“Play with me, Mom.” Such a simple request, and yet we sometimes respond, “In a minute,” or “Maybe later,” or “I’m tired,” or “I just got in from work.” Excuses could be endless, but really, why not just stop and play? What if you never heard that plea, that voice again? What if you denied them such a simple request? This pertains to not only our children, but what about our parent, best friend, or sibling? I have learned from T that everything else can wait… the dusty table, the dirty dishes, the laundry, the phone ringing. Spending time with those we love, the intimate “turn off the t.v. and get off Facebook” time, is crucial. As we get older, it is easy to lose sight of the simple things. On his road to recovery, as we call it, T has reminded us about the important aspects of life and has taught me some new lessons along the way. I have come to appreciate everything more because of how precious time has become for us. “Let’s read a book, Mom.” “Can we go for a bike ride, Dad?” “Can we watch videos of B together?” Spend your time in a way that will be meaningful, a way that makes you smile. When it comes to children, they look to us for everything-it is all they know and want. So, when T wants to color a picture with me, or run with me to get my coffee, I smile and take a mental photograph of that moment. I don’t want to miss a thing. Ask yourself, “How often do you play?”
It was like the floodgates had opened, and I was lost. It reminded me of this photo I took over the winter during our horrific snowstorm. One doesn’t know how much snow is there until you actually open the door and see it. It took over a year, but our son’s storm hit.
Some friends had questioned why the blog has not had any updates. Well, truth be told, it has been very difficult these past few weeks. It seems as though my husband, T, and I have had a storm brewing for so long that it has now reached a boiling point. The anger, sadness, depression, frustration, impatience….
What do you do with such a wave of emotions? It came pouring out of T one afternoon following school. A simple, outdoor Halloween decoration set the stage for two hours of hell. Everything from “I hate you” to “I am moving to a new home” was shouted on the front lawn, then from inside the living room. What does one do? Shout back? Cry? Scream? I stood in horror. It was just T and myself. So, I let him scream. Then, I let him scream more. Finally, he screamed some more. I held back the tears; I knew why he was acting this way and it wasn’t because of a decoration. I gave him the two hours he needed to yell, even hit, as I stood there in silence. I know you think more should have been done, but dear friends, what came out of this child was the rage built up since losing B.
Two whole hours, tears galore, a red nose, some thrown toys…the chaos ended with a hug so tight that I felt suffocated! “I’m sorry mom; I just miss B.” The words came out of his mouth very plain and simple. My instincts were correct, for once. This child needed that release. He got just that (and I am sure the neighbors did as well!) A conversation ensued about anything and everything to do with feelings, memories, reactions, and how we can’t control everything that happens. Was I still up all night reading my grief books with a cup of coffee? Of course. I had to know that I was not alone with a grieving child. The stages of grief vary, the length varies. Hell, everyone’s lives vary. Welcome to the new normal for us. What we must learn now is patience. Using it on one another, well, may be a challenge.