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.)
No comments:
Post a Comment