I Just Feel.... Empty

As I sit down to write this post, I'm still not 100% sure I can even put it into words, let alone share it with the world. But I'm going to try, because this is my therapy. This blog is my couch and counselor. I've always sworn to be honest and real when I'm writing, and since this is something that has been weighing on me for some time, I feel compelled to release it, or it will most definitely eat me alive. 
So here goes...
Ever since losing Zach, I've discovered feelings that I never knew existed within me. Emotions that it has taken me quite some time to identify. Maybe they've always been there, just below the surface, but until recently, I couldn't quite put my finger on them.
Let me start at the beginning. Not too long before meeting my husband (Dan) I was diagnosed with some female medical issues. I won't get into the details, but after several procedures and doctors, I was essentially told that having kids was probably not going to be an option for me. It could happen, but the likelihood was low. At the time, I was 18 years old. Fresh out of high school, and the only future I was concerned with was the weekend ahead. I'm not even sure the news fully registered with me. I barely gave it another thought. Fast forward about a year, and I met Dan. This amazing guy that I instantly connected with. And if that wasn't awesome enough, he came complete with a miniature version of himself that I also fell head over heels in love with immediately. Zach was four years old, and damn near the perfect child. Sweet, funny, adorable, loving, and buckets of fun. Sure, we had challenges along the way, but he and I formed a bond that was stronger than anything I could ever have fathomed. By 20, I was living with Dan and Zach, and we were a regular family. I was even a stay at home mom. At this point, the idea of not being able to have kids was something that I had begun to think about from time to time. Especially when Zach would ask for a baby brother or sister multiple times a day. But aside from my medical issues, there was another issue with adding to our family. That was Dan. You see, Dan was a teenage father. Not the ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination. Add to that the fact that Zach's mother had a change of heart, and had all but abandoned him by the age of nine months, and the fact that Dan had very strong feelings about NOT having any more kids, well... it made sense. He had made it very clear, right from the beginning, that he was a one and done dad. Being only 19, and believing I couldn't have kids anyway, this wasn't a deal breaker for me. Besides, we already had a kid who we adored, so it wasn't like I'd never get to experience motherhood. 
Over the next 13+ years, we raised our son, and went about our lives. I won't say that I never thought about having kids, but it wasn't something I was dwelling on. I focused on the future, and figured I'd just be the most kick ass grandma someday. Zach had just graduated from high school, and we were helping him sort out his college plans. Then everything changed. 
On August 4, 2012, we said goodbye to Zach. Our only child, and our entire world. The emptiness that follows the loss of a child is something that has no comparison. My heart was shattered, and my soul was lost. I found myself yearning for something to fill the hole that losing my son had left in me. I knew, from talking to other grieving parents, and from my reading on the subject, that these feelings were normal. "Don't worry, they'll pass." I was told. 
It's been almost three years since losing Zach, and the feeling has only gotten worse. I've tried distracting myself with work, hobbies, and various activities, but nothing changes.
I'm 35 years old now. I've watched all my friends and loved ones grow their families. Baby after baby I've celebrated. Since losing my own child, each birth has been more painful than the last. Every pregnancy bringing with it anger and jealousy. And then to hear all the moms talk about motherhood to me as if I know nothing of the subject. As if I didn't watch my own child grow into a man, only to be stolen from me. But you know what.... they're not wrong. Because for all the experiences I do have as a mother, there are so many that I don't. I've never known the surprise and fear of finding out you're pregnant. Never felt and watched my body change, as I grew a person inside of it. Never seen the look of love on my husband's face as he felt his child kick for the first time. Never stressed over picking the right name, or what colors to paint a nursery. I've never felt the agony of childbirth, and the immeasurable joy of hearing your child cry for the first time. I've never fed from my breast, never stared into a brand new face, looking to see myself, and I've never been called "mommy". 
I've always thought of myself as someone who thrived on experiences. Of relishing, first hand, in all the ups and downs that life had to offer. But for one of the greatest, most amazing, powerful, and life changing experiences a person can have, I've never been more than a bystander. I've always had to live those moments vicariously through someone else. Before losing my son, I could accept that, because I had him. I had a future. I would watch my child grow, dance with him at his wedding, and all the extra motherly love I had in me would be bestowed upon my future grandchildren and great grandchildren. 
But that future is gone now. And my heart still has so much to offer, but nowhere to put it.
I see mothers with their children and my heart breaks anew. I hold my tiny nephew to my chest and I never want to let him go. I see my sister spoil her grandchildren and I wonder what that feels like, because I'll never know. 
At night, I dream of my son, and in many of them, he's holding a baby girl and smiling. He tries to give her to me, but I wake up before he can. I don't know what the dreams mean, but I know I wake up feeling even more empty and sad than when I fell asleep. 
Maybe it's my Grief causing these feelings. Maybe it's my biological clock screaming at me to do something before it's too late. Maybe it's a change in hormones. Maybe it's all of these things and more, I just don't know. Whatever it is, it fucking sucks, and I wish I knew what to do about it. 
But for now, I'll just keep trying to push forward and hope for the best.

