Saturday, December 1, 2018

The Bitter End...or the End of the Bitter

So first I must tell you, in the spirit of full disclosure, I opened my laptop and almost logged onto my work e-mail.

See, work is an escape for me lately. It's easy. There are no difficult emotions, No hurt feelings. It is just business for me.

I also must confess that I have stayed off the blog for quite some time because I had started to feel like people didn't care to read what I had to say.

However, I have something I desperately need to say to whomever happens to read this.

This 11 month journey of grief since losing our son on 1.2.18 has been the longest, hardest path I have ever had to walk.

I have questioned my faith.

I have questioned my marriage.

I have questioned my life.

I have questioned my sanity.

I have spoken before of the loneliness that comes with grief. In the beginning, friends and family and even strangers are there to support you with meals and cards and phone calls and home visits. But after a while that tapers off, sometimes rather abruptly.

Don't worry, this is not another post about how lonely or abandoned I have felt (although those things are true).

This is a confession. A confession of my bitterness towards those who I used to call "friend" or even "family".

As I struggled through this mess of grief and sorrow, I grew bitter that so very few were willing to reach out to me, to us. I was hurt that my phone didn't ring or my calls and texts went unreturned or unanswered. I didn't understand why people were always too busy to find time for us or include us.

But, I have decided this has to stop.

It doesn't make any of those things less hurtful, but by not allowing them to control my emotions, I takes away their power in my life.

It is the end of my bitterness.



There are people who have stuck by us through every step of this journey so far and continue to love and support us. You know who you are, and we are so grateful for you.

And if you are one of those that have fallen out of our lives, that's okay, too. Sometimes the grief, or just our spicy family, is too much.

Blessings,
Meri

Saturday, September 29, 2018

For Better Or Worse

"I, Meridath, take thee, Rick, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance."



18 years ago tomorrow, on 9/30/2000 I said these vows to my husband having absolutely no idea what life would have in store for us.



We have seen the better: 3 beautiful children, a home, friends, family, vacations, holidays with family.

We have seen the worse: The loss of a child, miscarriage, the loss of a home, friends that have drifted apart, family members aging and getting sick or passing away.



We have seen richer: I have learned to define "richer" in more than financial terms over the course of our marriage. We are rich in love, rich in friends, rich in family, rich in faith.

We have seen poorer: We have struggled to pay bills. We have had to ask for help. It has been hard during those times, but our love prevailed.



We have seen sickness: Chronic illness, surgery, a motorcycle accident. Most of our marriage one of us has been sick, but our love prevailed.

We have seen health: 3 healthy pregnancies, days and sometimes weeks when my chronic illness is in remission. We have learned to enjoy the healthy moments more because they are few and far between.

Love, cherish and obey: I specifically had 'obey' added into my portion of our vows. I know it has been popular to leave that out, but my understanding (limited as it was at that time) of biblical marriage was that a wife is to submit to her husband. I find it an honor to submit and obey and I feel cherished and protected when I do so.

Till death do us part (yes, there is a joke in here about our last name being Death....but that's for another post): We agreed many years ago that the "d" word (divorce) would not enter our conversation, no matter how angry we were with one another. I cannot say that we have always held true to that, but we have done our best and recognized when we have let things get too far out of hand. We both took our vows very seriously and truly believe that our love will last even after death.

According to God's holy ordinance: I have to thank two very special couples that modeled biblical marriage for us, even though we didn't think we needed that at the time we wed.

First, my parents-they have been married over 50 years and I am grateful to my father for showing me the type of man I should seek for a husband and to my mother for showing me how to be a respectful, loving, patient and submissive wife.

Second, Perry and Emily Crouch.  Perry was the Youth Pastor at the church I grew up in and also the officiant at our wedding. I remember going through the pre-marital counseling classes and being told that, while he was not sure we were ready for marriage, he would go ahead with it anyways. Looking back, I learned so much from watching their marital relationship at church. I am also so grateful for the love and time they poured into me as a rather, um, difficult teen...

We have been married 18 years, but we have been together almost 25. 
-High school graduations
-Long-distance college
-Job changes
-Loss of grandparents
-Marriage
-4 pregnancies
-1 miscarriage
-9 moves, 2 states
-Loss of a parent
-Illness of parents
-Chronic illness
-Vehicle accidents
-Loss of a child

These are the things our marriage has weathered and I know there are more that could be on this list. It has not always been easy, in fact-it has rarely been easy. But, the "better" is all about perspective. The good times are not about everything being perfect, but rather about being with the person that is perfect for you. 



Blessings,
Meri




Sunday, September 9, 2018

The Truth About Death

Recently, I heard that a young lady that my daughter rides horses with lost her mother.  This girl is still in college, too young to have process this kind of pain.

But, here's the thing....I have no idea what to say to her or do for her.  And I should know.

I have been grieving for months. I have had my life torn apart and scattered to the far corners of the earth and I have spent 8 months trying to find those pieces and put them back together.

I should know.

I should know what to say to her.

I should know what to do for her.

I should know how to be there for her in this time of unimaginable pain.

But, all I can think of is those silly, kitchy things that everyone says when they don't know what to say....

"She's in better place"

"If God brought you to it, God will bring you through it"

"Everything happens for a reason"

"You are strong, you will get through this"

But the truth is that death is a thief. It steals a part of our soul and we cannot get it back.

The truth is you will always carry the grief with you, but it will eventually get lighter and easier to carry.

The truth is there is no reason good enough that would ever heal our grief over the loss of a loved one.

The truth is death sucks. Every single thing about it just plain sucks.

Blessings,
Meri

Monday, August 6, 2018

Shaken

Shaken.

This describes the feeling I have had over the past few months.

My faith in God-shaken (not lost, just shaken).

My faith in Christianity & Religion-shaken.

My understanding of life-shaken.

My plans for the future-shaken.

In short, I feel like a dry martini ordered by James Bond....shaken, not stirred.

I have been told I am open and honest, sometimes brutally so. So I will not be surprised if there are people who are offended by this.

I have been startled, and hurt, by the number of people who initially poured support into us after the death of our son in January that have now all but disappeared from our lives.

Grief is a lonely place. It is difficult to reach out and ask for help. It is uncomfortable to say "no, I am not okay". I think it is human nature to not make others uncomfortable. And in doing that, we have become prisoners of our own grief and loneliness.

But this has taught me something. This has made me see my faith from a different perspective. I know that I am loved and valuable to God, regardless of what others see or do not see in me. I am not limited by other's opinions and judgments.

