Today I go to a visitation for one of Colby's friends who passed away earlier this week. This is the second friend who has passed since Colby. It's just been a few months. Two is two too many. Death is always hard for those of us who are left behind, but it is especially hard when the person is young. Why can't we all live out long and natural lives? Learn about being old? Pass our wisdom to the generations who come behind us?
I hope to stay for a time, to visit, but it is all I can do to pay my condolences to the young man's mother. We talk of the numbness, of the dream-like quality of burying your child. She already has a support group lined up. I am glad to hear that. So many parents do not. So many try to get through this by themselves. I do not think that is possible. Not for me, anyway. I leave not too long after I arrive. This scenario is too raw, too fresh. I feel a panic attack building so I quickly walk out the door. Then I sit in my truck and cry. It is 16 weeks today since Colby passed. 112 days. I pray he is at peace, that he is happy. I know in my heart that he is, but I'd gladly give my own life to have one more hug, see one more smile. Then I get mad at myself because my wants feel selfish.
I hope Colby was there to welcome his friend. There are now four young men who look down upon loved ones. One went about a year before Colby. All went differently, for different reasons. All left grieving parents whose hearts will never, ever, be the same.
Showing posts with label support. Show all posts
Showing posts with label support. Show all posts
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Others
Yesterday, on Colby's birthday, I received many wonderful emails of support from my online grieving parents group and I am reminded that I am not alone in this journey. The following letter is used with permission. It was written by a member of the group whose son Rick passed away in 2001 due to a tragic automobile accident. While these are her words, not mine, they express my thoughts, and the thoughts of other grieving parents, so eloquently that I know I could not improve upon them. While I do not have a large family, I am blessed with a strong support system, and a large network of friends. Others are not, and that's why the second half of the letter I think is is particularly important. This then, is from Donna Mae:
Dear Family and Friends,
I'd like to make an appeal to the family and friends and other interested parties in behalf of all grieving parents, including myself. A mother who has lost her son to a tragic automobile accident.
The immediate support from family, friends and the community in such a tragedy can not be underestimated. It is of great importance. It is a wonderful show of compassion and support. It is very much needed. We, the bereaved families, could not survive or function during these first days and weeks without it. Through the roadside vigils and makeshift memorials, the wake and/or memorial service and finally the funeral. You will all be there to lend your support. And we thank you. It doesn't end there.
Slowly the cards and flowers stop coming. Visitors start to drop off. Phone calls lessen. The world rights itself and goes back to it normalcy, except for the bereaved families. For some, they will have a great support system of comforting family members and compassionate friends. For others, they find themselves suddenly alone. The friends or family member that do stick it out with the bereaved can be precious and few.
My appeal to those involved with a bereaved family is, please don't stop your support!! It is needed for a long time to come. If you are waiting for them to call, you’re going to be waiting a long time. They just simply can't. Trust me on this one. If you think by leaving them alone to sort out their feelings, give them some space, whatever your reasoning, your wrong. Yes, we need our quiet time but we also need your ongoing support.
Unless you've lost a child yourself, you can not understand our pain. Don't even try to. It is not comparable to the loss of an aunt or uncle, not even your mother or father and definitely not to a pet so don't bother to try to compare. Our world has just been ripped apart and all we can think of is ourselves and our pain, we don't have the energy to deal with yours. We don't need to hear platitudes. They may be in a better place, but we want them here with us. Yes we should be grateful for the 1, 3, 8, 14 or twenty or more years we had them here, but we wanted them longer. Watch what you say. There really isn't anything that you can say to take away the pain, just be there. Your presence alone is comforting.
We are confused, frightened, dazed, angry, anxious, irritable, irrational, moody and a dozen other emotions that may show themselves at any given time or all at the same time. We may cry, strike out, scream, or be silent. We may want to talk or not want to talk. We think of our child when we wake up and they are the last thought when we go to sleep, if sleep comes at all. We think of them constantly throughout the day.
We need to know that someone cares. We need to know that our son or daughter will be remembered. One of our biggest fears is that our child will not be remembered. Your memories are precious to us. If you think by speaking their names will cause us pain you are wrong again. We are already in pain. Even through our smiles. We long to hear their names. We want to hear their names. We need to hear their names. So please, let us hear you speak their names. They not only died but they also lived. They did exist. By not speaking their name you do us a disfavor. You belittle our pain and grief. Don't think that by speaking their names you will remind us of them. We have not forgotten them. We never will. Our every breath is a constant reminder of there absence. We don't even try to forget. Our memories are all we have and we would love to hear your memories of our son or daughter.
