Tag Archives: Children

I HAVE NO ILLUSIONS THAT HE WAS PERFECT

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26. TREASURE YOUR CONCEPT OF WHO YOUR CHILD WAS

  • Your child was smart, funny, handsome, sweet. Despite his flaws, you loved him unconditionally.
  • Allow yourself to cling to those things you loved best about your child. Over time, you may find that discussing all aspects of his character and personality–good and bad–with others who knew him will help you work through conflicting thoughts and feelings.

CARPE DIEM:

Gather special photos of the child who died and place them in a small photo album–one you can keep in your purse or in your desk drawer. Try to select photos that capture well your child’s personality, character and passions.

Yes, Joseph was smart, funny, handsome and sweet. He got away with more than his siblings did. He was the youngest, and I’d already been through plenty of nonsense with all of them, including him. I was tired. He was also 22, and there were no more younger siblings after him. So…he got away with a lot. He was the only child who got away with having a sexual partner in his room. The others weren’t even allowed to have a partner IN their rooms. I have this recollection of his saying he was an asshole for doing that. I’m not sure if someone told me that, one of his siblings called him that, or he said it to me in one of my “day(s) in the spirit” (a program I bought through James Van Praagh, a medium) with him.

I have no illusions of his being perfect. He struggled from the time he was very young, emotionally. He had difficulty with social anxiety, and, of course, depression. I recall sitting in church one day during a meeting for his First Holy Communion. The Director of Religious Education, a friend and neighbor, was choosing kids to participate in the May Crowning of the statue of Mary. Joseph’s name was drawn to carry the pillow with the crown. He SCREAMED uncontrollably, and I took him outside. Apparently, the idea of carrying the crown terrified him. So…he didn’t do it.

Another time, he was a shepherd in the Christmas Eve Nativity at Mass. He made it partway around the church, and, when he saw me, stepped out of the procession and sat down with me.

I am having trouble thinking of any real misbehavior on his part…except for having sex with his girlfriend under my roof, which had never been allowed for any of his other siblings. Of course, we had never discussed it; and, I hadn’t disallowed it by any spoken rule. His siblings would never even have considered it.

I recently ordered a bunch of photo prints of him that I had saved in Google Photos, so I will be making that album. 

FAMILY IS COMPLICATED

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22. COMMUNICATE OPENLY WITH YOUR FAMILY

  • Your partner and your surviving children are hurting, too–each in their own unique ways. Nobody can (or should try to) take away the hurt, but talking about all your thoughts and feelings since the death helps everybody feel supported and understood. 
  • Is yours an “open family system,” in which members openly talk about the death, the person who died and their grief? Or is yours a “closed family system,” in which members pretty much keep their thoughts and feelings to themselves and don’t feel safe mourning among their own family? (HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES; Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD; 2005)

Hmmm…I thought we were an “open family system.” We mentioned Joseph’s name all the time. But we talked about him, mostly, in the present tense. Like he was still alive and with us. We still talk about our experiences of feeling him near, making himself known to us. 

The day after I found him, I went to my youngest daughter’s apartment, after she called me. She already knew about Joseph’s death having gotten the news, I assume, from one of her siblings. She hadn’t returned my call to find out why I’d left her a message the night before. She took my hands, when I entered her apartment, looked me in the eyes and said, “It’s not your fault; and, you’re going to need a lot of therapy.” I felt such relief, hearing her say those words. I was sure everyone in the family would blame me. My ex-husband, my children’s father, even came to the apartment and was supportive of me in his own grief.

