Christmas Notes

A Holiday Memorial

As we light these 4 candles in honor of you, we light one for our grief, one for our courage, one for our memories and one for our love.

This candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It reminds us of the depth of our love for you.

This candle represents our courage - to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, to change our lives.

This candle is in your memory - the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things you did, the caring and joy you gave us.

This candle is the light of love. As we enter this holiday season, day by day we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. We thank you for the gift your living brought to each of us. We love you.

My Grief Share facilitator and friend gave each of us these candles and the little saying, (adapted from The First Christmas After a Death by Susan Dunn) and it sits on my fireplace until Epiphany, with the other Christmas stuff. I do have to choke those words out as I say them, so I've only lit the candles a few times, but it's a sweet reminder of so many things.

The "short" story is that Christmas went better than I'd anticipated. I had my little meltdown and my blog spew beforehand (that post is coming on another day...it's not a happy post so I don't want it here yet) and then everything was ok. Not great, but truly ok is a good thing. Someone asked me, the other night, how I was and in that moment I was actually ok...one of the only (if not THE only) times that's been a reality since May 18th and I didn't even realize it, until later that night. I truly know that prayer is sustaining us. Living without Brandon doesn't get easier as time goes on, at least not yet, and especially during the holidays, but two ok times within a few days is pretty remarkable.

There's a picture of the girl with her new jersey. Christmas didn't have to feel forced for any of us, I don't think. We did allow the girl to wake us up at 8am, which was most unpleasant for me since I hadn't slept at all or only slept for a couple of hours...I forget now which, but it wasn't much sleep, regardless. I figured I'd go right back to bed, as soon as we opened presents, but that didn't happen, so some things got rearranged a bit, which was also ok.

I have a new Christmas tradition: decorating a random tree (nothing fancy, just a few things that are gonna get blown away or whatever) with balloons and Christmas decorations. I plan on refining it a bit and having better decorations, maybe some battery powered lights and maybe Brandon's initials somewhere. I think this is a tradition that he would've thought was cool. The family thought I was nuts, but really who is gonna say no to the mom under these circumstances? No one in their right mind. I was unable, however, to convince them to drive me to the snow and real Christmas trees. Oh well. As an aside, I'm looking rather albino-ish for some reason and I'm short, but not that short...the man and girl stand on a hill.

One of Brandon's best friend's came by the day after Christmas and that was sorta hard. He brought scads of goodies that he made, which made me immediately think of Brandon because his family doing that always really touched my boy's heart. His friend is a good kid and really misses my boy and it's just a little unnerving to have to be the calm presence in the room because the poor thing is crying and crying. My heart hurts in so many different ways because of the loss of that kid. I'm so grateful that Brandon had friends like that in his life, though, and I really hope he understood how loved he was by so many people.

Dear Brandon,

I wonder...what does God allow you to see? I know there are no worries there, but are you praying for me? Do you see me crying in your room, do you hear me asking why I couldn't have gone, too? Can you feel the pangs of my guilt when I look at all I have, but can think of nothing except what's missing? Brandon, I don't know who I am, I'm so lost. You thought I was the glue, but I'm not, I don't think I can keep even one thing together without you.

On the surface, it looks ok. Do you see past the surface? I hope not. We are all cracks and facades and emotions teetering on the brink of destruction. We are faces in public, but faceless, without an identity, in private because half of our identity is gone. We are an ever so slight breeze away from being blown over the edge for good. I am scared.

Have you been by your room? Probably not, I guess. I keep the heat on in our bathroom and your door open, so it takes the chill off. I cannot bear to have your room cold, I come undone. Your dad is going to freak at the power bill, I think, but I don't care...your room will not be like a morgue. I said that because I know you'll get the irony in it. You'll see the humor. Such a wise, funny soul. I sure miss your laugh. I want to call you in from your room to look at a funny commercial. Come ask me to watch something on You Tube, I promise to not hate You Tube, anymore.

