Grandma

Well it has been quite a while since I last blogged.  Lots has changed with me and the world.  In the past week I have had stories about Grandma shared with me.  And I would like to share them with you.
Grandma Walters - Jared was born on her birthday in 1997 and she was 91 years old that day.  I took Jared to see her in the nursing home and she just thought he was great.  I don't really remember seeing her much as my Dad passed away when I was 8 and the family scattered like pool balls on a break.  In fact, I only remember 1 times ever going to her house as a child and I don't have any memories of her coming to our, although I know she did.  Recently I attended at funeral on my Dad's side of the family and heard stories.  My Dad's side was/is Catholic and winters in Illinois are cold, thus resulting in large families.  Several of the siblings told the same story at different times, almost identical.  How my Dad would come to their house and tell them how he wished their mom was his mom.  I thought to myself, haven't we all wished that at some point in childhood?  Well as the time went on more and more came out.  My Grandmother was cold to my Dad.  Didn't have much attention for more than one at a time.  Well that explained why my Catholic Grandmother only had 2 children.  She only had time for one son, and from what I understand that wasn't my Dad.
I began to put pieces of the family puzzle together and I have prayed about this and talked to God asking for some answers.  This is what I feel happened.  I think my father grew envious of his younger brother.  My father was known as Cookie, a nickname I understand from childhood and a girl involved...lol.   My uncle was known as Sprucy....you know why....spruced that hair back for the girls.  Well anyone that knew Cookie would tell you he had a way of knowing how to make lots of money.  They will also tell you he couldn't hold on to a penny of it.  He had a brilliant business mind, but lacked financial responsibility.  He also lacked self control with the booze and women.  I think all of this made my uncle envious of my Dad.  My Dad started a trucking company and my uncle followed by becoming a driver.  My Dad married a woman named Joann, and my uncle married a woman named Joann.  Of course my Dad divorced and married and divorced and married and was in the process of a divorce with my mother when he passed away.  I have learned that men who do these behaviors are seeking a love for themselves they never got from their mother.  Sidenote: that is why it drives me crazy right now to see all these women play the victim card about sexual harassment.  Not right, not saying that but why are they behaving that way?  Does it go back to longing for the love from a mother?  So, while I have struggled with my father's deplorable behavior when it came to women, I am now understanding it.  Don't like it, but understand it.  Grandma Walters lived a long life and her precious Sprucy was her apple in the eye.  So when my Dad would piss off his cousins by telling them he wished their mother was his mother, it was actually the best compliment he could have ever given them.  It was a child's way of saying your mom really loves you, wish mine loved me that way.  I also heard a story of one cousin letting the anger go when my father ran into their house and my great-aunt Rose held him tightly in her arms and he embraced her in a hug with no intentions of letting go.  That too was a way of a child saying, thank you for loving me - when I am not even your child.  Today my father, grandmother, and uncle all lie in the same cemetery, no where near one another.  Kind of ironic isn't it?  My father lies in the back of the cemetery near the timber flanked by friends and drinking buddies from days gone by.  My Grandmother rests next to her husband, who I never had the opportunity to meet but have a middle name in honor of him.  My uncle resides in a new part of the cemetery right up by the highway, not near the mother he had living in his home and was the favorite child of.
My Grandma DeLong - Oh Grandma DeLong was the one I knew the best and have so many memories and wisdom from.  Like the time she took me to church but I had no church clothes so she took the clothes off the Raggedy Ann Doll and dressed me in them - the Tomboy Debbie - in a dress, a Raggedy Ann dress off a doll.  I remember hiding under the pew in church where my grandparents always sat.  Next to the isle last row, so Grandpa could get to the door for greeting members.  Then that dreaded moment of children's time....off to the front pew I had to go....it was awful.  I am stilled scarred from it all.  Well since that time, I have learned a lot from that, you do with what you have and your respect the Lord's house.  So if a Raggedy Ann dress is all I have to wear today, I would do it.  Grandma came from a large family, mostly girls and one boy...feel sorry for him don't you?  Edith, Edna, Eva, Elsie, Esther, Jim.....ummmm yep that is the way it was.  My grandparent's home was always open.  You needed a place, you always knew you were welcome.  I remember one weekend when I was helping my grandmother clean her house (which I did for her every weekend after my grandfather had his stroke) and my grandmother sharing some wisdom with me.  Didn't know it was wisdom until I got older.  She said, "We can't pick our family,but we can pick the ones we claim."  GRANDMA????  My sweet, cookie baking, ornament sewing, sock darning, made from scratch everything grandma who nursed every creature possible back to health just said this?  Well flash forward many years.  I have had an appreciate for learning my family history and Jared enjoyed it as well.  In fact, I learned more through his investigations than my own.
Today I found a letter my Grandmother had written to one of her sisters who had been mean to another sister and telling lies to a doctor.  That letter was quite blunt with the way she felt and when she cursed she used _ _ _ _ _ to replace the letters...but you could tell what she was saying....lol  If the letter would be written today it would basically say you are bullying this sister with the help from that sister and the one being bullied has never said a bad word about any of you, she only cares for you and loves you all, yet you all treat her like this.  My Grandmother did not like people who would lie and she would call you out on it....even doing so to her own daughter - which is one of the reasons I have the feelings I do for her.  I saw too much first hand.
I have learned through the years all the hell my grandmother lived through.  She was raised by an uncle because her parents passed at a young age, lived a very hard life, loved my grandfather with her entire body, raised 2 children and after they were married had an - OMG moment and having a 3rd child.  I am chalking all 3 up to immaculate conception because I know my grandparents could have never had sex.  Especially when their children are grown!  She had surgeries on her legs and had to wear wraps on her legs for as long as I can remember.  It was unreal to me to see the wrappings off because her legs were so tiny and thin.  She had many health issues she battled and rarely complained.
Both my grandmothers lost a child, so we all 3 were/are Angel Moms.  Something I am sure none of us ever wanted to be.
I found this handwritten note from my grandmother to her "mean" sister and I will share it with you, and I hope it makes you think as much as I have today and find peace from it.

