother just eight years later. Time is not a given. It is precious and not to be taken for granted.
It truly is the little things. I want to walk into the house and smell food cooking like when I walked in my mother’s house (at any age). I want to sit on the patio and watch my granddaughter blow bubbles. I want to watch my grandson play his musical instrument in the school chorus. I want to watch my daughter raise her kids and see all of them succeed and become the great people I know they will be. Unfortunately, I know I won’t get to live to see it all, but I am greedy and want all that I am able.
Almost everyone who dies today had plans for tomorrow. It is not guaranteed. I don’t want to miss any of the beauty unfolding in front of me today. I want to make memories that may make others smile when they think of that moment. I don’t want to rush. If losing a child taught me anything, it taught me that. When my son died, he had plans for the next day. From that moment forward, anything I thought I had planned or wanted changed. It happened that fast. Now, I treasure the little things that happened during those 24-1/2 years I was blessed with. I don’t want to look at what I didn’t get anymore. That is a depressing place for my heart to live. It’s dark and gray. Maybe that is my obsession with rainbows and sunsets. I think the mind and heart sometimes work together without our knowledge.
Don’t bypass an opportunity to be kind. We are the creators of our own destiny and how we respond to situations around us help define who we become and what we can expect. In my darkest hours, faith and kindness were what pulled me through. I am not sure why people feel the need to be anything but nice. It is so much easier and rewarding to know we did what we could for who we could at the time. Again, the little things. Live, love, and laugh like there is no tomorrow. Most of all, be kind for those near you and those we miss. The best medicine is a happy heart, even if it has a few cracks and holes in it. I cry because they are gone, but I smile because they were here.
People say ‘seven’ can be a lucky number. I will say it depends on the situation in which “seven’ is being used. Here is a little play on words. Instead of “Magnificent Seven,” I am going with “Significant Seven.” It is a heavy number in my world right now. It is the number of years (and saying ‘years’ is not easy at all) since my son has been gone. So much to unpack into the number ‘Seven’ right now. It is just a number, right?! I decided to search why “SEVEN” is so heavy for me. Here is what I discovered…
I will start with from the day we were told my son died. The first seven days were a blur. I planned a funeral for my child, something no parent ever has on their bucket list. I maybe slept seven minutes at a time before waking to realize it wasn’t a nightmare, but my reality. Like our Lord, on the seventh day, I rested (not sure that actually happened either, but I tried). I went back to work on day eight. I still am not sure how I made it through. With, and by, the grace of God is all I can say.
I found many biblical sayings stress the number ‘seven’ as well. According to the internet, the number or word “seven” appears in scripture over 700 times. Maybe that is part of the reason for the weight of “seven” I am experiencing. I have felt the Lord’s presence more than ever during this time. Seven being biblical just makes sense!
In relation to the biblical citings, in 2 Kings 5:10, a message was sent to “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.” Hmmm… Maybe this seventh year is a cleansing moment for me. Each anniversary of this date is me being “washed” and now maybe I am restored. I don’t think so, but it gives me hope that my sadness may be cleansed and a new light is being cast.
Exodus 22:30 “Do the same with your cattle and your sheep. Let them stay with their mothers for seven days, but give them to me on the eighth day.” This could be Cody staying with me for these seven years, and on the eighth, he is maybe released from Purgatory or, maybe I release him to God and try to quit holding on to every detail I can physically touch of my boy: time to hold the memories and not the items. Not sure I can release all of them, but I am willing to remove the tools I trip over in the garage; or possibly, I can put away the shirt I leave near the dryer and stop yelling down the basement steps for him to come get his stuff! I might be able to bring myself to do those.
Genesis 8:12 “He waited seven more days and sent the dove out again, but this time it did not return to him.” I am not sure I want to relate to this one. The scripture makes it sound like I will not see signs of my son. I know it is just an interpretation, but the mind can play awful tricks on the grieving. And, just to be clear, there is no time limit on grieving, so yes, that is still a part of this path I tread…seven years and counting!
Revelation 3:1 ““Write this letter to the angel of the church in Sardis. This is the message from the one who has the sevenfold Spirit of God and the seven stars: I know all the things you do, and that you have a reputation for being alive—but you are dead.” I really don’t want to decipher this one either. I want his spirit to live on and this sounds so final. I speak of him being alive and I know he is dead, but I really don’t like to admit that. I am not in denial. I prefer to think of him as being in another room, a room I cannot enter just yet. I sleep better at night believing it to be this way.
Revelation 15:1 “I saw in Heaven another great and marvelous sign: seven angels with the seven last plagues–last, because with them God’s wrath is complete.” This one gets me because of the world we LIVE in today. I want to say the worst is over, and all is at peace. Then, I watch the news. In trying to delve deeper into the translation, the internet says this: “seven angels with seven plagues that conclude the outpouring of God’s wrath on the wicked. The event causes the victors over the beast, his image, and number to celebrate. They play harps and sing the song of Moses and of the Lamb. These are songs of redemption.” This explanation I can relate to a little more. It doesn’t sound as morbid and tragic as my initial translation. This gives me hope and victory in the “seven” that is so heavy on me today.
My son is far from the only “son” someone has lost. I am working diligently to lessen that number. I speak to so many and pray they hear me and hear the words I am saying, but, like Cody, they probably think they are invincible and this would never happen to them. I can only hope he was saved from a worse fate because then I was also spared a worse fate. And it could have been worse, and I know that with every ounce of my being. I just wish it didn’t have to be this way at all and he was sitting next to me telling me how I think the worst of every possible thing that can happen. As a mom, it is what we do!
Seven years he has been gone and I want to reflect on the amount of memories he left us with, and how many I have because of the people he had brought into our lives, both before and after death. I am a different person because of that boy, and I hope and pray that is a good thing. If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times, “I had two choices to start with: live for him or die with him.” I chose to live. I chose to be a better version of myself to honor him and despite the devil’s slight of hand taking him from me at the age of 24. If you don’t believe the devil was involved, you have never met a person with an addiction. That is the devil in full display. Temptation is the devil’s playground.
As I conclude my thoughts on “seven” years, I am reminded of all I have and that none of us are on this Earth forever. I am far from alone on the list of parents who have lost a child, for whatever situation occurred: accident, war, cancer, homicide, and, unfortunately, suicide. Not one parent can escape the possibility, but, when faced with the reality of it, it seems unbearable. Yet, here I am. I am not any stronger than the next parent in this club. I have faith I will see my son again. It will be as if no time has passed, and all will be good. I am not trying to speed up that process in any way. As stated, when we do meet, it will be as if only seconds have passed. I can wait. Until then, I will rely on every memory I have. I will share every story a million times. I will hold pictures until the coloring fades onto my fingers. I will never stop speaking his name until my last breath. And, as always, I will cry because he is gone, but I will smile because he was here.
