Author: griefmom

I’m a bit late in posting this, but life has been busy- to say the least! It’s no secret that the past 6 years have been filled with turmoil. Between Gabe’s death and then the other very big changes in life it seemed like the ground was shifting under my feet. Just when it felt like something was stable, there were new challenges and obstacles.

Early on in my grief I remember feeling like life should just contain no more struggles for grieving parents, and I eventually put it to words in The hard times quota. It really seems cruel when you get hit with the worst pain a parent can bear and then are hit with more pain and change. It takes a lot of faith (and a lot of prayer!) to get through when you already feel beaten down.

The beautiful thing about those stressful times, though, is that I really grew to appreciate everything else in life. When you have been through the worst it changes your perspective immensely. I have an intense appreciation for what I do have, and when I was introduced to Chris I knew I found someone special. We got married a month ago and all I can say is I am blessed.

With this beautiful change there has been some sadness too. There is a sadness in the fact that Gabe never had the chance to meet Chris. Gabe would have loved him, and I think he would have loved the joy that I now have in my life. It was bittersweet to have such a beautiful wedding and reception with one of my sons missing. Chris suggested we take the extra bouquet and bring it to the cemetery, so when we left the reception we made a stop and gave the flowers to Gabe. My sweet husband also made sure to give me a small picture frame to add to my bouquet, with two pictures of my sweet boy. I am so thankful to have this wonderful man by my side who not only accepts my grief, but made sure to incorporate the memory of a stepson he never met, into such a significant life event.

6 years ago I was in the early throes of grief and never would have pictured my life where it is now. You really never know what the future holds. Sometimes God brings things to life that are far greater than we can possibly fathom, and sometimes we need to pass through deep, deep sorrow to reach the joy. And what amazing joy it is!

More from TobyMac, who I mentioned in my last post (way too long ago!):

Woke up ’cause the light poured in (light poured in)
Day two, let the flood begin
Day one left me in my bed (in my bed) I can barely remember it
Heart shattered in a thousand ways
They tell me pain gonna come in waves (come in waves)
They tell me I’m gonna be okay (be okay)
Still waitin’ for the first to break
Why would You give and then take him away?
Suddenly end, could You not let it fade?
What I would give for a couple o’ days (couple o’ days) A couple o’ days

Is it just across the Jordan Or a city in the stars? Are ya singin’ with the angels? Are you happy where you are? Well, until this show is over And you’ve run into my arms God has you in Heaven But I have you in my heart.

21 Years. On Sunday March 20 Gabe should be turning 21. This grief journey is a crazy thing. I’ve been so busy with life- parenting, work, and of course lots of wedding planning. But just like the last 5 years, when March rolls around something shifts (Clockwork). More things remind me of Gabe- songs, people, places I drive. Gabe becomes much more present than he usually is. I think it’s a blessing, but it also really hurts. One of the struggles of child loss is the fear that you will forget the little things, and as time goes by it sure feels that way.

But every March these memories just seem to come out of nowhere- happy and sad. They don’t knock me to the ground like they once did. They don’t take my breath away anymore, but they do still sting. Because truly I wish he could still be here. Moving forward doesn’t feel wrong like it once did but it still hurts. Almost 6 years later it still hurts. I think no matter how many years go by it will still hurt.

I really am thankful that the memories return full force in March. Yes it hurts, but that hurt is a reminder of that amazing boy and the love I will always have for him. Happy Birthday, Sweet boy.

Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago and just wasn’t ready to publish it. Now I am.

“If you wanna steal my show
I’ll sit back and watch you go
If you got something to say,
Go on and take it away.
Need you to steal my show
Can’t wait to watch you go, oh, oh,
So take it away. “
-Toby Mac

Songs are often the way I connect with Gabe. The lyrics above are from a song he really loved. Gabe LOVED Christian music, especially artists like Toby Mac. This afternoon I was driving down to see my middle son’s percussion concert. He’s in college and his true love is music, so that’s what he’s studying. I put on my Faith playlist, and as always the song Steal My Show prompted me to write. I always feel prompted, but usually don’t have time to write. Today I do.

Lately I’ve been reflecting on many things. I’ve felt that Gabe was pretty distant, honestly. This is disturbing. It’s been 5 and a half years and I don’t want him and those memories to fade. I think much of the fading is simply because I don’t get the time to consciously think about Gabe. Sure, he’s always in the background of my life, but lately life has been so busy. The past few years have been extremely busy- lots of life stress, divorce, full time career, trying to be a great mom, meeting the love of my life (who is now my fiance!), and oh yeah a pandemic on top of it all! It’s really been a whilrlwind.