I Asked God "Why"

I asked God "Why did you send this cross, 

The hurt and pain and the bitter loss?"

And I found it hard not to complain,

As I sought for peace of soul again.

I asked God "why did you destine me

For such a special misery?"

And it seemed somehow that I heard Him say,

"Man does not walk an easy way.

It's the ones I love the most that I 

Send crosses to sorely try,

Remember this and know that there

Will come no grief you cannot bear.

Behold, I stand beside you in

Each sorrow 'till the very end,

Dear Little lamb stay close beside

your Shepherd 'till the eventide."

What blessed joy it was to find

His footprints ever close to mine.

He made the sadness disappear,

With words of comfort in my ear.

The pain of which I was afraid,

was lifted from me as I prayed,

Leaving such a light that I 

needed never doubt or question why.

Grace E. Easley

Life, It's Different Now

I am not sure what exactly has caused some of the changes in my life, but I am guessing it is a combination of losing Jared, moving to an island, getting older, and experiencing many things.  I was reading a book on the first leg of my trip today which then got me to reflecting on my own life.  Two things I no longer do is: wear a watch/worry about what time it is and start my day with news and weather. 
When we lived in Nashville, the TV was our first alarm.  It was programmed to come on with Channel 4 news.  We would wake up as we listened to weather and traffic reports.  Not anymore!  I will let it all be a surprise.  I really don't care if it rains, I find I love the smell.  Traffic, well goves me time to talk to God.
This goes hand in hand with time.  I no longer wear a watch, rarely look at my phone for time, and based on the attach of mosquitos I know it is time to fix dinner. 
I have come to appreciate every thing God gives me.  I laugh at things that used to make me angry......most of the time. 
Todays travels have been full of those.  Rich carried my suitcase out to the truck for me and was frustrated at the empty water jugs that I carry so I can stop and fill them.  To me it is easier to have them with me than trying to remember at that moment.  I acknowledge with child loss, memory also can go.  In his frustration, he sat his wallet and phone on the back of the truck......and forgot them.  We were about half way to the airport when he remembered.   I looked back and found his wallet was still there, I honestly don't know how, but no phone. ....his only lifeline to me traveling.  Our sweet neighbor went looking for it as I continuously call it and try to calm Rich down who is visibly upset and sick to his stomach.  As we pulled onto the airport someone answered hos phone....it was our neighbor, she had just found it. 
I have thought about this quite a bit.  Had he of just been calm about a silly thing that is a visual reminder to me to do an errand, he might not have had bigger frustrations with the phone.  Of course, any airport trip is adventurous and today was no different.  I met each one with a smile, chuckle, and sometimes a smile as I was shaking my head.....like at the young men who didn't want to pay for overweight bags so they thought they could carry on a duffle bag full of tools....FOR REAL pipe wrenches, hammers....not little household ones either.   Then onto boarding.....I laughed out loud with the gentleman next to me as half the flight stood to be preboarded needing assistance.   Well AA recently changed the policy to 1st Class and active military followed by AA credit card holders....woohoo my lucky day!
I laughed at each experience so far today and take things as they come.  I find I see blessings around me if I take my time and slow down a bit. 
Try this exercise, sit quietly for 30 minutes anywhere.   No phone, no technology, no tv, just sit.  What do you see that you don't notice every day when you occupy that same space?  Do you see a blemish on the wall not noticed?  How about a flower?  A bird you haven't seen in your yard?  Notice life around you, don't let it pass you by. 