Were you there when I lit the candle for you, on the 8th? Did you hear the putz say MY name instead of yours? I'm not sure if you would've laughed or been ticked off. I would've been mad, then you'd have been really mad, then I'd have said, "It's ok, Brandon, be gracious, he has also lost a child." I did tell them that it wasn't nice because it really wasn't, but I was gracious about it. It's further proof that I don't belong with those people. You know, the people who've lost a child. This is not the way it's supposed to be. Dreading Christmas, worrying about the burden on Ariana, as the only child left, wondering if we ever knew who we were or if we'll ever be ANYTHING, again. How can I be one of those people? Can I join you. Please?

The tree is up. She is full of icicles, just like you would want. The angel is on top, also to your liking. We are thinking of trying to find a new angel, one that lights up. That would be ok, right? I don't think I can get rid of this one, though, because you grew up with her. I'm going to give the light-up star to Freecycle, though, because you never were fond of it. Both of you kids love the angel and I want what you want. I truly don't know how I will manage on Christmas. I'm trying not to think too much about it or I'll run away from it and that wouldn't be fair to your sister. I thought about having Max and Tyler over for tortilla soup (Max has asked a couple of times), but I don't think I can yet. If one of them sits in your chair, I'll have to excuse myself and that wouldn't be very polite. So, what will we do? I don't know. You won't be here to give me any presents and the only present I want is you. Could you put in a word with God tonight, tell him your mom really needs some help or she may not make it? I'd appreciate it. I love you and miss you so very much, Brando! I hope to see you in my dreams soon.

Love, Mom-O

p.s. better put in a word for your stubborn grandpa, too...although I bet you already have, you're a good kid! Oh and say hi to Paul Walker for me, would ya :))

200 Days

Two hundred days of:

-Aching
-Longing
-Crying
-Disbelief
-Begging
-Yelling
-Dreaming
-Peace
-Regret
-Guilt
-Racing heartbeat
-A heart that barely beats
-Depression
-Denial
-Emptiness
-Fears about my daughter
-Face in my hands
-Anger
-Grace
-Determination
-Giving up
-Hope
-Dreams about Brandon
-Late night sobbing into the pillow
-Faith

Those are just 25 of the things that I have felt/experienced in the last 200 days. Most of those things weave in and out in the same day, along with many other feelings that, at times, seem impossible to corral. I miss Brandon so much, it's hard to believe that there will one day be a world that is ok or right...it seems out of reach, most days.

Thanksgiving was ignored, but Christmas must be dealt with. Right behind Christmas will be 2014. How can we be living in 2014 and how can the calendar have the nerve to flip to a whole other year...a different year than the one my boy died in? I don't want another year. I want the others back. How can I just go back? I want it, more than anything right now.

Christmas will be here, before we know it. The passage of time is like a clock spinning wildly out of control, the arms crossing each other, every few seconds, while we watch, bewildered. So, I got my decorations out, before time got even more out of control. I actually got all the fall stuff put away and a few of the Christmas decorations up. My goal was just to get anything up by yesterday. I managed that. Mostly through tears. We are not a family of three, we are a family of four, what in the hell will we do without Brandon here, how will we make it? How could we even want to make it? But we do, we will, in spite of ourselves. Our hearts long for some joy, some freedom from all the pain, a memory to bring even a faint smile, instead of a flood of tears for all the memories we will never get to make. We will do whatever it takes to cushion the blow for my daughter, who is now an only child. I pray that by trying to soften the blow for her, my husband and I will also be able to consider the miracle in the date we're observing and remember that there are many other miracles to come in this life.

I did do something good for myself. Rather than stay on the path of self destruction I was on, I've changed a few things...one of them is that I quit smoking, again. Last year, I managed to not start smoking through Brandon almost dying in front of me, but losing him sent me right back there. I gave myself six months. I went beyond that a little bit, to November 30th, but that was my last day. It's not easy this time around because I'd been smoking way more than I ever have and just not caring about the fallout, but I'm praying that my stubbornness serves me well. I have some other things I need to address, like getting in shape, and I'll get there in my own time. I don't want this life to drag by miserably. I want it flying by with lots of fun times. I want to be with my son, but I don't want to go dragging a burdened, miserable body to the gates of heaven, just glad I got there and missing life in the process. Brandon would want us all living. In fact, I'm sure our victories are his, as well, so I'm on the lookout for even the smallest of victories to share with him.

