Tuesday, February 25, 2014


I've mentioned my tendency to just avoid and it's amazing the ways life just will not let you get away with certain things. A few days ago, as I was minding my own business, this came in the mail. It's just a little jewelry package and there's the BK sticker. My boy was well known all around this area as BK. Initially, my breath caught and then, naturally, I burst into tears. I looked all over the place to try to figure out why in the world this sticker was affixed to the package and never solved the mystery. I don't think it was a sign, necessarily, sometimes a sticker is just a sticker, and I'm sorry, but I don't want signs to make me cry. At least I don't think I do. Anyway, it's just these sorts of things that get you, when a year ago, it would've been amusing, something I might have called Brandon down to look at.

Later that day, I was watching a show and they were talking about a character, Brandon, or BDog as some of the team called him. OMG, that was one of Brandon's nicknames. I end up thinking that it was BS because I was trying to go through some avoidance, couldn't the world just knock it off and let me be. I went to sleep and promptly had two days of dreams about Brandon. Not my normal dreams, either, very different, odd dreams, dreams that I know were because I couldn't stop thinking about Brandon and running from thinking about him at the same time. I woke up on that second day because I was talking and crying in my sleep, again. When I woke up and realized what I was saying and why I was crying, it made me start crying, again, until I fell back to sleep. Clearly, avoidance isn't working. UGH! **Edited 3/12/14** I just want to add what it was that I was saying so I won't forget. People will sometimes make the remark, "I hate this day," something that is ALL me because if you know me, you know I'm all or nothing and I either love something or I hate it. So, if the day is crap, I'm all about, "I hate this day." I've taken it to the next level, though, with what's happened to Brandon and over the course of the last eight horrible years..."I HATE THIS LIFE." I don't say it often, I'm trying to not get all caught up in the pity, but sometimes, I just blurt it out. When I'm sitting there crying and knowing that the tears over my son's life aren't going to stop, wondering how we all got here, it seems to fit. That day I woke up talking, that's what I said...I woke up to the sound of my own voice saying, "I hate this life." Beauty, huh?!

I actually think all of these things were around the 18th. I missed that exact date, again, which always amazes me because it has to mean that life is moving forward, like it or not, but I feel stuck in May 2013. When I thought about it later, I remembered that I was very upset on that date, seemingly out of the blue, but I was sick and I remember telling myself that I had to find something to distract myself because my lungs couldn't take me sobbing all night. Evidently, I did, for a few days, anyway.

Grace looks different each month, each day, I guess, depending on what I need and it looks like I still need a ton. March is coming up, which means his 20th birthday is coming up and, already, I'm borrowing trouble for that day. I'm torn between wanting to do something big and significant and giving in to an all day in bed thing because how in the world am I going to get through a day that will never come...an end to his teen years...how do you face the unfairness that your child never got a chance to see how great his life was going to be?! I hope that someday it will be with a smile and I will take the BK stickers as a reminder of one of the greatest loves of my life and tell myself that maybe, just maybe, God is reminding me that Brando is thinking of me, too.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

A Life Unrecognizable

I found out the hard way that I am not ready to be around babies. Toddlers are ok in a limited amount and girls seem to be the safest bet. Babies are another story. We had a young couple in my office with a wee baby who was covered. I walked by and mentioned him being covered and the sweet daddy immediately uncovered him to show him to me. All I saw was Brandon. That baby's deep blue eyes and thick head of hair just got me. I managed to comment about how adorable he was before I made it back to my desk and started crying. It still makes me cry just thinking about it. You see a baby and you see all the hopes and dreams of the world, all of YOUR hopes and dreams and I saw all the lost hopes and dreams, minutes wasted, time I can't ever get back on this earth.

And, damnit, I want him back. I'm tired of randomly crying my eyes out and speaking of my sweet boy in the past tense. It's still hard to say I have A teenager. I have teenagerS. People ask me what I do in the off season. My reply is I have teenagers. I know they don't necessarily need the details, but it grabs my heart so hard, every single time. Thank God for my girl, but she is not supposed to be an only. This is all wrong.

Yesterday I saw two clients who'd remembered that Brandon almost died right before the last tax season. Of course, they both asked me how Brandon was doing. Time stops. Sometimes, his death will come up because people will ask me what I'm going to be doing next year and hearing me say I want to be a funeral director is just not something that goes over well like, say, a wedding planner. Ninety-nine percent of the people pause, put on a fake smile and say wow that's great (or interesting or what have you) and we can move on and close up. Some people, though, ask me what led me to that decision. I tell them and, again, move the conversation along and close-up. But, people who've been coming to see me for years have a different conversation with me and it's always a struggle to not cry. The first client that I told yesterday had a noticeably stricken look on his face, utter shock. The second client cried. Her boyfriend was handing her my box of Kleenex and I'm just sitting there, like, "Yeah, so the year sucked....and is this phone number correct?" UGH! I know that part of it is that they have kids that are Brandon's age and close to the girl's...it hits home. I remember being the parent who cried when I heard something like I told them and being so thankful that my kids were alive and I remember thinking that I would never make it if something happened to one of my kids. I'm still not sure I can, but I am still here saying that almost nine months later.

So, to recap my life these days...some adults aren't safe, babies aren't safe, the bed isn't safe because it wants to suck me into the darkness, my husband isn't safe because hearing him reminds me of Brandon being gone, pictures aren't safe-they make me cry, music isn't safe, my thoughts aren't safe because they may take me to resentment that isn't deserved, the phone isn't safe because it could be the damn funeral home calling, AGAIN....gawd...I could go on, but this turned into a rant and it's not...it's just another weird assessment of how things change. My life is so totally unrecognizable.