Monthly Archives: April 2012

You cannot tell anyone how to feel.

I was recently sent this poem by a dear friend. She was waiting for the appropriate time to share it with me, and admitted that she found it via internet research. I am thankful she shared it, and I did shed several tears as I read through the lines. I thought I should share it with others, because we never know how someone is feeling, or what it may truly be like to live with a loss. I think my surviving son, as well as my husband and I, struggle with some of these emotions that the poet shares. Yet, we are creatively working through our grief. I always say that those that grieve must wear disguises or masks, because there are some days we simply cannot speak or move, and yet we do. It is amazing.

“Don’t Tell Me” by Shawty Dew Whap, copyright 2012 www.gspoetry.com

Please don’t tell me you know how I feel, unless you have lost your child too.

Don’t tell me my broken heart will heal, because that is just not true.

Don’t tell me my son is in a better place, I want him here with me.

Don’t tell me someday I’ll hear his voice, see his face, because beyond today I cannot see.

Don’t tell me it is time to move on, because I simply cannot.

Don’t tell me to face the fact he is gone, because denial is something I can’t stop.

Don’t tell me to be thankful for the time I had, because I wanted more.

Don’t tell me when I am back to my old self you will be glad, because I’ll never be as I was before.

What you can tell me is you will be here for me, that you will listen when I talk of my child.

You can share with me my precious memories, you can even cry with me for a while.

And please don’t hesitate to say his name, because it is something I long to hear every day.

Friends please realize that I can never be the same, but if you stand by me, you may like the new person I become someday.

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It will swallow you whole (if you let it).

Now that the weather has been warming up, everyone has come outside to socialize and catch up, since winter hibernation has ended! It is wonderful to see and hear the children laughing and playing. Sports season has come upon us, so we get to see families we haven’t seen in some time; it is quite enjoyable. With that, however, comes the dreaded question, “How are you doing? Are things better?”

Wow. Are “things” better? Hmm.

I get annoyed by such a simple question of, “How are you?” And for goodness sakes, what do you mean by “things”?! I never really thought about the meaning or interpretation, really, until we suffered our loss. Now, the question just annoys me. I never know how to respond, and I usually respond in a polite manner. Yet, I just want to casually say, “How do you think I should be?” or “What do you think?” Basically, “Hell no! But I think we are doing a pretty damn good job of keeping it together!” My husband and I just shake our heads and smirk at one another.

People ask other questions that make me reflect more on the process of grieving, like, “So, how have you been feeling, and how can I help?” Honest, upfront, and comforting. People that know me, really know me, understand how sensitive certain topics can be and know how easily I can speak about certain topics. I have come to have strong opinions lately! I do get annoyed, more now than ever, by lack of compassion or selfishness. I have learned to read people better, become a better listener. I have also become a great observer, seeing how people relate to each other. I think it is because we have become more compassionate; this journey has not made us an angry family. Nor has it made us a family that has fallen apart, which some may have thought.

I look at our journey, thus far, as this: Your sadness will swallow you whole, if you let it.

We are sad, will be sad, and accept that it is okay to be sad over this. Miss him with every second of every minute and every breath. Completely natural. Yet, I accept that I have laughed, been out with my girlfriends, had dates with my husband, attended family functions we all love to hate, taken up boxing, stayed up late to watch reality television…I accept living in the now.

We are living. We are not questioning why or how or when or who. We are grieving, yet we are living. Some people can’t, or choose not to, move beyond losses. Some cannot appreciate what wonderful happenings are occurring right now. Well, that can be very sad. We, however, will not let sadness make our lives miserable.

Advice to all: You certainly know life is too short. So, what are you waiting for?

 

 

 

Do people “poop” in heaven?

As I sit in the living room, relaxing and indulging in some horrible reality television program, I hear someone shouting, “Mom, do people poop in heaven?” Of course, I start laughing. Out of any question, any thought, any inquiry my six-year-old child may have about heaven or the afterlife, he wants to know about poop!

I slowly make my way to the bathroom, and I arrive to see T  chuckling to himself as he sits on the throne! Our conversation continued like this:

“What did you ask?”

“If people poop in heaven. Like if B has to poop, does he poop in heaven? And where does the poop go?”

“Well, I am not quite sure.”

“What do you think, Mom? I mean where would the poop go? Like it doesn’t fall out of the sky.”

“Ummm…I guess it’s like a poof of air? It disappears? I don’t really know, but remember, we said that B is at the cemetery and his spirit is in heaven. Right?”

“I know that, Mom, but he is an angel and angels poop! They fly around and send us things and give us luck. Then, they poop!”

“T, are you finished on the throne?”

“Well I guess Mom’s don’t know everything, huh?!”

“Yep. I guess not!”

“Yep. But, hey Mom, can I ask just one more question?”

“What is your question now, T?”

“What if B has to pee?”

At that point, T ran out of the bathroom naked, laughing hysterically. I stood in awe, just shaking my head. Our usual household saying came to mind, “Good times, Good times.” I could just eat that boy up!