Because it’s been such a whirlwind I haven’t had many moments to go to the cemetery, or even just think about Gabe. Unfortunately that can be a bad thing. I remember the grief counselor saying after Gabe died that the grief needs to be released or it will just build up. And Saturday it had apparently built up. A song that makes me think of Gabe came on the radio. I tried to stifle the tears but quickly realized that effort was futile. I started sobbing. I was immediately transported back to the dining room, when Gabe was telling me about the Lip Dub that TA was doing for homecoming. One of the songs was “Shut up and Dance”. He was so excited, and when it came on the radio I couldn’t stop the emotions. It felt like he was there again. It was sad and painful, and also reassuring that his absence still evokes those feelings so many years later. By the time the song was over I had gathered myself. Chris provided a calming presence, and we went on with our day.

That story doesn’t seem to go with the lyrics I wrote at the beginning of this post. Today as I was driving though I was really reflecting on how my faith has pulled me through all the above mentioned struggles. I prayed- so much- during each of those struggles. And when I couldn’t pray others did, because sometimes we hurt too much really pray. The anguish can be so overwhelming that we cry and know that others will help carry us through with their prayers. When I could pray it provided a comfort that really didn’t make sense- so many times it felt like my life was ending yet I made it through. I know without question that I could not have done that without God making sure I overcame each struggle- no matter how huge.

As I sit here typing this evening I can’t help but be amazed at where I am now, and I can’t wait for God to continue to steal my show.

It’s no secret that my life now looks very different than it did the day Gabe went to heaven. My family went from 5 people to 4 in our home. Then eventually it went down to 3, my 2 surviving boys and me. As I sit back and look at the last 5 years something strikes me. I’m a very different person than I was then.

Grief changes us. But so does life. I think in life we slowly lose bits of ourselves to fit the roles we find ourselves in. Gradually we form an identity, and sometimes that identity takes over. I became a wife, then a mother, a heart mom no less. Eventually I was the mom of 3 boys, 2 of whom had pretty complex medical issues. My identity was wrapped up in a world of the typical mom stuff like playdates, and the not so typical world of doctor appointments, therapies, hospitals, and so many other tasks that consumed me as a mom- and as a person.

When I became single I was scared. Terrified, actually. I don’t know that anyone ever really plans on divorce, and going through it shook my world. All of the stability that was so difficult to rebuild after Gabe’s death was gone again. I started counseling and medication to help myself cope, and the day I started therapy felt like an empty shell. It felt like my joy and hope were gone. I had no idea how life could go on. It felt so unfair- to lose a child and then lose life as I knew it.

But I also knew from surviving the death of my son that walking forward was the only option. The grief of loss of a person is different than the grief from a marriage ending, but both are still grief. Both types of grief need processing and work to heal from.

As I worked through that new grief I started to realize that somewhere way back in time I had lost myself. Somewhere in the motherhood, somewhere in the years of caring for others I lost myself. I had no idea who I even was. It wasn’t an easy process, finding myself. There were so many tears, a large amount of anger, and tons of uncertainty. I began to rebuild my life and my identity and slowly began to bring back the parts of me that had been lost. Somewhere I found joy again, and confidence to tackle life. Once I found that joy and confidence, I was blessed to find love again, with someone who understands me on a level I didn’t think possible.

The past few years have definitely not been easy, but the strength, joy, and love that I have found make the struggles so worth it. I can fully appreciate the beauty because of the sorrows. I’m thankful.

It really doesn’t seem possible.

I remember in the early days thinking 5 years seemed like it would never happen. I couldn’t imagine continuing to walk forward. It felt so wrong to keep living when my son had died. A large chunk of my world crumbled that day. When things crumble, though, you get a chance to rebuild.

For the past 5 years I have been learning to fit Gabe’s memory into my daily life. I know that much of the compassion I have because I have been through his death is unbelievably valuable in my job. I know I deal with his brothers differently than I would have otherwise.

Making it through Gabe’s death has shown me just how strong I am. My life looks very, very different today than it did on April 8, 2016. I never would have imagined the changes that would happen in these 5 years, but even though his death was horrible and sad, these changes have not been. Gabe’s death has strengthened my faith, brought new friendships and made old ones stronger, and given me a perspective on life that can only come through a deep loss.

I’m not really sure what life would look like if April 8, 2016 had been just another ordinary day. I’d love to still have Gabe here. But the positive growth and beautiful changes to my life are something I would not pass up.

I once read something about the word “and” with relation to grief. It’s ok to be sad that your child won’t reach a milestone AND happy for their friends that do. It’s ok to be angry that your child is gone AND happy for something good that happens. For me, I’m sad that he’s gone AND I’m thrilled with the way my life is now. I feel peace knowing that Gabe sits from Heaven and has seen this progress over the past 5 years.

Today will be spent with the boys- lunch out and ice cream, of course. Then as the boys spend time with their dad I will spend time with my prince charming- who I know Gabe would have loved.