Jesus loves me and my tattoos.

I love God, and I swear a little.

My music choices do not play on K-Love.

I enjoy a good game of Cards Against Humanity.

I think Deadpool is one of the funniest movies ever and I can't wait to see the sequel.

So-all of this shaking has maybe been a good thing. I don't doubt that God loves me and I know that I love Him. And that is enough.

Blessings,
Meri

Sunday, July 8, 2018

18 Summers

Before you stop reading because every.single.mom-blogger has posted about how we only have 18 summers with our kids, that is not what this post is about.

This is about the less than 18 summers I got with Logan. 15 to be exact, and that last one was perfectly awful.



I feel short-changed. I didn't get my 18 summers. But, this has taught me so many important lessons.


  • Tomorrow is not promised, make sure you love your people (family, friends, tribe) every single day. Send the text, make the call, go to lunch, spend time together doing absolutely nothing. But make sure you love on them.
  • Stop counting down the summers, the days, the minutes. Enjoy the summer you are living now. Enjoy the days-mediocre, spectacular, even the less-than-spectacular ones.
  • Every day has something to celebrate. Find it.
  • Some days you don't want to celebrate anything. That's okay.
  • Do you. Don't try to do what you see on social media that seems to be making other people or families happy. Just do you. Hate the beach-I am with you (sand, crabs, jellyfish, ick). Not a fan of the heat-hang out and watch old movies. Not a fan of TV-take a book to the pool, or the bedroom. Listen to music. Dance like no one is watching (okay, that was cliche, but still...). Sing like no one is listening. 
  • Memories are not made in spectacular, over-the-top, coordinated, planned moments. Memories are made in the in-between moments. The car rides with the windows down and DMX blaring from the radio (don't judge...). Watching Deadpool for the 400th time because it's f-ing hilarious.
You may have 18 summers. You may have 15. You may have 40 (I still enjoy making memories with my momma and I am still her little girl). The point is, if you are so focused on fitting everything in to a certain time period you are going to miss the magic of the ordinary days in between.

Blessings,
Meri

Sunday, June 3, 2018

An Open Letter To My Husband

First, I want to tell you how much I love you. All of you. Every broken, shattered, beautiful, emotional, strong, caring part of you.

These past few years have been tough. We have definitely lived out our vows...in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, in good times and in bad.

I get angry sometimes.

Angry with Logan for taking his life. And with myself for not being able to stop him.

Angry with the PTSD that has tried so hard to break your spirit. And sometimes with you, because I don't have anywhere else to direct my hurt.

Angry with people. Sometimes I feel like the people I counted on the most have just let us down and I feel lonely.

Angry with God. I don't understand why everything seems to be a struggle and how He can watch us struggle over and over.

Sometimes I hide. I hide from all of the things that hurt and the things that just seem too hard.

Sometimes I feel neglected and alone in our marriage. I know that this is part of the recovery process in PTSD, but it still hurts.

I expect a lot from you, and that is not always fair or reasonable, but I do it anyways.

I suck at housekeeping. There is nothing further to say about that.

But at the end of the day....I love you. I still take our wedding vows as seriously today as I did when we were married over 17 years ago. I know we had our doubters, and probably rightfully so. But, I am in this until the end. I will not quit. I will not stop. I will love, honor and obey you until the day I draw my last breath.

Love you forever,
Meri


Monday, May 21, 2018

Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning

We tend to remember what we were doing, where we were, who we were with when we hear of major, especially tragic, events occur.

My parent's generation had the assassination of President Kennedy. For my generation, it was when the Twin Towers fell.

But there is another, tragic moment that will forever be ingrained in my memory.

January 2, 2018.

I was at my daughter's riding lesson. It was a Tuesday night just before 6 pm. I remember the barn was unusually quiet for a Tuesday night, there was only one other parent in the viewing lounge with me.

Then my phone rang-it was my husband. When I answered, he told me my friend was coming to pick me up. I was confused since Kenzie's lesson had just started and I had my car with me at the barn. After me asking him a few times what was going on, he blurted out the words I will never forget as long as I draw breath on this earth:

"Logan blew his brains out."

My memory after that is in bursts...praying with my sweet friend on the way home from the barn. The police cars and ambulance and crime scene tape at our home. Talking to my mom on the phone. My husband's desperate cries for our son. The ride to the police station. Holding my girls. Telling my youngest daughter. The phone calls.

But that moment. That one moment. It will live in my memory forever.

Blessings,
Meri

Sunday, May 20, 2018

Life in the In Between

It has been 138 days.

138 days since my world crumbled.

138 days since that phone call.

138 days since the crime scene tape, emergency vehicle lights, and interviews with the detectives.

138 days since I have touched his face.

138 days since I have heard him laugh.

138 days since my son took his own life.

It has been 138 days and I am still living in survival mode. Just trying to get through one day at a time, so I can wake up tomorrow and try to get through another one.

I would call what I am doing "living" really. I am just dwelling in the "in between" space. That space between what my life was and what I hope it will eventually become.

But, the "in between" is lonely.

I am not sure when I am supposed to be able to get back to some semblance of normalcy, but I clearly have not gotten there yet.

Dishes pile up in the sink. Laundry piles up in the laundry room or on the floor of our bedroom. Dog hair and dust pile up in my carpet. Bills pile up on the counter. Oddly, money does not seem to pile up in the bank account....

And I just can't.

I can't find the energy to get it all done. I just don't have it in me.

See, what people don't necessarily understand about grief and trauma is that it is exhausting. It makes you sick and tired, physically and mentally. It drains you.

I don't know how to move on from here. I can't seem to get out of the "in between". I desperately want to, but I just can't seem to find the way out.

Blessings,
Meri

Thursday, April 26, 2018

A Most Unwelcome Guest

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. PTSD.

Until recently, those 4 letters had little impact on my life.


And then, suddenly, they became a part of our daily lives. Every minute of every day. Impacting every single aspect of our family life.

50%-the number of marriages that end in divorce in the United States.

70%-the number of marriages that end in divorce in the United States once PTSD enters the picture.

Obviously these are not hard and fast numbers, there are many variables that contribute to the success or demise of marriage. However, when you are living in the muck of PTSD, those statistics can be incredibly disheartening.

Our life, our story, is now divided into two distinct parts-the "before" and the "after". Before our son took his own life and after. Before PTSD invaded our marriage, our family, and after.

