Memories are good and needed, in fact. We can no longer make new ones & so we cling to the old ones. However, TJ is not there. He is HERE.
A Needed Reminder
Tag: #12yearsofawesome
Music Soothes the Savage Beast
I didn’t know what today would bring. It’s relatively early in the day, in fact, and I still don’t know the path ahead of me. I woke feeling heavy, weighed down physically. It was hard to get out of bed. Puppy whining in her crate, “Let me out. I need to pee.” It was an hour or more later than…
Hell Week
The memories flood into my thought-space and there’s not much I can do about it. Part of me wants to sit in bed all day and stare at photos from TJ’S last week. And part of me says “get your ass outta bed!” I don’t know which will win. Right now it’s the “stay in bed” voice. I feel paralyzed and even when I look around at all that waits to be tended to, I just don’t give a fuck. Maybe one more hour in bed? Two? I don’t know. I don’t know how to get through today.
Remembering
There’s nothing simple about showing up for someone’s pain
River of Renewal
I am in several grief community Facebook groups. One is more general, one for parents, one for parents whose children died from cancer, and the most specific being for parents whose children died from brain cancer. I was reading posts in the childhood cancer group this morning and a mom was grieving the loss of her child and talking about…
There is a book I read not too long after TJ died called The Light Between Us. I suppose it wasn’t the first time I had heard of the idea of asking someone from the other side to send a specific sign, but it was the first time in the context of the bereaved mother and it resonated with me.…
Fulfilling
Since becoming “the grieving mother” I have joined several Facebook groups for the bereaved. Some specific to moms, some specific to childhood cancer, some specific to children’s brain caner. These groups have been my therapy for three years. At times I am heavily involved. I pour my heart out. I attend online chats. I cry over other people’s stories. I…
“Krissy, it’s time.”
When you’ve been told for a week that your son is going to die “any time now, maybe even within the hour,” and then he continues to hold on, you start to wonder if the doctors are right. You look for any miniscule shred of evidence that they really don’t know what they’re talking about. Every flinch, every eyelash flutter, every hand squeeze becomes a flicker of hope.
Nature Hearts
Hearts. TJ sends me hearts
Mama’s Day
I am not always capable of overlooking the grief. That’s ok, though. It’s not about living in denial of sadness; it’s about living despite the sadness.