One more anniversary...fifteen years has passed, and yet, it still feels like yesterday. I'm angry! I'm down right pissed off! I can't stop weeping and feeling so empty! It's normal, it really is; grief never leaves us, it becomes a part of our lives. The same questions pop up: "Why did this happen?" "How could he have been so stupid to get in that car with his drunk buddies?" "Why did everyone else make it out alive?" "Why did his death cause an entire family to lose ground and fall apart and away from one another?" I can still hear the phone ringing--ringing. I can feel the urgency of my eldest son pounding on the door! I get that emotional adrenaline, and want to run--just run away from the nightmare! It did not happen! It's still just a bad dream! Oh god, why can't I wake up and just know it was all not true?

I feel his pulse, his heartbeat; slower and slower--I felt his life slip away, and go... I was prepared though, while driving to Colorado, I felt a grasp at my heart, as if an infant was clutching my breast...the clutch was strong, oh so strong-- and then, just as quick as it grabbed me, it slipped away. I really knew at that moment, that what I was going to do there was say good-bye. I was strong, I recall that feeling of utter calmness, of strength and love for my remaining babies. I stood there watching as each one of them dealt with the grieving process; different ways and yet all the same time. It was eerie. One punching the hospital walls, some sobbing, one in denial, and one...just so quiet. One was far away, and oh how I wish she was there with us too. We made the decision to take him off life support-- it was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life...ever. This scene from Steel Magnolias sums it all up.

I find it amusing. Men are supposed to be made out of steel or something. I just sat there. I just held Shelby's hand. There was no noise, no tremble, just peace. Oh god. I realize as a woman how lucky I am. I was there when that wonderful creature drifted into my life and I was there when she drifted out. It was the most precious moment of my life.

I miss you terribly Robert David Baker, we all do! mom

So you've just found out that the person you love is terminal

It saddens me to hear that a loved one is dying...nothing we can do but enjoy the moments we have left with them. My advice: Make every moment count, ask questions you have yearned for the answers, make as many memories as you can! Find out about their history, childhood memories, and perhaps, see if there is something they've always wanted to do, but never had the time. I think, (now this is just my opinion) That death is not the end. It feels that way for the ones left behind, because we are empty inside-- a puzzle peice is missing and nothing or no one can replace them either. Think about your life, what a blessing this person made in your life--tell them! Let them know-- it's good for them and even better for you. Listen as well, because when they are leaving this side, they have such insight and much to give in return!

I cry knowing one more parent has lost a child...

The news no parent wants....The loss of a child is so deep, painful beyond imagination; it feels as if someone has ripped out your heart and soul, leaving you gutted! All the well wishers, telling you to have faith, that your child is in a better place, when we know, as parents, the best place is with us! I wasn't ready for God to take my child...In fact, I was pretty ticked off at Him for a very long time! I was angy with myself too, angry at the women still holding their babies while mine is just in a box! All I know, is I want the world to make a sharp u-turn and change time....just enough to say everything I wanted to say, one more hug, one more kiss, one more anything!!! How can this happen? Most importantly, why? It's been 14 years for me, and the pain of that day still resides in the deepest part of my heart.

Fourteen years have come and gone; I hate that he's gone, I'm angry that I will never hear his laughtrer, or feel his lips brush against my cheek. I'm angry that his death has trashed our family.....I still mourn, after fourteen years, yes, I still mourn. I cry because his life was brief, because I wonder what he would have become, I know, he would be here for his brother and help me to feel good about when my time comes. I miss him so much it hurts...and the pain NEVER goes away! It's just fine to still hurt and remember, they are dead, it's true, but they live on in our hearts! miss you Bobby

Sometimes, you just need to cry

I attended our local Hospice Light up your Life celebration; it was nice at first, meeting and greeting people, knowing that we all have so much in common is a good thing because we can relate to the needs of one another. Then, as a board member, I was given a part to read for our ceremony; I scanned it not really paying attention to the words until I had to read them. The words reminded me of my child whom I once held tenderly in my arms, who I, many times scolded, and just laughed with--

Then the tears came, like a waterfall just bursting from a cold winter into the spring. I miss him so much and yes, after almost fourteen years, the thoughts of him still hurt my heart. After the ceremony was over a sweet slideshow of loved ones flashed on the screen, and two songs whitch always make me cry played-- my heart was taken back to the moment I let my baby go.