The Keeper

def: a person who manages or looks after something or someone.

Sports def: A player assigned to protect the goal in various sports.

One of Jared's coaches told me that he was placed in the most important position for all the team.  This position was not only to block the ball from entering but it was to observe, digest, and act as a "coach" from the field.  This position needed to be able to reassure the team he would stop any ball that had gotten past them, or in other words "he had their back".  This position was to coach and cheer on his team and motivate as this position had a better observation of the game then even the coach.  

I watched Jared closely in his position he had been given after that talk.  Being the over protective mother I was, I was concerned that was a lot of weight just put on his shoulders.  I saw him take that weight and grow stronger from it.  He learned to do exactly what the coach needed him to do and to also communicate with the coach for the coach to make better decisions.  

This week has been one hell of a week for me.  Downs, Ups, drowning, flying, exhaustion and completely helpless.  These are just a few of the emotions from this week.  

I began to think yesterday afternoon as I felt Jared's presence very strong, about the true meaning of a Keeper.  I remembered what that coach had told me.  I remembered watching Jared become a strong Keeper, both physically and mentally.  I also thought about this:  Jared is still the Keeper.  He is keeping his team going to stop "block" suicide (stop the ball).  He is putting each of us in our position on the field and putting a support system in the stands.  He is putting people at the gate collecting money to insure the team can continue to play on a level field with good lighting, and a successful outcome.  He has put the coaches in place that cheer on the team members.  He has more team members than ever before signing up to join his team.  We have a great defense!  I also thought, just as the best of the best teams out there, once in a while a ball will get past all of us.  No matter how strong our defense was/is.  So, I can scream for a minute but then, just like Jared, I have to get my head back in the game.  

Our Keepers across the US and around the world are growing in numbers, our defenses are getting stronger.  Our cheers are getting louder.  Our name is getting known.  Our mission is being heard.  Our "goals" are adding up.  

I hear often from those who knew Jared that he is proud of me and the work I am doing.  I think he is most proud of holding his team together.  See my gift to Jared pales in comparison to that he gives me each day.  He made wonderful, strong willed, determined, driven friends and he gifted them all to me.  Without them, I couldn't continue nor would I have ever started.  

I wish Jared would have taken his hurt from losing his father and done what Kelsey and I have done with ours.  He would have had all the same supporters.  

I look forward to heaven.  I really do.  I can be with Jared again and watch he and his team "God's Giants" or "Heavenly Havoc" playing some awesome soccer.  I am sure that it is the greatest place, it has to be with all the beautiful Angels that live there with God.  