As I sit here, reading the obituary of a relative’s son, I think about the writing of an obituary for anyone. When my son died, I thought, I can’t write his obituary, but I did. I can’t say I would not write it differently today, seven years later. I forgot to add people who were part of our family… I would have worded a few things differently… I am not sure it would even read the same today. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to write, and that is my therapy–writing! I thought it was the hardest at the time. As time goes on, that “hardest” list grows.
I think about the family who had to write the obituary that I read a few months ago of an old grade school classmate. I know what was going through their minds. I know how blurry those thoughts were as well. I also know down the road, they will think of something they wished they had written, or not written. We can’t change it once it is in writing. And the one the obituary is focusing on doesn’t know it, unless they wrote it themself.
I think I want my obituary to be a book. It may be with writing as my therapy. I do think about writing my own obituary to save the hardship from my loved ones. They could even change it and I wouldn’t know it… or would I??? Bottom line, it seemed like the hardest part, but it isn’t. By far…
My list of “hard parts” is growing… daily! First hard part for me besides sitting with the coroner and hearing that my son died, and how he died, was calling his sister, girlfriend, and our family. Then, it was posting the message on Facebook. Then, it was planning a funeral. Then, it was going home to an empty house. Then, it was going into his room. Then, it was not hearing his truck pull in the drive late at night. I think you can figure out where this is headed… The hard parts pile up one after the other. It is like an endless pit of despair!!
Here I am, seven years later and I still have moments that catch me off guard! Tears are still in abundance. Songs, for me, can open flood gates like nothing else can!! It’s a moment in time where I step aside from reality and then —boom!— right back in! Those are the hard parts. I just never know which “hard” part is around the corner.
As I sit here listing the hard parts, and there are many, I also realize how those hard parts reignite the wonderful feelings I miss so much. Just because I cannot experience them in reality does not mean I should forego experiencing them in my mind and heart. It wouldn’t be this hard if I didn’t have that much love to begin with and if the one I lost didn’t live life so fully. As a result, I am going to flip flop here. I thank God these are hard. If they were easy, it would not seem to have left such a big, gaping hole in my heart. If it were easy, I believe it would be even harder on me. The pain is the price of love. The hard part means I didn’t want to let go. If you are having a hard time, that means something went right along the way. It doesn’t make it any easier, but it makes the pain more bearable.
I struggled these past seven years. I have cried more than I thought I ever could. My heart still beats and still aches at the same time. I have had a lot of wonderful things happen in those seven years as well. I think those have been hard knowing I wish my son had been here to experience those wonderful things as well. That being said, the hard part is knowing he wasn’t, but I believe he was in spirit. I have to live with that. And, as always, I will continue to cry because he is gone, but I smile because he was here. That part is the easy part, knowing he was! Tomorrow is another day!!
As we celebrate Mother’s Day, we are all taking time to think about our mothers and all of the blessings we have because of them. I think my mother was a saint. Let me correct that. I KNOW she was a saint and IS an angel shining down on me right now. For those who still have your mothers with you, I am so jealous! My whole being is because of my parents. That can be good or that can be bad. Depends on the “me” you see and know I suppose. I can truly say I would not be who I am today, or survived what I have survived, without her or the ‘mini-her’ in my sister! I was/am blessed!
One thing my mother taught me that I hold at the top of the pile of things I learned from her is that “this too shall pass.” I remember the moment when I truly understood that phrase. It was when I was delivering my first child and was doing lamaze breathing. The nurse kept telling me the pains were like a wave, “they are going to come, and they are going to go.” It was a light-bulb moment!! This is going to pass!! Secret to life right there! Everything we have in life is going to come, and it’s going to go. In laymen’s terms, life is a birthing contraction–it will pass! We are going to have relaxation and we are going to have pains — in waves. We are going to have to do breathing exercises to get through some of them. And, we do not get to know the length of time in between, or when they are going to hit…HARD!
As I enter my thirty-fourth Mother’s Day as a mom, eighteenth without my mother, seventh one without one of my children, I have to reflect on the wonderful things that have happened and not on the parts of motherhood that are difficult and change my breathing habits. Another “lamaze” move. If we focused on the labor of bringing a child into the world, every woman who decides to give birth would probably only have ONE child. Well, except for me. According to my husband, I had it easy. I can’t argue that either. Less than three hours of labor with both deliveries and no major side affects to go with it. I told him it was my calling. He told me our phone stopped ringing. I would do it all over again just for the memories and moments that made me who I am today, pain and all!
Life is full of so many wonderful moments. Mother’s Day is one of those moments for me. I know it is a “Hallmark Card Day” but I think as parents, it is deserved for all mothers and so many of my friends who are mothers. It’s one day. A card. Dinner. Flowers (if that is your thing). It is not hyped up like Christmas. Resolutions are not made just to break the next day. It is a moment that we get hand-made drawings from our littles and homemade dinners or meals out from our grown children. In my younger days when my mother was alive, it was a time we would try and do things we knew she wanted done: mend a porch, clean up the yard, get her a box of her favorite chocolate covered cherries, etc. It really is the little things that make life worthwhile. If I could go back in time, I would treat my mother with the same admiration every single day of the year as I did on Mother’s Day! Until I became a mother myself, and experienced all of the “Lamaze moments,” I did not truly understand the role she had. Now I do, in every aspect of the word!
As we celebrate our mothers and/or being mothers, know the title “mother” is the greatest gift! Whatever life throws at us, it can’t take away the love for a mother, or the love of being a mother!! The macaroni pictures and necklaces, along with the homemade cards, to the grandchildren (greatest. invention. ever!), relish in the moment! All too quickly, this moment will pass and we will miss it, even when there is pain!
To all the mothers, grandmothers, future mothers, and mothers of four-pawed kiddos, virtual high-fives for the unconditional love and hugs during those “breathing sessions”. One day a year isn’t close to reasonable, but I could repeat the sentiment 365 days a year and it wouldn’t be enough! I cry because my mother is gone, but I smile because she was mine!!!
I know I have mentioned this many times, but music speaks to me where my son is concerned. There is a country song playing on repeat in my mind these days… “Who you’d be today” (Kenny Chesney)! Cody was 24 when he died. He had a whole life in front of him. None of us are guaranteed tomorrow, but, at that age, we assume we always have more time. As another country song says, “wrong again” (Martina McBride). Trust me when I say this post will be full of these music parables.
