From Colby's Notebook
Ain't it funny, how we serve money
Ain't it funny, how we die for our country
Ain't it funny, we were born a slave
I'm not laughing, I won't behave
Since Colby passed I sometimes think about getting in my truck and driving to the ends of the Earth so I can live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Since he passed, my brain does not function as it did before. There is too much input, too many sights and sounds for me to process. There is just too much of everything.
Oh, how I wish the world would stop for a year, of maybe two, so I could sit quietly and wait for my brain to catch up. I'd like to take time to learn to breathe again, to breathe without the catch in my chest that happens every time I breathe in, the catch that reminds me, every time, that Colby is gone. I want to learn how to wake up every morning without the horror of remembering that my son, my family, is gone. Forever. I want to learn how to go to sleep without crying and to eat without the food tasting like sawdust. I want to learn to live this new normal that is me without Colby, and in today's busy world, I find that very hard to do.
Time is a luxury in so many ways. I'd love the luxury of one more minute with Colby. I'd love the luxury of time to assimilate Colby's passing into my life and integrate it into what is now me. For this is a new me. I am no longer the person I before Colby passed away. I am not sure who this new me is. I need to familiarize myself with me, but, there is no time.
Isn't it interesting that the word familiarize is so close to the word family? I am my family now. And, as the first year without Colby is now history, I find myself moving into a new phase of understanding, of learning. I just wish the world would slow down and allow me the luxury, the time to catch up. Then maybe I could find a way to assimilate it all.
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Friday, August 6, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Time
Someone asked me a few days ago if I could go back in time, what was the year and day I would go back to that would have changed the course of Colby's life. It is an interesting question on many levels and I have given that hypothetical concept a lot of thought with no real conclusions. On one hand there were many factors that contributed to Colby's passing and nothing would have changed the fact that he had a genetic mental illness. If I had somehow tried harder earlier on to get him better health care, if I had given 1001 percent rather than 1000 percent, the outcome could have been different, or it could have remained the same.
Then there is the idea that interfering with Colby's life plan could upset the balance of the universe. Most are familiar with the idea of the butterfly effect. The theory is that a butterfly could potentially beat its wings on one side of the earth and cause a hurricane on the other side of the globe. It is basic cause and effect. If I traveled back in time to change the details of Colby's life, how significantly would that change the balance of the universe? Because Colby passed away, I believe several others did not. Many other people have told me they took notice of Colby's death and made changes so their lives would not end up the same way. What if Colby lived and they did not?
Then there is the thought of "what is supposed to be, is." Colby often said when he was a young child in elementary school that he would not live long enough to marry, have children, or turn thirty. Was his life lived just as it was supposed to? Or could it have been altered so he lived a long and productive life without negatively impacting the course of anyone else's life?
Of course, we'll never know. The question was put to me, I believe, precisely for that reason. There was not one defining moment that took Colby away. It was many moments over many years. And, it may well have been his destiny. Right now, today, I have to believe that what Colby instinctively knew as a child was right. The details might have differed, but the end result could probably have been the same. This hypothetical thinking will not bring him back, but it does help me put some things into context. The one think I clearly know is that I miss Colby more than words can ever begin to express.
Then there is the idea that interfering with Colby's life plan could upset the balance of the universe. Most are familiar with the idea of the butterfly effect. The theory is that a butterfly could potentially beat its wings on one side of the earth and cause a hurricane on the other side of the globe. It is basic cause and effect. If I traveled back in time to change the details of Colby's life, how significantly would that change the balance of the universe? Because Colby passed away, I believe several others did not. Many other people have told me they took notice of Colby's death and made changes so their lives would not end up the same way. What if Colby lived and they did not?
Then there is the thought of "what is supposed to be, is." Colby often said when he was a young child in elementary school that he would not live long enough to marry, have children, or turn thirty. Was his life lived just as it was supposed to? Or could it have been altered so he lived a long and productive life without negatively impacting the course of anyone else's life?
Of course, we'll never know. The question was put to me, I believe, precisely for that reason. There was not one defining moment that took Colby away. It was many moments over many years. And, it may well have been his destiny. Right now, today, I have to believe that what Colby instinctively knew as a child was right. The details might have differed, but the end result could probably have been the same. This hypothetical thinking will not bring him back, but it does help me put some things into context. The one think I clearly know is that I miss Colby more than words can ever begin to express.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Time
For several days now I have had an empty, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's the kind of feeling you get when you are an hour away from home and realize you left the stove on. It's a lurch of recognition followed by a horrible, sinking feeling. I believe I have had this feeling continually since the moment I learned about Colby's passing, but now, six weeks later, as the shock begins to wear off, I am just now aware it is there.
The medical people I talk to say the physical reactions of grief can include dry mouth, shortness of breath, trouble swallowing and sleeping, panic attacks, repetitive motions, and inflammation throughout the body. In past weeks I have experienced it all. They also tell me that medical studies show that the death of a child is the most intense form of grief there is, and that a parent never really gets over the loss, but instead somehow learns to live with the passing of his or her child. Also, feelings of guilt can be strong and because of the intensity of the emotions, irrational decisions are often made. Again, I have experienced, and continue to experience, all of that.
Looking at all of that in black and white I realize I expect way too much of myself way too soon. I get mad at myself when I can't function in group settings, when I cry in public, when I take two hours to get up and out of the house, when I read the same page over and over and none of it makes any sense. The medical studies validate both my physical and my mental distress and show me that it is okay to take a year or more to process Colby's passing. Members of my online grief support group agree but go one step more. Many say, for them, it is between year two and three when they start to feel as if they can cope with the loss, and with life. So I'll take each day as it comes, be glad for what I can get done, and let the rest go. Survival comes in many forms and beginning tomorrow, this will be mine.
The medical people I talk to say the physical reactions of grief can include dry mouth, shortness of breath, trouble swallowing and sleeping, panic attacks, repetitive motions, and inflammation throughout the body. In past weeks I have experienced it all. They also tell me that medical studies show that the death of a child is the most intense form of grief there is, and that a parent never really gets over the loss, but instead somehow learns to live with the passing of his or her child. Also, feelings of guilt can be strong and because of the intensity of the emotions, irrational decisions are often made. Again, I have experienced, and continue to experience, all of that.
Looking at all of that in black and white I realize I expect way too much of myself way too soon. I get mad at myself when I can't function in group settings, when I cry in public, when I take two hours to get up and out of the house, when I read the same page over and over and none of it makes any sense. The medical studies validate both my physical and my mental distress and show me that it is okay to take a year or more to process Colby's passing. Members of my online grief support group agree but go one step more. Many say, for them, it is between year two and three when they start to feel as if they can cope with the loss, and with life. So I'll take each day as it comes, be glad for what I can get done, and let the rest go. Survival comes in many forms and beginning tomorrow, this will be mine.
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