Day 18 - Thanks for the Memories

On Facebook, for the month of November, I post 30 days of thanks as my status. I knew this November was going to be a real challenge, but I committed myself to really digging deep and reminding myself that, yes, I do have much to be thankful for.

Today, November 18th, 2013, is six months without the greatest boy ever. Six months and one day ago I'd have never believed that, were this to happen, I'd still be alive six months later. If you've ever lost a child, or even someone you love, you will understand when I say, you are certain that the earth will swallow you whole from the pain. I was certain of that before Brandon died and I maintained that certainty after he died. Maybe I just hoped really hard that I wouldn't make it, I'm not sure. I do know that I fully understand not being able to think even one day ahead of where you're at. It will crush you.

Today, I am choosing to be thankful for the memories that I have. It's a very difficult thanks, believe it or not. Having your mind intact is a mixed bag; with the memories come the tears, the anguish, the hole in your life that you're aware of. I have cried every day for the last six months. The tears, blessedly, do not fall with the same frequency or volume, but they are always right there, just under the surface. I still recoil at the memory of the phone call that changed my life and the wailing that followed for weeks after. Those memories are absolute torture, for lack of a better, stronger word for the pain they cause. I wonder, sometimes, how much easier it might be if my memory just stopped working. However, I know that having 19 years of memories around my boy is a huge blessing. No one else had *our* memories, no one else spent as many days on this earth with that boy as I did and thank God that I am aware of what I had all those years. I can look at pictures and, although that usually brings the tears, I can remember the day or that time of our lives and all the feelings that go with it. The memories are there and I can get lost in them for however long I choose. Someday, those memories will bring smiles and happiness, instead of having to mop away the tears.

Avoiding the 18th and the Turkey

I have, as usual, been terribly undisciplined with my writing. It dredges up so many tears that it's just easier to stay away. I still have several posts waiting to be published and tons of voice recordings I have yet to transfer to the typed word. So, I figured that since I felt like it would be ok to type a few words, I'd take advantage of it. The added benefit is that it means I probably will not blog on the 18th, which is OK with me because the 18th continues to be a profoundly sad day every month. The 17th is usually just as hard, if not harder, as my body and mind prepare for the date in the background, without me even being aware.

I had a really bad week, the week before last. I can't remember if I blogged, but I was struggling terribly, every single day, and felt like I was just getting sucked deeper and deeper into the griefsand (quicksand for the griever). I know you aren't supposed to struggle in quicksand, even though it's against your natural instincts, and I couldn't figure out if that was the problem with the griefsand. I was starting to get really scared about the future because of how sad I felt every second and how many tears I cried. I still fall into a state of total disbelief and I'll tell ya, the understanding that it is real settling into your bones can suck the life right out of you and yet that fight or flight instinct kicks in and you realize you're flailing your arms to try and catch your footing. The voices in my head were thoroughly confused about which side of the tape to play. Side A(lright), "You are ok. O....K." and the other side is, "You are a horrible mom who didn't do enough, why didn't you do things differently," and all the conversations that go along with side B(ad side). Thank God and I REALLY mean thank God that I have a side A, but when they're flipping over several times within a five minute period it can be a little unsettling.

To make matters worse, I wasn't sleeping. For about two weeks, I was sleeping for no more than five hours, waking up as early as 5:30 am on some days, just wandering around the house. My sleeping pills weren't working and my normal morning pills that make me drowsy enough to need a nap were acting like placebos. I think I got some things done that needed to be done, at least for the first ten days, but then the energy just went and the emotions got stronger. The last three days I have slept an embarrassing number of hours. Seriously. If I told you how many hours, I'd end up getting phone calls from doctors offering to see me pro bono, I'm sure of it. No, I wasn't manic and this isn't a depressive cycle (well, no more depressed than I ought to be), I have just always had crazy sleep habits and to say they've gotten worse the last few years, understandably the last six months, would be a huge understatement.