There are two important dates on a bereaved parents calendar. A birthday and a death date. Don't forget them. One of the most important things you can do for a bereaved parent is to remember their child's birthday. You wouldn't like it if everyone forgot your living child's birthday would you? They may not be here physically but it is still their child and they are still the parents. You'd be surprised what healing power a simply card saying that you are thinking of them on their child's birthday can do for a grieving parents heart. How a simply bouquet of flowers on Mother's day in a child's memory can bring a smile to a mothers heart.
So in the weeks and months and yes years ahead please remember us grieving parents. For no matter how strong you think we are, how brave a front we put on, how well we seem to be getting along the truth is we are hurting inside. We
have suffered the ultimate tragedy.
We have lost a child. And contrary to popular belief we will not get over "IT." We will not "MOVE ON" there will be no "CLOSURE." We will get through it and learn to live with our loss in our own time, no matter how long it takes. But, Please don't ever ask a bereaved parent to get over the death of their child. It's just not going to happen.
Donna Mae, Rick's Mom
8/31/83-8/10/01
Auto Accident
Dear Family and Friends,
I'd like to make an appeal to the family and friends and other interested parties in behalf of all grieving parents, including myself. A mother who has lost her son to a tragic automobile accident.
The immediate support from family, friends and the community in such a tragedy can not be underestimated. It is of great importance. It is a wonderful show of compassion and support. It is very much needed. We, the bereaved families, could not survive or function during these first days and weeks without it. Through the roadside vigils and makeshift memorials, the wake and/or memorial service and finally the funeral. You will all be there to lend your support. And we thank you. It doesn't end there.
Slowly the cards and flowers stop coming. Visitors start to drop off. Phone calls lessen. The world rights itself and goes back to it normalcy, except for the bereaved families. For some, they will have a great support system of comforting family members and compassionate friends. For others, they find themselves suddenly alone. The friends or family member that do stick it out with the bereaved can be precious and few.
My appeal to those involved with a bereaved family is, please don't stop your support!! It is needed for a long time to come. If you are waiting for them to call, you’re going to be waiting a long time. They just simply can't. Trust me on this one. If you think by leaving them alone to sort out their feelings, give them some space, whatever your reasoning, your wrong. Yes, we need our quiet time but we also need your ongoing support.
Unless you've lost a child yourself, you can not understand our pain. Don't even try to. It is not comparable to the loss of an aunt or uncle, not even your mother or father and definitely not to a pet so don't bother to try to compare. Our world has just been ripped apart and all we can think of is ourselves and our pain, we don't have the energy to deal with yours. We don't need to hear platitudes. They may be in a better place, but we want them here with us. Yes we should be grateful for the 1, 3, 8, 14 or twenty or more years we had them here, but we wanted them longer. Watch what you say. There really isn't anything that you can say to take away the pain, just be there. Your presence alone is comforting.
We are confused, frightened, dazed, angry, anxious, irritable, irrational, moody and a dozen other emotions that may show themselves at any given time or all at the same time. We may cry, strike out, scream, or be silent. We may want to talk or not want to talk. We think of our child when we wake up and they are the last thought when we go to sleep, if sleep comes at all. We think of them constantly throughout the day.
We need to know that someone cares. We need to know that our son or daughter will be remembered. One of our biggest fears is that our child will not be remembered. Your memories are precious to us. If you think by speaking their names will cause us pain you are wrong again. We are already in pain. Even through our smiles. We long to hear their names. We want to hear their names. We need to hear their names. So please, let us hear you speak their names. They not only died but they also lived. They did exist. By not speaking their name you do us a disfavor. You belittle our pain and grief. Don't think that by speaking their names you will remind us of them. We have not forgotten them. We never will. Our every breath is a constant reminder of there absence. We don't even try to forget. Our memories are all we have and we would love to hear your memories of our son or daughter.
There are two important dates on a bereaved parents calendar. A birthday and a death date. Don't forget them. One of the most important things you can do for a bereaved parent is to remember their child's birthday. You wouldn't like it if everyone forgot your living child's birthday would you? They may not be here physically but it is still their child and they are still the parents. You'd be surprised what healing power a simply card saying that you are thinking of them on their child's birthday can do for a grieving parents heart. How a simply bouquet of flowers on Mother's day in a child's memory can bring a smile to a mothers heart.
So in the weeks and months and yes years ahead please remember us grieving parents. For no matter how strong you think we are, how brave a front we put on, how well we seem to be getting along the truth is we are hurting inside. We
have suffered the ultimate tragedy.
