Being an introvert and having to deal with such a public grief is a challenge. I need to be with "my people"--the ones who get me and can comfort me and laugh with me when I make a morbid joke. But it is hard.
This level of grief is so complicated and hard. It is hard just to get out of my jammies. It is hard to call anyone to make plans. It is hard to get motivated. It is even harder as I've gained 30 pounds. It is hard that my shrink only works 2 days a week and my last app't. was canceled because she was sick. So, I have to wait 20 more days.
It is hard to get on the phone and check if ANYONE has male beds that would be acceptable for John and not too far away. It is hard because I am disconnecting. From mom, John, family in general. I cannot be around people who drain me, when I have nothing in me to drain.
It is hard to "look normal" due to meds, but feel like my insides and all that go with them are withering away. I REALLY don't think I can survive this for a year. 5 months has been hell. And it takes so much energy. I just don't see how my being here helps anyone. I'm bitter and no fun unless I'm drinking.
I will not die until E's killer is in jail. That is my reason for living. And then I will find a young mother who needs a kidney transplant and donate my kidney, so she can raise her children. That will be my legacy.
I have "THINGS" that I thought I would pass down to Ethan. What do I do with them now? I think the pictures I will give to my cousins down south and maybe some to my one nephew, since he is the only surviving, procreating grandchild of Dad. For mom's side I would give them to her only niece. I might sell the piano, as it doesn't get tuned or played.
My biggest sadness over the past 3 years (besides Ethan) is my oldest sister. I miss who I thought she was and finding out that she is not that person and has no interest in me being in her life cuts to my core. I've been grieving her for so long and for her to come to Ethan's funeral and NOT try to make amends just added another layer of grief over it all. The only person I have any communication with on that side of the family is the mother of my sisters grandchildren.
I obsess with "WHY?" I am so amazed that our husbands haven't tried to step in and fix this. So it must be benefitting them in some way. I'm amazed none of my friends tried at the funeral. "It wasn't the time". Well, there is no better time than when we were all 3 in the same state.
I am so ready to die. So ready. Just waiting for E's killer to be sent to jail.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Sunday, June 22, 2014
15 years ago (1999) on the 4th of July, our oldest son, Bobby died from a congenital heart defect. He was 16 and in hospice care. He had a fabulous last day, being at the beach, getting involved in the annual water fight and just being a kid. He refused his oxygen and wheel chair and the heat index was 104. The electricity in the neighborhood went out, so there was no place for air conditioning. He collapsed in the water and died on the way to the hospital.
It hurt, physically--like stabbing pains in my stomach and heart. There was no place or position I could get comfortable. I had taken our youngest (Ethan, age 9) to a 3 day camp that morning thinking we had at least 2 more months with Bobby. We let him stay at camp another day before going to tell him the horrible news. He chose to stay another day and then, when his cousin came in from Wisconsin, he came home and stayed with him at the hotel.
I remember wondering how people who have totally healthy kids manage to deal with this. We had the "luxury" of hospice care and knowing that we were lucky to have him 16 years. But what about those parents whose kids just die in an accident? One minute they are there, totally healthy, the next minute they are gone. On April 7, 2014, I (unfortunately) got the beginning to the answer to that question. At about 6 pm that night, my husband came home to tell me that our youngest (Ethan) was found dead in his car in Louisville, KY, where he had lived the past two years. This pain is so different--the physical pain I experienced when Bobby died is non-existent. Now it is mostly numbness, disbelief and a longing to join him. I feel no reason to go on. When Bobby died, I had 2 younger children to take care of and my purpose for living was for them and to keep our family going, without losing the ability to keep Bobby in it. That first year we did things we couldn't have done with Bobby in his body, but knew that he could do them, now with us in spirit.
To add to all this, I am my brother's legal guardian, as he has Lewey Bodies Dementia (LBD). About 6 months after becoming his guardian, both my parents were taken by ambulance to the hospital. (I was their Power of Attorney--not because of any favoritism--only because I was the only kid left in the state when they wrote their wills. My younger sister and brother moved back to Michigan, a few years after the will was written.) My mom was airlifted to the University of Michigan for a brain bleed and probably surgery. My dad was in kidney and liver failure. My mom did not need surgery and was in rehab four days later. My dad was moved to 2 different hospitals before dying, 6 weeks later.
My mother, age 88 is going to move in with us next month from Assisted Living. My brother, age 63 is in a group home.
I will have more grieving ahead with my mom and my brother, if I outlive them. I get barely any help from my two sisters. One lives in Wisconsin and we haven't spoken since she had a shipping pod placed in my mothers driveway, the week Mom got out of rehab and moved into Independent Living. My nephew i.e HER son, flew in and they took what they wanted, asking mom, of course, but she was in absolutely no condition to be asked. It was insensitive and we had agreed that the week was to get mom acclimated after losing her home (although we haven't sold it yet), her husband of 61 years and having a major health crisis--NOT take her stuff. What shocked me more is that this sister was a widow at 30 and her in-laws did the same thing to her, before her husband died (he was in the hospital and they had their other son take her to a room to talk about legal stuff (he was an attorney), while they cleaned out the house. Out of ANYONE in the world that I would expect to be sensitive to that, it would've been her.