Sometimes you just need to cry, even if the pain gets difficult it reminds us that they were in our lives and even though they are away from our sight they are never away from our hearts, minds, and souls. Take care of yourselves during the holidays and remember to remember our loved ones. Get that gift for a stranger with a purpose, shop with your loved one in mind. you will find that the giving means something more special than just grabbing something of the shelf and handing it over. When we shop for our loved ones we search for just the right gift, something that will bring endless joy.
Happy holidays!

Just saying...

I was talking to a woman yesterday who also lost a child; she was upset because people beleive we should be "over" it. She also mentioned how some like to liken this to losing a pet! While grief, no matter what the loss is difficult, and yes, losing a pet is hard, losing someone you love is not something we simply get over. I have had a miscarriage, and for me, it was a blessing, but know that I already had seven children, and my marriage was horrific, so for me...It was not a grieving issue. I know many who have lost a baby, and for them, I am sorry for your loss. Most people want to get pregnant; I did not. But, I would never tell someone that their grief over the loss of a baby is in any way different than my loss of my grown child--I have memories, I can see his smile, hear his laughter, and remember his funny things that made me--well...laugh even though I wanted to beat him for them. Everyone grieves different, in their own way, and in their own time. During the holiday season, I wish to send out much love and heartfelt hugs out to those missing loved ones. It's a mournful time looking at the empty table, or just buying presents knowing someone is not there to share them with. My suggestion: Go out and shop for that loved one and then...donate it to a woman's shelter, or homeless shelter. If you shop with your loved one in mind, then the gift will have meaning--purpose. Take care of YOU! Hold your family and friends close and be grateful for the moments you shared with the ones you love.
Merry Christmas, or whatever holiday you beleive...just give the best gift you can..a warm smile, a gentle thoughtful wish, and life will be good.

Grief rights!

1.I have the right to have my own unique feelings about the death. I may feel mad, sad, or lonely. I may feel scared or relieved. I may feel numb or sometimes not anything at all. No one will feel exactly like I do.
2.I have the right to talk about my grief whenever I feel like talking. When I need to talk, I will find someone who will listen to me and love me. When I don’t want to talk about it, that’s OK too.
3.I have the right to show my feelings of grief in my own way. When they are hurting, some kids like to play so they’ll feel better for awhile. I can play or laugh, too. I might also get mad and scream. This does not mean I am bad, it just means I have scary feelings that I need help with.
4.I have the right to need other people to help me with my grief, especially grownups who care about me. Mostly I need them to pay attention to what I am feeling and saying and to love me no matter what.
5.have the right to get upset about normal, everyday problems. I might feel grumpy and have trouble getting along with others sometimes.
6.I have the right to have “griefbursts.” Griefbursts are sudden, unexpected feelings of sadness that just hit me sometimes—even long after the death. These feelings can be very strong and even scary. When this happens, I might feel afraid to be alone.
7.I have the right to use my beliefs about my god to help me deal with my feelings of grief. Praying might make me feel better and somehow closer to the person who died.
8.I have the right to try to figure out why the person I loved died. But it’s OK if I don’t find an answer. “Why” questions about life and death are the hardest questions in the world.
9.I have the right to think and talk about my memories of the person who died. Sometimes those memories will be happy and sometimes they might be sad. Either way, these memories help me keep alive my love for the person who died.
10.I have the right to move toward and feel my grief and, over time, to heal. I’ll go on to live a happy life, but the life and death of the person who died will always be a part of me. I’ll always miss them.