Remembrances

I am behind on my tasks for counseling. Today I drive to a small town near where Colby and I used to live and have lunch at a restaurant where we used to eat. My task is to remember good memories we had there. I sit first at a table, but that is too hard. Colby should be in the seat facing me; his absence is too strong so I move to the counter. There, I first see Colby making sailboats out of his fish sticks and launching them in a sea of tartar sauce. Then I watch as he makes letters and words out of his french fries. I see him through the anorexic years and remember my anguish every time he left to use the rest room. Later, I visualize him loving a steak salad he ordered.

For some reason I can't swallow my food so I get it boxed up and drive a short distance to a park Colby and I liked. His second grade field trip was to this park when they had a festival honoring the area's history, and I remember the smile on his face as he wandered through the area with his classmates. Then I drive up to the road to a spot where I used to take Colby and his friends fishing. I can't recall them ever catching anything, but they sure had fun trying.

I am not sure what this exercise is supposed to accomplish. Maybe that's part of it, I am supposed to figure that out for myself. Today I learn I can face places where Colby and I spent happy times, and that's a good thing. I know I could not have done this a few months ago. I also learned that if I have a choice, I'd rather not. I got through the day, but it made me sad, wistful. I have been putting off errands in other places Colby and I had fun. I think I will put them off a little longer, even though I know that if I have to do them, I can. Maybe I'll try again in a few months.

Sadness

I am sad today and the sadness feels as if I am walking underwater. I can breathe here, surrounded by all this water, but walking is slow going. Anything, really, takes forever to get done. The sadness is deep, consuming, tiring, overwhelming.

I don't want you who read this post to think I am dangerously sad. This sadness, my sadness, is a natural part of the grieving process. It's something I must go through. And, my counselor says I have a good grip on reality and am doing quite well. That is in large part to all of you. I get so many emails lately, welcome emails. Even if I do not respond, I read. And your emails keep me going.

Some of my sadness comes from exhaustion. I still have trouble eating and sleeping. I stay physically active, which helps my mind stay busy and burns off my agitation. Today, to keep busy, focused, I dig iris. I must have a thousand of them. Then I begin chopping away at tree limbs. I stake a few young trees, move some vinca and generally rip my way around my yard until I am exhausted. But still, I cannot sleep. The process of getting to sleep is the obstacle. Lying still gives me too much time to think. Even a second is too much time for then I will remember. And then I will cry.

I learn in counseling this week that I do need to think and process what has happened to Colby. But I need to do it when I can handle it. And everyone agrees that right now, I'm not there yet. This weekend will be hard. It is a holiday weekend. Everyone is spending time with family and I no longer have one. But I will go on. I have things that need to be done. Important things that will help others and honor Colby at the same time. Every parent who loses a child grieves differently. This is my way. Later, there will be time to sleep.

Lifeline

Today I have a counseling session. A good one, as usual, although I cry all the way through it. My grief counselor is helping me with the guilt I have in letting Colby down as a parent. It's something every parent of a child who passes has, the feeling that you have not done enough, that due to some failing of your own, your child dies. I know in my heart that I did all I could do and then some. I do know that. But I still think there must have been something I missed, something more I could have done, some lack of something within me that caused my child's life here on Earth to end. Of course, it is not true, but I think that anyway.

For the past few weeks I have been documenting the times that I cry and what causes me to cry. Through this I have determined that one trigger for crying is when people offer to help--and I have had a LOT of offers. Thank you all! I cry when help is offered for two reasons: one, because I feel so guilty about letting Colby down that I do not believe I deserve the help, and two, because I am so eternally grateful.

This documenting of emotional triggers I think will help anyone who is having difficulty focusing or who is going through a hard time. After two days it was quite obvious what my triggers were. Others include talking about Colby and the normal day-to-day frustrations of life, which I am still not handling all that well.

My next assignment is to develop a Lifeline. In the Lifeline I draw a long horizontal line and at the very left, place a short vertical line with a notation of my birth. I then document every significant event in my life in hopes that it will help me to better understand where my life has taken me and how best to proceed in the future. It should also show me how I have dealt with loss and other traumatic events in the past and give me a guideline on how to best proceed from here. I throw this out because this idea may help others of you who are reading this blog. I get emails from many of you every day and know each of you has your own difficult path to travel. I sincerely hope my words and experiences help you on your own journey. Safe travels to you all.