Mother's Heartbreak

A Story of Addiction & Loss

Category: mothers grief on holidays (page 1 of 2)

Learning To Dance Through Shattered Glass

Matt,   Thanksgiving is in three days.   I’m feeling my grief’s grip around my throat.   That familiar tightening in my chest has returned.   This Thanksgiving feels impossible to survive.   My loss and disbelief of living through unfulfilled hopes and dreams feels heavier as the holiday season approaches.   I’ve heard the saying about learning to dance in the rain.   I feel like I’m navigating life dancing through pieces of shattered glass.   Life as I planned for us shattered at my feet the day you died.   My life was broken with no chance of ever being repaired.

This season my grief feels heavier.   I not only grieve the loss of you, I’m also grieving the loss of me.   Of how I hoped Thanksgiving would always be.   It’s so hard to feel thankful this year.   Your empty seat continues to break my heart.   My cancer battle has left me with little reserve and feelings of just giving up.   It feels like I’m layered in grief.   Of wondering how to survive the triggers the holiday season brings.

I have days where I’m so thankful for your life.   Days I feel like I will survive your loss.   Days when even my cancer is put on the back burner and I feel joy in the blessings  of everyday life.   Then I see those painful commercials.   The one’s of beautiful, happy families celebrating Thanksgiving together.  Everyone around the table is smiling.   There are no tears of loss.   No empty chair where a loved family member will no longer be seated.   It’s those moments when our reality hits like a cold slap and I want to scream letting the world know that life is not as it appears in these fantasy advertisements for how the holidays should be.

It seems the holiday season highlights my grief.   Memories of how life used to be unbury themselves from my safe place and resurface bringing a heightened awareness of my loss.   I’m ashamed that my feelings leave me unthankful for the blessings I do have in my life.

The blessings of memories.   Remembering our last Thanksgiving together.   You and Mike out back bundled up against the cold.   Your breath floating above your heads as you shared a memory that brought a smile to both your faces.   The blessing of that moment captured in time as I snuck a photo of my two boys together.   I look at that photo and feel a mixture of pain and love.   How I wish I could blink my eyes and return to that holiday.

The blessing of a loving husband.   Ray has been amazing.   My broken body is no longer capable of physical activity.   Everything I used to do has now fallen on his shoulders.   I watch as he walks the dogs down the street.   My heart fills with gratitude for this man.   He has taken over everything with a smile and a positive attitude of for better or worse.   He sits by my side on those chemo days.   He continues to tell me we will get through this.   He is such a gift from God as he has held me on those days I sobbed over your loss or cried over losing who I used to be.   He reminds me that I am still beautiful with or without my crazy, curly hair.

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In my brokenness true friends have shined through my darkness.   Rallying around me as I struggle to find my new normal.   These women stood by me as I grieved your death and continue to stand by as I battle this cancer.   Letting me know they have my back.   Being sounding boards when my reality becomes too hard to carry and I need to rant and repeat the things they’ve all heard before.   True friends.   Another gift from God.

The blessing of your brother.   He understands my grief.   He is the only one who really gets what your death has done to our family.   We cry together on those days when the grief finds us both.   The holidays hold painful memories that only we share.   Memories of brothers fighting over the last piece of pumpkin pie.   Brothers who would share stories of childhood antics as I cringed at the holiday table.   I’m thankful for his presence in my life.   His mannerisms are yours.   He is the part of you that remains with me.

This holiday season when I’m not feeling so thankful, I will remember these blessing God has placed in my life.   I will remember that the holidays although painful also hold joy.   I will remember our life together.   I will shed tears as memories hit but will focus on the light that shines through my darkest days.   I will continue to pray for acceptance and peace, knowing I am in control of nothing.

This Thanksgiving I will give thanks for your life.   I will give thanks for those who remain in my life.   I will give thanks for the days I feel like I’m human again.   I will give thanks for another day of life.   I will search for the beauty that finds it way through my brokenness…………

 

 

 

Memorial Day Memories

Matt,   Today is Memorial Day.   The day is bright and beautiful.   White puffy clouds dot the blue sky.   A hint of a breeze stirs the tree tops.   Memories are flooding my mind this morning as I sit on the deck listening to the birds sing.   Memories of happy times before you left.   Memories of sun and sand.   Dogs running through the surf while you and I enjoyed the warmth of the sun on our pale winter skin.

Closing my eyes I can hear your voice.   You hated the beginning of the summer season.   The noise, the crowds.   You complained that the tourists invaded your piece of heaven.   I can see that scowl on your face as you contemplated trying to find your way to the sea while fighting through hours of traffic.

