Tag Archives: mourning

REMEMBERING

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24. TELL THE STORY, OVER AND OVER AGAIN IF YOU FEEL THE NEED

  • The “story” relates the circumstances surrounding the death of the child, reviewing the relationship you had with the child, describing the aspects of the personality of the child who died, and sharing memories, good and bad. (HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES; Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD; 2005)

Funny, just today I was remembering a night Joseph, his sister, and I had gone out to dinner at a place called Steak and Ale. It may have been Christmas Eve. We had been served our dinners and the waiter was serving our drinks. Maybe he was new at his job, because he took a glass from the inside of the tray and as he lay it down on the table, the tray tipped forward, a soda glass fell, and the liquid poured right into Joseph’s dish. His sister and I held our breath. Joseph very calmly said, “I was eating that.” His steak had been perfectly prepared. The waiter apologized, removed the dish and brought him another. I don’t remember if it was cooked as well as the first. My daughter and I have talked about this incident. She recalls holding her breath in anticipation of his reaction.

Joseph could be intense. At that age, though, I don’t think he had the strong reactions he did when he was younger. I used to describe him, as a young child, as wearing his nerves on the outside of his body. When he was happy, he would jump up and down flapping his arms. When he was upset, he would wail uncontrollably.

I remember taking him for blood work. We had to hold him down in the chair, while he screamed, “Why are you trying to rip my arm off?!”

Once, while in line at a cash register in J C Penney, maybe I grabbed his arm a little too tightly, or he thought so anyway. He yelled, “Why do you hurt me every day?!”

Another time, we were at the pediatrician’s office. After checking out at the front desk, I turned around and Joseph was gone! I panicked, looking around frantically. I found him outside, kneeling on all fours in the snow by our minivan, leaning down, eating the snow. He was fine. He must have walked out the door as someone else came in or left. Nobody noticed???!!!

My older daughter once told me that a teacher, who Joseph later had for second grade, loved to watch him waddle down the hallway like a penguin, and hoped he would one day be in her class. (My daughter, eleven years his senior, was friends with this teacher’s daughters.) She really got him, this teacher. He would quickly finish his work; and, she would get him to help others who were having difficulty with the classroom’s computers. One night we attended a science fair at the school. The teacher was manning a table with tangrams. She saw us coming and said, “Joseph can do this!” with a smile. When I ran into one of her daughters at a town event in a park recently, I told her to tell her mom how much I appreciated how she was with him. (I have probably done this multiple times over the years. I still think of her fondly.)

SAYING HIS NAME

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23. USE THE NAME OF YOUR CHILD

  • When you’re talking about the death or about your life in general, don’t avoid using the name of the child who has died. Sometimes others are afraid to use the name in your presence out of fear that it is painful to you. If you use the name, others will know that they can use it too. 

CARPE DIEM: Flip through a baby name book at a local bookstore or library and look up the name of your child. Reflect on the name’s meaning as it relates to the unique person you loved. (HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES; Alan D. Wolfelt PhD; 2005)

I would like to begin here by saying that I still love Joseph, in response to the “unique person you loved” prompt above. My love for him is ever present. It did not die with him.

I don’t hesitate to use his name; and, I am ever grateful to hear others say it. It is a pleasure to know that they, too, remember him.

I don’t need to go to a bookstore to look up the meaning of his name. I can, “Ask the Google,” as we say in my family:

The name Joseph has its origins in Hebrew and holds significant meaning. Derived from the Hebrew name Yosef, it translates to God will Increase. This name has deep roots in biblical history, prominent in the narrative of the Old Testament. Joseph, son of Jacob and Rachel, was a central figure whose life and virtues are vividly recounted in the Book of Genesis. (accessed at https://www.ancestry.com/first-name-meaning/Joeseph)

The only surprise is that the name translates from the Hebrew to “God will increase”. God certainly did increase. Joseph was the fourth of our children. When I was pregnant with him, I woke from a dream one day and said, “How about Joseph Francis?” I had previously been considering James Andrew, the name of my great grandfather from Scotland. His father didn’t like the idea, having an uncle “Jimmy” of whom he wasn’t particularly fond.