I can scroll the youtube channel for all kinds of music. I have several songs in various posts already: The Climb by Miley Cyrus; Give Heaven Some Hell by Hardy; You Should be Here by Cole Swindell (that one hits a lot of his friends hard); and so many more. Many times, I don’t even hear the song. I hear my son singing it. That can be good or bad for some, but he thought he was a natural born singer. You should have heard him in the shower! You may have if you were driving by the house during those moments. He got loud. We used to mute the television and just sit and grin while he sang! He sang with so much passion! I miss those moments. Funny sidenote, the memory that popped up on Facebook recently was the clip of him singing onstage at the Illinois State Fair with Thomas Rhett. They sang “Something to Do with My Hands” and Cody was actually pretty good. People in the crowd started filming him and you can hear their astonishment, yelling to their friends, “Hey, that’s Trueblood!” I was sitting at home scrolling Facebook and I remember looking over at my husband and telling him “I think our son is singing… on stage… with someone famous…” Now, that stream of videos is worth more than a pot of gold to me today!!
I sit here thinking, he would now be in his 30’s. I wonder what he would have been like all grown up, if he actually matured. My mother always told me boys don’t grow up and mature until around the age of 25. I was close to proving her right or wrong. I would love to know what my son would have been like as a dad. He was great at the uncle thing, although he only had four years of it before he left us. His nephew remembers him, which is a big thing knowing he was so little at the time. I wish he could have met his niece too. Although, according to a medium or two, he already has. They are two peas in a pod, it would have been fun watching them argue!
The “What If’s” are all over the place today. I try not to live in the “what if’s” because they were never a guarantee, but a wish and hope. I have all the music in my head. The country songs that describe everything he would, or could, be like. The songs about giving Heaven some hell and how “You should be here’s” as I glance around and see the huge void he left us with. The “what if’s” had he made it to today… We can guess all we want. We will never know. We can assume (hopefully) that a lesson was learned had he escaped that tragic end. I use it as an example twice a month. What if he had made it home? What if he had time to think about the consequences before they happened? What if he knew today what he didn’t know back then? Who would he be today? What would he be like as a 30-something year-old man? Would he be a dad? Would he have gotten married… divorced… had a son or daughter…? I can’t live in those questions. I have to live in the real world of the void he left. I have to live with the memories and the songs that describe him. I have only the pictures, vidoes, and stories that can still make my hair turn another color (and not a pretty color at that!).
Who he’d be today is what I can only have hoped for. He’d be good at whatever he had decided to do: welding, mechanic, singing, mud bogging! The list is endless. He would have had ups and downs. He would have had times of trouble paying his bills and times of excess spending on crap he didn’t need. He’d be great at the uncle thing still. Hopefully, he would have been great at the dad thing too. I know he’d been great at the turning my hair gray! He’d probably still be good at unremorsefully taking my only dollar for whatever he needed. That is who he would be today. The person when someone asked if we were related, it would be followed with “Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Did he sleep with your wife, or borrow money?” Those were the questions I asked when asked if I was related to his uncle (one of my brothers). My brother knew I asked those questions, too. He was headed in his direction, so it came as no surprise. I still answer the question that way if someone asks me if I am related to either of them. I would like to think it would make them smile at the notion.
So, “Who would you be today?” is the million dollar question that has no right or wrong answer. The correct status is “you” would be YOU! and I would want nothing else. In the words of Mercy Me, “I can only image” and I do… A LOT! I will not live in the “what if’s.” I am going to live in the memories of what I did have, gray hair and all! I am going to remember every detail and tell everyone I know so I never forget and pray they never get tired of hearing about it. Who you would be today is who I cry over because you are gone, but smile about because you were here!
All through our lives, we establish a support system. This happens at various stages of our existence, and for many different reasons. Those systems can be our childhood supporters such as parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Work support systems are those we establish when we create a list of those we trust to help us through the rough patches, vent to when we are frustrated, or our go-tos when we just struggle. We also have our literal survivor support system. For many, that can contain members of a grief group, a strong pact of life-long friends, or siblings. Some of these support systems hold spots for the same person, different reason. We all have them in our lives. We all want to be strong, but we must admit, there are times even the strongest person you know needs a shoulder, and it isn’t always a support person you can physically see.
As we head into Easter weekend, I am reminded of the original support system, and how often we fail to acknowledge just how supportive He can be. When a former co-worker referred to me as the “strongest person they had ever met,” I feel I should give credit where credit is due. My faith has been such a guiding force in this process of surviving a loss of a child with my mother showing me the one to look to in this situation. Faith has been my pillar holding me up through the roughest moments in my life. The death of a child is right up there at the top of that list. I am strong, but never alone with faith holding me up when my own strength falters a little.
My family is probably my biggest, physical support group. The reason isn’t just because we are close. It is also because so many of my family have been in my shoes. Or, to be more correct, I am now in their shoes. My grandmother buried my dad. My mother buried two of my brothers. My aunt buried two of her boys. My niece buried her infant son. I am now added to the that list. As far as burying our children, I hope I am not here for more family members to bury their child/ren. When it is referred to as the “hardest thing a person will ever do,” they nailed it! Hands down! My siblings, and extended family, though many do not have children of their own, do not stop with the empathy and understanding of the loss. Most of them live it with me for it was their family member too!
My support systems contain so many of the same people for various situations. We all have those groups. My support work group is an extended group of persons. I have people from various positions I have held in my 43 years of employment that are still a phone call away. I have made good friends, and many, truly feel more like family. They know who they are. They are the ones we may talk to every so often and it is as if no time has passed. That group of “no time passes” people for me is actually larger than I admit. Then again, I am a firm believer people enter our lives and leave a permanent mark whether we acknowledge that or not.
I admit there are times I cannot stand alone and need a support system in my life. Those I can see and talk to, and those I can only feel the presence of! Works for me. I never want to take any of these support systems for granted and pray everyone who needs a shoulder, ear, or just someone to stand in a corner saying nothing at all, but just being present has what they need available. I think those who do not claim a support system are either wearing blinders, or do not admit they may have a moment of weakness in their lives (like that is anything to be shameful of!). I don’t think anyone should be guilted, ridiculed, or belittled for needing ANY kind of support, not just for the loss of a child. We spend too much time already pretending we are ok when we clearly are not.
It is ok to acknowledge those who support you. In fact, we should applaud them. Many of our supporters do not even know they ARE our support. I meet up with several different groups of friends regularly for dinner, especially since I lost my son. They are my therapy, support, and lifeline! Most of them know it too. I speak often of how they are my escape from reality, where I can sit and just remove my mind from the things that bogg it down. I thank God for them every day! I hope they feel the same support from me that they furnish. I don’t want to take and not give!!