Some days, I can manage it all with ease (or at least the appearance of ease). I can be the partner that shoulders the burden and manages all of the intricacies of daily life with 2 girls, 2 dogs, jobs, horses, and a giant gaping hole in the middle of it. Some days, I find solutions and get it done.

Other days, not so much.

Being the spouse of a PTSD sufferer is a very lonely place much of the time. PTSD has stolen my partner, my co-parent, my best friend. And while I have many friends who I know are praying for us and are always willing to talk, PTSD is a special hell that only those who have experienced can possibly understand.



On September 30, 2000 I vowed to love my husband in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. I had no idea how those vows would be tested over the next 17+ years. As I studied and learned about God's plan for marriage, I set my mind and my heart to honoring those vows and determined to NEVER consider divorce.

Most of the time, I am able to clearly see through the muck and bumps in the road to the other side and recognize that, while this particular time may be trying, it is not worth ending my marriage over.

But lately, I wonder if we will be able to be part of the 30% that survive this PTSD invasion. Will we learn to live with the permanent changes it brings?  Will we ever get to a place where PTSD is not the constant elephant in the room?

I am not giving up. I love my husband with everything that I am.I hate PTSD.

But I hold on to the hope that, in the end the love will be be stronger than the hate.

Blessings,
Meri

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Letters

A few weeks ago, we received an envelope from Logan's old high school. Enclosed in the envelope were cards and letters from students and faculty about how Logan had impacted them when he was there.




I am going to share these letters (leaving the author's name out to protect their privacy).

To Logan's Family,
I am so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine you pain. Our school will not be the same without Logan. I did not teach him, but appreciated his smile and laughter in the halls.
-Faculty

Logan was the best friend anyone could have had. He was always there to make people smile. It meant everything to me and losing him hurts, but I know he is in a better place. Yes, I will always miss him, but I'll see him again. Just know he meant something to me and I am praying for you.
-Student

Logan's Family,
Logan was very special to me. He would always find the right words to say to put a smile on my face. I remember last year I was crying about some things and he came over to me and just hugged me. He told me everything would be okay. He came up to me every day after that and ask me how I was doing. I also remember before he left school, I didn't have anything to eat and Logan gave me his pizza because he didn't want me to go without. Logan was like I said VERY special to me. I know he is living it up in Heaven. Even though I miss him, he is in a better place. God's got this. I am very sorry for your loss. I miss you, Logan, and I love you.
-Student

Mr. & Mrs. Death,
I just wanted you to know that I am thinking about you and will continue to pray for peace and strength to move forward. If you ever need me, don't hesitate to call or e-mail.
-Faculty

To Logan's Family,
In a class of strong personalities, Logan always stood out as a helpful, bright and inquisitive student. I was deeply saddened to hear of his passing and my prayers are with your family during this hard time. I will always be immensely grateful to have had Logan in my class and will always remember him.
-Faculty

Mr. & Mrs. Death,
Here at **HS, we continue to think about Logan and your family daily. He was such a light in so many people's lives. Praying for peace and comfort for you all.
-Faculty

Dear Logan's Parents,
The words I have to say about Logan are endless. Honestly, he made me feel loved, wanted and needed here even when I felt alone. He made me feel like I had a person. He loved me, he was scared of me rejecting him. That's why he had such a hard time telling me.  I always loved Logan. A part of my heart will always have a void that only he could fill. I struggled a lot with depression last year and Logan always helped me. He's the only reason I am still here. I feel beyond blessed to have been able to know Logan and to have been so close to him. He spread love when he didn't even feel loved himself. He always put others before himself. I will forever be grateful for having him in my life. I will always love and miss him and I promise you he will be missed by many others, too. I will never ever forget him, he changed my life. Thank you for blessing some many lives with your son's presence. I am very sorry for your loss and I have so many memories with Logan that I would love to share with you whenever you would like. I will make sure Logan's memory lives on through me, because he was so amazing and caring to others.
-Student


I Am Not Strong

I have heard repeatedly over the past few months people complimenting me on how strong I am, how I am setting a good example for my girls, how I am supporting my husband, how I am coping with this unspeakable loss.

Let me let you in on a little secret of mine....

I AM NOT STRONG



I am setting the best example for my girls that I know how because I don't have a choice. I cannot stop being their mom just because their brother is no longer with us. But, I am also constantly working to put on a smile, or at least a facade of having my shit together when I am railing inside. When I am so completely lost and broken that I have no idea what to do or who to turn to.

I am supporting my husband because that is what wives do. That is my job. He has supported me through years of chronic pain and illness and now it is my turn. I don't know where the strength to do this comes from, but I press on each day.

I am not coping with the devastating, life-destroying loss of my only son. I am simply pushing it away until such time that I have the time and space to truly comprehend what has happened.

I am surviving (barely).  I have heard all of the advice-go back to church, get counseling, take care of yourself, talk to a friend.

I tried going back to church, but I have only been able to make it one Sunday in the past 2 months.

I know I should get counseling, but I am not ready to open up yet. I know that's not the right answer, but it is my truth.



I don't have time to take care of myself. My job still has to be done, my family still has to be fed and clothed and cared for. My girls still have riding lessons and horse shows. My husband still needs intensive therapy to deal with his PTSD. I quite literally, have no time to think of anything that would fall into the category of  "self-care".

I have a few good friends that check in on me from time to time. I have some wonderful, caring friends who are always there when I need them. The problem is that I am not very good at sharing my pain. Sometimes I don't want to burden others. Sometimes I am afraid of what their response might be. Sometimes I just don't have the energy to talk about any of it.

Grief is messy. Life is messy. There is nothing easy or standard about any of this.


So there you have it....I AM NOT STRONG. I AM NOT OKAY. I AM NOT A ROLE MODEL. I AM A HOT MESS. And right now...that's as good as it's going to get.

Blessings,
Meri

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

You Are Not Alone

On April 4, 2018, the Green Space at Auburn University was covered in backpacks. An organization called Active Mind,s which raises awareness about the escalating numbers of suicide victims among college students, covered the Green Space with the backpacks of students who will never graduate, never pursue their dreams, never realize their goals in life. Each backpack had a story of it's owner attached to it. Each backpack was there because the owner no longer is.

A friend of mine is struggling with a situation right now, a nasty, ugly situation. One she probably thought no one could understand. One that she had a hard time even typing the words, much less speaking them. Sadly, I know some of what she is going through (I am keeping details out of this post in respect for her and her family's privacy).

