BK

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.

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.

The iPod

Yesterday I made a new note to myself: do NOT put the iPod on shuffle. I was driving and that stupid device was determined to put on every song from Brandon's viewing and funeral or songs that ended up on my pod because he bought songs through my iTunes account. I'm always surprised when Jimi Hendrix or some crazy dubstep or Janis Joplin ends up playing through my speakers. Today, it just made me cry. I'm sure the people in the cars near me wondered what the heck was wrong with me, as I kept mopping the tears from my face with my shirt and my hands, an act that was, ultimately, futile, but I sure tried. I got my errands done, made it to work early and went about the business of wearing my public face. It's not always a bad thing, it forces me to push through, but it's not all that easy.

Late in the evening, I stood in front of the washer and folded towels, proud of myself for getting a load of laundry washed *and* folded. Marveling over such a small accomplishment is just how things are now. And, I stood there wondering if I was ever going to have a good day, again, because I truly cannot see it. I have good moments and eight months ago I couldn't have been convinced that I'd ever have one good moment until I died, so there's forward movement that gives me hope, but I cannot see how it's possible to long for all I won't have without Brandon and still have a good day. Those things don't belong together. Every single day is a reminder or 100's of them, because they're everywhere. The iPod is just one of many. I know someone whose very life assures me that one day I'll be able to smile with the memories instead of crying with them, but I don't see that strength in me. She is so strong and triumphant, with so much grace and joy, I am fighting to breathe. I miss him so much and it still hurts to think about him because there are so many things I wish I could change. Today, I will have to settle for the towels and the tears of remembrance...at least I have the memories.

In closing, I want to include a post from Brandon that was about the picture at the beginning of this post. Such a wise soul, my boy, and I wish I had told him more often how proud I was of him. He'd just gotten two gigantic tattoos and he was commenting about them. BrandonHadi Kashef Thank you! That and Faith on the other wrist mean quite a bit to me, I don't think there's much more in life you need besides the two.

Hope and Fight

I had an entirely different blog post planned, but I've been derailed because I didn't want to forget this and the post would be too long if I kept them together. I saved the other one and it'll get it up as soon as I can.

I keep landing on this scripture. God brought it to life for me in a very different way the other night. I had the TV on in the background, as I was trying to sleep, and felt like I was just supposed to turn it off. I rarely do that unless I am sure that I am about to fall right to sleep because I don't want to spend any extra time with my thoughts than I absolutely have to. I began talking to God, something that, sadly, I don't do very often, because I end up crying...sobbing, really. This time was no different, but I kept at it. I was telling Him how I see myself floating alone out in the middle of a very dark ocean and that I can't even gather the energy to want a life preserver. I'm just bobbing around, up and down. Somehow I must be treading water because I'm not drowning, but I so desperately want to let go and just go under, just drift away. And, then, this scripture became so clear to me. Instead of fighting, like a drowning victim who takes everyone under the water with them, all I had to do was just put my head back, as if I had a life jacket on, so I could just rest my head on the part that floats up behind the head. Only I had no life jacket on, but all around me in the water I was surrounded...my head resting in His very arms, those big arms holding up my entire body and I got it...stop fighting! Lean back and I will hold you up. I wish I could describe it better, I should've grabbed my phone, but I had such peace, I didn't want to break it. Trust me, though, it was an awesome vision and an awesome feeling with it...very reassuring.

Maybe someone needed this right now or maybe I just needed to remind myself. Sometimes, it's so very dark, I'm afraid the light won't come back. I'm not trying to be morose or dramatic and I'm not trying to be a victim or get attention, I'm telling you like it is. It's damn dark. When it persists and you can't breathe, but you're trying to breathe and you think you're going to give in to what is calling you, it's damn scary. The more you let go, the easier it gets to let go. Letting the darkness have me was getting a lot easier than fighting it, but I know it's because I was fighting by avoiding and the fact of the matter is that I did not need to fight.

Today, I don't need to fight, I don't have to avoid. I have some resolve and some fresh hope, after being inundated with scriptures on hope and God renewing my spirit. It's not easy being hopeful right now. Pain this bad doesn't bring the good hope because I swear all you can do is hope to die to avoid it, but our spirits were made to want more and I'm sincerely trying. I still have no idea how I will do this life without Brandon, how there will be anything that feels like OK, again, but not chasing the darkness is a vast improvement and I'll take it. I know that light snuffs out the darkness and I know that light is there, even if I cannot physically see it and for now that is enough.

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.