The summer season was upon your precious peaceful place and you had little tolerance for the hustle and bustle that those crowds brought to your sleepy little beach town.    I remember you pacing as you grabbed leashes that would now be required when we walked the dogs.   Days of running free on the beach had come to a screeching halt.   I could see their eyes questioning what you’re doing as you leashed them up heading out your door.

I remember walking with you to the bay as we moved from one side of the street to the other avoiding the golf carts driving through the once quiet streets of town.   I knew better not to try to bring you out of your funk.  Grabbing your hand I reminded you of times not too long ago when I was the one complaining of the noise while you were enjoying every minute of being part of the beach crowds.   Funny how as you matured, we blended together in our dislike of noise and crowds.

Those were the days we would escape to the sea.   Packing the cooler with plenty of ice for the dogs we would head out for the day.   I was in awe of your ability to control such a powerful machine.   You became one with your boat.   I could see your face begin to relax as the sea spray hit and we bounced over the waves.   Your laughter was music to my ears.

So many lazy days were spent away from the noise.   You would anchor us as I watched you become one with the sea.   You would spot a school of dolphins and jump in while I stood back watching trying to keep the dogs from joining your party.  You taught me to not fear life but to embrace it.   So many great conversations were shared as we sat together under the warm sun floating on the bluest of seas.

Today my heart grows heavy as I remember those precious times together.   My heart refusing to think they would ever end.   Years have passed since we shared our Memorial Day tradition of escaping the crowds to spent the day in our peaceful place.

Both your precious boat and you, my precious son are gone.   I am left to remember and grieve the loss of times that are never to be again.   I always think of you as I look out at the vastness of the ocean.   Closing my eyes I can see you standing at the wheel, the sea spray hitting your face as your laughter dances in my heart.

They Said Time Would Heal The Pain. They Lied.

Matt,  Today is Mother’s Day.  My 5th without you.  Even as I write these words I still struggle with my reality.   The thought that you really aren’t coming through my door with flowers in your hand and a dog at your heel continues to break my heart.

How did we get here?   I still question why you left.   Why life turned out to be this nightmare.   Why God didn’t answer my prayers like I wanted.   You should be here.

Today is such an incredibly painful day.   For weeks I’ve been tortured by the Hallmark commercials with smiling Moms and beautiful children.   The perfect family gathered around the perfect mother celebrating their perfect day.

Doesn’t Hallmark know that for some of us Mother’s Day is a brutal reminder of what we no longer have?   Of children that no longer live.  Children who won’t be calling or sending cards to celebrate our day.   Children who’s voices were  silenced by an untimely death.   Children who’s faces and smiles are frozen in time.

Mother’s Day was once a day I looked forward to.   If my love was enough, you would be sitting beside me surrounded by family.   We would be laughing and hugging.   Filling our plates with crabs and corn.   Sharing stories of your childhood antics with your brother.   Pups would be chasing squirrels as we enjoyed the beauty of my gardens and the warmth of the shining sun.

Today all I have are precious memories and cards from past Mother’s Day.   Treasured pieces of paper signed by you.   I hold them close reading each word while running my finger over your signature.   You always laughed at me for saving cards now perhaps you understand why.

Today there is no family gathering.   No shining sun.  Today, the weather mimics my soul.   Dreary and cold.  Rain hitting the window makes me think that the angels are crying for Mom’s like me.   Knowing this pain will never let go.   I will mourn you as long as I breathe.

Today I will give myself a gift.   I will allow memories to overflow in my mind as my tears fall shamelessly from my eyes.   I will not pretend to be ok.   The mask I wear to get through life will remain in hiding.   Today I will be true to my grief.   I will allow it to wrap  it’s arms around my soul as I remember you as my loving son.   Today I will allow myself to break.   I will close my eyes and see your smiling face.

Today I will reaffirm that I will always be your Mother.   I pray I will feel you with me.  That you will be with me in spirit as I remember your love as both my little boy and as an amazing man.    I will speak to you as if you were sitting next to me.   I will pray for a sign showing me you are near.

Today I will be that Mother learning to survive her day.   A Mother learning to live with a broken heart on her special day.   A Mother living with a child who lives in Heaven.

 

Nothing Happy About My New Year

Matt,   Today is December 31st.   The final day of 2018.   I’m fighting my demons.   Trying to stay away from that dark place where I sit on that slippery slope.   The place where memories become almost too painful that I fight to keep them out of my head.

Our last New Years Eve was in 2014.   We were one thousand miles apart.   I was sitting watching the snow fall and the ball drop welcoming 2015 into our lives.   You were sitting on a beach attending an outdoor NA meeting.   Two different places but with hearts connected.   We spoke briefly.   I told you how proud I was of you and your new found sobriety.   We talked about how your life was finally getting back on track.   We talked about our expectations for 2015 and started the count down until we would see each other again.   I was so looking forward to getting out of this cold and joining you on a sunny beach.