I joined a Facebook group specifically for mothers of children whose lives were lost to suicide and mental illness. I have been amazed (and heartbroken) to see how many new members join each day.

What I want you to see in all of this is that YOU ARE NOT ALONE.



Whatever you are going through, whatever painful path you are walking, someone else is there (or at least close to there) as well.  When we experience incredibly difficult, sometimes unspeakable situations in our lives, our natural reaction is to hide. Hide from the pain, hide from the perceived embarrassment, hide from friends and family, just hide from life. You feel like no one could possibly understand what you are going through. You feel guilty because you didn't do enough or maybe pushed too hard.

Sweet friends, you do not have to hide. God sees your pain. I can't say that He will make it go away. The "God never gives you more than you can handle" line is bullshit. But I have witnessed myself that He sees your pain and provides comfort. Sometimes it is reconnecting with an old friend, sometimes it is a therapy group, sometimes it's connecting with someone who is walking the same path.

And sometimes-it feels like you are alone, adrift in a rowboat in the middle of a raging sea.



See, grief is not a nice, neat linear experience. And it is not limited to losing a loved to death. Grief can be from the loss of a dream, the disappointment when family members hurt us. Grief can be the loss of physical health and the ability to do the things you could do before you were sick.

But grief is not a nice neat series of emotions that progress one after the other until you are able to "put it all behind you".

Grief is ever-changing, an evolving, living thing. You don't "put it behind you". But what you should do, what you need to do, is to share. Know that you are not alone and share your burden with others who have had similar experiences.

It's not easy (especially if you are an introvert like me), but it is so important to know you are not alone and you are not responsible for whatever it is that happened to bring you to this grief.

Blessings,
Meri

Sunday, April 1, 2018

My Rock

For almost 8 years, I have suffered from several chronic illnesses, and my husband has always been my rock.

He has played taxi for our children, driving them to soccer, football, horseback riding and so much more.

He has done the grocery shopping, most of the housecleaning, and much of the cooking.

He has gone with me to what feels like endless doctor's appointments and sat in the waiting room during numerous surgeries and procedures.

He has held my hand when the pain has just been too much.

But then my rock crumbled and now he is the one who needs support.

See, he was the one who found our son's lifeless body after he had taken his own life. He desperately tried to save him even though he knew that the life had left Logan's body.

He now suffers from PTSD (including terribly vivid nightmares and flashbacks), and has been diagnosed as bipolar and clinically depressed.


If you get one thing out of this post, understand this-THESE THINGS DO NOT MAKE HIM WEAK.

Instead, the fact that he recognized he was struggling with more than just grief and sought professional help on his own speaks to the inner strength he possesses.

In the days after Logan's death, my husband was destroyed. He could barely function. And I was able to step up and handle the things that needed to be done. I know this strength did not come from me-it came from the Lord. That is the only answer because I was able to handle things that I had not been able to do for years.

Such is the ability that I have continued to have in the months since Logan passed. This ability to support my husband on this difficult and brave path he is walking comes directly from the Lord. I know this because I know it could not possibly come from my fragile, fatigued self.

So this is one thing I have learned on our grief journey. My husband is not a rock, I am not a rock-the Lord is the only true rock in our lives and all of my strength comes from Him.





Blessings,

Meri

Resurrection

I remember the day Logan was baptized.

I remember the words he said when the pastor asked him why he wanted to be baptized:
"Because Jesus died on the cross for MY sins and rose three days later"

My son knew Jesus. My son loved the Lord. My son believed in the gospel with everything he was.

My son also struggled with mental illness and eventually lost his battle with this terrible disease and took his own life.

My son is now with his Savior. But, selfishly, I want him here with me.

Death is not the end for Logan, but it is the end of a chapter in my life that I was not ready to be done with. I wanted years and years to fill those pages with stories of my only son growing up, graduating high school, making his way in this world.

But, in the end, I know that he was not meant for this world. This world was not his home; he is home now with the Lord.

This is the first of many holidays that will be bittersweet, or just plain painful. Today, we are worshiping our Savior in our own way (not entirely sure church will be involved in that). We have no plans other than possibly going to church. We will spend time together. We will rest physically and mentally, safe in the knowledge that Logan is home in Heaven. We will eat corned beef and cabbage (I know-more St. Patrick's Day than Easter, but the Irish in me has been craving it!). We will talk about what we love about Logan and what we miss about him.


He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ ” - Luke 24:6-7

If you do not know the power of Christ's love, the depth and width of it. If you have not heard or understood the Gospel of Christ, please reach out to your local church or send me a private message. Logan was never afraid to share his faith and neither are we. We honor our son by continuing his work of sharing the Gospel.

Blessings,
Meri
 

Saturday, March 31, 2018

The Art of Self-Care


 I believe parents in general, especially parents of young children and teens, tend to sacrifice themselves more often than not, for their children.

I know on this path of grief, we all seem to be in protection mode, not wanting to cause the others pain by exhibiting signs of our own inner turmoil.

What I have come to realize, is that self-care is as important that caring for one another.  I cannot be at my best to support my family if I am not taking good care of myself.

So what does self-care look like?  I think it's different for each of us.

Here are some things I find that feed my soul and settle my mind:
  • Reading a book. An actual paper pages book. Often, it is reading my Bible.
  • Drinking plenty of water. I have a propensity to drink sugary beverages, but it is so important for me to balance that with plenty of water.
  • Reach out to friends and family. Even if it's just a text or e-mail to check in.
  • Rest. Sleep. Enjoy a lazy Saturday or Sunday,
  • Don't over-extend yourself with activities. This especially applies to parents who have children involved in sports and other extra-curricular activities. Everyone in your family needs a day with nothing scheduled at least monthly.
  • Get out of the house. Take a walk. Take a ride. Roll down the windows and play your music loud. 
  • Write your "to-do" list on paper. This can help quiet your mind from trying to remember all of the things you have to do.
  • Give kindness. Smile at a stranger. Thank service providers for their efforts. Speak calm and kind words to all around you.

Your list may be different, these are just some things I have found that help me. What I do know is that if we, as parents, burn ourselves out trying to please everyone all of the time, we are truly doing a disservice to those around us because they are only getting the remnants of our time and hearts.

Blessings,
Meri

Thursday, March 22, 2018

I Cry Alone

"You are so strong"

"You are handling this so well"

"I don't know how you do it"

The truth is that I am not strong, I am not handling the loss of my son well, and I don't know how to do it.