At that time one of my best friends who was in the latter stages of alcoholism and I "broke up" due to her disease and a huge betrayal, on her part. I had to grieve her, alone,while she still lived. Last December she died and it felt so good to grieve her with others. I have also been grieving my older sister for 3 years. Even with Ethan's death, she had no interest in making amends, but insisted on coming to his funeral, even though I had not been invited to her daughter's (my goddaughter) wedding, last Fall.
I have worked very hard in putting together a new "family" for myself the past 3 years and it paid off immensely when Ethan died. I had 4 "besties" watching me around the clock, as I was certain I could not do this AGAIN. I had friends come in from Florida, North & South Carolina, Minnesota, Texas and all over Michigan to support me. My sisters thought I 'needed them', but I think the truth was that they needed me. I had more support from people who accept me as I am, understand my growth and spiritual needs, and actually KNOW how to comfort me. God has been good and getting my birth sisters out of the way, made room for what I really needed.
My grief is intensified, even though I am medicated, as I cannot work because my job is emotionally, physically and spiritually draining and I have nothing left to give. (I do in-home therapy with children with autism). I feel as if I there is nothing left to offer society. I did my job and now it is my time to rest.
It hurt, physically--like stabbing pains in my stomach and heart. There was no place or position I could get comfortable. I had taken our youngest (Ethan, age 9) to a 3 day camp that morning thinking we had at least 2 more months with Bobby. We let him stay at camp another day before going to tell him the horrible news. He chose to stay another day and then, when his cousin came in from Wisconsin, he came home and stayed with him at the hotel.
I remember wondering how people who have totally healthy kids manage to deal with this. We had the "luxury" of hospice care and knowing that we were lucky to have him 16 years. But what about those parents whose kids just die in an accident? One minute they are there, totally healthy, the next minute they are gone. On April 7, 2014, I (unfortunately) got the beginning to the answer to that question. At about 6 pm that night, my husband came home to tell me that our youngest (Ethan) was found dead in his car in Louisville, KY, where he had lived the past two years. This pain is so different--the physical pain I experienced when Bobby died is non-existent. Now it is mostly numbness, disbelief and a longing to join him. I feel no reason to go on. When Bobby died, I had 2 younger children to take care of and my purpose for living was for them and to keep our family going, without losing the ability to keep Bobby in it. That first year we did things we couldn't have done with Bobby in his body, but knew that he could do them, now with us in spirit.
To add to all this, I am my brother's legal guardian, as he has Lewey Bodies Dementia (LBD). About 6 months after becoming his guardian, both my parents were taken by ambulance to the hospital. (I was their Power of Attorney--not because of any favoritism--only because I was the only kid left in the state when they wrote their wills. My younger sister and brother moved back to Michigan, a few years after the will was written.) My mom was airlifted to the University of Michigan for a brain bleed and probably surgery. My dad was in kidney and liver failure. My mom did not need surgery and was in rehab four days later. My dad was moved to 2 different hospitals before dying, 6 weeks later.
My mother, age 88 is going to move in with us next month from Assisted Living. My brother, age 63 is in a group home.
I will have more grieving ahead with my mom and my brother, if I outlive them. I get barely any help from my two sisters. One lives in Wisconsin and we haven't spoken since she had a shipping pod placed in my mothers driveway, the week Mom got out of rehab and moved into Independent Living. My nephew i.e HER son, flew in and they took what they wanted, asking mom, of course, but she was in absolutely no condition to be asked. It was insensitive and we had agreed that the week was to get mom acclimated after losing her home (although we haven't sold it yet), her husband of 61 years and having a major health crisis--NOT take her stuff. What shocked me more is that this sister was a widow at 30 and her in-laws did the same thing to her, before her husband died (he was in the hospital and they had their other son take her to a room to talk about legal stuff (he was an attorney), while they cleaned out the house. Out of ANYONE in the world that I would expect to be sensitive to that, it would've been her.
At that time one of my best friends who was in the latter stages of alcoholism and I "broke up" due to her disease and a huge betrayal, on her part. I had to grieve her, alone,while she still lived. Last December she died and it felt so good to grieve her with others. I have also been grieving my older sister for 3 years. Even with Ethan's death, she had no interest in making amends, but insisted on coming to his funeral, even though I had not been invited to her daughter's (my goddaughter) wedding, last Fall.
I have worked very hard in putting together a new "family" for myself the past 3 years and it paid off immensely when Ethan died. I had 4 "besties" watching me around the clock, as I was certain I could not do this AGAIN. I had friends come in from Florida, North & South Carolina, Minnesota, Texas and all over Michigan to support me. My sisters thought I 'needed them', but I think the truth was that they needed me. I had more support from people who accept me as I am, understand my growth and spiritual needs, and actually KNOW how to comfort me. God has been good and getting my birth sisters out of the way, made room for what I really needed.
My grief is intensified, even though I am medicated, as I cannot work because my job is emotionally, physically and spiritually draining and I have nothing left to give. (I do in-home therapy with children with autism). I feel as if I there is nothing left to offer society. I did my job and now it is my time to rest.
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