I was thinking of Joseph, for the dreamer of the Old Testament, mentioned above as the son of Jacob and Rachel, and also for the earthly father of Jesus. I always called him Joseph, not Joe or Joey. When he was little, his father called him Josie, which was picked up by some in the family for a while. Josie reminded me of the Clint Eastwood character, The Outlaw Josie Wales, although his dad pronounced it with a softer “s” sound. My grandkids called him Uncle Joe. His friends called him Joe. He called himself Joe on his FaceBook page. One of his sisters called him Broseph. She still does when she posts about him.

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 QUESTION

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21. PREPARE TO ANSWER “THE QUESTION”

  • “How many children do you have?” What was once an everyday, friendly question is now a loaded gun. (HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES; Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD; 2005)

I remember, shortly after Joseph died, sitting in my therapist’s office, crying, and asking him – when someone asks me how many children do you have, what do I say? I remember him looking at me with the care and compassion he always held. I don’t remember his response.

Now, almost 12 years later, I just reply as though he were still alive. I have four children. If they ask boys? Girls? I answer, two boys and two girls. If they prod further, depending on who they are, why they’re asking, and the context of the conversation, my answers vary. I’ve had people ask what my children do for a living. That’s complicated even with my living children, because not all of them talk to me. But, I have learned that families are, in general, complicated. 

Yes, some underlying anxiety upon being asked the question still remains. I remember being at some sort of function and talking to someone who had asked about children. The conversation went further and I told them about Joseph’s death. When someone else asked the question, she answered, for me, that I had 3 children. I suppose she thought she was being helpful, but I found it offensive.

EMPTYING

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19. FIND WAYS TO UNDERSTAND AND COME TO THE LIMITS OF YOUR GUILT

  • Talk about any lingering feelings of guilt, regret and remorse. Don’t nurse them and continue to punish yourself for them. Instead, give them voice and see how their power over you diminishes.
  • I would be remiss if I did not point out that some parents are in fact partly or wholly responsible for their child’s death, whether it was intentional or accidental. These parents often benefit from professional help in dealing with their overwhelming guilt. (HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES; Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD; 2005)

UGH! What a mixed bag of feelings this brings up. These are only two of the bullet points that appear on the page I read today.

I chuckled when I saw the title. I’d just listened to, and meditated on, the recording for today in the Hallow app’s PRAY40 challenge, a Lenten practice. We were asked to reflect on “What ‘junk’ do you need to remove from your heart this Lent?” My immediate reaction was GUILT! Then I decided to meditate for 20 minutes and see what arose. I saw a black darkness, then the Gollum I mentioned in yesterday’s post. I decided that I need to remove from my heart that image of myself as not good enough, bad, evil – to see myself as God sees me.

So, I was tickled to see “FIND WAYS TO UNDERSTAND AND COME TO THE LIMITS OF YOUR GUILT” at the top of the page. I was reassured by most of the author’s bullet points, especially the first one, noted above, where it says not to nurse feelings of guilt. I thought, great, I can do this, I can unpack the heaviness I carry around with me, cut myself a break.

Then I read the second one noted above…some parents ARE partly or wholly responsible for their child’s death. THAT was like a smack in the face…“You’re not getting out of this THAT easily!!!” 

I didn’t kill Joseph. He killed himself. BUT, he did it after I told him that he could no longer live in my house. I should note here, that he had made several other attempts that were not reactions to anything I said or did. And I know that not everyone will kill themselves because their mom kicks them out of the house.

I participated in an on-line suicide loss group run by David Kessler, another renowned grief loss professional. I got on live with him, one-to-one, and told him my son’s death was my fault and why. He assured me that there were likely other parents who lost a child and blamed themselves for NOT using tough love. So…none of us can help but blame ourselves.

So…IS it partly my fault? I don’t know. I do know that I worked hard at being a parent. I STUDIED to be a parent. I read books, I took courses, I talked to professionals, educators, and friends. I reached out for help wherever I could find it. 

I told him, when he moved back in with me, no alcohol, no drugs. And while I was away, he went out and got his drug of choice and used it. I found the packaging; and, I told him he’d broken our agreement. I told him my heart was broken. 

A part of me believes that he stayed as long as he did for my sake. (Although he had made previous attempts, he either reached out to someone or someone found him in time to save his life.) I think, when I said my heart was broken, it gave him permission to leave.

