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Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Those Last Times

It's been almost a year of firsts. But this morning I woke up thinking of last times. Husband says my son and his friend left on the 27th of last October, heading for Pennsylvania to work. I have a text from him in my phone that is dated October 26, 2011 where I was checking on him and he said he was "working right now." And on the 28th he texted that "it's real nice up here and the job seems really good too" and "I can learn a lot while I am up here."

(What did he learn? What have I learned?)

His friend was teaching him to weld. His friend was also helping him to save his money. There was talk of him saving to buy his own welding truck. Instead, his money was used to pay for over half of his funeral expenses. There was talk of settling down and marrying his little girlfriend, and dreams of being a father.

Anyway, my point is that sometime in these last few days of October, that was the last time I saw my son alive, the last time I hugged him tight while telling him I loved him, and to be careful, and to behave. I had no clue of the pain that was in the road ahead.

(I have learned that loss hurts and that you do make it through, somehow, by the grace of God and with the help of caring and alert (alertness is needed because grief does not always announce itself as grief-lately my own grief has looked very much like sheer orneriness and irritability and the feeling of wanting to run away and hide) and compassionate friends. In my neediness and pain, I have learned more about what love looks like. How very grateful I am for the love of others.)

It feels like I am set to relive again the events of the last two months of last year. There is this feeling of intensity and necessity. It is a path I must walk though it's not like I will be "healed" once I reach the one year mark on December 8th. But I will be far more healed than I would if I tried to ignore all my grief or to stuff it back so I can look like everything is good and I am okay.


(I have learned it is okay to admit to trusted friends that I am not totally okay.)

There were tumultuous times with that boy/man but I loved him fiercely and I grieve and mourn his loss just as fiercely. He was alive, you know. And he made a difference in our lives and in the lives of his friends. But now he's gone. And I have this huge hole in my heart. 

(I have learned you can live and experience joy and beauty even with a huge hole in your heart.)

It is important for the living to stop sometimes and take a deep breath and to say "I love you" to those you love-to look them in the eye and really see them. We all know this and somehow we often forget that today might be the last time we get to say "I love you."

(I have learned (in the case of mother love at least) it really is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. How very grateful I am for the time I had to love my son and how much more aware I am of the time and opportunity to love my daughters.)

Here he is (the tallest one) with his best friend and his best friend's son.



22 comments:

  1. Oh sweetie...I cannot even begin to imagine. Your words and sweet and raw. Thank you for sharing them. I am glad you decided to walk forward.

    I love the picture.

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    1. Thanks, Mindy! Walking forward is a decision I sometimes have to remake. I'm glad I do.

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  2. Such hope in the midst of pain. Thank for your this vulnerable and real post. The picture is so perfect.

    You are loved.

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    1. Thank you, Beth. Where would we be without hope?

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  3. (((((((((((((annie))))))))))))))

    "it is okay to admit to trusted friends that I am not totally okay" ok and necessary.

    "to look them in the eye and really see them" this thought occurred to me yesterday as I drove my daughter home.

    That is a great picture.

    Take care, annie.

    Miche

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    1. Thank you, Miche. I'm trying to do better by my husband and my daughters about really seeing them and paying attention.

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  4. Christ on a cracker - I am SO glad I am the only one in the office right now. Dammit.

    :)

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    1. Oh, Rach, this just cracked me up! I laughed out loud! And I was NOT alone in the office!

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  5. Oh sweetie. What a road you travel. Know that you're not alone.

    LVC

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  6. Annie, as you delve through the next two months and thoughts of what you went through last year come to the surface, make sure to sandwich them between loving, good thoughts to help buffer that pain. Remember (as I know you already know) that it is not as important to be preoccupied with his death but with his life; that is how we honor the memory of those who went before us. Hang tight and know that we are here traveling this journey alongside you.

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    1. I will, Jules! It is one of the ways of making it through. We tell stories to each other and laugh in our memories.

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  7. Gentle hugs to you dear friend.

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    1. Thank you, Hope! Gentle hugs back to you too...

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  8. Diane.... thank you... for your courage and honesty. And for me I am so grateful that you have allowed your friends to pick up and care for you. And that you have shared with us your deepest feelings and thoughts... you don't realize whose lives you have already touched and will touch through your openness.
    I needed to read this today. I needed to remember loss and grief too... and that it does no good to hide from that.
    thank you and I love you old friend... I hope you know that.

    I wish you peace in your heart... and everywhere else.

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    1. I'm glad it was of use to you Lori! Thank you. Love you too. We are survivors, aren't we? Made from some tough cloth and yet we need to learn how to be vulnerable. And that is HARD!

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  9. there you go again. Writing good stuff. courageous and honest and real! Thanks for letting us in on your journey!!

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  10. Replies
    1. D, I feel the love! And I love you too. You're support has been priceless.

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  11. This is really one of those times of which we spoke over on my site, Annie. I have no words, but am grateful to just sit here in this chair beside you, sharing thoughts and space as life comes to us.

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    1. True, Jim. I'm grateful to have you around here.

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