Holy Week!! Take a step back and realize the wonderful, faithful, and permanent marks those “disciples” have given to you, me, and those around us. Let the Glory of the miracles experienced during Holy Week guide you this Easter and know that being renewed is a God-given gift to us! I get that from the support I receive both here on Earth and from Heaven! I want to say “thank you” for that support. For me, the Prodigal Son has returned Home! He Is Risen!! And, as this experience has taught me, I cry because He is gone, but I smile because He was here!!
Well, another birthday is here and time to celebrate the ‘life of Cody’ (the seventh one without you)!! I want to celebrate today for your birth and the wonderful 24 birthdays I had you here with us! I’d like to recap this past year since your last birthday. It has been quiet so far. I probably just jinxed it, but we will see!
Most recently, one of your favorite country stars has joined you in Heaven. I am sure Toby Keith has already been in concert with you all and you have met him up close and personally. I have always believed Heaven is a place that, once you get there, you don’t ever want to leave. It is the one thing that allows me to not wake up sad every day, knowing you are in a happy place. Now, I am sure it is more heavenly, if that is even possible.
Now, the little things I wish you were here for. Since your last birthday, I have caught your niece singing in the bathtub several times and singing while playing quietly with her toys as if no one was around. I know you were there! It reminded me of how your dad and I would mute the television so we could listen to you sing in the shower. Great memories! Makes me smile every time I think of them. She is a spitfire and has so many of your mannerisms, it is kind of scary. She told me she met you. She said you came to her in a dream because you “wanted to meet her.” I asked her if you spoke to her or touched her. She raised her hands up and sternly said, “No! He just wanted to meet me!” It was as if you were speaking through her. I could visualize every movement! It reminded me of how you spoke to me when you were a very similar age regarding us not having any furniture. With your speech impediment you had that made you sound like you were from Jersey, what I heard was “We don’t have any fun at church!” The look on your face after discussing you not behaving in church is etched in my memory forever! You cocked your head and sternly said, “I said, ‘we don’t have any furniture!’ ” Priceless memories!!
Your nephew now wants to be a mechanic. We bought him a model engine for his birthday that you put together and then it works via battery. He LOVED it! It doesn’t make anything run, but it lights up and you can hear the motor and fan. He and your dad put it together in about three hours. He said it was not on his Christmas wish list, but if he had known it even existed before we gave it to him, it would have been! I told him it had his name all over it. He responded with, “And Uncle Cody’s!” Makes my heart swell seeing the beam of light in his eyes as he talks about you. You would be so proud of the young man he is becoming! Your sister is doing a bang-up job!
This is going to be probably one of the shortest letters I have written to you since you’ve been gone. Elections are coming up, so next year will be a doozie! Other than the chaos of the world, I sit in the living room, naive to the problems, and just wish you were here to bring back my ‘normal’ chaos. The world you lived in with spittoon bottles, dirty laundry, and muddy trucks is missed beyond measure. You still have some of the best friends that allow us to hang out with them every once in awhile. The honks have subsided, but the love for you has not.
As I wind up this letter, I want to reassure you, you are missed by all. We miss your sense of humor, your singing, your muddy trucks, your dirty laundry, your loud mufflers, and your burning rubber! There was so much in your life we skimmed over and overlooked, until it was gone… You lived a lot in 24-1/2 years, more than I ever thought! You had it much more together than I gave you credit, although I am your mom and it was my job to be critiquing your do’s and don’ts. If I had to give the thing I miss the most, I am not sure I could. I think the first I will say is the hugs. I miss the hugs! I miss the conversations we had. I miss the songs you would sing. But, I truly miss the hugs the most!
I don’t wish you a “Happy Birthday” today. I think every day in Heaven is a happy one and this one is just another day in Heaven for you. I do wish me a “Happy Day” for your birthday. As I reminisce on your memories, I want to smile and not cry. I want to do something you would have enjoyed. You liked being the center of attention, no doubt. That is my continued gift to you. You will be the center of my attention today. I don’t put you on a pedestal and I don’t forget that you were not my only child. I do remember that you will always be my child, here or in Heaven. For that, I am thankful and grateful. That, my son, will never change. As we celebrate today, I may cry because you are gone, but I will continue to smile because you were here.
Most of my posts that I write come from conversations I have with various people. Recently, the subject of grief was highlighted. This person viewed grief a little differently than I did. I decided to look at the broader picture and realized there were other emotions that were reflected here that those not in this club of parents who have lost a child truly understand. That is a good thing for them and I sure don’t want to wish this on them just so they know how we feel. I would not wish this loss on my worst enemy. The conversation, though short, did get me thinking…
Grief and sadness are both emotions and stages we may experience during a deep loss. If you have never experienced grief, consider yourself lucky. My guess is we all have, we just may not have known it. There is a difference in the emotions, though many get confused and cannot differentiate one from the others. Let’s delve a little. Mind you, I am no expert, meaning I am not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or doctor. My only expertise comes from experience. Believe me when I say, I do have experience!
Sadness is an emotion that comes when we tend to be disheartened by a situation or outcome. Example: I can be saddened when I planned an outdoor event and then it rains. I can experience sadness when a picture pops up in my memories that I know I will never have a chance to repeat or be able to relive that moment, such as a birthday celebration! I can be sad that the future didn’t hold what I had wanted it to. The one thing about sadness that isn’t like grief, it can come and go like the wind.
Grief doesn’t seem to ever truly leave. Sometimes, I think it mutates. It’s an aching that can rear its head when you least expect it. Grief is a void. Grief isn’t as easy to explain as sadness. It goes deeper than that. I grieve the family members I have lost every day. I can be sad they are not here, but grieve because I wish they were. It is an endless hole that will never be filled with what I had a vision of prior to their passing. Doesn’t mean it isn’t sometimes glazed over. It can appear to subside, them BAM! The void is right back where it was.
Many get the sadness and grief confused with depression. Depression is a combination of all the things we cannot change and do not know how to cope with mentally due to whatever is blocking our thought process. It can be a chemical imbalance or a hormone issue. It can be physical or mental. Depression is a fog that doesn’t seem to lift. It can stop you from getting out of bed, going to work, visiting with friends, eating, etc. It can be linked to grief, but can actually happen when you have not lost a person close to you. May not have anything to do with it, but is mistaken for grief a lot. If you are in this fog, please seek outside assistance. This is a place people don’t usually climb out of on their own. There is no shame in asking for help. It could be helped with some hormone therapy and/or counseling. It hurts my heart that more people pretend they are fine rather than admit they may need help to get better. It is ok to ask for help! It is not a sign of weakness by any means and it bothers me many have the belief it is.
