(If you get that reference to an old commercial, then we can be friends. If you can quote from The Princess Bride, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, Harry Potter [all of them], LOTR [all of them] and MIB I-III, and if you secretly love the first Terminator movie, then we can be BEST friends. If you’ve read and love Terry Pratchett books, well, you can move in.)
We are all grateful for the counseling appointments because it is a safe place to share our separate journeys with such a common subject – a place where we can all hear from each other (three introverts, in case you missed that salient point; Mark was the only extrovert). I get this picture in my head, of our counselor sitting in the center of a ring of 3 turtles who have their heads pulled completely inside their shells, but little chubby legs/claws are still extended, desperately reaching out to the others and holding on tight.
As the days of December shortened and the nights grew longer, Mark appeared in my dreams a few times. I have always been a vivid dreamer and it had bothered me that he’d only shown up two or three times up to this point.
Yesterday – December 16, 2015 – I got my Very First Colonoscopy. And I learned a few things: Continue reading
Mark’s best friends, Andy and Jess, came by to visit last night with their mom, bringing homemade fudge and much-needed laughter. What’s great about them, and about James, and about Steven, and about all of Mark’s friends, is that ALL of their memories of Mark are good. They remember him with smiles.
I have become painfully aware that my ability to take time for my grief, to process this hell, is a “luxury,” relatively speaking. Hear me out…
I’ve started wondering about that deer in the woods. What was that about? (Was that something profound or something I need not try to weight down with import?) And perfect strangers have reported, to a friend, that they’ve “seen” Mark in the spiritual sense. One even mentioned red, black and white and wondered why the significance of those colors…? Well… those are his high school’s colors. And one of his favorite things is his red, white & black pom-pom winter hat.
I’ve been reading as much as I can (my focus is kind of shot; I can only concentrate for brief periods of time, and only on these kind of books) – books about child loss and grief and glimpses of heaven, Anna’s book (“Rare Bird”) about her journey through the valley of losing her son, Jack.
I came around the corner, from family room into living room, and there he was, sitting on the left end of the couch in front of the big picture window. He was smaller – perhaps 10? I was surprised and yet not overwhelmed by the fact that he was here. Continue reading
My blood pressure is sky high. Nothing has gone as planned this week – NOTHING.
The neurologist refused to intervene (?? this person made the diagnosis and prescribes the medication!) and although the family doctor did actually “grow a pair” and gently and kindly intervene, our loved one had no memory of the interaction, just 30 minutes later. And she is sad, and angry, and hurt, and so, so confused. We promised to have her tested but they can’t do it for at least two weeks. We had no idea the cataclysm of anxiety that would result from this. My husband and I are wrecked…last night I threw a tantrum – I have never, to my knowledge, done this in my entire life – in the middle of everything because this is JUST TOO MUCH. DAMMIT. It’s TOO MUCH.