I have a husband and two daughters that I have to be there for.  I am fighting to keep my family together. I am doing everything to help them heal, or at least try to move forward.

But inside, I am crumbling.

I cry in my office when I hear music that reminds me of Logan. I cry in my bedroom when no one is in there. I cry in the bathroom. I cry in the shower. But, I always cry alone.

I don't know if it's a result of the "fix your face and hide your crazy" mentality I grew up with. Or maybe I am still in complete denial. Or maybe I am suppressing my feelings in order to be strong for my family.



If everyone grieves in their own way, why do I feel like I am doing it wrong?

Time does not heal all wounds. I am just trying to adapt to living without Logan and I can't seem to get any momentum. I think about him every day, probably every hour, or even every minute. There is an empty chair at our table and no one will ever be able to fill it.



I do not know how to do this, but I keep pushing forward.

Blessings,
Meri


Sunday, March 11, 2018

I Walk The Line

Lately it feels like I can't get anything right when it comes to my girls.  We walk a fine line between continuing to discipline them and giving them grace due to this path of grief we are all walking.



I know that many times that our 10 yo becomes whiny and frustrated it is because she doesn't really know how to process all of the feelings she has about the passing of her brother. Thankfully she finds great solace at the barn and riding horses.

Our 12 yo daughter is another story. She has deep feelings of guilt and some symptoms of PTSD. She has started cutting on her arms. She isolates herself from the rest of the family and is always tired. I don't know how to help her. I do remember being her age and that most of what my parents said went in one proverbial ear and out the other.

The other night, after a family counseling session, my oldest daughter, Emma, knocked over a full glass of sweet tea all over a drawer full of knickknacks. I completely flipped out.  Even as I was yelling, I knew I was handling the situation incorrectly. I knew I was being irrational and that it was truly just an accident.

But wait, it gets better (well worse, then better). I proceeded to engage in an argument with Emma that was the same argument I had had with Logan at least 100 times. An argument I knew would not end well. I was in pain. She was in pain. We were both behaving badly.

But in the aftermath, we hugged each other tight for several minutes, neither one wanting to let go, and I apologized for my behavior and she apologized for hers. I spoke love to her, and she reciprocated.

This is not the end of this story. There will be days like this again. And I will make mistakes. And she will be defiant. But we will get through this-one day at a time.

That fine line we are walking right now will gradually become wider and more clearly defined. But, love will always be our top priority-whether it is loving by showing grace, or loving through discipline.

Blessings,
Meri

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Little Things

The other day I was walking our new pup, Fiona, and on the sidewalk by our next-door neighbor's house was a cigarette butt. And I was covered by a wave of emotion.

I know it sounds silly, especially since we did not approve of smoking, but I knew Logan smoked cigarettes occasionally and I wondered if that was one of his that he had left behind.

We went to a friends' house last weekend and had a wonderful time eating a delicious meal and playing cards. The plan after that was to watch Deadpool (one of Logan's favorite movies). About halfway through, our 12 yo daughter (please hold you judgment about the fact our 12 yo was watching Deadpool) told us she wanted to go home because she couldn't watch anymore because it reminded her of Logan. So we left.

At the barn this week, a couple of the "barn moms" were talking about how their children are approaching the age when they can drive and how that made them nervous. My heart ached because Logan passed away before he could get his driver's license.

Working in my office one morning, I had to stop because a song on Logan's playlist had unleashed a barrage of tears.

I am finding it is not the "major milestones" that impact me the most, maybe because I have time to mentally prepare for those days.  Instead, it is the little things, the everyday, inconsequential things that I would have probably not even given a second thought to before his death.  Now those have become reminders (sometimes painful) of the gaping absence in our lives.

I know that one day, this will become easier. It won't ever be easy and the pain will never be absent, but it will not take center stage in our lives forever. And someday, the memories will bring a smile to my face instead of tears streaming down my face.


I will always miss him.

Blessings,
Meri

Thursday, March 8, 2018

Waiting in the In Between

My whole life seems to be stepping (sometimes leaping) from one major life event to the next.

My husband and I met in high school and became engaged before I left for college. 4 years later we were married on September 30, 2000.

About a year into our marriage, we (okay, I) decided we were ready to start our family. Our son was born on 5.31.02, followed by 2 daughters born 5.25.05 and 1.21.08.

While all of this family-making was going on, we bought and sold our first house and then bought our second house. I went through several job promotions and my husband started his own landscaping business.

Just when things seemed to ready to settle down, I received a job offer for a promotion that would relocate our family to North Carolina. So in January 2009 we packed up our family of 5 and moved to Greensboro.

A few short years later and another job change and promotion for me and a return to college to complete his degree for my husband and we built our dream house way out in the country.

And then in 2015 the bubble popped. We both lost our jobs, had to leave our home and start all over again. After that, it felt like one crisis after another, finally culminating in the heart-shattering loss of our 15 year old son, Logan, on 1.2.18.

Since then, it seems that we have been in a constant state of flux. Standing in a hallway lined with closed doors, just waiting to see which one would open. And during this time, we grew stagnant, operating under the mistaken belief that God only works through open doors.


But that, my friends, is not true. Some of God's greatest work is done "in between", waiting in the hallway for what may or may not happen next. And sometimes, probably more often than not, the door that He opens is not one we want to walk through.

Right now, we are in a season of waiting. Still learning how to walk this journey of pain and grief. Waiting in the hallway to see which door opens next and, to be perfectly honest, fearing what may lie beyond that door. But God exhorts us to "be still", even in the in between, in the hallway while we are waiting. Because there is purpose in the waiting.


I don't know what lies beyond the next door, but I know that I trust that He has a plan. It is not mine to understand, only to obey.

Blessings,
Meri

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

She Laughs Without Fear

A common phrase in the Bible is "fear not" or "do not be afraid".  I have read so many passages that start with this commandment from God. My mind understands why we should not fear the future, in fact Proverbs 31:25 describing the ideal woman states "she laughs without fear of the future".


But something I never expected on this grief journey is fear. I am not always afraid, but I am battling fear of what feels like such an uncertain future.

When your world is rocked by an unimaginable tragedy as ours was on 1.2.18, it feels like you can no longer trust the future to be safe and secure.

I worry that my oldest daughter is headed down the same path her brother walked and that I won't be able to help her, either.

I am fearful that some other type of tragic accident will rip more loved ones from my life.

I am afraid that if I let my walls that I have built come down, that I will not be able to stem the tide of grief and pain that flows forth.