We cannot leave out “survivor’s guilt” from this scenario. This brings sadness to me. Others may respond differently. Those of us who have lived through the loss of a child hear many times how we are not supposed to bury our children. As caring as people want to be, this phrase is a knife in the heart. We did survive our children. We don’t need reminded of it, and feel guilty because we did outlive our child/ren. It was not our choice. You ask any parent in this club. We would have all traded places in a heartbeat! I already wrote a blog on this. In Sanskrit language, they call it “vilomah” which means “against natural order.” I have argued this and explained that it was not up to us what order in which we die. Mary buried Jesus. My mother buried two sons. My aunt buried two sons. My niece buried a son. Friends of mind have buried their child/ren. I am not alone in this crowd. The word I choose for a parent who loses a child is “incomplete.” Haven’t changed my mind on this either. We have a void, a hole, a vacancy that will NEVER be filled.
When dealing with my emotions, I have noticed I get saddened when my son’s friends share how they miss him too. I forget I am not alone in this struggle. I think a lot of us do that. But, I do grieve the vacancies and voids. I grieve the garage door not opening when I expect him home. I grieve the tv not blaring from his room late at night. I grieve because I know I will never get those experiences from him again. I grieve the future we all missed out on. Subtle, but different between the two.
Many think I am no longer grieving. Not sure why they would assume that. I grieve more privately now. When the loss of a child is fresh and unexpected, as mine was, I grieved, was sad, mixed with some depression, just a lot of everything. Now that several years have passed and I am creating my new normal, the surface may show I am not grieving, but trust me when I say a parent never stops grieving this loss. I also tend to keep my son alive in my heart. I know that sounds a little like I am in denial of the fact he is gone, but I am not. I know he no longer walks this Earth as a human, but I will never believe he is truly gone. As long as I keep him in my memories, stories, and continue to do things I know he would love, he will live on for as long as I do. For those who believe grief from death is a passing emotion we get over, it may depend on the relationship you had with the departed. Some people never get over their grief, whether it be a pet, a friend, or a spouse, but when it is your child, the answer is NEVER. Trust me. I know too many people in this club that agree. I have not met one parent yet who can say they no longer grieve the loss of their child. Not one.
I still have some sadness and will always grieve, but, luckily, depression was not one of the valleys I fell into. About four months went by and I ate my weight in depression. Once I got over that hump (and weight loss), I found light. That doesn’t make me any stronger than those who struggle. I found an outlet that helped me heal and overcome some of the issues that could have catapulted me into the realm of depression. I watched my mother bury two of my brothers. As sad as I am to say this, she taught me some strengths during those years before she passed. Writing has been my therapy and I believe I walked myself through it with her as my guide.
Not everyone should analyze their own reactions and emotions to these situations and no one should be compared to another because of their responses. We all grieve differently and we all handle our sadness with different methods. Some listen to music when they are sad, while others get sad because of the music. Some people visit the gravesites of their departed to feel closer and some wrap themselves up in the memories and pictures. Me, I write and, sometimes, it rhymes. It has been my therapy long before this happened to my family. I just went a little farther with the writing in this situation. Again, no one is wrong in their grief, but if my thoughts I write down helps anyone else in this situation, then I am all for it. It doesn’t mean those who read it must agree. It just means this is how I cope and it might help someone else see themselves as well. That’s all. As I write, I may cry because they are gone, but I will continue to smile because they were here!
As this year winds down, and the festivities of the New Year begin, I am again reminded how I will be entering another year with just memories. I have been on this road of ‘just memories’ for over six years, leading up to seven in August of 2024, but isn’t that what we all do? We enter each new year with memories of the last. I hold onto memories a little tighter, and for a little longer these days. The memories will sustain me. They have to. For some moments, I can never recreate the memory, no matter how hard I try. We don’t seem to think about that when we are making our memories.
I have a lot of memories from this past year that are wonderful memories I am also taking into my future to relive and smile at as they come to mind. Those good moments will happen. If we choose to only look at what we lost, we will miss the good in front of us. This was an epiphany moment for me. It came to me that first Christmas after we lost our son and I have held onto it ever since. I cannot stop living because my son died. It is not an insult to him. It is in honor of him. He made me a survivor and would want that for me. I try to be positive at all times. This is something my mother did all of the time. Now I know why. She found positives in the memories and held them to a higher power than the grief. I get it now!
I was speaking with someone the other day and one person reminded the other person that was there that my son died several years ago. The other person responded with, I did know that. The mere fact he died is engraved into my heart. I thought, “Wow! I won’t ever need reminded that my son died.” What I don’t want to forget is that he lived, and lived a lot in his 24-1/2 short years. A LOT!
As I go through pictures, which is all I have next to his memories, I recall so many situations that came from those pictures. I relive those moments to refresh the life I gave birth to. It is a coping mechanism. I have taken some of the digital photos and tried to make them look new. It doesn’t work too well. With the new technology, we have actually had some pictures turn to motion. That is great and creepy at the same time! The videos are great because they are also memories of him in action showing just how well he “lived,” but not creepy like a ‘still’ coming to life.
I have a daughter I love dearly and who misses this kid as much as I do. The relationship between siblings is very different. She lost a brother AND a friend! I, too, have lost three siblings. I know that loss all too well. I am not the only one in this scenario. Never have been. Another epiphany! I know my son is still a part of my daughter’s life in the same way he is mine, if not more. Her two children are genetically linked to that kid of mine in more ways than I can count. Their mannerisms mimic him without him even being present, which is proof he lives through them. Same with my brothers and their offspring. Reminders to us that a life was lived and will carry on just like the memories and stories we share with each other and those who never even knew them.
If we all crumble from grief and fail to live on (LIVE being a key word) when someone we love dies, the only memory we leave for others is our sadness from that moment on. That is not what your loved ones would want. Yes, I lost a son. Yes, I lost a future with my son. Yes, I lost the ability to watch him get married and start a family. Those moments were never guaranteed. Those were moments I had wished for and hoped for. He was a wish I had that came true. I miscarried before I had him, so he was my rainbow baby (born after a loss). He was not a guarantee either, but I had him. I am going to thank my dear, sweet Lord for the blessing He had given me that I wished for. If I look at what I didn’t get from this experience, I feel ungrateful and selfish because what I had was messy, frustrating, exhausting, argumentative, wild, crazy, and wonderful. I don’t want to forget any of it.