Triggers

We all have "triggers" that instantly take up to happy or sad places in our lives.  It could be the smell of a cologne, perfume, flower, food, or pungent smell.  I have triggers that take me to happy and sad places as well.  The smell of dirty, stinky, sweaty, soccer.....takes me to a happy place believe it or not.  It reminds me of all the time I spent with Jared watching him do what he loved to do.
This Christmas I found a new trigger that was not pleasant at all.  In fact it brought nightmares to me.  It is a family tradition with my in-laws to watch, It's A Wonderful Life.  Didn't realize until this year how many times in one day they play the movie.  I also didn't fully recognize the plot.  Do you know it?  If you were to have asked me a couple of years ago I would say it was a Guardian Angel sent to make George understand all the blessings he has.  While that is true.....let's go to the beginning, where Gabriel was sent because George was getting ready to take his life......that is right....suicide.  I never picked that part up until this year.  Man did it come crashing down on my like a building collapsing and taking my breath away.  I tried to occupy myself with my phone playing mindless games until my battery went dead.  Then, I had to leave the room.  I could have brought it to the attention of everyone but there was a fear of doing so.  After all, I am an advocate to stop suicide, why would this silly movie get to me so much?  Well the only way I can explain it is this.  Touching someone on the arm with a new unsharpened pencil would not hurt.  Yet if I did that on the arm with an open wound it would hurt beyond words.  All holidays are open wounds when we are grieving for our loved ones.
I have had to learn many coping mechanisms to get through each day.  Some are easier than others.  I am not sure that Christmas will ever get easier.
I know that I have had many triggers and some I am able to flat out ignore before I get to the point of "out of control" with them.  As an example, the media sensationalizing suicides and homicides.  We don't need the details!  When I think there is a trigger in the article I won't read it.  Others are unavoidable.  Much like learning the breathing techniques for labor, I have had to learn how to breath for grief.  Sounds silly doesn't it?  Yet, it is true.  I have had to learn to breath at all sometimes.  I have had to learn to breath short quick breaths and slow into longer, deeper breaths to slow my heart rate down from strong emotions to keep from hyperventilating.  I have had to learn to breath with long exhales to clear my mind, emotions, and gain control over my thoughts.
For me the worst part of triggers is they can bring happiness and sadness at the same time.  Pictures do this often for me.  So many times I smile with happiness and cry with sadness at the exact same moment.
As we start a new year, I pray no parent will have to lose a child.  I pray no person will have to suffer.  I pray for peace of heart for those who are grieving.

Accepting

I was the youngest child for both my parents, and the only child between them.  I had the benefits of growing up in a large family and being the only child at the same time.  I was closer to one brother than all other siblings.  He was 10 years older than I am and wasn't only a brother but also a protector. My father died when I was just eight from complications from alcoholism during the he and my mother were going through a divorce.
I remember the exact moment and location and vividly remember all the items around me when I was told my father had died.  I was his only girl so there was extra special bonding there.  He was perfect, far from it.  In fact I would even say part evil.  However, the true him was kind, generous, and loving.  The alcoholic him was pure evil.  I remember going to the funeral home and picking out the casket, or listening as it was all being done.  It was my first real experience in a funeral home.  I look back on it and wish someone would have realized that as an eight year old child, I needed guidance.  What do you do at a funeral home?  How do you act at a funeral home?  Why does everyone come to a funeral home?  I am a child and it will be ok.....
I remember the visitation and the funeral.  I remember the heart shaped pillow with the word Daddy in gold that held flowers that they had me plane in his casket.  That pillow was given to me as a keep sake.  Still not sure why I have it but it is tucked away in my cedar chest.  I also remember the grave side service and wondering why all this was going on.  I am eight!  I was in second grade.  None of this made any sense.
I never dealt with those emotions because it was never explained to me what they were.  I worried about my mother a lot growing up and never really visited friends houses or "ran around" with them. In my teen years I went wild for a short period of time which was far out of character for me to do. I was the good kid.  Well that got me into counseling at the school and lots of things came out that had been bottled up for years.  Honestly?  It was the best thing that could have happened to me.
A few years later I would lose my grandfather.  He had been ill for years after suffering a stroke and depended completely on his family to provide care for him.  We all took shifts helping him with everything from using the commode to bathing and getting dressed.  He would cry each time I helped because he felt he was a burden to his family.  But truth is, he deserved all we did and more.  I had visited him just hours before he passed and he seemed fine.  I lived just an hour away and by the time I had reached home the phone was ringing.  He had already been transported by ambulance to the hospital, and had passed after my grandmother asked him if he was in pain and he said, "not any more".    The funeral in the days following was emotional.  We were losing my grandfather and my brother and sister-in-law were expecting a baby and would find out the gender that day.  A boy was to be born.
A little more than a year later, I am engaged to be married and prior to that wedding our family was struck by tragedy.  That baby boy would be taken from us days before he turned a year old.  He was a feisty little guy and brought joy to everyone around him.  He took a tumble off the bed and landed on a hard wood floor.  I don't know a baby that hasn't had a tumble that scared the pudding out of the parents but this was different.  That sweet baby laid in the hospital trying with all his might to make it, but that wasn't meant to be.  I still struggle with his death because it just isn't fair.  The only answer I can come up with is God needed him, but why?  Why do that to my family?  Why do that to his parents and siblings?  Why?  Ultimately, this loss put a great strain on the family.  In fact throughout the years it has built the Great Wall of Grief between my sister-in-law and my mother.  That too brings pain to many of us in the family.  In fact outside of Jared's funeral last summer, I can't remember the last time they were in the same building together.  I know how it pains me, I can't imagine how it pains my brother.
What pained me then, and still does for different reasons now, is that I didn't know how to support them.  I didn't know the loss they were feeling.
We honored my nephew on our wedding ceremony and made him a part of the event.  To this day I keep his picture on my dresser.
Since that time his siblings have grown and have children of their own and we talk about their brother Jacob.  I think of him often as he must have been there to greet Jared into heaven.
After suffering the loss of Jared I have had a new understanding of loss.  I understand that even very young children grieve and they need the grieving process to be explained to them and what they are experiencing.  I have learned that even when we look strong, we are incredibly weak.  I have learned that we will change emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  I have learned that actions can be explained but not necessarily justified.  I have learned that I can love two people who can't seem to look at one another and not judge them.  I have also learned that we become uncensored with loss.  If you ask us our opinion, please be prepared for the answer.  I have learned that compassion doesn't mean that I have to let you drag me into a dark place.  I have also learned that no matter how much you love someone, you can't stop things from happening.  I could not stop by dad from drinking, my grandfather from aging, my nephew from from having injuries that could not be healed, my mother and sister-in-law to get along, nor could I save my son from suicide.
While I do not like to accept any of these things, I must.  I must also accept all the other things in life that played into of the paths that brought us all to where we are today.
My wish is for peace, understanding, and a world without pain.  Is that really too much to ask for?