I worry that there is still the potential for this tragedy to tear our family apart.

So, no, I do not laugh without fear of the future. I know I should and I know that God has a plan to use this tragedy to glorify Him.

But right now, right here, I am afraid. And that's okay.

Because at the end of each day, I come back to Him and His word and find peace and solace there.

Blessings,
Meri

Monday, March 5, 2018

She Is Clothed In Strength and Dignity

Each time I share the story of our grief journey, I inevitably hear how strong I am and how well I am dealing with the life-shattering tragedy that occurred just over 2 months ago.

It is hard to believe we have lived without Logan for 2 months. Most of the time it feels like I am in suspended animation, watching the world continue to live when I am stuck-barely able to get through the motions of daily life. I am on autopilot.

Here's the thing, I am not strong and I am not dealing with the loss of our son well.

Not.at.all.

I have created a virtual prison for myself with the words "I'm fine" or "things are good". I have locked myself behind a wall of polite responses and forced smiles.  The truth is so far from the image I portray as to not cause others discomfort by telling them what is really going on behind that wall.

Every time I see teenagers moving on with the next steps-driving, dating, homecoming, prom, graduation-my heart breaks just a little more knowing that Logan will never experience these things. I know he is in a place where the things of this earth no longer matter, but I am not in that place and they matter to me.


I have to clothe myself in strength and dignity because there is still life to be lived here, even with this gaping hole in the middle of it.  My husband needs me to be strong. My daughters need me to be strong. I have to be able to focus on my job and produce good results.

But sometimes, in the rare quiet moments when I am alone with just me and my thoughts, I break. Actually, it's more like I shatter. I have to wait until I know I am alone because I fear that once the flood of tears and emotions starts, I will not be able to stop it.

So, while I may aspire to be clothed in strength and dignity, right now I am simply a shell of a wife and mother trying to patch the cracks in my armor.

Blessings,
Meri

Sunday, February 25, 2018

...awkward

In the days immediately after our son took his own life, we were overwhelmed (and very thankful) with people calling, texting, contacting us on social media, visiting, making meals, and so on.  Standard practice for grieving and other major life events (at least in the South).

But now things are different. 6 weeks ago today, we memorialized our son who died on 1.2.18. Six long weeks.

It still feels unreal. As I sit in the silence of our home when it should be busy with dinner preparations and teenagers asking for things and making sure homework is done and school clothes are clean and forms are signed. It is too quiet.

The calls have pretty much stopped coming. I still get the occasional text from some of my closest friends. We are making our own meals now. And all of this is normal. People have their own lives to live and, while they may have known our son and while he was important to many of them, they did not lose a child to suicide. We did.

I am sometimes jealous of our them, the friends and family that have taken care of us over the past few weeks. I want to be able to snap back to normal. I want to be able to say, "Okay, that sucked, but now back to my normal life." I want the pain and loss to slowly fade into the background.

But that is not how it works.

Sometimes it feels....awkward. Like we are "that family" that lost their son to suicide. People don't know what to say as life moves forward.



But here's the thing.  I don't know what to say either. I don't know how to live without Logan. It's like I am stuck in limbo, watching the world move on while I cannot.



 It hurts more every day. Each night I try to push the thoughts of him out of my head. We don't really talk about that day, but I can call up the memory of it in an instant and be right there with the flashing lights and crime scene tape. I can here my husband on the phone saying "Logan's dead, he blew his brains out!". I can feel the horror flow through me as I dropped the phone. My chest tightens, my heart rate increases, my breathing gets shallow.

Here's the thing. While everyone else moves forward (and rightfully so), we are stuck in this place, trying to find a way to rebuild our lives around this giant emptiness where Logan once was. I don't know the answers to how we are going to do that right now. And it will take a lifetime for each of this. The loss of a son and brother will always be a part of our stories.

So, we are awkward. And that's okay.

It's okay to not know what to say to us. I don't know either.

Blessings,
Meri

Saturday, February 24, 2018

Lies We Tell Ourselves

So, as we travel this unchosen (and also unwelcome) road of grief, I have learned that many things I have always believed to be true about the loss of a loved one are, in fact, not.  They are lies we tell ourselves because the truth may be too difficult to bear.


Grief is only an emotion.
This is what I have always believed. Grief is an emotion, like happiness or sadness, that was entirely controlled by one specific circumstance. But grief is so much more than that. Grief is emotionally, mentally and physically exhausting. It drains my physical energy, and as that is waning, my mind sinks into a depression that I cannot seem to push away. I have a difficult time concentrating and remembering things. Sometimes it feels like I am in a state of suspended animation where the rest of the world goes on as normal and I cannot get back on track. Sometimes it feels like everything is just harder than it needs to be. This effects every single aspect of my life. every.single.one.


Time heals all wounds.
There will never, in my life here on earth, be a time when this pain of the loss of my son will not hurt like a fresh wound. In fact, as I travel this road, I am finding that it is getting harder to deal with Logan's death as time goes by.

He's in a better place, and that should be comforting.
Imagine a wall so high you can never hope to see over it and so dark you can not possibly see through it. Now imagine that your child is on the other side of that wall. You can hear them sometimes, you can feel there presence, but you cannot reach them. Perhaps someday the fact that he is in Heaven will be comforting to me, but right now I just want to hug him and feel his face against my cheek.

Call me anytime, I am always here for you.
Now before you get your nose out of joint, this is not directed to anyone specific. I am not trying to insult anyone and I do not expect (or even want) the level of attention we had in the days following Logan's death. However, I will say that it has become too quiet for me. I am naturally an introvert, so I have a hard time reaching out even when I have a need to. I also understand that people don't know what to say to me. Do you talk about Logan? Do you just ignore the elephant in the room? I don't know what to say to myself most of the time. What I can tell you, when a family has experienced the sudden, tragic death of a loved one, the support needs go well beyond the days, weeks and months that follow the loss.


I don't know how to navigate these uncharted waters, but I am thankful for my God, my husband and my friends and family who have supported us during this incredibly difficult time.

Blessings,
Meri

Saturday, February 17, 2018

Who's To Blame?

First and foremost, this is not a post about the Florida school shooting. While that is a tragic event, there are bloggers all over the internet weighing in with their perspective on the matter and they are doing a great job, so I have nothing new to add to that conversation right now.

However, I recently read a blog post that targeted the unrealistic expectations of parents and schools as a significant cause of anxiety and depression in teenagers.

While this may be a contributing factor, it muddies the already-cloudy waters of mental illness.

