One year

One year. It's so hard to believe that a whole year has passed since I've held my baby boy. Since I've smelled him and felt his little head rest in the crook of my neck. Since I've heard him cry or coo. Since I've fed him, talked to him, kissed him. Since I've rocked him while patting his little butt. Since I've simply watched his cute face and the funny baby expressions he made. One year with a part of me being gone.

It's been hard. I won't lie. This past year has been a challenge to say the least. I've had to learn how to compartmentalize my emotions. There are times when it just isn't appropriate to break down and cry. Sometimes I have to put on a happy face when inside I just want to crawl in a hole and sob. There are times when I'm just cranky and irritable. I have to try to not let my sadness interfere with how I interact with my other kids. I tend to shed my tears in the car or at church nowadays. Yes, I'm that lady on the right side of the altar, about 7 pews back who has tissues on hand just in case every week. Early on after Josh died I'd cry A LOT, but now I can go weeks without shedding a tear. It's not that the grief isn't there but I guess with time I'm adapting.

The kids are still grieving in their own ways. Jake has his moments of sensitivity and sadness. He also is very sensitive to when one of his parents is feeling low and needs a hug. I don't want him to feel responsible for our happiness and I'm doing my best to make sure he knows that it's not up to him to make sure mommy is okay. Ben misses Josh a lot - he talks about him and questions us about heaven. He also has lots of questions and fears about death. It's hard to tell your kids that they don't need to worry about dying or about mommy or daddy dying until we are really old because obviously that isn't always true. We try our best to reassure them that heaven is like Disneyland (we went with the boys for a day about 4 years ago while in CA), except heaven is about 10 times more fun. That seems to ease their fears and give them comfort that even in death and the sadness that brings, that heaven is pretty awesome. We try to reassure them that in the rare event they lose us that they will be well taken care of and will be okay. That's something no kid should have to even worry about yet they know the reality of death. Leah's grieving process has been interesting. As she is maturing, she now really understands that Josh was a significant part of our family. It's kind of like she's playing "catch up" with the rest of us and is now making sense of everything that happened a year ago when she was a few months shy of 3 years old. She frequently says she wants Josh to be here and we know in her own way she misses him too.

We've had some trials and tribulations this past year - 3 trips to the ER (everyone is fine) and some other challenges. However if Josh's death has taught us anything it's that we will survive anything thrown at us and we are certainly not immune to bad things happening to us. I have a new calmness about me that I never had before. My tolerance for b.s. is also a lot lower than before. Things that used to seem like a big deal to me or that I would stress over don't even phase me these days. I don't have the patience or time for people who whine, rationalize bad behavior, or make up excuses for poor choices. Losing a child has altered my world view a bit and probably has hardened me in some ways and made me more confident in others.

Josh's picture has been on our fridge since a day or two after he died. It's at eye level so every time I go to the fridge I see him. He is still the background picture on my phone. Every time I get a text or email or swipe to unlock my phone I see his little smile. I can't bear to change it. I recently bought a little storage bench so I can move his things from a box in the closet into a more special place. I plan to fix it up and make it worthy of his things. I have yet to make an album of all the pictures from the poster boards at his viewing. Partly due to lack of time and partly because I can't figure out the perfect photo album for them.

The trauma of that day, June 10th, is forever etched in my mind. It is something I will never get over and I frequently think about. I'm learning how to live with the nagging heavy feeling of loss that is always there. I don't think it will ever go away. However I sometimes am able to momentarily "forget" and have some time when I can almost fully enjoy myself. I am able to laugh and have fun but at some point reality returns and that cloud comes back. That is something that is really maddening - that for the rest of my life I don't get to have that sense of complete and utter happiness. That feeling when you are 100% content. I had it before Josh died but I don't think it will ever return and that angers me.

We have been so fortunate to be supported and lifted up by SO MANY this past year. It has been humbling how many have reached out to us and continue to do so. Without the love and support of our family and friends I don't know how we'd survive this. Just recently we received a beautiful stained glass piece that was made to honor Josh. All the families at his daycare chipped in to have it made and they surprised us with it. He was only at daycare for a week and I didn't even meet many of the other parents yet they came together in a beautiful gesture of support for our family. Once we find the perfect spot to hang it I will share a picture of it. It's thoughtful gestures like these that mean the world to us. A random text or card from a friend saying she's thinking of me, my best friend giving me comfy pajama pants and chocolates just because, my coworker giving a consoling hug when I shed a tear, let alone the countless people praying for us every day.
Obviously I'm not posting as often on this blog. I do when the urge strikes and I am probably repeating myself from previous entries but it has helped me process. One day I hope to share this with my living children when they are older.