My Holidays...

Let me start this by apologizing in advance. I feel the urge to do some serious venting, but I don't want to burden anyone with having to listen against their will, so I am going to do it here, where anyone who wants to, can choose to read it. I am apologizing because this isn't aimed at anyone in particular, and my intent is not to bash anyone, or cause guilty or hurt feelings. I just need to get some things off my chest.
I am a grieving parent. Whether you choose to accept that fact or not is up to you. No, I didn't give birth to my son, but that in no way lessened my love for him. We may not have shared DNA, but what we did share goes even deeper. My loss and my pain are VERY real. What others think and choose to believe means little to me. I know how I feel, no matter how much others wish to diminish my grief. I did not carry my son in my body, but I carried him in my heart and soul, and in every other way possible. I have no other children. He was my one and only, and with his loss came the loss of so much. I am no  longer a mom. While some people will tell you after child loss that you will always be a mother, in my heart I know those are merely words of comfort, not truth. A mother without a child, is just a woman. While my arms still ache to hold my son, and my lips still yearn to kiss his head, or share some maternal wisdom, those urges cannot be fulfilled. While those who've lost a limb describe phantom pains, I too, have phantom pains, for I've lost a part of myself that I will never get back. Every day since he's been gone has been hard. Indeed, some harder than others, but none have been easy. The holidays are some of the hardest. Holidays are for family. They are a time to rejoice and celebrate one another, and to hold close that which we hold dear. I don't want to rejoice. I see no reason for celebration. Instead I want to scream. I want to shout to the Heavens and beg for my son back. My list to Santa is short. I only want one thing. But no amount of begging and pleading will bring him back. There is no magic strong enough to grant that wish for me.
Christmas is a week away. While I choose not to celebrate, that does nothing to lessen my exposure to it. It's everywhere I look. Happy families smiling from the fronts of cards, excited children in the stores, stressed out parents, complaining about not having enough time left. You wanna talk about not having enough time? My SON didn't have enough time. My husband didn't have enough time with his little buddy. I didn't have enough time to tell him how much he meant to me, and how much I loved him. There is no such thing as enough time. I just want to shout "Screw your lists, and your errands! At least you still have your sons and daughters!" I want to... but I can't. It's not fair. I was once a stressed out parent, complaining too. I have no right to shame anyone for just being normal. But that's just it, I'm not normal anymore. THIS is my new normal. Being angry, being sad, being hurt, and overwhelmed.
And the worst part is... no one understands. Unless you've lost a child, you can't begin to relate. All grief is not the same. Period. A parent should NEVER outlive their kids. That doesn't mean your sadness over your loved one isn't real, or hard. It is, believe me, I know. I've lost grandparents, friends, and many loved ones. And I miss them. Sometimes terribly. But what I feel now is in a realm all its own. It is a grief the likes of which are indescribable and unavoidable. And it doesn't lessen over time. In many ways, it only gets worse. I will NEVER come to peace with it. My heart will never recover. You don't "move on" from losing a child. You continue to live. That is all.
So if I seem down, or angry at the holidays, I'm sorry. I do my best to keep it to myself, I really do. But sometimes it can be too much, and I may vent a little steam. I'm not asking you to "fix it", because you can't. Even the most well intentioned ideas, and suggestions will make no difference. I'm only asking you to be patient, be kind, and be compassionate. Please don't tell me that I still have so much to be thankful for, and to "put it into perspective" because I know what I have, and what I've lost, and I've had PLENTY of perspective, thank you very  much. While I may choose not to decorate or send cards, please don't think I expect you to do the same. I want you to be happy. I want you to be excited. I just can't be. Not yet. I am trying, I really am. And please don't stop including me in things. I may not always say no, and the time I say yes, might be the time that makes all the difference.
I miss my son. Every second of every minute, of every day. I want to talk about him. I WILL talk about him. And I want others to talk about him. Especially this time of year. Don't hesitate because you think it will make me sad, or because you think it will be hard on me. I NEED to talk about him, and hear you say his name. I need to know he is still on your mind, because he is ALWAYS on mine.

 

(Our son, Zachary, with his gingerbread train. This pic was taken in 2008.)

The Blame Game

Let me start by saying that the horrible and unimaginable event that took place in Newton, CT is a human tragedy, plain and simple. The lives of countless people have been forever changed. As a parent who has very recently lost my only child, my heart aches for those who went home with empty arms and empty souls. There is NO loss like that of a child. There is no pain more intense and unending. If I could reach out and hold each of them, I would. But since there are no words that can ease the pain they feel, I will merely say that I am keeping them in my thoughts and sending them my love.