We ended our call with I love you’s as we always did.   I saw your Facebook post about doing the right thing.   You were posting about attending a meeting on New Years Eve instead of partying. My heart was so happy to read those words.   My hope for 2015 was to have you back.   That my amazing Matt was coming back to the surface.   The Matt I knew before the demons took over your soul.   Gazing at the stars on that crisp night, I sent a prayer to the heavens to keep you safe.   I feel asleep thinking we had survived your addiction and this New Year would bring us both peace.

Two days later you were dead.   January 3rd of 2015.  That day hopes and dreams for a happy new year shattered at my feet.   That day my soul shattered like a glass thrown against a concrete wall.   In too many pieces to salvage.

So here I am facing another New Years Eve with only memories to sooth my broken heart.   Facing the fact that January 3rd is coming again.   Reality is difficult to comprehend.   The fact that 2018 will be gone in the blink of an eye, at the drop of a ball, as smiling people begin their resolutions for this New Year.

My heart is jealous of the happy crowds.   Those people who have no idea how painful it is to watch 2014 or 2018 disappear to the count of ten.   Ushering in a New Year is not what I want to do.   I want that ball to go backward.   I want that ball not to drop but to travel back in time.   I want the new year to be an old year returning to when you were alive.

A month after you died, I received a box from Florida.   It contained a few of your personal possessions.   As I opened the box, your smell surrounded my being.   The hat you wore to your meeting on New Years Eve was staring back at me.   Immediately that photo of you flashed through my brain.   I could see your smiling face as you blew a horn welcoming in 2015.

I can’t tell you how many times through the year I’ve run my hands over your hat.   I cover my face searching for your scent.   I hold that hat close to my heart as if I’m giving you a New Years hug.

Tonight I will let my tears flow at will.   Tonight I will gaze at the stars sending a prayer that you are at peace spending this night celebrating in heaven.   Tonight I allow myself to feel what I feel taking each moment as I can.   Tonight watching the ball drop will  be a painful reminder that time does not stop marching on……..

 

There’s Nothing Silent About The Night

Matt,   Tis the season.   Wherever I go, Christmas music always seems to be playing.   I can’t even run into the grocery story without being punched in my gut.   There is no escaping the joy of the season.   People with smiles on their glowing faces are singing along to the carols.  Hearing I’ll Be Home For Christmas left me sobbing in the cereal isle as I wanted to scream out that No, he won’t be coming home this Christmas or next.   I wanted to stand in the middle of that aisle and scream at the top of my lungs.  My son is Dead.  Everyone shut up!  There is no Merry or Happy in my holiday.

Sleep used to be my only reprieve.   The only time I could crawl under the covers and disappear.   The quiet of the night used to bring a comfort to my soul like nothing else.  Wrapping myself up in my safe cocoon I could shut out the noise of the happy world and just be.

I don’t know what the trigger was.   I don’t understand why.   Suddenly, the night became my enemy.   The silence I once craved is now full of noise.   My brain, like a newborn babe has confused day and night.   Maybe it’s the season.   Maybe it’s ugly reality.   Perhaps my grief found my safe place and decided to move in.   Quietly, with the cunning of a predator, grief found me in the silence of the night.

Now, like a child fearing the monster in the closet I dread the night.   The night awakens all those  thoughts that were safely buried in my psyche.   Those visions of your disease swirling through my head.  The what if’s and why’s come flooding into my brain ripping me from the safety of slumber.   My body instantly reacts causing my heart to pound and hot tears to form.   There will be no escape from the questions that continue to tug at my heart.

The silence.   The lack of distractions allow my eyes to focus on your picture smiling back at me in the night.   My mind goes to places I refuse to visit in the daylight.   The darkness, the stillness  has a way of surrounding me with the despair I can no longer outrun.   The darkness allows the grief a power that is nonexistent in daylight.

In my mind I have conversations with you.   I pray for your peace and mine.   I wipe my tears quietly as my mind does the delicate dance of acceptance versus disbelief.   I allow myself memories of how holidays used to be.   Holidays when I was the one singing in the aisles with a smile on my face and childlike anticipation for our gathering in my heart.

I’ve come to realize that nothing will ever be the same.  Holidays will never get easier.   I will continue to feel your loss as long as I walk the earth.   Certain Christmas carols will most certainly come with gut punches.

Sleepless nights have become a part of my present life.   Reminding me of past sleepless nights when I held you close and rocked you as a baby.   Holding your sweet body next to mine those nights bonding us forever.   Under the cover of darkness I will close my eyes and try to remember your smell.   Your laugh.   Your amazing eyes.   I will allow the darkness to hide my weeping from the world.   I will allow myself to imagine you spending the holidays in a beautiful peace.   I will lay in the darkness and allow myself to grieve……

 

 

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