I came to the conclusion that I just cannot do Thanksgiving. It was just going to be me and my daughter and I cannot go there. She got invited to Leavenworth, which she loves, and I invited myself to Reno, where I have friends that I love, but I will have plenty of time just to myself, too, as tons of people still overwhelm me a bit. I will be where Thanksgiving won't be an issue, I can just pretend it away this year. November is not a happy month for me, anyway, so I'm just trying to get through in one piece. However that has to happen is a-ok.

The other thing I'm going to do is start writing a book. Not because I think I can write a book, because I know nothing about doing such a thing, but an author friend and I talked about it and the short story is that it's an act of faith in what God will write the ending to be. My testimony has a big, ugly, unfinished ending and so I'll just start at the beginning and trust God to put the bow on it. One thing I'm sure of is that it's going to be THE most extravagant bow ever...mark my words.

For My Friends

I read a post this morning, something I think Rabbi Kushner had written, that spoke about how (during your darkest hours) you lose some friends because they care so much about you and it hurts them to see you hurt and you lose some others because your loss reminds them of their vulnerability. I totally understand that. Maybe I've even been that person.

One thing I somehow hadn't foreseen happening was that I might end up costing myself friendships because what they have hurts me. I know that's just a nice way of saying I'm jealous and maybe even resentful, and those things are not pretty or nice, but then losing a part of yourself is never pretty or nice. I withdrew from most people, as it was, and the few I let back in have been mostly on my terms. I don't know, maybe subconsciously I felt like it was something I could actually control, in a world that has spun crazy out of control.

That post really made me face what I've been doing: keeping my friends who have kids (especially sons) at arm's length..or further. I don't have many friends who've lost kids, at least not close friends, but of those who have, few have lost their teenage son. Of course, even if they have, they didn't lose their son named Brandon, their only son. No matter what, I can make what is already horrifically isolating even more isolating. While I am so thankful that most of my friends haven't walked this road, it feels so unfair that I am in excruciating, agonizing pain every day, while their lives get to just go happily by. It is so hard. Of course, I don't begrudge my friends their happiness and I am happy for them that they are in the season of life they are in, but time stopped for me five months ago and I just don't know how to participate in lives where the clock hasn't stopped. Brandon was so much like me that it is, literally, as though part of me died with him, so I have no idea when the clock will start ticking, again.

Early on, a stranger wrote to me through facebook how she'd lost her son, Brandon K., at almost the exact age my BK died...19 years and two months. That person I could relate to. I felt a special bond to a complete stranger, while fighting the impulse to cut out every close friend I'd already had. It's an odd thing, this continuous pain. I want the hurting to stop. I need my friends and their words of comfort, sometimes their silent comfort, but it is an immense struggle. So, please don't take it personally, it's not meant that way. I adore my friends, but I just don't know what to do with you all right now, when reaching out to you makes me recoil in pain. Thank you for not expecting more than I have to give. I promise you that I am trying to reconcile these feelings and remain your friend, but it is a slow, slow process. I still pray for you all, I read your posts and look at your pictures, even when they make me cry. I know it is not something you are doing intentionally and I will work harder at being intentional with my friendships, if you can give me some time to figure it all out. Right now I just do not know who I am. I know who I am not, I am not the same person I was before May 18th. I hope that means that, someday, I'll be a better person, a better friend, I just do not know when that will be, as there are no maps for this sort of thing.

It Wasn't Long Enough

I was dreaming about Brandon this morning. It was a weird dream, like most dreams are, so this will probably be a weird post, but I'm gonna write it, anyway, because I don't want to forget it.