Another one of my children, not too long ago, after being hospitalized for a psychotic episode, said to me, “The LAST time you told someone they were homeless, they killed themselves. Is that what you want?” I had created a contract for her to return to my home. She didn’t sign it, but I told her that by returning to my home, she had, in fact, agreed to it. I tried to explain to her that I wanted her to be aware of what she needed to do in order to continue living with me, or she would be homeless, and the hospital would have to find her a place to stay. I didn’t get past the word “homeless” before she spat out that comment. She and I had been down this road before and she had lived in a group home for a while. She is back to living on her own and is working again.

So, my guilt over my son’s death is compounded by dealing with ongoing mental illness in my other children…or not dealing with it, because they won’t talk to me. In any case, the worry, and the guilt, remain.

“BE ANGRY BUT DO NOT SIN” (Ephesians 4:26)

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18. KNOW THAT IT’S OKAY TO FEEL ANGRY

Grieving parents often feel angry – at others whom they perceive caused or contributed to the death, at themselves for letting it happen, at God, even at the child herself for having abandoned them. (HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES; Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD; 2005)

Anger wasn’t one of my feelings. It is not an emotion I am comfortable with. Well, for myself that is. I have no trouble feeling anger at injustice toward other people, but that’s a whole other topic.

It may have crept up here and there. Before Joseph’s death, I had taken him to an appointment with a psychiatrist at a local clinic. He came out saying the doctor told him his diagnosis was “laziness”. THAT pissed me off. Medical professionals, especially in the field of psychiatry, ought to have a better understanding of the people with whom they interact and for whom they prescribe. A little compassion would be appreciated.

I can’t say I was angry about it, but I wondered why my other kids, and their father, didn’t check in on him that day. I had let them all know that I had found packaging from his drug of choice and that I had given him the weekend to find somewhere else to live. It is all too easy and comfortable to take on blame and guilt myself. I wish they had checked in on him. I don’t know that it would have made a difference.

I wish that he would have made a choice to stay. I have smacked his photo on the grave stone and called him a brat, but I don’t feel angry about it, not for long anyway.

I have a difficult relationship with anger. Somewhere, sometime, somehow, I internalized the idea that it is wrong to feel angry. I have seen the pain inflicted by people who just let their anger fly. Anger scares me. (Unless it’s righteous anger, which I experience for others, of course.) If I experience anger for myself, which is rare: and, I try to speak up and out in defense of myself, which is rarer still, I inevitably end up in tears, which is not at all helpful.

I have this awareness, though, that deep within me exists a rage in chains. I don’t know what it is or where it comes from, but it’s there. I wish I could let it out. It’s that Gollum deep inside, that ugly creature I think is me, that if anyone really got to know me they would see.

At some point, in therapy, I became aware that this Gollum is actually a frightened child who feels not good enough. I try to spend time with her, on occasion, and let her know she is loved. 

It’s not easy being me.

Sometime after Joseph’s death, I participated in a meeting at my county’s mental health and addiction services office, a focus group of sorts. They were asking for community input on gaps in services. I told them that there needed to be more long-term residential support for people experiencing co-occurring, mental health and substance use disorders. Joseph had been in rehabs, hospitals, halfways houses…but it was for treatment of one or the other. He needed support for both. I don’t know if that has gotten any better, but I think not.

I worked as a psychiatric screener for a while. I had a guy come in who needed treatment for both. I held him in the unit, with his consent, trying to find an appropriate placement. One day, while I was sent out on another call, management kicked him out, escorted by police. I was angry then! It was run more like a jail than a medical facility. Not long afterward, I found another job. That’s a whole other disappointing story – Partial Hospitalization, Intensive Outpatient program (PHP/IOP).

So, now I’m retired. I guess. I have a hard time admitting it. I take assignments now and then through a company with which I am considered “On Demand”. I’ve also agreed to work in an outpatient private practice one day a week, but no clients yet. Maybe it’s not meant to be. Meanwhile, for the most part, I’m enjoying not working.

(Featured image accessed at https://news.stthomas.edu/publication-article/the-unbearable-sadness-of-being-gollum/)

TODAY IS NOT THE DAY

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15. CRY

  • Tears are a natural cleansing and healing mechanism. It’s OK to cry. In fact, it’s good to cry when you feel like it. What’s more, tears are a form of mourning. They are sacred! 