One year. One year without our sweet baby boy. One year closer to seeing him in heaven. Now time to start tackling year #2.

Mommy loves you Josh.

Bear Hunt

Well, we made it through Josh's birthday. I knew we would but I wasn't sure how painful it was actually going to be. The funny thing about grief is that you can't choose when it hits you. The week leading up to his birthday was probably worse than the day itself. We actually had a nice day, all things considered. We decided to skip church that morning and go on a family hike instead. The kids enjoyed counting the turtles while we hiked along the river (tally was 10 by the way). We had a picnic lunch and enjoyed the break from the nasty winter weather we'd been having for weeks. I had prayed the entire week leading up to his birthday that I would see a rainbow on his birthday. They say rainbows are signs from heaven that our children are with us. I used to be a skeptic about this until Josh died. He came in a beautiful rainbow during the pasta dinner we had the night before the Team Josh race. I see him in butterflies, lady bugs, and birds. Not all of them but there are some where I get the sense it's him coming for a visit.

Anyway, the kids wanted to get balloons and send them up to heaven. I had lost hope on seeing a rainbow since it was sixty degrees and sunny out. Wouldn't you know that the card Jake made to attach to his balloon had a rainbow in it? Some may say it was a coincidence but I know that was a sign from Josh or God or both letting me know that he is with us on his birthday. We went to visit his grave and sent off the balloons and then went out to dinner to the same restaurant we went to the night before he was born. We are hoping to go there every year on his birthday - kind of our special place to celebrate him.  

The other small thing I did in Josh's honor was request friends and family to do a random act of kindness for a stranger. It was heartwarming to hear what people were doing for others that week and to know some good is coming from his death. On his birthday as I was getting the balloons from the grocery store I bought a gift card and then gave it to a lady on my way out as she was walking in. Although I was near tears as I was getting the balloons it felt good to give to her. Getting balloons was also interesting - the cashier and others assumed they were for something fun of course. I didn't have the heart to tell people I was getting them to release at my son's grave site for his birthday. Most of the time I don't mind sharing our story but I knew I would have lost it had I tried that day.

We also decided the week of Josh's birthday to use his Memorial Fund to help a family within our parish and school community who we felt could use a helping hand. I felt it important to honor Josh in that way in time for his birthday. Again, a little good to spread the light he brought to our lives.

I've noticed recently that my view of life and the world around me is changing. In some ways I feel a sense of peace in knowing that everything will be okay.  I recently watched a segment on CBS news about the father of a student at my boys' school. He has ALS and is living life to the fullest during his time left on earth. (Coincidentally my boys told me he spoke to the students at school yesterday). Despite his prognosis he is happy and has an appreciation for the little things that many can't relate to on the level he is experiencing. Although our situations are completely different I feel this way too. I've started to realize that our time on earth, although meaningful, is temporary and I'd better make the most of it while I'm here. For me that means trying not to sweat the small stuff (which I tend to struggle with), and simply trying to live the best life I can. That doesn't mean trying to accumulate material things, rather focusing on my relationships with others and valuing them in a way I hadn't before. Despite my grief and longing for Josh I would venture to say I'm still happy just as Chris is despite having ALS. I encourage you to watch this short video about Chris Rosati, ALS warrior, to both get a sense of what I'm trying to articulate as well as to get inspired by his story.

So I guess what I've been realizing the past few months is that we all have our challenges, our crosses to bear, our battles to fight. For the ones you have control over, choose them wisely. For those you don't, you just have to get through it. Kind of like the children's story "We're Going on a Bear Hunt". You may not know what lies ahead, it might be a bit scary, but you have no choice but to rise to the challenge and go through it. Kind of like getting through Josh's death, Christmas without him, and his first birthday. Kind of like Chris dealing with ALS. Kind of like those who have lost loved ones, are struggling with addiction or mental illness or cancer or disease, lose their homes, their jobs, their sense of security. We all have our struggles and if we take some time to look around we'll notice that we aren't alone and in a way we are all going on our own bear hunt.