That being said, I just cannot sit idly by any longer and read post after post, and tweet after endless tweet where people are laying blame and pointing fingers. 
This is not a political issue. The political party that the man (I refuse to give him any notoriety by using his name.) who did this affiliates with is not responsible for his actions. Heinous crimes are committed every day by people from every class, creed, sex and political affiliation. So let's move on.
This is also not a gun issue. Whether you are pro or anti gun, there is an argument to be made either way. To those who think more guns are the answer, to that I say this: Where does it end? If teachers need guns, then what happens when a teacher freaks out and shoots their students? Do we then give all students guns to protect themselves as well? What happened in CT was in an elementary school. The majority of victims were under 8 years old. That is an illogical and irrational attitude. I for one do not want to live in a world where teachers need to carry arms. I cannot help but picture war torn countries and terrified children, and this is not what I want for my America. So you probably think this means that I want no guns. In an ideal world, we would never need guns. This is not an ideal world. Guns are a very real part of our existence. The idea that we can ever live in a world without them is idiotic. I grew up in a family of hunters, and my husband is a registered hand gun owner. Do we need it? No. Has he ever used it? No. It was passed on from his grandfather, and it is locked safely away where it will probably remain until he decides to get rid of it. I am not pro or anti gun. I can see both sides of the picture. But let's be real honest here. Guns were invented to kill. Plain and simple. So we should not be surprised when they do. I am 100% for better and more strict gun laws across the board. Though they will not keep all of the guns out of the hands of people who intend to use them for harm, they MAY keep some out, and if that means saving just one innocent life, then how could I NOT support it. But banning all guns is not a realistic attitude in this day and age. Period. Do I think your Joe Average needs a military grade, assault rifle? Not in the least. But that is a subject for another time. The bottom line is that a gun did not walk into that school and kill those people. A human being did. And as we all know, it doesn't require a gun to kill people. Bombs, knives and various tools have been used throughout history to do just that. So let's not make this a discussion about gun control, because that is another topic altogether. 
I would also like to point out that this is not a religious issue either. Whether you believe God belongs in schools or not, it is NOT the reason this twisted individual did what he did. Period. GOD can never be banned from schools. If you believe that God is a part of you, and that he is with you always, at all times, than he can never be banned from anything. If you think your children need more God, feel free to send them to a religious school, or attend regular church. That is the beauty of living in a free society. You have the RIGHT to practice any religion you choose. As does everyone else. Prayer was banned from schools in America in the early 60's. I personally grew up in the public school system, religion free. As did nearly everyone I know. I have never, ever even considered committing such an unbelievable act. Have you? Probably not. Is this because you were or weren't allowed to pray in school? Doubtful. It's more likely that you grew up in a home where you were taught right from wrong. You were taught that there are consequences to your actions. And you had the love and support of a good family. The world is indeed changing, and not entirely for the better. Speaking only for myself, I do not practice any religion. Nor does my husband. So obviously my son did not either. Yet somehow, he still managed to grow into a kind, loving, respectful and generous person. God had nothing to do with it. 
And God had nothing to do with the actions of the sick and twisted individual who, of his own free will, shot his sleeping mother in the face and then walked into an elementary school and killed 26 innocent people. 
It is high time that we start placing blame where it belongs. On the individual responsible. A lack of responsibility for our own actions is the biggest issue facing us in the world today. We want to point fingers and make excuses. Well, I find that disgusting. If you get drunk, get behind the wheel and kill 3 people, it is NOT the alcohol or the car's fault. It is yours. If you smoke two packs a day, and get cancer, it is not the cigarette's fault. It is yours. Start owning up people. You have free will, and you make your own choices. It is time to start accepting the consequences for those choices. There is only one person responsible for what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School. All the finger pointing and blaming and excuse making in the world will not change that fact. 
I know that in times like this we want answers. We need to know why. But does it really matter? Would knowing why bring those lives back? Is there ANY reason or explanation that would be good enough? The answer is no. 
So maybe instead of looking for answers to unanswerable questions, let's instead focus on things we can control. Look around you. Take a good hard look at the people you know. Start making honest assessments and paying attention. Someone doesn't generally become a mass murderer overnight. If you see a child, or an adult that seems to fit a certain profile, reach out and do something. Parents, PLEASE start being proactive. Wouldn't you rather be the parent of a child in therapy than the parent of a murderer? Mental illness is a very real thing, and it can be helped. Do your research. Ask questions. Be involved. At every stage of your children's lives. There is no shame in asking for help. Let's take all this energy expelled at pointing fingers and making excuses, and use it towards preventing another heartbreaking tragedy. No matter what your personal beliefs, I'm certain we can all agree on one thing. It is a heart wrenching blow to our human spirit that we will never forget.