As I begin to write, I reflect deeply upon the past 5 months. As each anniversary approaches, I remember every detail... the evening before Ryan died, the last words we shared together,and the unforgettable moments of September 22, 2010. Whether I want them to or not, these memories forcefully come flooding into my heart on the 22nd of each month. I also reflect on the journey thus far, examining each step my family and I have taken along the way. I remember each tear shed, each tear hidden, the fears which have surfaced, the anger which has risen, and the overwhelming sadness which has consumed each and every one of us at various times.
I remember when Ryan died...although I did not know what was ahead of me, or how I would manage to survive, I instinctively knew I would never be the same woman. When I look over the past 5 months, this is something which now resounds through me...I am NOT the same woman, and never again will I be.
A specific area of change which seems to consume my thoughts the most at this time, is the fact that I no longer feel real joy or happiness. I may smile, or even laugh on a rare occasion. But despite these appearances, and/or surface feelings, my heart does not feel the joy it once did. It does not feel the happiness which permeates through your heart and soul, making the world seem right. This is no way is a reflection on my other children, I love them all as intensely as I did before. In fact, I am sure they pay the price of the changes in me. For that, I am sorry. I continue to give them all I have left, but I'm afraid it may not be enough.
It use to be that whatever pain I experienced, whatever challenges I faced... I did it with the certainty I was strong, my heart was whole, and I was blessed beyond measure. From this, I had the knowledge that my life was complete, and I would be happy again, no matter what the current challenge may have been. I am not that same person. I may be strong, but my heart is certainly not whole. What use to be complete in my life, is now torn apart. A part of me died with my son, and I am left fragmented. How could my life ever be complete again with one of my children gone? How could my heart ever feel whole again after losing one of my babies? How could I ever experience real joy or happiness, when there is an eternal sadness and longing in my soul?
I sometimes think I miss the fulfillment of complete happiness. But in all honesty, I don't even remember what it genuinely feels like. My world has changed so much, the woman I am has been so altered, that I honestly don't remember how it felt to be "me" before Ryan died. Sad thing is, I don't even have the desire to feel complete joy or happiness anymore. I don't have the longing to do things which once brought me pleasure. I won't pretend to know how I will feel 6 months from now, or six years. But what I do know is this...at 5 months, this is who I am. Right now, this IS me.
I am amazed, yet not, at how hard the First Valentines Day without Ryan was for me. I thought perhaps if might be difficult, since the day's focus is love, but I never dreamed it would take my breath away. I never imagined I would spend the entire day fighting tears....sometimes successful, sometimes not. Throughout the day, I reflected on past years... the knowledge of why this day was so hard, became very clear.
I realized today that my feelings about Valentines Day are very different from when I was younger. Prior to having kids, the "couple love" was Valentines Day in my heart. Having that one special person who loves you. Once I had kids, what I consider the real meaning, seemed to take on a whole new life of its own. I have always made it a priority to make sure Valentines Day was special for my kids. I wanted them to know no matter what was happening in their lives, I would always be that "one special person" who loved them unconditionally. I didn't want them to think it was only about the love that a couple shares, but rather the love that friends share, a family shares, and a mother shares with her children. Whether they were in a relationship or not, it felt important for them to understand this day is about love. A day to honor those you love...a day to honor love. More importantly, I wanted them to know how VERY MUCH they were loved by me. So in my typical fashion, I went out and bought little gifts for the kids...except Ryan. That is when I first realized this day would not be easy.
We celebrated Valentines Day on Saturday, thinking that might make today easier for me...it didn't. I gave my kids their gifts, which they received in their usual excitement. The younger kids celebrated like it was Christmas, and the older kids understood what it all meant. In their wisdom and sweetness, I missed Ryan. I missed the way he would smile at me when I handed him his gift. As simple as it was, he knew how much love was behind it. He got it, appreciated it, and what really mattered the most to me...he KNEW how deeply I loved him.
Today I felt empty. I was in a classroom of excited students, and I felt no joy. I literally counted the minutes, knowing the day couldn't end fast enough. My mom stopped by at one point to drop off gifts for my kids. She told me she put a Valentine for Ryan next to a picture of him. A mother's heart is so loving, nurturing, and thoughtful. It meant so much to me, that once again, she was keeping my little boy alive.
As the students passed out their treats and cards, I remembered how much Ryan enjoyed doing that when he was little. I remembered sitting with him and helping him address all of his cards. I remembered how I had to get cards with candy or stickers, because he needed them to be special. I remembered how he would come home and go through all the cards, and eat only some of the candy. I remembered how much he loved his valentines gifts from me, or maybe, just the fact I always gave him one. I remembered how much I loved him, and how much he loved me. I thought of how much I still love him, and how much he still loves me. In these moments of reflection, I painfully remembered how deeply I miss him, and how very wrong the world feels without him in it.
This was my First Valentines Day without Ryan....
The days seem to continue on, as if nothing in life has changed. However, in my world...everything has changed. I try to get through each day, the best I can...one small step at a time.
I get up in the morning, and the first thing I think about is Ryan. I hit the snooze button and lay there in the dark...thinking and wondering. How I am suppose to survive this? How do I help my kids work through the fears and pain they carry in their hearts? When will the emptiness within be filled...or will it? Will my heart ever feel joy again? The reality of life, as I know it now, hits me right in the face with the dawn of each new day. As I drive to work, I am guaranteed to cry at any given moment, and with no warning . I have learned to accept this, so when it hits, I let the tears flow. I try to put on the "I can do this" face as I begin the day. Again, at some point during the day, I am guaranteed to cry again. The days have become so long, and I find myself looking forward to the moment I can go to bed. The moment I lay in bed, I thank God that I made it through another day. I then pray with my entire heart and soul. I ask God to hold my kids in their pain, to keep them safe, to show me how to lead them through this, to hold my husband in his sorrow, to take care of Ryan for me and fill his heart with happiness, and to fill my soul with wisdom...so that I may see and hear what this spiritual journey is teaching me.
I have found that some days I walk around in a thick cloud. I feel numb to everyone, and everything. These days are almost a relief, as the sadness does not forcefully permeate through me, reminding me of how wrong the world feels now. Then there are other days when I would give anything to feel numb. On these days, the sadness of what has happened is utterly overwhelming. My mind relives every painful detail, the anguish that no one could ever imagine fills me, and I find it myself filled with an indescribable sadness. I try to distract myself from these feelings as quickly as I can, because in all honesty, those moments are overwhelmingly frightening. Once more, when I lay in bed at night, I thank God I have survived another day...and the prayers begin.
I have learned to accept each day, each moment, as it comes. I know there is no manual or timetable to follow for grief...especially when you are grieving the loss of your child. Although I question my strength, my stamina, and my ability to endure the rest of my life...I also acknowledge the fact that I am somehow surviving...day by day. I am so grateful for this. With the Grace of God, the transcending love of Ryan, and the love and support of my family and friends, I am surviving... as each day goes by.