In my dream, I'd fallen asleep and then, after a few hours, I'd been awakened by something. As I crossed the room, out of the window, I could see Brandon, his best friend, Steve, Ariana and one of her friends, casually lying on top of the pool (we don't have a pool), just laughing and enjoying themselves. I got dressed and went downstairs and told Brandon that he couldn't just have people over without letting me know they were there. The house was a complete mess and I told the kids they needed to come in and get things cleaned up. As they came in, I looked out the back door and saw that the pool had been filled with tons of crayons, under the water, and I remember wondering what that was all about. I was also worried about Ariana because I was worried about what everyone else had been influencing her to do. It was at that point that she told me she couldn't go to school because her hair was too short. She'd let her friend cut it really short and the reasoning was that it was a trendy style on Sex and the City. I've never watched that show (not even sure that's the right title)so I have no idea where that came from, but I was really ticked off that all of her hair was chopped off. I was pretty sure that the girl in the dream was there because Brandon was there, not for my girl, and that's what made me mad, that she'd let her influence her haircut. Then, I just decided, who cares, it's only hair, it'll grow back and, well, at least she's here, who cares about hair. While Brandon was doing the dishes, I looked at his hair and realized he'd cut his, as well, and left this God-awful tail. We have very curly hair and um, curly hair doesn't do tails, so he basically had this ball of hair at the nape of his neck and I said to him, "This IS going to be cut off immediately." It doesn't sound funny, but it was a funny mom moment.

I was trying to keep things as normal as possible, be the mom, even though in the subconscious part of my dream state, I knew Brandon wasn't actually supposed to be there and wouldn't be staying and I remember worrying about how his hair would look, when he went back. Silly, I know. I wanted to ask him where he'd been, even though I knew where he'd been, but I knew he couldn't come back to visit, so I wondered if maybe he'd actually been alive all this time, but I was too afraid to actually voice all those things. I remember thinking, "How will I explain to everyone that Brandon is here?"

At some point, Brandon went upstairs to do some things and I sat down to relax. He then came downstairs and his eyes were very droopy, like he was very, very tired. I realized right then that it meant he had to go. He said he was tired and was gonna go up to bed and he held my hand and said goodnight, I love you, and I remember thinking that I needed to tell him to change his shirt because it wasn't appropriate for where he was going, but there was no time. He turned his back to go up to bed and I jumped up and said hold on, I'll come up with you and I followed him up the stairs and he was just gone. I woke up to my own voice, saying, "It wasn't long enough, it just wasn't long enough."

Having a dream where it seemed like normal, everyday stuff, where I just talked to Brandon, and I didn't wake up crying was a really big thing. It almost felt like I was actually spending time with him, not completely focused on the fact that he had died. I was aware, I am always aware, but this was different. I wanted to go back to sleep to see him, but I knew he was gone, again, and it wouldn't happen. And, it sunk in hard...it was not long enough. I want him back, I need more time. Then, I started crying and could not stop and that's ok. It hurts that death has separated us for a while. Death is the sharpest instrument there is and it has pierced me in the most painful spots I have, over and over, so some uncontrollable crying is to be expected, I guess. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to the depth of this pain. You don't cry normal tears. They rise up from a place in you that you don't ever want to know about and once you know about it, there's no going back, you're left forever breathless from the impact.

It's really hard to wake up and realize you that you will not be touching your child today. How desperately I want to feel his skin on mine. But I had a dream that didn't wake me up sobbing, so I'll take it as a sign that I can handle that now, even if I end up crying for the next hour after the dream. It's ok, right? I think that's ok. I know our separation isn't permanent, but I hate it nonetheless. Things are not right in the world and I don't think they'll ever be right, but I think it will get more bearable...at least it seems to be the natural progression of things. Still, I cannot wait for the day when death will be no more. I don't have the present with my Brando, but one day, sooner than I can imagine, I will have an eternity to talk to him. A whole eternity! Can you imagine such a thing?! Until then, I pray that God continues to bring him to me in my dreams. I need to see him, even if it's not long enough.