Hard Days

It still amazes me how grief changes but never goes away. In some regards it is harder and in others it is easier...there is a give and take and wax and wane through the whole thing. This morning I missed George so bad. The pain was to the very core of who I am. In the beginning the shock of it all dampened the pain so it was not as bad as it is now. The only thing that is different is that the days are further between...in the beginning it consumes your every thought and waking moment. The days now are further between but much deeper and harder to cope with pain/anxiety. As we get closer to the day he died, anxiety becomes worse for me and my mind will often get the best of me. I will have panic attacks over things that aren't even happening and then I can't get past the images in my head of the day he died and the horrors that came with it.

I am fortunate to have online support groups of other moms and also others who are dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder every day. This helps me to know I am not alone and that all I am experiencing is normal no matter how much those around me may think it isn't or that there is something I can do different to make it not happen or not so bad. In the end, I am right and they love me and mean well but they are wrong and cannot fix this sort of thing...time is what needs to happen and being patient and dealing with these moments is all that can be done. Talking to others going through this helps on many levels but it does not ease the pain or moments. My heart just breaks and there is nothing I can do about it but ride it out and ask God to carry me.

Every single day I look at Gabby and think that if George did not die, she would not be here. She brings so much joy to us and just as I could not imagine my life without her but at the same time would give anything to have George back. You can't choose between your children and so often I think that this is why God did what he did. In order to bring us all to his folds he had to sacrifice his son for all his sons and daughters. That is no easy thing to do and if I had the choice I know I couldn't make it. God knows my pain and walks me every day through the pain of this and I know it but it is so hard sometimes to keep that positive outlook on things.

For us right now, life is hard...it always has been. Hugh and I were both the two in our families that struggled growing up the most and now as adults still do the same even when we do nothing to cause it to happen. I don't know why God has chosen us and I pray every single day he will show me his plan for us so we can find some reason for all of this but for now I have to just rely on faith even if that means crying out to God in the depths of my dispare. There is a great song called "Better than a Hallelujah" It talks about a mother crying in the dead of night and every single time I hear that, I think of myself and all the moms who's children now call heaven their home. The other song that seeks to my heart is "Held" when it says "2 months is too little, they let him go, they had no sudden healing" Whenever I hear that line, I think of standing there in the ER watching my son as they worked on him and then as they turned to say there were no miracles there in store for us that day.

Today Richard had a docs appt and as we drove there, I was taken back. The cold weather and smell of the heater in my van just brought me to the days following his death when my sister Michelle drove Hugh and I to and from the funeral home. She was there almost from the moment the pronounced him and drove us to say our final goodbyes and pick out an urn. Growing up we were never close and yet somehow I felt as if she was my saving grace and she will never truly know what she did for us those days. My sister Tara was so heartbroken after her own loss and empathy for our situation...she got the decorations for the hall after the service, she bought gifts for the kids to keep them in the loop and half of the people at the church that day were her coworkers. One of her coworkers came the day after he died and spent a few hours with Richard. Both of my sisters went with us to say goodbye one last time to our son. We all saw his little body once more before he was cremated and we had moments there that night that I will forever cherish. My brother would run around wherever we needed him to go...he stayed with the little kids and helped with them when the police were preforming CPR and I refused to leave George. To this day he has a deep connection to George and was more impacted by the whole thing than he will ever let on to anyone else.

I cannot thank all of them for what they did. Every day, even now they still worry about me and watch as we struggle wishing they could fix it somehow. Not being able to help, they feel helpless and yet in some ways I feel guilty. Things somehow revolve around our family and the troubles we have and yet I know they each face their own struggles. They are different struggles than those we have had to endure but so often they get set aside because something major is going on in my life and I feel so bad sometimes. I think of their friends and I am so thankful that they do have at least one good friend they can count on because I know someone else is there when I can't be there for them. They have been here for me in my worst times and yet, I don't even know what was the hardest things they have had to face(ok well I know my sister Tara's) I wish there would be a time when my life was not so insane that things could settle in and I could be there for them when they need me to be. I hope they know how much I love them and how much they mean to me.

I am asking that as we go into the days ahead, you keep us in your prayers. Right now I know myself and know I am in need of as many as I can possibly get. Our house is suppose to be foreclosed on right before George's death date so things are just pretty bad right now and I can feel it deep in my soul...a kind of pain I cannot begin to explain. Also keep the other parents who have lost a child in your prayers, many of them have lost their children around this time of year and we are all hurting together but feeling alone even in a crowded room.