We have lost a child. And contrary to popular belief we will not get over "IT." We will not "MOVE ON" there will be no "CLOSURE." We will get through it and learn to live with our loss in our own time, no matter how long it takes. But, Please don't ever ask a bereaved parent to get over the death of their child. It's just not going to happen.
Donna Mae, Rick's Mom
8/31/83-8/10/01
Auto Accident
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Sense
I am restless today. Unfocused. It takes me more than two hours to get dressed and out the door. I can't find the right clothes, then I lose my socks and purse. I leave water running in the shower for 20 minutes and when I finally get in the truck, I can't remember where I am supposed to go.
I sit through several meetings, there in body but not in mind. I have trouble in groups. So many voices to focus on, expressions to read. So many happy, trivial people that I can no longer relate to. I make my best effort, which, I fear, is not effort enough. I used to be a very focused person. I could keep detailed "to do" lists in my head. I not only never never missed an appointment, I was never late. In fact, Colby frequently commented that I was "way too organized."
After the meetings, at home, I feel an urgent need to be active so I gather trimmers, saw and clippers and head to a hedge on the side of the yard that is overgrown with scrub trees, weeds and vines. I pull weeds with increasing frenzy, hack blindly at vines, and cut off bigger branches than my saw was designed for. I quickly amass a large pile of brush that I haul to the edge of the road. Metro Nashville will eventually pick it all up.
After, exhausted, I read email after email from my grieving parent's online support group. There are hundreds of parents here. All of us have lost children. All of us are lost. On days like today, when life doesn't seem to make any sense, I turn to these people who, like me, are overcome with grief. By email I comfort, commiserate, sympathize, recognize and support. This, I think to myself, is the only productive thing I've done all day. Sadly, it's the only thing that makes any sense. None of us should have to belong to this group. None of us should be here.
I sit through several meetings, there in body but not in mind. I have trouble in groups. So many voices to focus on, expressions to read. So many happy, trivial people that I can no longer relate to. I make my best effort, which, I fear, is not effort enough. I used to be a very focused person. I could keep detailed "to do" lists in my head. I not only never never missed an appointment, I was never late. In fact, Colby frequently commented that I was "way too organized."
After the meetings, at home, I feel an urgent need to be active so I gather trimmers, saw and clippers and head to a hedge on the side of the yard that is overgrown with scrub trees, weeds and vines. I pull weeds with increasing frenzy, hack blindly at vines, and cut off bigger branches than my saw was designed for. I quickly amass a large pile of brush that I haul to the edge of the road. Metro Nashville will eventually pick it all up.
After, exhausted, I read email after email from my grieving parent's online support group. There are hundreds of parents here. All of us have lost children. All of us are lost. On days like today, when life doesn't seem to make any sense, I turn to these people who, like me, are overcome with grief. By email I comfort, commiserate, sympathize, recognize and support. This, I think to myself, is the only productive thing I've done all day. Sadly, it's the only thing that makes any sense. None of us should have to belong to this group. None of us should be here.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Support
Today was a little better. Less emotional, anyway. I ride Colby's bike in the evening, flying through neighborhood streets and pedaling until my legs are on fire. It feels good. The bike is a nice one and I now know why he spent so much time on it. I feel close to him when I ride. It's been many years since I rode regularly and I am wobbly at times. I hear Colby's voice in my head, "Careful, now," as I navigate sidewalks and curbs, bumps, intersections and traffic. And I am. I am careful.
I find an Internet support group that welcomes me and I read about so many young people with stories similar to Colby's. Knowing that other people's children had the same problem helps. Knowing other parents are dealing with the same thoughts and emotions that I am helps. I am deeply sorry for them, for their loss. But I am grateful I have found them.
Several people have posted thoughts about Colby on his memorial web site. I add more information and hope to add more photos tomorrow. Right now I am tired and I miss my son.
Several of Colby's friends need prayers. Please pray for angels to surround them and help them through their difficulties. These are good people who have tough circumstances. Life can be hard sometimes but I know they will get through these trials.
I find an Internet support group that welcomes me and I read about so many young people with stories similar to Colby's. Knowing that other people's children had the same problem helps. Knowing other parents are dealing with the same thoughts and emotions that I am helps. I am deeply sorry for them, for their loss. But I am grateful I have found them.
Several people have posted thoughts about Colby on his memorial web site. I add more information and hope to add more photos tomorrow. Right now I am tired and I miss my son.
Several of Colby's friends need prayers. Please pray for angels to surround them and help them through their difficulties. These are good people who have tough circumstances. Life can be hard sometimes but I know they will get through these trials.
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