This post is a lot about memories, but it is more about never forgetting. Each life is important, if not to us, to someone. Each memory is a trace of life that existed and changed us, or someone we know. I don’t ever want to forget the life that made those memories! As the New Year approaches, think about the life lived by those around you. Think of how you are different because of them and their actions. Think about what positives you can make for the future of the memories you will leave for those around you. Never forget. Never undervalue the moment. The memories you are creating may have to sustain the life of those you leave behind. Because of those memories, I cry because they are gone, but I smile because they were here!
When a loved one dies, we are faced with so many different emotions. Some of those emotions will depend on the relationship. Many reactions depend on the circumstances surrounding the loss. Our perceptions guide those reactions. Two common denominators for all of us is: someone we care about has died; and none of us will respond the exact same way. Period.
I refer to “loss” like we can’t find them. This is another perception that is misconstrued to an extent. I know where my child is that I have ‘lost.’ I also know where the other family members that are no longer with us are. My son is at home… in a corner… on a shelf… in an urn… in a perpetual time-out for the rest of my natural life. You have to really know where to look to see him. It is not like he is on display for the world, but I can yell at him every time I pass that urn just as I had yelled at him when he was alive. It is right up there with yelling down the basement steps for him to come and get the laundry off the dryer. It’s a mom thing. I know it won’t change anything, but it allows me to feel the “normal” parent thing again with him. My other family members are buried side by side in the same row at the same cemetery. I don’t visit their graves often enough, but I still know where their bodies are. I also know where they will reside forever… in my heart! Their physical bodies are no longer alive on this Earth, but I did not lose them. My perception.
Why is my perception of death different than others? I believe what guides my perception and understanding of death is my faith. Faith those I have loved that have died are now in Heaven. They are seated next to our Lord and watching over me until we are reunited. That vision of them is what guides my reaction. I believe I know where they are. Even if someone wants to argue that, so be it. It gives me peace and that is all that matters.
I cannot look at life on this Earth and believe this is all there is. There has to be something bigger and better waiting on us. Many of us know what hell is. We have lived it. Some of us, more than once. We are born with no guarantees as to how long we get to stay on this Earth. Another reason I feel there is something else waiting for us. And, just like in the story of ‘save your fork,’ something better is yet to come. If you don’t know that story, next time you are at a fancy dinner or event and the waiter comes to take your plate, think about your fork and why you grab it so the waiter does not remove it with the dirty dishes. You also know something better is yet to come–dessert! Put that perception to “life” and something better is yet to come. I just have to wait until my plate has been finished. By the way, I’m not ready for dessert and I hope God feels that way too.
The additional perception of life and death that I have is that when I die, it will be as if no time has passed between those already in Heaven and myself. Even if I outlive my child by 20, 30, even 40 years, when we meet up in Heaven, it will be as if only seconds have passed between us. This is another reason for my reactions today. I know I will see him again and all of this time will revert to a split second. That gives me peace. I know if I had a chance to bring my child back from Heaven, he would not want to come. This leads me back to my perception regarding dessert. It is probably so much better in Heaven than here. I am in no rush to verify that, but it provides a sense of peace believing it.
All in all, my reactions stem from my perceptions. My first perception being the fact that all life will end at some point and no one is guaranteed the length of time that will be. Every single day and every single person in my life is a gift. When my child died, I was faced with the first of many choices: live for my child or dig a hole right next to him. I chose to live. In doing so, I double the experiences I have to include his memory in all of them. I carry him with me in my heart AND in my actions. Or, should I say my “reactions.” I have no control over the future. No, we do not want to bury our children. Fact. That being said, many of us have. Knowing my first perception of how short life is, how would it be if we all had the same reaction to this type of loss? Our reactions have all been different, and for many reasons. I should shed some light on why my reactions may be different than that of, say, someone whose child died from cancer; or someone whose child died by accident or due to another’s actions (accident or intentional); or someone who died by suicide; not to mention those serving our country.
1) I have seen a mother suffer when their child is ill. My mother watched my brother die of cancer when he was forty years old. Didn’t make that process any easier because he was an adult. We also knew it was his choice to be made “comfortable” in those last hours. To know he was in that much pain was a horrible feeling. I came to terms at that moment there are worse things than death. Watching a sibling suffer excruciating pain is right up there at the top of the list. His death, though sad, came with a sense of relief. He was no longer suffering.
2) When a child dies in an accident, this can be tricky. My son died in a single vehicle driving accident due to his own actions and decisions. He was driving under the influence. I spent five years praying this would not be the outcome, only to be awaken on a Sunday morning at 1:30 am by a deputy sheriff and the coroner. If this had happened because of another person’s actions (accidental or intentional), it would come with much more anger. We know it did not have to be in either case and could have been prevented somehow or some way. The difference for me is I don’t have the blame game going on in my head. No one else can be held accountable for his actions, but him. I have to live with that. My perception changes here because I had five years of worrying. In my head, it could have been sooner and I thank God for the time I was given. You also have someone who is enlisted and at war. As a parent, you know when they go in that returning home is not always guaranteed. There is honor in that, but it is still a hard pill to swallow and may come with anger mixed with pride. Again, maybe this could have been prevented, but still a choice to enter.
3) If a child dies by suicide, of which I know several in this horrible situation, and I have no answers, and neither do they. I know the survivors are racked with: what did I not see?; what could I have done?; and how could I have prevented this? That is a lot of “What if’s” that will not be answered and may come with a lot of anger as well, but mainly sadness. They are sad that their child felt that consumed by whatever to end it that way. But, there is a reaction that can help others going forward. Suicide Prevention is an honorable way to memorialize those lost to suicide. I have seen both sides of that coin and my heart still aches for all involved.
There are a lot of scenarios I could depict here to establish why my perception is different than others. Again, each person will react to their situation differently based on their own perceptions. There is no right or wrong way to grieve any loss. Our situation is our situation. Our perceptions and reactions are ours to work through. I ask myself all the time, “What if this was in the cards and how I respond is the path I am supposed to take? and How can I turn this into a positive?” That is a hard one! I speak to DUI offenders every month and share my son’s story. It is my therapy. This is my “positive.” I am asked all the time “How can you stand up and share your story?” My response is the same each time… “How can I not?” If it stops one more person and/or one more parent from standing in my shoes, so worth it!! Again, my reaction may be different than another in the same situation, but this all stems from my perception and my reaction to the situation dealt to me.
