Better

Sorry for the lapse in posts and thank you all for emailing me. I am okay, just still very tired. Colby was always the one who could tell from the sound of my voice or the look on my face that I was not well. He saw and heard long before anyone else, including myself, that I was too tired, or coming down with something. Now, with Colby gone, without his eagle eye and keen ear, I find myself doing too much and not stopping to rest.

I feel as if I have not really rested in years. A week or so ago my symptoms had reached the scary stage and I knew I was either sick with something very serious or long past exhaustion. Fortunately, now that I have had a little rest, I believe it is the latter. I am just tired and it is a tiredness that won't go away with a good night's sleep--or even two night's sleep. This is a deep mental and physical and emotional exhaustion that will take much time and rest to overcome and I am taking steps to make that happen. Ten hours of down time every day rather than four, half of an over the counter sleep aid if I can't fall asleep, at least two days off a month.

I have not had a vacation in over thirty years and in past years I have only taken a few days off the entire year. It's not that I am a martyr or a glutton for punishment. It was a matter of survival, of managing my work load, Colby's troubles, and my mom's aging. But, Colby was always there to say, "Stop, you are getting sick." Without that touchstone in recent months I have pushed myself too far, for too long.

The good news is that I am now much more aware of what my body is telling me. I am now feeling better than I have in a long time, although I know I have a long way to go before I am where I need to be. I am fortunate that I am able to rest during the day when I need to. For the most part I can get my work done at any hour of the day or night. In that, at least, I am blessed.

Tired

I am so tired. Granted, I had a busy week, but it is more than that. It is the tiredness of grief. I want to sleep for a month, or two, or maybe even for a year. This is not depression tiredness, but the exhaustion of my soul. I listen to counselors, to experts, to other parents who have lost a child, or in some cases, have lost children. One thing is common to them all: each believes there is no right or wrong way to grieve. We each have an individual path to follow and we have to do what is right for us.

My problem is that I don't know what that is. Do I give in to the exhaustion and sleep for a week? I have much to do and am already behind. Will I catch up if I am rested? Will the rest even restore my energy or will I forever stagnate in this exhaustion? Is this tiredness the normal tiredness of grief or is there something more going on? If I do rest, will I ever get back on track? Or, will I lose focus entirely and not be able to find the slippery traction of my path?

The thought of finding an answer to these questions is so mind boggling to me that I can't begin to sort it all out. I miss Colby so much. Every time I breathe, every time I turn around, everything I do. He should be here, yet he is not. Many grieving parents say the second year is worse than the first. The shock wears off and the "real" grieving begins. If that is true, how can I possibly put one foot in front of the other and finish this first year, much yet the second, and the third and the fourth? The only thing I know is that I have to. Somehow I have to because this is what my life is now, and I have no other choice than to continue on. Other grieving parents find a way. If they can do it, I can do it, too.

Exhaustion

The business of grief is exhausting. It intrudes on my every thought, every action. If I am lucky enough for it to leave for a few moments, when it returns, it slams into me with such force that I gasp. The fact that grief never fully leaves parents who have lost children is a sobering thought.

But, parents do learn to live with it, each in their own way. No parent's grief is the same. Each parent's process for learning to accept it is different. I have two thoughts regarding this. The first is: I wonder if our children know how much we miss them? I wonder if they know how much a part of us they were, are, always will be? And the second is that I wonder if parents whose children are still here appreciate them enough.

It pains me to see moms and dads become exasperated with their children, because I would give anything to be exasperated with mine. Do these parents understand what a gift each child is? In the store, on the street, at social events time after time I hear and see parents ignore their children when they ask (nicely) for attention. I see parents put their kids down and I see the hurt in the child's eyes. I want to slap these parents and tell them to wake up. To appreciate the wonder of their child.

I know how hard it can be to always be a loving, kind, supportive parent who sets and keeps boundaries. It takes time and energy and emotion and at the end of the day parents rarely have enough. of anything. They are, like me, exhausted. But their exhaustion holds the promise of a new day, of togetherness, of fun and games and laighter and love amid the inevitable tears.

Our exhaustion, the exhaustion of parents who have lost is forever present. This is especially true of parents. like me, who have lost their only child. Our exhaustion is forever, and like grief, we have to learn to live with it. I am in the process of trying to do this. My counselors say this is good, that it is a sign of progress in the grief process. But the work, the process, is slow. It zig zags back and forth and most days brings me back to my first question: do our children know how hard this is for us?

I hope Colby is in a place where he does not know how difficult his loss is for me, for his grandmother, for his friends. It would make him sad and we all want him to be happy, to be free of the difficulties he endured here on Earth. He went through a lot and deserves some peace. I want to believe that, I try to believe it, and someday I may actually get there.