Years later, when I told her what her sister had said. “the last time you told someone they were homeless, they killed themselves,” she kind of nodded and shrugged. So maybe she does blame me. We don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about how we feel in our grief. She and I, and her daughter, took a trip out West for Joseph’s 30th birthday. The night of his birthday, we were all tired, having spent the day sightseeing…that was the day we kayaked the Colorado River. I guess we’d all said we were tired and I suggested maybe we not go out. She snapped at me and said my granddaughter still needed to eat. At dinner, there was mostly silence. Several times I tried to bring up Joseph and talk about him. We would be interrupted by the wait staff, or something, and the conversation never got off the ground. She may have been doing things on her phone. I just remember feeling alone, although we were all together. I got the impression she was angry with me and maybe would have preferred I wasn’t there. I was in a lot of pain that night, having been in the kayak alone, she and my granddaughter sharing one. Paddling against the current was difficult. I slept on a sofa bed, while they shared the bedroom. It was terribly uncomfortable. I ended up closing it and sleeping on the sofa instead. I struggled to sleep, and thought about changing my flight to go home the next day. But…morning came. I think we talked a bit, and I stuck it out. It was, all in all, a beautiful trip. We saw the Grand Canyon, Joshua Tree and Zion National Parks. But it was terribly bittersweet.

She volunteers with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) and shares openly about her experience in posts, as their Social Media Ambassador, so I do see how see manages her grief. But, again, we don’t talk about it. And, I am only now getting to experience my own grief and mourning…almost twelve years later. Our relationship is improving.

I don’t have a partner. My renewed relationship after Joseph’s death survived almost three more years, but we didn’t talk about our grief either. I remember watching the film, “The Passion,” and afterward kneeling down on the living room carpet where Joseph’s body had lain and crying, maybe screaming, identifying with Mary, having lost her Son. My partner left the room. I suppose he didn’t know what to do with me. I don’t think I ever even considered he might be experiencing any grief over Joseph’s loss. He’s married now. 

My relationship with my eldest daughter is improving. We communicate via email, although we live in the same town; however, the emails are more frequent and conversational.

My other son, well, he still isn’t speaking with me. It’s been almost 11 years. So…could it be related to Joseph’s death? I saw him at my mother’s wake and funeral. I said, “Hello, Son;” and he looked like a deer in the headlights. So, I walked away. He stood in for a picture with me, his younger sister, and my granddaughter that his girlfriend took. My eldest daughter didn’t come to either the wake or funeral.

It’s a complicated family. Aren’t most?

The Sound of Children Playing: a writing prompt at Project Write Now, Red Bank, NJ

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At the beach. I close my eyes. Face to the sun. I hear the waves crashing. Seagulls calling.

I note the sound of children playing. “Daddy, help me build a castle.” No response. I open my eyes. A little one, in solar protective swimwear, holds her pail in front of her. Sad face. Daddy sits in his beach chair, ear buds in, looking at his not-so-smart phone. My heart breaks for her.

I want, oh-so-much, to join her…to scoop her up, run down to the water and fill that pail. Pick up some shells and stones along the way. Come back and build a sloppy-but-magnificent castle in the sand.

I yearn to yank those god-awful earbuds from her ignorant father’s ears, take his phone and throw it into the sea.

Jesus, man! Don’t you see the magic in front of you?! This blessed child will be little for only so long! A blink of the eye! LOOK at her! Really SEE her! LISTEN to her! Hear the little voice that will all-too-soon be silenced in our so-called “halls of learning”. Teach her just how magical, how precious she is! Let her know: “Yes, Baby, I see you! I hear you! You matter to me, more than all the distractions of the world.”

Put away that little black box. Better yet, throw it into the sea. “Today I set before you Life and Death. Choose LIFE!”

For God’s sake, man, see the magnificence of the sun, sand and sea before you! Teach her about what REALLY matters!

Look at the sand! Do you see how tiny it is…one little grain of said? And all of these little tiny grains of sand make a BIG, BIG beach!

Fill that pail with water. Show her a drop. All those little tiny drops make a BIG, BIG ocean!

Look at the sky! What colors do you see? Are there clouds? Are there birds? Do you see that sparrow over there? What is a land bird doing on the beach? Crazy, right?

Oh, Baby…If I wouldn’t scare the hell out of you, I would hold you in my arms and tell you how wonderful you are. But I know it wouldn’t matter coming from me.

Wake up, man!

So, I close my eyes again, and I pray a little prayer…and I hope his battery dies.