Faith will guide me and my actions. I can be a victim of the hands dealt, or I can spin the positive and hope the devil loses this one. My choice. My perception. My reaction. I hold no other accountable for how I respond to this situation and ask no one to understand why I do what I do. It is how I cope. I want to look in the mirror and face today knowing I have done my very best for me, my son, my family, and my ‘lost’ family. I want them proud of me. I don’t want to live being sad at what I didn’t get to experience. I want to live knowing I did everything I could to honor those family members in their absence. It is my reaction. I am still sad at times. Always will be to a certain degree, but, I am standing up and holding their memory at the center of my heart, letting them guide me to be a better person because of them. I will continue to cry because they are gone, but I will always smile because they were here. Period.
Many things on my mind as we close the gap on this six-year date! To love and lose is difficult. What do you do with all the love you wanted to share? Well, death has taught me one thing…LOVE, LIVE and LAUGH like there is no tomorrow!!
Cody left a mark on a lot of people I had no idea he was making. I knew he was my little social butterfly at an early age. What I didn’t realize until he passed is that he had “lived” more in his 24 years than I apparently have lived in mine, and I had almost 30 years on him!! So what have I done different since losing him…? I look back at these journal entries I have made and I see a lot of emotions, but I see a lot of growth, too. One thing did not change…I still love my son!
The love you feel will never go away because of death!! In many cases, we are even more aware of that love!! That is what I want to change going forward first and foremost!! Tell those I care about how I feel!! Today!!
I have decided to be the best version of myself, although I hope that comes with very little change. I now make sure I thank people more for the kindness and efforts on my behalf. Something I wish I had done more consciously before! I acknowledge the positives that are still ever-present in my life everyday!!
I have also grown emotionally! Things that used to upset me or get on my nerves, I am able to shrug off more easily now. I may still get irritated when driving in traffic, but even that doesn’t seem as bad as it was.
Today is here. Tomorrow is not promised to any of us: our parents, siblings, OR our children!! It is sad to lose a loved one, but that person would not want us to die too!! Live your life for them in every way! I may not go mud-bogging as Cody did, but I will not sit out the dance anymore just because I may not know the words to the song!! Like always, I cry because he is gone, but I smile because he was here!!!
As I sit in my Mossy Oak camouflage glider chair, I reflect on the anticipation date of August 20, 2023. That date marks SIX years that I have been in the “bereaved parents club!” Six years!!! Who am I now? And, am I different than I was six years ago? I am a work in progress and forever changing, one surviving moment at a time.
First, I am the mother of two children! My children are my literal being, from the moment they came into this world! I remember a life before kids. It was a good life. I enjoyed my time before they were born. Not going to lie, but, I hope I am still the “me” I was then. Having children changed me… forever though! And, that is a good thing!!
I became another “me“ after children. I was a great mom to my babies! I asked my daughter once what her favorite memory of her childhood was. She said it was when I was a troop leader for her Girl Scout troop. That made me smile! I asked Cody when he was a young adult. He said he remembered the joy he got when I would take them to the wooden park. It was a tricentennial park at one of our town’s oldest parks. Again, that made me smile. Truth be told, those moments brought me so much more joy than it brought them!!
I became another “me” after Cody died. I became another level of a survivor. I survived my 20’s and the “sewing my oats” stage. I then survived the child-bearing years and sleepless nights, which became a different kind of sleepless nights issue when the kids became teenagers and young adults. Now I have to survive another layer of “sleepless nights.” It’s all the same, but still different.
Unless you have deep grief, it is hard to understand. You don’t move on from grief. You move through it. It travels with you. Forever. I am still the “me” I was before marriage, before children, and after loss. I’m just a different version of “me.” I don’t want to be the “new me.” I want to be the old ‘me’ who is seasoned. The ‘me’ that has survivor scars. The ‘me’ that the devil is afraid of and God is proud of! I want to be the ‘me’ who helps others become the ‘me’ they never thought they could be. I want to be the ‘me’ combined with all the other ‘me’s’ I never thought I could, or the ‘me’ from my darkest moments that survived whatever was thrown!!
So, the new ‘me’ has been hurled between mountains (metaphorically and literally), reached depths of my soul I never thought could exist, and came out on top with my heart still beating! Not sure that heart of mine can take much more, but it has endured the best and worst life has to offer and, yet, still keeps going. That is a story I can only hope gets me into Heaven.
As I near the six year mark of yet another ‘new me,’ I remember all the “me’s” that got me here and the paths I traveled to earn those versions of me. To the early 20’s me that closed the bars; to the mid- twenties me that buried my dad a year after he walked me down the aisle and before he got to meet my children; to the late 20-early 30’s me that raised two wonderful children; the 30-40’s me that survived the teenage years of those kids; late 40’s me that became a grandma for the first time; to the 50’s me that went back to school to earn her Masters degree; the mid-to-late 50’s me that lost a child and still breathes; and to the future me that hopes to make a positive difference to those in my life… I am still “me” in all those versions combined!
I am “me” because of all those experiences and persons in my life, and, in my heart. Life is a journey that changes course when we least expect it. Each journey creates a new version added to the old version. I hope those that are meeting the new me can see some of the old me still in here somewhere. For all those that know any of the versions, please look up to the skies and let Cody know through your words that his mama misses him. Though this month is a “sad me,” he still helped me to be a better version of ‘me’ than I was before I was his mama. And as my normal ‘me,’ I cry because he is gone, but I smile because he was here!
I met a person recently struggling with loss. She lost her parents in a very short time frame from each other. That is hard! I had 17 years in between the loss of my dad and then my mom and I thought that was hard! Again, we know it is going to happen, but we are never prepared for that loss!
We all have our coping mechanisms, I hope! We somehow walk ourselves through our pain and sadness, whether it is leaning on family, memories, or whatever is our go-to. Some people drink. Some go to psychics. Me, I write. But the connection and survival is different than my outlet. Music speaks volumes to me with my survival too! This is how I communicate with my son since he passed, or how he communicates with me…
So, I sit here in my chair and I go through YouTube videos wondering what will show up in the play list. It is a sign. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s my God wink!! If you search one thing, all kinds of suggestions show up. It is like it is psychic with the use of the algorithms!! So, with my new friend in mind and her struggle as well as my existing struggle, I let the play list speak to me!
The first search I had put in was Drake Milligan, an AGT 2023 contestant! Awesome singer!! The song that came up was “Save it for a Sunny Day.” If you listen to the words, the message speaks volumes! They tell me it is ok to have moments when I just want to think back in time and pull all of my memories out of hiding! Basically, those days are good for that. I could not agree more!!
Next was “The Joke” by Brandi Carlile.” Another awesome song that builds confidence!! This song tells me for all of those people who thought I could not persevere, the joke is on them! And that applies to anything I believe I can do, or overcome!!
