As I sit here, I find it hard to believe it has been four long months since I lost my son. Four months since the world, as I knew it, was forever changed. Four months since the life was ripped from my heart, leaving me breathless and broken. When I look back, the time is a mysterious blur. Perhaps the protection of shock? At the same time, the memories of what happened, and the exact details, are engraved in my mind with absolute clarity.
During the past months, my emotions have traveled on every realm possible. I have been in shock, in denial, in depression, in question of how I could have prevented this....but the one feeling I have not owned, not yet anyway, is anger. Being someone who does not like conflict, I am certainly not missing the anger stage. The other stages of grief seem to come and go, fluctuating back and forth, with no rhyme or reason. They come as they will, and for the sake of my sanity, I have learned to accept the unpredictable process.
I have watched my children's pain, my husband's torment, and carried my own consuming sorrow. None of us has any answers, but we manage to face each new day as it comes. My faith has been what I have leaned on, searched out, and depended on to hold me up when I felt I didn't have the strength anymore to endure. Ryan has shown me numerous times that he is still with me, which has given me more promise, peace, and hope then I could ever explain. He has taught me so much about faith and spirituality, and I will always treasure his gifts to me. I thank him every day.
I recently returned to work. With the support of my co worker, and many other friends, I survived the first week back. We are completely cleaning and rearranging our classroom for a fresh start. That room is where I stood when the call came, telling me Ryan was not breathing. I stood in that room when my world came crashing in around me. I stood there while sheer panic permeated throughout my entire being. I knew the classroom would hold a lot of painful triggers, so with the advice of a close friend, decided I needed to make changes in there immediately. Once the changes started, my friend (co worker) and I decided to clean the entire room. It may sound strange, but it has made walking into that room much more tolerable. It is hard enough to return to work...I knew I didn't need reminders and triggers of painful memories to haunt me as well. I also set an area up on my desk for Ryan. I have found that brings me comfort throughout the day. My heart is not with me at work, not yet anyway. For now, I am going through the motions... I have learned to do that very well over the past months. I am hoping in time, some of my heart and spirit will return with me as I head to work each day. Until then, I have accepted my return to work for what it is...a necessary step in taking care of my family. Without the support of my friends at work, I don't know if I would have made it through that first week. I will forever be grateful to all of them.
So many changes have happened in the past four months. I have been broken, I have felt the indescribable pain of losing a child, I have done what needed to be done to honor him, I have managed to get up each day (even when I didn't want to), I have somehow been there to love and support my family, I have faced those first holidays without Ryan, I have learned how to nurture my own heart and soul (taking numerous trips to the coast thanks to the support of my family), and I have recently returned to work...stepping back into the world that I don't feel a part of anymore.
Through all of this, I have survived. I am strong, and my faith is what carries me. Even with this faith, not a day goes by where I don't cry. Where I don't feel overwhelmed by the pain of missing Ryan. Where I don't wonder how I am suppose to live my life without him here. Where I don't question if I even want to. As a mother, I carry many questions. Is Ryan happy? Is he OK? Does he have friends? Is he scared being there without me? Does he need me? I should have been there first to welcome him, to be his security, and show him the glories of heaven...is he doing alright on his own? No matter how strong I am, or how deep my faith, these motherly questions come frequently. After all, I am only human. I am a mom who has lost her child far too soon....just trying each day to do the best I can do.
It has been almost 4 months since Ryan died, and I am now faced with the reality of my return to work. As they say....ready or not. Well, I'm not.
The past months have been a blur to me. Although I remember exact details of the events which unfolded, the time is nothing but a painful blur. I don't know where the time has gone, yet at the same time, it has also been the longest 4 months of my life. I can't help but wonder if the rest of my life will play out in this slow motion, lifeless fashion?
I have spent endless hours reading and searching for answers and understanding....so that my journey to acceptance will be easier. I have prayed like never before. Through this searching, my spirituality has grown stronger, and my eyes have been opened wider then I could have ever imagined...but that's another blog! I have been the steady force in this house, even though I didn't know which direction to move most of the time. My husband and children have grown use to the security of my presence, although at times, I'm sure that presence seemed worthless. I have had time to be with myself, I've learned to nurture my heart for the first time, I've been in prayerful meditation with Ryan and God, and I've been the listening ear and open arms when my husband, or one of my kids, fell crashing to the ground. Now I have to walk away from the safety of my home. I must return to the world I knew before Ryan died...a world which holds an entirely different place in my heart and life now.
When your child dies, you are paralyzed. Even though you go through the motions, to do only what has to be done, you are frozen within. I made it through the holidays, and I'm not sure how I did it. My heart wasn't in it, but I suppose the need to take care of my kids gave me the strength I needed to face the storm. Life around me continued on, and for the first time, I was a spectator...not even having the desire to participate. It took me 3 months to find the courage to walk into a grocery store. How could life move forward when my Ryan was gone? I still don't know the answer to that, but I know it does. Sometimes I feel angry watching people around me moving on with their lives, as if nothing has happened. Then I remind myself that of course the life of others must go on. It is not their child...it is mine. I have tried to make sure the lives of my own children have gone on...I have tried. In doing so, I make a point of keeping Ryan a part of our daily conversations, as well as a living force in this home. With the older kids...they are keeping their lives moving forward, but it is clear to see they are also going through the motions. Everyone is unsure of where their heart has gone, if it will ever heal, and how they will REALLY feel joy again with Ryan gone? This loss is unimaginable, unspeakable, and has been completely devastating to each member of my family. Our journey has only just begun.