Mental illness is a disease process that effects the brain, an organ that the medical community still knows precious little about. It is an illness of the body, just like cancer or ALS or any other terrible disease that can potentially have a terminal outcome.

Until mental illness is recognized by society for exactly what it is, not weakness and not something that can be switched on and off at will or managed with positive thinking and deep breathing, there will remain a stigma attached to the disease and it's sufferers.



For over 2 years we navigated the very confusing mental health system. We tried counselors, psychiatrists, inpatient therapy and an endless number of drug cocktails to try to help our son. We didn't pressure him to get good grades, join school clubs, play school sports, take AP classes, etc. in order to get into the very best college and become what society defines as a successful adult.

We fought to keep him alive. And we failed.

On January 2, 2018, Logan lost his battle with bipolar depression and anxiety.

What we need to be teaching about mental illness is how teachers and administrators (or any adult authority figures) can recognize the signs of mental illness in the teens (and even tweens) that they interact with frequently. We need to give these kids a safe way to talk about their feelings without feeling judged. We need to engage them on their level and try to remember how difficult that time in our lives was and maybe give them a little grace. We need to dig deeper when a child is constantly disruptive or causing trouble.We need to talk openly and honestly about mental illness and it's devastating symptoms.

Until these things happen, until mental illness is recognized by society as a disease just like any other physical ailment, there will be a stigma attached. And that stigma will prevent sick children from getting the help they need and in some cases, will result in their death. And sometimes, as in our case, we can do everything in our power to help our child, and the disease still takes their life.


So instead of blaming parents and schools, let's empower them to recognize and help children suffering from mental illness.

Blessings,
Meri

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Three Strikes And I am Out

I have been short-tempered and anxious since the minute my husband's alarm went off for the 5th time this morning. The plan was for him to get up and take Emma to counseling and me to stay in bed a little while longer. But that didn't happen.

After reminding him to get up 3 times, he finally started moving, but not before asking me to go upstairs and wake Emma up. Now, that sounds like no big deal, and truthfully, it shouldn't be. But my plan was to stay in bed, not trudge up the steps, half-awake, to wake up a tween who didn't want to go to counseling to begin with.


Then Emma's riding lesson time was changed to 3 pm so she went back to school after her appointment at which time I anticipated my husband (who was off today) would be coming home. I thought we had discussed that, while I was working, he was going to knock out some of the household chores. But that didn't happen.

Instead, he was gone until just before he had to take Emma to riding. Just enough time to come in, say hello and then walk right back out the door.

STRIKE 2



I have slowly been working through our laundry with a new goal of not doing more than I can get washed, dried and put away in one day (I know, I know...but a mom can dream, right?). So as I pulled the last load out of the dryer I noticed it had 2 or 3 items that belonged to the girls and I thought I would be nice and just put them away myself. But that didn't happen.

I walked upstairs to be greeted by what appeared to be an audition for an episode of Hoarder's. The bathroom was a mess, clothes were every and there were 2 full baskets of clothes that are yet to be determined if they are clean or dirty (which means I will likely end up washing clean clothes a second time, which is my favorite thing e.v.e.r.)



.After 6 weeks of keeping it together, taking my children's grief into consideration and loosening the reigns (possibly a little too much), I lost it. Completely. Utterly. Red-faced screaming.

...and there's the snap.



I am not proud about this. I don't want to be that mom, and I'm not that mom....at least not all the time. But this is who I was for those moments today. And it's okay. But not acceptable. It's forgivable, but not if it happens over and over.

We all have our off days (sometimes weeks, maybe even months) that go with only a smattering of bright spots throughout. But we have to forgive ourselves for these moments (and in my case tonight, I had to ask forgiveness from my daughter).

Nothing about raising a tween girl is easy. N.O.T.H.I.N.G.

But, God never promised us parenting would be easy, He just promised us that it is worth every moment-even the painful ones.

Blessings,
Meri

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

What Now?

So now the initial shock and horror of Logan's suicide has passed. We have had his funeral. The bustle and activity of family and making arrangements has all stopped.

Now it's quiet. It's just us. Minus one.

What's next? How do we go about our daily lives with this gaping hole in our family?

I have been told that we will learn to find our "new normal".  But, I was not particularly fond of that term. Don't misunderstand, it's not offensive to me and may work for other people finding themselves walking this path of grief. But we have never been a particularly "normal" family, we are what you might call a "spicy" family. So finding any kind of normal is not really something that appeals to me.

Then I found the following quote:


That is what we are doing. Remaking life.

The life we knew for 15 years is over. It ended in one terrible moment after Logan's long battle with mental illness. I can't change that reality.

Tonight we went out to dinner for the first time as a family since Logan passed away. When asked how many in our party, we said 4. Not 5.

We were seated at a table for 5 anyways and the empty seat was a painful reminder that we will never again be a  party of five. But, at the end of the meal, we raised our glasses and toasted our sweet son and brother-gone but never forgotten.

So this is our new chapter. Remaking life. One experience at a time. One moment at a time. One day at a time. Eventually the days will turn into months and then years. We will never forget Logan, but we will learn how to remake our lives without his daily presence.

Blessings,
Meri

Love Is...

Today is Valentine's Day and people all over will be getting flowers, cards, candy, and gifts.

But not me.

You see, I have already received the greatest gift, and it doesn't look anything like a heart-shaped box full of chocolates.



Let me tell you what love is to me.

  • Love is running to the store for the 3rd time in one day to pick up the one ingredient I need for supper.
  • Love is holding me while I cry while "Amazing Grace" was sung at the first church service we have been to since we buried our son. (That song was also sung at his funeral)
  • Love is cooking dinner when I am just too exhausted.
  • Love is picking me up a Starbucks coffee, even when it takes him miles out of his way.
  • Love is taking our girls to counseling and encouraging me to go as well, but still being patient with me until I was ready to talk.
  • Love is vacuuming the dog hair off the floor (with which we could probably make another dog!)
  • Love is giving in to my request for a puppy, even when he doesn't really want to go through the puppy training part again.
  • Love is encouraging our girls to pursue their passions.
  • Love is mourning and grieving with me when the pain of our loss is just too much to bear.
  • Love is taking us out to eat and spending waaaaay more than planned just to make his girls happy.
  • Love is listening to music he doesn't particularly like, but the girls love.
  • Love is knowing that I am having a hard time with the loss of our son without me having to say a word.
If you get flowers or candy or a gift today, I am so glad for you!  It's wonderful to feel special in that way.  But don't lose sight of the kind of love that really matters, the kind that will stay with you for the long haul, the kind of love that is without end, amen.