Last song I listened to was Miley Cyrus and “The Climb.” Yes, I am going to have mountains I want to move. Yes, I am going to have struggles. The amazing thing is the climb… out of darkness, out of the walls that were caving in on me, and coming out on top!! These songs separated mean little. Put together, I can survive anything from the messages! Not to mention, this song itself was one of my son’s favorite songs and came up again in a sign from Heaven on my birthday a few days ago. I was looking for the signs that day!! I was in a restaurant out of town with my husband. I heard a small child signing this song. It was live at the restaurant and I know it was meant for me!!
This blog post is called, “The Climb” for the very message and the definition of the words. Life is a climb. It doesn’t matter what we are going through. Save the moments of strength for the days you know you are fine, but take moments of solace and hold on tight!! Know the joke is on those who thought you would fail, or drown in sorrow, or, worse yet, fail to survive! Be strong for those who held you up in the past and are no longer here! Be the person they know you can be! Climb out of the darkness and survive anyway!!
We all have sadness. We all have happiness. We don’t always get to choose when those moments hit, but we can choose how we respond!! As I have stated before: two choices. It is literally Robert Frost’s “Fork in the Road” and the decision will lead to another fork, and another! I want my fork to be leading uphill, the climb!
I am forever changed because my son was born, and forever changed when he died before me. The choices I make going forward are for me, but a lot of them because of him. I choose first and foremost, to remember the good times and the man he became. I want to be mad at him for the choice he made that fateful night, but where would that lead? It is a mountain I want to move, but must go around instead.
I am just beyond a month from the six year anniversary of his decision that has led to the many decisions I have had to make since then. It is my climb I endure, even though I know I have never been alone in my climb. As I do, I may still cry because he is gone, but continue to smile because he was here!!
There is no written statement anywhere that will designate: the right age; the right time; the right circumstance; or, the right order of dying. Death has no age range or order. As hard as I try to understand death, the more obscure it becomes. I can ask why my son went first over and over and over. I am not going to get an answer. What I will do instead, make sure the time he was here is never forgotten.
Today is Bereaved Mother’s Day, the first Sunday in May. I’d like to say I feel honored to have two Mother’s Day, but sadly, one is not necessarily celebrated. There will be no cards given to me signed by my child in Heaven. No phone calls. It is a reminder that my child died before me. And, unfortunately, I am not the only one who will be acknowledging this day.
I heard a song on the radio this morning, one that I had not heard in years, “The Chain of Love.” I am reminded again that we are all links in a chain, though mine may be broken, his link is now up to me and those who knew him. It really is an easy task as I think about it. Allowing him to live on through me and my actions as well as those of the people who knew him best. Another reminder, broken is not “shattered.”
On this Bereaved Mother’s Day, for all of those in this unwanted club, let the light of your child shine brightly today. This can be in the form of an action, favor, song, anything. The sky is the limit…literally! Your child had meaning and purpose. Don’t let anyone forget that! We are all better for having them in our lives and all have a void that will never be filled the way it was. I will cry because he is gone, but I will smile because he was here!!
When someone dies or a tragedy strikes, our emotions come in full-force and we tend to become empathetic, forgiving, less petty, non-political, and non-visual. We let our feelings guide us. We need to be like that more often.
Let me give a grand example: September 11, 2001. Those of us who are old enough are currently remembering where we were, what we were doing, and the emotions that overwhelmed us, not only as a human, but as a nation. We stopped a lot of things we were doing and started thinking about others. That list included our family, neighbors, strangers we had never met and their families. Why? Because the country was suffering and we became one source for comfort and caring for people we knew nothing about. We didn’t care about the color of skin, the job these people had, how rich or poor they were, or who they voted for in the last election. Why did we stop? My assumption is “normal” came back. For many, “normal” changed that day, but only for those directly affected and who lost something that day.
As a community, there have been rallies for a young teenager battling cancer. Sadly, she is losing that battle, but not because she didn’t give it a good fight! Such a trooper! I do not know this young girl, nor do I know much about her family, but I have seen what I call “the 9-11” affect because of her. Strangers wearing purple in her honor, signs in yards, banners in windows, and purple cancer ribbons everywhere. What an inspiration she has been to us in her battle. We can learn a lot from this and the responses made due to her.
I remember when I lost my son five and a half years ago (not like I will ever forget that moment) but the outpouring of love and unconditional willingness of people to do whatever they could that they thought would ease my pain and sorrow. This came from people I had no connections with as well as my previous examples. What I hope is that these same people are continuing that type of compassion and support of others. My fear is their life went on and their “normal” came back too!
Why do we wait for a tragedy to become a caring community or nation. We speak to people we don’t know without caring about their backgrounds during times like this and it is warming to my heart. Then, time passes and here we go again: seeming to care who someone voted for; who someone is sharing their bed with; how much money someone makes; how someone dresses; etc. Why? Why can we not go back to how we treated others in the face of a tragedy? When an outsider is showing this caring and compassion and then re-enters their “normal” as I stated above, those of us accepting this compassion in our time of sorrow will never have that “normal” again. We are turning a page to a new normal. Our compassion for others is never-ending because of what we have received.
I am changed forever due to that outpouring of love and support, as I know others who have been on this road are changed. The families of the 9-11 attack, families of airline passengers who had their family member’s flight crash, parents of teenagers and small children who have battled cancers, car wrecks, drugs, etc, will forever be changed by compassion that must need a tragedy to exist.
I am grateful for what I received, but my wish is that we treat each other with this caring and compassion regularly!! We are all battling a situation that could use caring and compassion. The old adage of looking at a situation through “rose colored glasses” comes to mind. We should always remember the ‘feeling’ we have when this situation hits a family, community, or nation at all times, even when there is not a tragedy. This action of caring unconditionally goes a long way during a tragedy or crisis, but it goes even farther when it is from the heart regardless of the situation!
I am sure people will wonder “how do you respond when there is not a ‘reason’ such as a tragedy of some sort.” Well, this can start by being nice and speaking to strangers in the grocery line, holding the door for someone even though they are still ten feet away, paying for the coffee of the person behind you in line, and removing the need to judge based on skin color, dress style, or type of car someone drives. It is that simple! And, it is free!!
As I put myself back in the moment I lost my son and remember all the emotions this new family will be experiencing, I never want to forget the feeling of compassion, caring, and sympathy that was extended to me by so many I knew, and more-so, so many I didn’t know. Please take a moment to reconcile any differences that have been present and remember there are many we can assist with a kind gesture. Many lives have been changed by doing so and I, for one, am among those who have been the recipient of those kind gestures and compassion we forget to show. Remember that feeling going forward.
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