CARPE DIEM:  If you feel like it, have a good cry today. Find a safe place to embrace your pain and cry as long and as hard as you want to.  (HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES, Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD, 2005)

I don’t feel like it today. I’m okay. I’m a little tired. Just enjoying being in the house on this cold, damp, dreary day. Doing laundry and a little cleaning. Mostly reading. Some meditating. I’m aware that my heart is healing. It’s only taken eleven plus years. 

The night I found my son, I don’t know if I cried. I remember screaming. My heart, my soul, my very self, split in two. It is only now that I feel some mending happening. I’m coming back to myself, acknowledging that my son is indeed dead and gone. My son. The child I raised. The boy who felt things so strongly. I described him as wearing his nerves, as a child, on the outside of his body. My beautiful boy.

Wednesday was the first anniversary of the death of my mother. Not by suicide, like my son. I do believe she gave up though. She was 87 and a half. She’d survived all the members of her family, except for some in-laws, as well as the loss of her best friend. The last loss, the final straw, was her younger sister. Until the last few days, she continued to be active in her assisted living community. Then she was having difficulty breathing, her pulse-ox was very low, but she wouldn’t keep the oxygen on. 

When my sister called to say she was gone, I was shocked. We’d just gotten her on to hospice services because she was refusing to go to the hospital and she needed more care than the facility could provide for her. I told her it didn’t mean she was going to die, that some people graduate from hospice. (I’d worked as a hospice social worker.) Apparently, she decided otherwise.

I had a Mass celebrated for her yesterday at my parish church. Before Mass, I thought about telling the priest the correct pronunciation of her name, but he was running late and I decided not to interrupt him as he got ready. He mispronounced it. Many people do. Obviously not an English major. A vowel followed by double consonants carries the short sound, no? He said it with the long sound. 

I reposted her eulogy, photos, and stories. I felt guilty when I saw my sister posted, “we miss you”. I don’t miss her. Not really. She wasn’t the easiest person to be around. All my life her anxiety took first priority. I remember, even as a child, trying to manage her anxiety. Once, she left the window by the stove open after she hung out some laundry (NY apartment living). The curtain blew into the flame and caught fire. The flame blew across the window shade and it dropped. I called her, in a monotone, “Mo-om, the curtains are on fire.”  I was maybe 10 years old.

I visited her grave yesterday. Afterward, I went to my sister’s. We went out to lunch and then spent time together at her apartment. I got to see my niece too. It was a lovely visit. We are really just getting to know each other. Enjoy each other. 

We agreed that, growing up, we were just a bunch of people living in the same house. Mom was a switchboard operator when I was young, later a receptionist. She operated that way in life as well. She talked about each of us, her four kids, to each of us. In a way, it kept us separate. I remember, having started communicating directly with my sister. Mom told me something about her; and, when I said I already knew, she was surprised…like how dare I already know that. So…looking back, I think it was intentional. Sad to say.

I always knew anxiety was an issue for her. She started taking Valium, Mother’s Little Helper, in the “60s and continued through old age. Later she had Xanax. She didn’t drink a lot, but she’d hobble to the liquor store down the block from her Senior apartment. She spent some time in 12 Step meetings, Al-Anon Adult Children, and talked about getting the best therapy for $1 (donation).

Everybody loved her. Well, there were a few that told my poor sister she was a saint for dealing with her. She had the major care-taking duties. 

On the anniversary, my daughter, granddaughter and I went out to an Irish pub for dinner. Mom loved all things Irish. We would sometimes take her out to an Irish pub, where she would order a quesadilla. I’m not kidding. 

Now she’s with my son. I hope they’re enjoying each other’s company. 

I GIVE MYSELF GRACE

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14. KNOW THAT GRIEF DOES NOT PROCEED IN ORDERLY, PREDICTABLE “STAGES”.

Be compassionate with yourself as you experience your own unique grief journey (HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES, Alan D Wolfelt, PhD, 2005)

I have finally, after 11+ years, arrived at a place where I can give myself some grace. I no longer feel the need to punish myself for my son’s death. I write this with some trepidation, although I note that I did not write “I no longer blame myself or feel guilt”.

I have finally arrived at the place where I can truly mourn his death. The horror of finding him is less obtrusive. It no longer blunts the grief as much. 

