Tag Archives: Children

We have learned to express our emotions quite well in our home. However, when T sees me upset, he tells me he gets upset. Of course, I will avoid hurting him at all costs. Yet, today has been difficult; we have heard of another loss of someone dear to us. Thus, the bathroom has been my refuge for most of my emotions, like all of the other bad days. I never know what to say to those during their grief, still. Even after our experience, even while we still grieve, we find we are at a loss for words. Strange, but true…

We want to comfort, but how? We know that feeling of isolation, the sense of being overwhelmed, the thought of “For goodness sake, just leave me be!” Privacy can sometimes yield no respect. So, here we are on New Year’s Eve, wondering what the next year will bring. Wondering what my friends are feeling in their loss. Wondering about our loss…

We are together here, after several months. This is good. We could have simply fallen apart. Yet, one step forward is always accompanied by three steps back. The advice I have always given is “Just breathe.” Somehow, I get through the day with that racing through my mind. I see, hear, or read something and just when I am about to explode, I have to remind myself, “Just breathe.” If my little T can be so brave and strong, then I can too.

Therapy taught us that we will learn to put our emotions and tears on hold. We will learn to speak to our inner selves and ask, “Can you come back later?” I remember chuckling at the counselor as others glared at me. I thought, “If I want to cry or shout, then I will allow myself to do just that!” As time went on, however, I was wrong. Honestly, this method of “on hold” has worked for us. T and I both tell our emotions to come back later. He will say, “Stay up on the shelf! I have to get to sleep!” I could, and always have anyway, cried at the drop of a hat, the stupidest commercial, anything…Now, it is more controlled. I try not to make T or anyone else around me uncomfortable, but more importantly, we have realized acceptance: life goes on. Sometimes, you do have to tell your emotions, “Please come back at 10, when all are asleep,” or “Can you hold off until I make it into my car?” This is because life goes on. Life will not hit the pause button.

To accept life moving forward, my husband often speaks of famous quotes or movie scenes to help us “deal.” One of our favorite inspirational scenes is from “Rocky Balboa.”

As Rocky is speaking with his son, he says, “The world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place, and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody will hit as hard as life. But, it isn’t about how hard you hit; it is about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.”

To all of us missing someone special, I send you comfort and peace in the New Year. No matter where they are, our love will find them.

“Really Mom? This is horrible.”

Well, for the first and last time, we attempted to create a special family moment this holiday by assembling a gingerbread house. How difficult could it be? You see these things everywhere you look, and of course, T notices it and wants one. I thought it would be a great opportunity to discuss B as well, since the holidays can be challenging. So, for the low, low price of $9.99, I figured, “Why not?!” Bringing it through the doorway, my husband just chuckled. He knew the outcome, he knew…

T and I worked on this “thing,” using soup cans to hold up the sides, licking the white, strange, but oh so tasty goo off of our fingers for quite some time. We mentioned a funny memory of B every lick or two (B was a beast; he would have not been a gentle giant with the candy!) Needless to say, my husband gave up his work of sticking on gummies after 20 minutes; T gave up his jellybean job after 10 minutes. There I was trying to pull it all together for the team! In return, T walks over to it the next morning and tells me, “It is horrible. I mean, Mom, look at this thing.” He was right. It was horrible! Yet, in my mind, I was happy. We made a memory, together.  A memory so that each year when we see that perfect gingerbread house display, we can walk by it and simply say to ourselves, “No thanks!” I hope all of you make memories this holiday season.