Me...I am afraid to return to work. I am afraid to see faces of people I have not seen since Ryan died. I am afraid of what my students will say to me. I am afraid to walk into the classroom and look at my desk...the place I stood when I got the call telling me that Ryan was not breathing. I am afraid to be in the room where I felt complete and utter panic, fear, desperation, and anger of being 40 minutes away from Ryan...when he needed me NOW. I am so afraid of all those feelings rushing back to me and overwhelming me....like they are at this moment.
I am not ready emotionally, but must return. I suppose I will just go through the motions until my heart catches up with me....whenever that may be. My priorities have changed, needless to say. I have changed. I still don't understand what that reality means, I just know it is. I know my well being matters now, and I must continue to take care of me...or I will be no good to anyone. I know my hurting family is at the top of my list, and I will keep them there, without feeling guilty if it interferes with work. I always put them first, but would feel bad calling in sick. No more...they come first because that is the way it should be, that is the way it needs to be. They are what matters most, and right now, this entire family is walking around with shattered hearts. You never know what will trigger the tears or pain, but without a doubt, they are always triggered. My work has been extremely supportive, so I am hoping that comfort and support will continue upon my return, and for the months ahead...I'm sure it will.
I guess I'm afraid because I don't know how to continue to take care of my heart, my family's hearts, and return to work. The priorities are my husband, children (including Ryan), and myself. I will give all I am capable of giving to my job, whatever that may be....I just hope it's enough.
December 29th is the anniversary of my dad's death. On this day I found myself constantly thinking about my dad, as I always do...but this year, I also found myself with constant thoughts of Ryan. I wondered what they were doing? Were they spending time together? What do they do in heaven? Do they miss us? Does Ryan miss me? Wondering if you are in the glory of heaven, would you ever have the feelings of missing someone? Just random thoughts and questions I have frequently, as I try to stumble through my life without him here.
I received an email from Ryan's friend...the one who has the meaningful dreams of Ryan. She told me she had another dream on the 29th (coincidence....I don't think so). She said Ryan appeared to her again, specifically asking her to tell me something for him. When he was done telling her, he told her he loved her, and thanked her for sharing the other dreams with me. This is what he said....
" Goodbyes are not forever,
Goodbyes are not the end.
They just mean I'll miss you,
Until we meet again.
I love you mom, and miss you more then you know."
Once again, I was left in awe. I did not share the thoughts, feelings, and questions I was having this day with anyone. But somehow Ryan knew, and even more then this, he knew how important it was for me to know the answer. He continues to reach out, nurture, and love. He is teaching me that even though someone is in heaven, and living a life far more beautiful then we could ever imagine, they are still with us. They hear us, they know our thoughts, they feel our hearts. They continue to love us...because even though the body is gone, the spirit lives on. The spirit is where love is born and lives...it never dies. This knowledge does not take away the sadness or pain of having him physically gone. It does not heal the brokenness I feel within. However, it does bring a sense of comfort and hope. It confirms my beliefs, and opens my eyes so much wider.
A message in a dream....I asked God to always help me hear what Ryan is saying or showing me, promising them both I will always have my heart and eyes open...Ryan is reaching out, and God is helping me to see and hear. I will keep my promise.
As New Years Eve slipped in, I found myself feeling very reflective and confused. I had just experienced the most painful and devastating year of my life, so I would have thought I'd be grateful to see it end. However, it was also the last year that I had Ryan here with me to love, and be loved by... I didn't know how to face a new year without him. More then not knowing how, was the fact that I didn't want to. He loved celebrating each new year, and that alone, filled me with sadness.
I spent the evening alone, which in reflection, is exactly what I needed to do. It was an opportunity for me to gently sit with my heart, and reflect on what Ryan has always meant to me. To honor the powerful and loving impact he has had on my life...and continues to have. It was a New Years Eve I chose to spend with Ryan...and I know he was here, right beside me. I sat down and watched the video from Ryan's memorial...crying the entire way through. I tend to hold my emotions inside, so I know the tears were meant to be shed. After watching the tribute to his life, I turned on home movies of Ryan when he was little. I watched my beautiful and quiet baby, blossom into a loving and playful little boy. I remembered every detail, of every story, like it was yesterday. I remember how it felt to hold him, to sing to him, to play with him, to kiss him, to take care of him, to share in his laughter, to know exactly what he needed at any given moment, to always be the one who could make his world the way it was meant to be...the way he deserved it to be. As I watched, I witnessed the love we shared, the comfort we always found in each other, and the unbreakable connection we had right from the beginning of his life...all of which continued to strengthen and grow right until the day he died. I smiled, I laughed, and I cried. My son, at age 16, is dead...seriously??
Soon after this I noticed it was snowing. My daughter, Kaitie, was at her dad's and very upset she was missing the snow. I told her perhaps it was a gift from Ryan... and I believed that. After I shared that with her, she was very insistent that I send her pictures. Not knowing if the snow would stick, I stayed up until 3 am taking pictures for her...if Ryan was sending a gift, which she felt he was, I would be sure she saw it! The next morning, New Years Day, our entire neighborhood was covered in snow. Snow...the pure and frozen rain from heaven. Snow is something which has always brought tremendous joy to my kids, something which I have always loved with a passion, something which radiates heavenly beauty in my eyes, something which has always lifted my soul, and filled my heart...something, which now, was making me cry.
A new year, a gift of snow sent from heaven...who could ask for more? I could...because when this this New Year arrived, NOTHING felt right without Ryan.