Blessings,
Meri


Monday, February 12, 2018

Fallout

Let's talk for a minute about the fallout of a family tragedy....specifically our family tragedy, the death, by suicide, of our son on January 2, 2018.

There are the obvious repercussions:
  • Grief
  • Anger
  • Pain
  • Sadness
  • Tears
  • Feeling incomplete
Then there are other repercussions. Fallout that we did not expect and are not quite sure how to deal with.

What I am referring to is bullying. (I know the 2 don't seem to go together, but stick with me here).

My son was 15 when he took his life. His sister is 12.  They shared mutual friends. Many of his friends have younger siblings that go to school with our daughter. We knew this from the beginning and tried to control the news of Logan's death to the best of our ability. It is our story to tell and we wanted to make sure it was told the right way.

However, since our daughter has returned to school, she has been bullied. A student left a note in her locker between classes calling her a "dirty brother killer". She is frequently referred to at school as the sister of the kid who killed himself. Today she showed me a message on one of her social media accounts asking her why she killed her brother.

As a parent, I am furious. I am angry. I am incensed.

She is suffering terribly from the loss of her brother. We are doing everything we can as her parents to help her. The school is doing it's best to manage the issues on campus.



But, I feel helpless. I want to sit down with the parents of these kids and their children and find out why they think this is acceptable behavior. I pray daily that my girls would never treat anyone this way, but I am painfully aware of how little control we parents have as our children get older and spend more time away from our protective presence.

This is what I will tell you.
  • Monitor you children's social media accounts.
  • Make sure you have ALL usernames and passwords.
  • Limit screen time.
  • Talk to your children about the dangers of social media and what they should do if they are being bullied (on the web or in person).
  • Limit screen time. (Yes, I am aware that it's on the list twice).
  • Know their friends, and the parents of their friends.
  • If they cannot use social media responsibly, cut them off. Allow for the possibility of earning the privilege back.
  • Make sure they are clear that cell phones and social media accounts are privileges, not rights.
This was not something I thought we would have to deal with, but we are stuck right in the middle of it. Unfortunately, Emma's age group can be downright vicious and cruel.  They rarely understand the consequences of their actions and even if they do, they rarely concern themselves with anything that does not directly cause them pain or punishment.

No bullying is okay. Ever.

Blessings,
Meri

Firsts

We went to church yesterday. 4 weeks to the day we laid Logan to rest.

It was hard, so much harder than I could have imagined.



I know there will be a lot of "firsts" without him this year: birthdays, holidays, horse shows, rodeos, last day of school, first day of school.  But, I never expected our first time back to church would hurt so much.

We also attended a monthly family night with a group of friends that we have been doing for a couple of years now. It was the first time Logan was not there. It was so much harder than I anticipated.

My experiences yesterday have made me realize that it's not just the big events that are going to be difficult. It's going to happen far more often. Probably more often than I am prepared for.

But we will keep pressing forward. We will not crumble under the weight of our grief. We will survive this and someday, we will thrive.

Blessings,
Meri

Saturday, February 10, 2018

The Room

Dear Son,

I went in your room tonight for the first time in over a month-since we lost you.

It smelled like you. It felt like you. It looked just like you would leave it.

I noticed your favorite black cowboy boots and your Vans in your closet. I saw the cans and bottles (some inappropriate for your age, but I will pretend I don't believe you drank what was in them first...).

I saw the 3-D shark model that your Uncle Sean gave you so many years ago when you visited him on Ocracoke. I saw the train sets that had been my grandfather's-I hope you are both enjoying model trains in Heaven together.

I saw the Punisher Skull we bought you just last year and the Route 66 sign hanging on your wall.

I saw your ball caps hanging on your bookcase.

I saw the bow and arrows that you got for Christmas that you never had a chance to shoot.

I saw a life that was not done. I life only partially lived. I felt the heavy weight of all of the future that you will not be here with us for.

I am selfish and I am jealous. I want you here, in our home with your family on earth; I am jealous of God because he gets to see you and touch your face and hug you tight.


Love forever and ever, amen.

Mom

Questions and Stages

It's been almost 6 weeks since we lost our oldest son to suicide.  But, it still feels so very surreal-as if he is going to walk in the door at any time, smelling like cigarettes (as if we wouldn't catch on that he had been smoking), or knock on our bedroom door early on a weekend morning asking if he could hang out with friends (and of course, he would need one of us to drive him).

I still have so many questions on how to live my life with this gaping hole where Logan used to be.

"How many children do you have?"

  • 4-Logan (in Heaven), Emma, Mackenzie, and Sophie (in Heaven). Do I want to explain why I say 4 and only have 2 here with me?
  • 3-Logan (in Heaven), Emma and Mackenzie. Again, do I want to explain that Logan is no longer with us?
  • 2-Emma and Mackenzie.  But am I dishonoring Logan by not including him?
When I had my baby shower for Mackenzie, a dear friend of mine read a poem about becoming a "mother of three". We felt like our little family was complete with the addition of that sweet baby girl. Little did I know, that 10 years later our family would change dramatically.

"What ages are your children?"
  • 15, 12 & 10. But not really because Logan is gone now.
  • 12 & 10. But not really because I have another child who is just not with us now.
I know the stages of grief-denial, anger, bargaining, depression & acceptance.

But what I never understood is that these do not necessarily happen in the above order. 

Some days I am still in denial, I cannot believe he is really gone. 

For the most part, I have not experienced anger since those first few terrible hours. 

I have gone over and over in my head, what could I have done differently that day or in the weeks and months leading up to that day. I could have taken all 3 kids to the barn. I could have waited until Rick got home to leave. I could have made sure that gun was better hidden. I could have...should have...would have.  I have come to accept that no matter how much I dwell on these thoughts, it will not change my reality.

I have not felt as depressed as I have just plain old sadness.  I do see myself slipping into depression at times and I am thankful for my amazing, strong husband who does his best to pull me out of those moments. Sometimes I just need to mourn and cry to let out some of the pain that has settled into my soul.

I have not achieved acceptance. Not yet. But someday I will. Someday the good  memories will be what I hold onto and they will not be painful, but rather bring me peace.



Blessings,
Meri

Defining Moments

  Everyone has THAT moment that defines their life. Some people have multiple moments. Sometimes these moments are not welcome, not what we ...