It Is Time To Stand Up

This last week has been difficult for me.  I have had emotional highs and lows.  I have been short tempered and easily agitated.  I have watched as children head back to school and off to college.  Somehow it is more difficult this year than it was last year.  Perhaps because I was still in that fog that helps to protect us following a tragedy.  All of these beautiful pictures and wonderful thoughts and hopes I have for these young people quickly prompt thoughts of those experiences I will never have.

I have to live with the fact that I will never have a child walk across a stage to get his diploma he worked so hard for all those years to get.  I will never have that child go off to college and be a part of a dream he had.  I will never have a wedding to be the mother of the groom nor will I ever have grandchildren.  All these things I looked forward to and even envisioned.

I have had anger that has been intense.  Anger at people who say they are dying inside and physically hurt because their child has left for college.  While I won't deny there are grief feeling there for them, they will see their child again.  They will talk, text, video chat, visit, and celebrate life with that child.  Those who have lost a child never again get that.  While their pain inside is temporary, ours is permanent.  It also intensifies, or flares up, when we learn of another Angel Parent joining this club that we don't want to be a part of to begin with.

I want to be selfish.  I want to be irresponsible.  I want to pretend life is not how it really is.  But then, I remember, it is exactly the way it is.

This is a difficult place to be.  I want so badly to have a close friend that understands and is there when I need them, but I don't want to bring anyone down.  I have friends who have the same loss I do and it is a gentle place we go together as to support rather than pull each other down.  I have struggled with wanting to live here, live there, where do I want to live.  There is no good answer for any of it.

I want desperately to have the life back I once had.  But that can never be.  I want so desperately for a miracle to happen, but doesn't seem to be either.

Anger has been hitting me from another angle.  It is extreme and volatile.  While I have fought within myself to not blame or hate, it is brewing within me.  How DARE people tell my child the crap they told him.  How DARE people behave the way they did, text him, email him the things they did and call me names to him that he then had to deal with.  How DARE you tell him you were going to take him away from me so he "don't have to ever see her" again.  HOW DARE YOU!

So with this anger comes strong focus and determination.  I will stand up to you, evil, and stigma associated with Jared, suicide, and mental health issues.