I visited his grave the other day. I straightened the angel on the decorated Christmas tree someone left there…likely his dad or sister. They also left a panda ornament hanging on the headstone, one of his favorite animals. It was bitter sweet. I believe I said, “Hey Brat,” as I looked at his photo embedded in the stone. I didn’t stay long, but it was different from other visits. I was present. I remained in my body.

I think having both of my daughters and my grandchildren with me on Christmas Eve helped to bring along this softening. I feel more at peace. I am ending this year on a more self-compassionate note.

I AM SUPPORTED BY OTHERS

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UNDERSTAND THE SIX NEEDS OF MOURNING

Need #6: Receive ongoing support from others.

  • Grief is experienced in “doses” over years, not quickly and efficiently, and you will need the continued support of your friends and family for weeks, months and years.  (Alan D. Wolfelt, PH.D., HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES, 2005)

It’s been more than eleven years, and yes, I need continued support. I “accidentally” found my Survivors of Suicide group one evening, when I walked into my local county library branch and saw a hand-written sign that said “SOS”. The facilitator of the group, now my friend, likes to say it was the Holy Spirit that brought me in. I can’t disagree. At the very least, it was a “wink” from God or the Universe.

This group meets monthly in person and via Zoom, but also socially from time to time. It’s a group none of us would have chosen to join, but we find ease and comfort in each others’ presence as we share losses that are difficult for others, who have not, to understand.

Some of us recently attended the International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day program hosted by our state’s Traumatic Loss Coalition (TLC), sponsored by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP). Events are held annually on the Saturday before Thanksgiving. Our event included the showing of a video of interviews with survivors of suicide loss, updating their journey; a panel discussion with survivors on how their journey has been and continues; a lunch; and, breakout groups. I co-facilitated the mothers group with another mom. We’ve done this together several times now. This event is the only time we see each other, but we are closely tied together and share a warm hug when we meet.

A bunch of us from the SOS group travelled together to Survivor Day and socialized afterward at our driver’s house. His wife didn’t attend, but she cooked for us, and we all brought something to share. Others came only to the social gathering. It was good to be with them all. There is a love there that knows no bounds and I am forever grateful for the “accident” that brought me to them.

THERE IS NO MEANING

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12. UNDERSTAND THE SIX NEEDS OF MOURNING

Need #5: Search for meaning

  • “Why?” questions may surface uncontrollably and often precede “How?” questions. “Why did this happen?” comes before “How will I go on living?”

CARPE DIEM:

Write down a list of “why” questions that have surfaced for you since the death. Find a friend or counselor who will explore these questions with you without thinking she has to give you answers. ( HEALING A PARENT’S GRIEVING HEART: 100 PRACTICAL IDEAS AFTER YOUR CHILD DIES, Alan D Wolfelt, PH.D., 2005)

I didn’t ask why then; and, I don’t ask why now. I believed I knew. I believed and continue to believe it was my fault. Oh, there’s a part of me that gives him the dignity of making his own choice, but if I hadn’t told him that day that he had to move out…If I hadn’t told him, “My heart is broken”…he would still be here.

I didn’t and don’t blame God. As a matter of fact, in a spiritual direction session, I asked Jesus where he was when Joseph died. He told me he was here with him. I saw Joseph walk right into his arms and say to Jesus, “You ARE real!” 

For that I am grateful. 

The “Why?”s I do have include: 

“Why did God give me not one but THREE mentally ill children?” 

“What was he thinking?” 

I thought I did a good job raising them. No, I didn’t. I struggled and judged myself. But I worked so hard at it. I STUDIED to be a mother. I didn’t feel I had any “mother’s intuition”. I had NO IDEA how to be a parent. I read and reread the Gesell books with each of my four children, Birth to One Year, Your One Year Old, Your Two Year Old, etc…Between Parent and Teenager. I read Parent Effectiveness Training. I took trainings. I reached out for all the help I could get. 

I thought I was doing them a favor by letting them be who they were. Now I wonder. Nah. I still believe letting our children be who they are is best…a gift.

I remember, when they were young, thinking “I don’t know what I would do if I had special needs children.” Well, most of them were, are, special needs. It just all seemed normal to me having grown up in my family. 

Joseph had made multiple suicide attempts before he died. I believe my comment, “My heart is broken,” after discovering he had been using again, released him. Maybe he held on so long because he knew I couldn’t handle it if he died. Maybe that comment made him think I’d be better off without him. Who knows?