In the grieving process of losing my son Alex to an accidental drug overdose, I have started writing a blog as therapy. Not only has it helped me, but from comments received, it let's others know they are not alone and what they feel is sometimes exactly what they are SUPPOSE to feel. Bless you all who find yourselves in my position; I wish you weren't.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

There is a Chinese legend that says our children are connected to us by an invisible red thread and no matter how tangled or frayed or twisted it gets, they are always on the other end. I knew that thread existed the moment mine were born. When I looked at everyone of them, I felt love. My heart was bursting with pride and joy and beating so fast that it felt it would jump out from my chest. I didn't learn to love them, love was just THERE. And it was endless. It never stops no matter where they go or how far they move away. We all like to talk about our kids, too. The world tells us that the last thing a parent wants to talk about is their lost child. The complete reverse is true, at least for me. Some parents want to talk and want someone to listen. Someone who can hear them crying from the depths of their soul. In the beginning I was very verbal and Mark was very quiet and to himself. He felt the loss so deep inside he couldn't talk about it. He couldn't bear the sight of me upset and even cried with me. But he dealt with his grief. He busied himself with work and the world went on. But we are closer now. Where a child's death can tear two people apart we managed to survive. If I find myself deep in a hole of despair, or reverse, we reach out a hand and pull each other out. We have already been to hell and back, and survived. We both know we will see Alex again and for me that's comforting. I'm not positive though if it's because I was raised that way or that's what I need to believe. Sometimes I feel I failed to protect Alex. I was suppose to keep him safe, that was my responsibility as a mother. That was my job and I didn't do it. Know one knows the hell I live with every single day.Yet I know deep in my heart I am not to blame. I just don't want to blame him. It's not the life I anticipated for him or what we dreamed for him. So I stay strong. The shock of his death only made me stronger, enough to even speak at his funeral. Who would know him better? During this time I was looked at as a pillar of strength among many friends and family. I was able to function where others thought this was impossible for me, I only saw it the way it was; I had to be in the present. There were others who took his death so hard that I felt I had to hold them up. Especially those who didn't understand what had been going on in his personal life. His death to them was tragic and so sudden. I felt if I let the impact of his death consume me with all its pain and heartache that I would never be the Terry everyone knew. And then it was over, and he was cremated. Relatives returned home, friend's returned to work and to their own families and lives. The refrigerator was empty and I was back on duty. The house was quiet. He was always there and now he wasn't. His room was empty, but not really. His things were a painful reminder he wasn't going to be using them again. And even though it was only February at the time, all I could think of was how different Christmas was going to be.  I couldn't imagine taking a family picture because he wasn't going to be in it. Yet the fact remained he would not be in any more family pictures. My family has changed. It is an emptiness that wouldn't and hasn't gone away. It doesn't get better, it gets different. The tears become fewer. The days aren't as filled with him in my mind. Those early months after he passed held alot of fear for me. The unexpected loss of him led me to hold on even tighter to what I had right in front of me. That was scary for awhile, but it passed. It's been 6 months, its time to move on some say. But I miss him so much. I can't sleep sometimes at night. I dream many nights of  WHY, WHAT IF, and IF ONLY. No matter what anyone says, no one can tell me those things don't run through their mind.  I'm a mother who misses her son. All that ever mattered to me was knowing he was safe, and now he is safer than he could ever be. When I say my prayers at night, after my AMEN, I still say GOODNIGHT ALEX, I LOVE YOU. And sometimes I get that feeling back the first time I ever laid eyes on him............endless love. 

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