Matt, I wish I could get back to feeling normal. It’s been so long I don’t even remember how it felt. I’m now on my 3rd anti anxiety med and feel like crap. Everything is just so off. I feel like an experiment in the medical field. If this doesn’t work try this. Oh wait, that’s not working either then try this.
I had my CT scans and thank God they found no evidence of recurrence but my blood work showed that my parathyroid is being a little funky. I’ve learned that can also make you feel off so I’m feeling very defeated.
So, now it’s back to Penn to add another doctor to my list. I swear since you died the list just keeps growing. I’ve acquired a cardiologist now I’m adding an endocrinologist. How much fun can a girl possibly have.
It seems my body has taken a beating from the unending grief. Your ten year anniversary just set me in a tailspin and now my body is revolting against me. At least that’s how it feels.
I was so hoping to just enjoy the spring and summer as the weather is finally cooperating and Mother Nature is showing her beauty. But it seems my body might have different plans.
So now it’s more tests and only God knows what is going to happen.
There are days I truly understand your addiction. Days where I would love to have a magic pill to make this all go away. I wish I had taken the time to understand how you were feeling mentally rather than fighting with you to just stop. For that I will be eternally sorry.
I have so many regrets and even after ten years they still creep up and haunt me. I wish we had just an hour of time where that veil between where you are and where I am could be lifted.
Perhaps one day that conversation will come but for now I’m praying that this puzzle of my health will get solved and life will return to my new normal without you. Love you forever.
Category: finding peace while grieving (Page 1 of 2)
Matt, I really don’t know what brings on this deep feeling of loss. Some days I feel like I’m doing ok, then boom a memory will hit and then I’m gone.
Erin got married last weekend. She had a memorial table set up with pictures of all our family members who are no longer here. Seeing your smiling face staring back at me was like a cold slap of reality, acknowledging that I would never dance at your wedding.
I tried to hide my tears, but I was powerless.
I kept thinking what a blast you would have had with Tommy, Mel’s boyfriend. He has your same sense of humor. Your quick wit and mannerisms. As I watched them interact I kept wondering what it would have been like to have you there dancing and laughing together.
I remembered you being the best man at your brother’s wedding. You raising your glass in a toast that had everyone cracking up. You on the dance floor with all the single girls.
I felt like I was in two different worlds. The one where you existed and this broken world where you do not.
These family events are always bittersweet. Reminding me of what could have been but no longer is. Even though years have passed, your loss is as fresh as it was the moment I heard you left me behind.
Joy is intermingled with the pain of your absence. I’ve learned life goes on. People live their lives. But one thing I know for certain is I will carry you in my heart forever….
I remember being home watching the weather like a hawk scans the sky for prey. I kept thinking how could the report of a strong nor-easter possibly be true as I sat feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin.
The next morning I woke to a gray day. I felt the weather was mimicking my soul as my husband said goodbye at the train station. I could feel the wind beginning to strengthen as I stood on the platform with my friend who decided she wanted to brave the weather after hearing me try to explain the impact of the memorial ceremony to others when there really are no words that could describe the slap to your heart as you stood amongst the angels.
So here we were the three of us sitting together on the train heading to D.C. to be among those involved in bringing awareness to the pandemic that continues to destroy families and lives. You see, Nicole lost her husband last year and is now a single mom to her beautiful daughter, Chloe.
As the train sped toward our destination, I could feel my anxiety growing. Memories flooded my brain of my first trip to D.C. 9 months after losing my son, Matt in 2015. How naive I was then thinking this epidemic would never continue. I truly believed that losing 42,000 people in 2015 would be enough for those in power to shut down the Pharmaceutical Companies responsible for the carnage. That lawmakers and doctors would be punished for their part in this terrible tragedy that created a disease of massive proportions.
As we arrived at Union Station I felt a calm beginning to settle my heart. I felt like I was where I was meant to be.
Walking into the Yotel was like coming home after a long absence. Hearing my name and being surrounded by other mamas who’s faces were so familiar yet now they were in my space and we shared moments of joy mixed with grief as we wrapped each other up in warm, loving hugs.
Our eyes all reflecting a similar emotion. No one wanted to be here, but because our hearts were shattered by loss we knew we had to be here to let the country know our children continue to live through us.
The storm was kind to us on Friday allowing our activities to continue as planned. First the DOJ rally. The power of being among so many incredible advocates was palpable. The energy flowed through the crowd. Our chants stopped passerby’s who asked what we were doing. I was proud to tell Matt’s story as they listened and offered condolences and compassion. Sharing their lives had also been touched by this tragedy.
My friend Jen gave a powerful speech telling her story of Christopher as I listened I was moved to tears. So many who’s stories shared similarities of hope and heartbreak.
Friday night Susans vigil was held at Union Square. Once again we came together as one body of broken people holding on to each other as stories were shared. I was blessed to share Matt’s story with the crowd. Candles were glowing in the dark representing the lives of our loved ones whose
lights we will never allow to burn out.
I could hear the rain and wind before I got out of bed Saturday morning. Ophelia obviously had no idea who she was dealing with as she pummeled D.C. with all her force. A group had gathered outside our room accessing what we were up against. We laughed out loud knowing that we had all walked through hell and survived.