My son would be here today had it not been for people telling him he should hate me and live with them.  He would be here today if it were not for people telling him he would live in his Dad's house, drive his Dad's car, and wear his Dad's clothes.  He would be here today if people were not so damn selfish they had to control everything in their life instead of being a part of an amazing young man's dream.

Jared's answer to your selfishness was if I can't love and be with my mom, I won't love and be with you either.  Hate is a destructive thing, but I refuse to hate anyone.  Even the people responsible for telling Jared not to get treatment, take his medication as a child, and to hate me.  Why?  Because they don't deserve my time.  I will tell Jared's story, all of it, with facts, and evidence.

Healing Takes Forever

Early on in my grief journey, I realized this was not going to be a "get over it quickly" type of thing.  I had a strong desire to read everything I could on grief, suicide, and the afterlife.  I came to realize quickly that this journey will not end until I take my last breath.  People have asked me how I stay strong and this is what I explain to them.

Grief is like a major surgery such as open heart surgery.  Just as in a surgery like that, one must heal in layers from the inside out.  If you try to close the opening too soon you often have infection trapped inside and you may not know it for a long period of time.  So just like that, my soul needs to heal in layers, insuring that each step I heal infection free.  Acknowledging and accepting that it will take time allows your journey of healing to begin.

Also like surgery, sometimes you have setbacks.  I have them, I acknowledge them, and I move forward from them.  Anger is one of the setbacks that upsets me the most.  I don't like anger and/or hate.  In my mind, that is exactly what made my son take his life at age 17 in spite of the fact of a promising future ahead of him.  Anger and hate toward me from his father's side of the family that he was trying to protect me from, is a hard pill to swallow.  This also goes hand in hand with guilt.  The "if only"s drive me crazy at times.  If only  he had talked to me about what he just learned, if only he would have said some thing to me, if only I had gotten up in the night to check on him, if only.......
I liken all this to the infection one may get after a surgery.  You do all you can to insure a healthy healing but sometimes things happen that we just cannot control.  However, it is important to address them when they happen and combat those infections, so you can move on healing healthy.

As each layer heals, I learn new coping methods to make it through the day, and for me the worst, night.  One of those is my Tear Bucket.  I have what I refer to as the tear bucket.  When I feel the emotions building up inside of me and I know I have to let them go before an event or gathering that I am trying to hold myself together for I empty my tear bucket.  I will simply tell my husband I need to empty my tear bucket and will head off to the bedroom where I will think of my sweet Jared and empty that bucket of tears.  Sometimes, even when not full, it will spill, but it is becoming manageable.

Learning to live without someone in your life, that has been such a part of your life for so long, is like learning how to do everything you once did minus one arm.  It is learning to live completely different.  It is learning how to do the things you once did together, differently.  It is learning how to enjoy things you once enjoyed together, differently.  It is learning how to fill a void in a healthy way.  This is just like allowing our body to grow new tissue to replace the space left by infected tissue that was removed during surgery.  If we don't allow this to happen then that void can be a breading area within us for hate and anger.  For me, I refuse to allow the emptiness left by the love I shared with my son to be filled with ugliness.  I will only allow something equally as beautiful to take that space.

Also like a major surgery, it is important to surround yourself with the best medical staff available for a successful surgery, it is equally important to surround yourself with the best support system available for proper healing from your loss.  My support system has changed and morphed during my journey.  I also know as time continues it will continue to change.  Some people I was close with before are simply casual friends and some are nothing more than a friendly hello as I meet them on the street.  Yet others that were unknown or distant acquaintances, have become extremely supportive and helpful in my healing process. This also applies to family.  Some members have had to be distanced, some completely separated, and others that was casual in our communications, have become the foundation to healthy recovery.

Also like surgery, some cannot recover.  Grief too, can take those who cannot recover.  While I make no secret that I have begged for my son to take me too, He tells me it is not my turn yet.  There is a unique cry by mother's who have lost a child.  Once you hear it, you recognize it, and pray you never hear it again.

Just as any major surgery will leave a scar, so does grief.  It is not something to cover up and hide, but rather acknowledge the existence of it, wear it as a badge of honor to the loved one you lost, and feel NO shame from it.  We only grieve for those we love, and love lasts a life time.