This is my son in the summer of 2005, 3-4 months before he was murdered. He bought this old junker truck. Rebuilt the bed, rebuilt the carburator and transmission, and was in the process of doing other things when he was killed. We sold it to one of his friends. That friend doesn't come around anymore, so we don't know what happened to the truck. This is one of my favorite pictures of Paul!

A lot of posts posted today!

If there is anyone out there at all reading this, my apologies! Because of the busyness of life, I forgot about this special blog I set apart for sharing my thoughts and feelings on grief. I didn't post on my "regular" blog either, for quite a while.

But life has calmed down some, I remembered my blogs, so I went back to my "regular" blog and copied and pasted any posts I've made on that about grief, and put them here.

I hope to do better by posting directly to this site about grief!

~Linda

Jan. 6, 2009

I went to our parent's grief group tonight and enjoyed it more than usual because I've not been able to go for the past 3 or 4 months. It was a small group of long-timers, so our conversation was different than when newly grieving parents are there. Our pain is different than it was when our children first died. But unlike what some people think, it still hurts deeply and there is a hole that will never go away, and we have times when we struggle -- seem to go "backwards".

My father died eight years ago and I miss him very much and sometimes cry when there is a trigger. It is much different dealing with Paul's death; it has changed me, and still affects me in ways that makes some people uncomfortable.

In group we discussed Christmas and what we do to honor our deceased children, to somehow include them in the holiday. Seems like each of us have found our own ways. Buying the child an ornament to continue the tradition. Giving money to a charity in our child's name. LIghting a candle beside a picture. Making sure to share memories.We ourselves are doing OK in finding our ways to honor, to remember.

The problem seemed to be the extended families not wanting anything special done or the child's name mentioned. That caused the pain in our group, that there was no place left for the child among the extended family. That was not my hurt, thankfully, but I hurt for my friends. We also discussed the fact that many many people in our lives don't know why we still need to come to a grief group, why we still struggle, especially on the birthday, the death anniversary, and the holidays.It is hard to explain, and that is why we need the group. Everyone there automatically understands when you begin to speak. Even though our circumstances are different, we have a bond, a special understanding, a shared horror.

I am so grateful for our group! One couple is facing the SEVEN year anniversary of their son's suicide. They are leaders in our group, helping others to walk the path. Yet, this is a difficult time for them, they struggle. Many would say "they should be past that by now". No! They have healed in many ways, they help others, their faith is strong, they enjoy life, their daughter, and new grandbaby. But they will never stop struggling over not having their son with them, not understanding why he thought he needed to take his own life, to be horrified to know he was in that much despair and they didn't know.

And so we come to group once a month to listen, to perhaps share, yes even to laugh. Just to relax and be who we are and know everyone around the table "gets it". I am grateful for my grief group.

Nov. 15, 2008

It was just a piece of trash, blown to the curb by our midwestern winds. Just lying there by the mailbox, an innocent piece of trash. No one else would have paid attention to it. But as I glanced down I felt like I was in one of those movies where the character has flashes of the past coming one after the other. It left me breathless and aching, this piece of trash.

Images of Paul flashed through my mind, one after the other, and that familiar "I can't believe he's really dead, how can it be?" hit me, and tears sprang to my eyes. I had to stop where I was and stare at that piece of trash, that crumpled, faded, empty box of Marlboro cigarettes.

I've learned to embrace those moments, those "grief bursts"; have learned to stop and FEEL the pain and aching loss and disbelief. To savor whatever memories come, to remember, to hurt, to cry.

At the end of the driveway, the wind whipping around me, tears running down my face, I looked down at a piece of trash and remembered my boy.

November 6, 2008, the three year mark of my precious son's death:

I have always loved the leaves at fall. Not so much the colors on the trees, although I enjoy them; but the leaves I enjoy the most are the dry ones on the ground. I love walking through a pile of leaves, hearing them crunch under my shoes. I have FOND memories of Swope Park in Kansas City, as a kid. My Dad would heap up a huge pile of leaves and my sister and I would run and jump into them, over and over and over. We have old home movies of that.

Most of all, though, I love dancing leaves. I can stand at my front door for quite a while, watching leaves dance down the street, across the yard & driveway, zip through the air.Today was extremely windy, even for the Kansas. The dancing leaves were everywhere! Some of them would blow in a straight line across my path as I drove, and I could hear them hitting the truck as I went through them. Other leaves danced in circles on the street, jumping up and down, swirling & twirling to unheard music. I was enchanted!

On the hill at the cemetery where the body of my boy lies, the leaves weren't doing a lot of dancing, but they did blow across the squares of land in random patterns (I know, I know, that's a contradiction, but that's how I saw it!). The wind howled around me as I changed the flowers in the vase, washed off the headstone, and sat a while pondering all that happened 3 years ago, and what life is like now.

Not a lot to say, but I can't let this day go by without saying SOMETHING. I can't believe it's been 3 years, I can't believe I've survived such a loss, I can't believe the mixture of sadness and peace I feel today.

I love you, Paul. Rest in peace.

Oct. 25, 2008

And I quote, "It is not, therefore, the experience of loss that becomes the defining moment of our lives........IT IS HOW WE RESPOND TO LOSS THAT MATTERS. That response will largely determine the quality, the direction, and the impact of our lives...............recovery from such a (catastrophic) loss is an unrealistic and even harmful expectation, if by recovery we mean resuming the way we lived and felt prior to the loss..................Response involves the CHOICES we make, the GRACE we receive, and ultimately the TRANSFORMATION we experience in the loss."
Excerpt from "A Grace Disguised" by Jerry Sittser

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In one week & 5 days, well really, one week and 4 days, plus the 5th day, my family will face the "it's been three years since Paul was hurt and died". So I'm re-reading this wonderful book on grief. It's the one that has impacted me the most. I say that two days are hard, because Paul was stabbed on November 5th, early in the morning, and we spent the entire day and that night in the hospital, making decisions no parent should ever have to make, and then just waiting for God's timing for him to die.

He died on the 6th, but honestly, the 5th is a tougher day for me.That was the hardest day, the day of facing what was going to happen, coming to terms with it, waiting for it.By the day of the 6th, I knew it would happen, knew that some good would come out of it by the organ donations. And he died early that morning, 5:05.

Grief is always there, it changes form and substance. But this time of year and certain dates force me to stop long enough to feel what I'm feeling and work through my emotions. So today I remind myself that I never will "get over it", but I can respond in a positive way.

Oct. 4, 2008

In my last post I wrote about the Victims Rights Week service we attended. I'd like to share the words to a song that is played on CD every year at this service. We are supposed to sing along, but most of us by then are too weepy, so we simply listen!

WE ARE THE SURVIVORS by R. Wright

There are those of us whose mothers have been taken from our arms.THERE ARE THOSE OF US WITH CHILDREN WE COULD NOT KEEP SAFE FROM HARM.There are those of us who've lived to see our fathers lose their lives.And each and every one of us survives.

CHORUS:We are the survivors, left behind to carry on.We are the survivors, joined together we are strong.We will speak out for our loved ones who were not given a choice.We are the survivors, hear our voice.

Maybe some of us have brothers who were here, but now they're gone.You can ask about our sisters, because their memory is strong.We are sons and we are daughters, we are husbands, we are wives.And each and every one of us survives.

REPEAT CHORUS

With a part of us that never heals, and a fear of the unknown,there's a strength in knowing through it all, we are not alone.

REPEAT CHORUS