A group of us gathered for breakfast holding our rain gear and making plans to brave the storm. There was no way we were going to allow this storm to stop us from being among our angels.
I tried to prepare my friend for the impact but I knew from experience there truly are no words. I watched her walk among the Delaware people searching for her husbands stone. Tears falling as she held her daughter’s hand looking for Daddy. Our eyes met and I knew she felt it. I knew the impact found her soul ripping it apart once again. The sky opened up as we both searched, her for Walt, me for Matt. I knew there was no way we were giving up in spite of high winds and heavy rain.
Finding Matt, seeing his handsome face stopped me in my tracks. I felt like the earth beneath my feet split open. I prayed for it to swallow me, to take me to a place where grief could never find me. To give me a reprieve from this excruciating pain that had become my life. I heard a guttural cry escape from my soul. I felt arms wrapping around me as another mom heard and came to hold me up. Never could I have anticipated my response. The rawness of the grief.
I knew I was spent. I wanted to run. Then I saw my friends face and knew she found her husband. She knew. I knew. We were both experiencing, living the impact our team had hoped for when forming the Trail of Truth.
Saying goodbye Sunday morning was tough. I felt surrounded by those who get me. I felt like we were all kindred spirits finding each other again.
I still have found no words to describe the feeling when you walk among angels. As we boarded the train to Delaware my friend leaned over and said you were right. No words……..💔💔
“I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend. But I always thought I’d see you again”.
Matt, tomorrow July 30th is your birthday. I never thought you would be celebrating in heaven 🙏🏻.
Even though it’s been 8 birthdays without you here, my heart still breaks thinking about what could have been. You always loved birthdays. You were the first one to run your finger thru the icing laughing as I tried to slap your hands away. I can still see your smile and hear your laughter as you ducked while sticking your icing covered fingers into your mouth.
Even as an adult You would celebrate like a kid. Blowing out candles and making a wish thinking I didn’t see you sharing cake with the dogs.
You were a boy in a man’s body and I loved that about you.
You should be turning 45 but you are forever 37. I wonder what you would look like today. Would you have any gray starting to show. Would you have a wife and children. What would life be like for both of us had your disease not won. So many unanswered questions dance through my heart and head…
Tomorrow I will honor you. Tomorrow I will spend the day by the sea that you loved. Tomorrow I will help feed the homeless showing them that their life’s matter and they are loved.
Tomorrow we will serve Italian subs, your favorite food and give out 100 backpacks from A Hug From Matt.
Tomorrow tears will be shed but I will continue to follow your lead in helping those the world forgot. I will tell your story and celebrate your life that was cut too short.
Tomorrow and everyday of my life I will celebrate you my beautiful boy.
Happy birthday in heaven. Forever 37. Until we meet again.
Love you forever. Mom ❤️❤️
For so many the holidays are a time of cheer. Decorating homes and family gatherings are a huge part of everyone’s plans. The expectation of a perfect holiday season is evident every where you look. From the Hallmark Christmas movies that play 24/7 to the Christmas music that starts before Thanksgiving begins.
Seven years ago my holiday celebration came to an abrupt halt. My youngest son, Matt lost his battle with addiction. I was so broken that hearing “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” left me running out of the grocery store with tears running down my face.
Prior to his death, Christmas was my favorite holiday. I was that person who decorated every room in my house. I was that person singing Christmas Carols and watching every episode of Home Alone over and over. I would immerse myself in finding the perfect gift for everyone on my list. My kids called me the crazy Christmas lady and I loved it.
After Matt’s death, nothing mattered. My only decoration on display was my nativity set. I gave away our tree to a needy family and never put up another. The holidays became a painful reminder of his absence. We were no longer that happy family gathered around the tree in past holiday photos.
The years went by. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years became days I learned to survive. I’d go to church. Have family and friends over. Going through the expected traditions all with a broken heart.
I don’t remember when my heart began to heal. I don’t know how or why I began to feel joy. Or when the memories of prior holidays began to become less painful. I do know it snuck up on me. Hearing Christmas music while grocery shopping no longer sent me running for cover. Seeing trees brightly lit caught my attention as I stood before them remembering trees that once graced my hallway.
My healing has been a slow process. I’ve read that losing a child demolishes you. If you have ever witnessed a demolition you know that what was once whole has been completely destroyed. The process of rebuilding especially when it’s a life can and does take years.
I’ve learned grief has no time frame. Grief doesn’t up and leave after you survive all those firsts as society wants you to believe. I’ve learned I had to acknowledge my loss, live my loss, feel every bit of my pain before I could once again begin to feel the joy the holiday season can bring.
This year a beautiful tree graces my hallway. The white lights remind me of twinkling starts. My Nativity set is at home on the mantel. Santa’s and snowmen have found their way out of boxes to fill once empty spaces.
I know Christmas Day will continue to hold a painful reminder that Matt won’t be home to celebrate. I know there will be tears. This year there will also be joy as I sit near my tree that symbolizes not only Christmas but my healing heart. ♥️🎄
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