I am surprised by how cool, calm and collected I am one moment and then next I am spinning out of control. I find that there are triggers that set me off. Ones that make sense when I think back upon them and others that I’m not really sure how I lost it.
Take for today as an example … this morning things were going alright. Jaden wasn’t feeling well so I was in the bathroom with him for most of the morning. But the triplets were happy, I was optimistic. Once I had the triplets down for their morning nap, I laid with Jaden in my bed. Heck I even got a 15 min nap before my mom came over to help. I made it to Wal-Mart and Walgreens and was feeling accomplished for the day.
Then it’s funny how a little something someone says can hit the wrong nerve and I’m spirling the rest of the day. I can honestly say I know this friend didn’t mean ANYTHING by the comment. I know in my logical mind that there wasn’t anything meant by it. I was upset but didn’t want to be. I found myself thinking “I shouldn’t have to be understanding. I lost my son. You should be watching what you are saying. You should be aware of who you are talking to. I am Owen’s mom. My son just died a month a half ago.”
It was that easy and I was set off. I didn’t want to be bothered. I couldn’t talk nicely to anyone. I got home after running a few more errands and went right down to the basement to wrap Jaden’s birthday presents. I am a beast right now. I can pretty much promise you that anything you say to me right now would be wrong.
I still want there to be someone who has the magic words that would calm my soul. Yeah I know… Pray to God. He’ll know what to do. Honestly? I want someone who I can physically see and touch to comfort me. I want a real hug. Wouldn’t it be so amazing if you could actually hug God? How much comfort would that offer those who are suffering?
I can hear Doug’s footsteps upstairs and he’s closing down the house. I know that when I go upstairs, the lights will be off, the tv shut down and he’ll be in bed. I made it perfectly clear that I wanted to be alone down here. Yet I sit here upset because he didn’t try to make nice for the 5,592 time. I don’t blame him, yet I want him to be the one with the magic words to make it all ok.
We both are greiving so differently. Everyone warned me of this, and I understood it. But honestly … it sucks! We were so alligned in the hospital. Every decision came with ease. We almost read each other’s minds at times. And now in real life we miss each other often. He goes left and I am so far right. I want to talk about it, he’s looking for a quiet night. I’m angry about it and he’s at peace. I don’t want to talk about it and he wants to show me picture after picture. Where is our unity? How are we both the parents of Owen but be in such different paths? I think it’s hardest because no one else in this entire world knows what it’s like to lose Owen as a son. Doug is the only one. Yet, we can’t relate to each other lately. I’m so alone in this. Not a single solitary soul can relate. Doug and I are both parents. But I am mom and he is dad. Even if he does know what’s it’s like, I can’t understand why he would do the things that he does. I find myself thinking “if he knew, he would be doing this.” Like I know what’s best for me AND him. Who am I to say what is right? There is nothing “right” about a 6 month old baby boy dying. This whole process is wrong by it’s very nature.
I know God is here. I know he’s with me and hears my prayers. But sometimes you just need a human. Another physical face, arms wrapped around you, a shared glass of wine. Something tangible as a reminder that you can do this. I hold the cross that was hung in Owen’s casket. I sleep with the same tie blanket I did in the hospital. (thank you Kate!) That’s right, I’m a 27 year old that has a security blanket. But it helps me sleep. I can stop thinking for long enough to fall asleep when I’m cuddling with the blanket. The physical softeness of the fleece on my face is a constant reminder of Owen, so I can let my mind rest long enough to sleep. Again, needing something physical to ease my emotional pain.
Is there a physical in heaven? Is the sense of touch only an earthly thing? Will we have the sense of sight or taste? What is it like to be a pure soul? So many questions errupt as I think. What is heaven like? I’m a mother who has no idea where her son is. I can say “Jaden is alseep in bed.” I can picture him in his bed. I know where he is. “Owen is at the doctor.” I can picture the room and the table, even if I’ve never been there before. I can at least imagine or make up a picture of what it looks like. Sort of like when you are reading a book. You have pictures of faces of how each character looks. But with Owen? I have no clue. The thought of white robes, halos and golden streets are common. It’s all Hollywood – smoke and mirrors. What does the Bible say? What does the actual, physical word of God say that heaven is like?
I’ve looked some stuff up. Nothing seems to quench my thirst. I still can’t picture what Owen is doing or what he now looks like. His face is forever frozen in time. He’ll stay his chubby baby face forever while his brothers will grow up. On graduation day? He’s still be 6 months old. Forever frozen in time. Physically frozen I guess. But his story lives in. He’s more alive today than he was on May 20th. More people know him now than ever before. It makes no logical sense. Death is perplexing and confusing. It’s like artist’s paintings are worth more when they are dead. Orange means more now than it did when Owen was alive.
So I muddle through the days. Some are strong and steady. Others start out good and end terrible or visa versa. I have my first grief counseling appointment tomorrow. I didn’t want to do it tomorrow since it’s Jaden’s birthday. But it was either tomorrow or August 6th. Really? I’m sure it’ll be a bunch of introductory questions. Do you have siblings? How long have you and Doug been married? But it’s a start. A step to recovery. Whatever that is …