Life is messy. The crumbling that happened that day really left ruins for a while, but the rebuilding process has been quite beautiful.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Hmm. For the past several years that song definitely didn’t always ring true. Whether it was due to grief or other life stresses, the holiday season certainly didn’t always feel like the most wonderful time of the year. Last year I started to get some of my Christmas Spirit back, and I had a peaceful Christmas. But this year it’s really back, and I think I have more Christmas spirit than I ever have, more joy than I thought possible.

I have been so thankful this year for all the blessings that I have. I still miss Gabe, of course, and decorated his grave as usual. His absence is still loud. But this year things have been different.

I think a big part of the difference is that I’ve been in a process of decluttering my house. I’ve done that in bits and pieces before, but this is a different decluttering. A decluttering that is very linked to grief. You see, I kept so many of Gabe’s things as is. His room was the same until a few months ago when my friend and I transformed Gabe’s room for his little brother. There was a LOT of stuff in that room that needed to be sorted through. I pushed it aside and then went through it. It was hard. It was painful. I needed support and hugs as I went through it. But it needed to be done. And as I sorted a great thing happened- I felt like I had more room in my brain for happiness.

I think hanging on to so many of Gabe’s things took up space in my mind, and that left little room for happiness. Clearing out his room cleared out some of the sadness. I think I was afraid that getting rid of his things would wipe away the memories, but the memories are still all there.

The decluttering didn’t stop in his room. All over the house I’m starting to really analyze what things add to my life- and what things clutter up my brain. I have a LONG way to go, but I’ve made some progress in my living room, dining room, and kitchen. It feels peaceful being in those spaces now, when before it felt stressful- like there was always something that needed to be cleaned up or put away. I’m nowhere near done with decluttering or going through Gabe’s things. But every bit makes a huge difference in my level of peace.

As I type this I sit in my living room, with less clutter and a beautiful Christmas tree. I am reflecting on this year that has been bizarre, difficult, and also amazing all at the same time. And I’m smiling, because right now, life is good and it really is the most wonderful time of the year!

Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve written. A really long time. There are a few parts of my life that I am not ready to share, and for someone who processes through writing- well that is quite a struggle! It’s been difficult because these parts of my life that I’m processing are all so very intertwined. It’s hard to compartmentalize and only discuss one part. At some point I will be able to share more, but for now most of it will sit in my head.

There is, however, one part that I can still discuss- my grief. That part of my life is mine and mine alone. I can write about it as much as I want, and right now I feel the need to write.

The past few months have been crazy, complete with BIG life changes and a pandemic. I’ve been working for my employer for almost a year (on November 11!), but in that time the pandemic has given me the opportunity to learn not just one new job, but three! That doesn’t leave much time for grief! I’ve also been fortunate to be able to spend more time with my boys, but that also doesn’t leave much time for grief.

Not having time for grief is a very interesting thing. On one hand it is great. It makes life feel so much happier. I can tell I am moving forward and moving on in every way. But then there is the other hand. I imagine this is common for grievers. It’s the guilt. The guilt that this person who was there and now isn’t just sits in the periphery of thoughts. Really isn’t even there most of the time. I spend my days working and my evenings and weekends with those that I love. And life is good.

I’ve been pondering this for a while- the guilt. Wondering what kind of a mom that makes me. How can one of my children be in heaven and I am so happy here on earth. How can I be ok with the fact that my trips to the cemetery are few and far between. And how is it that my son’s grave still has the same flowers that he had in the spring? The blue ones. Normally by now I would have given him a fall bouquet.

But this is progress, and this is healthy, and this is grief. This weekend I was reassured that my son is still there, deep in my heart. I’ve been coasting along and changing things in my life. Many of those changes are in my home. The biggest thing is that Gabe’s youngest brother moved into his room. Gabe’s room sat minimally changed for over 4 years, but it was time to change it. So with the help of a friend (ok, so I helped that friend a tiny bit while he did the VAST majority of the work) Liam’s new room was made. To do that required me to move things out of Gabe’s room- boxes, clothing, and other things.

This past weekend I went through just one box of those things. I found writing, artwork, trinkets, and other things. It all went smoothly until one item. His band shoes. I picked up his shoes and immediately began crying. And not just a little bit. Cries just like those early in grief- deep and pain filled. My friend was there and held me while I cried, and I healed just a bit more.

That wave of grief was quick but so powerful. I’m thankful for it. Thankful for the reminder that no matter how much time passes my heart will always be connected to Gabe. Thankful for that quick burst of pain to show me just how far I’ve come. And thankful to share that moment and memories of my son as I processed through his things.

Losing my son has been such a difficult road, but through this deep loss and even in those painful moments I am so thankful.

**The pictures below are Liam’s new room/Gabe’s old room. Liam chose the new color. I think Gabe would approve!