Tag: mental-health

“hollow”een

Tonight, a lot of moms I know will be spending time with their kids as they trick or treat or attend Halloween parties.  I’ll be alone.

Tonight, a lot of moms I know will be handing out candy, delighted by cute kids and crazy costumes.  My front porch light will be off.

For a lot of people, tonight will be one of enjoyment, sugar overload and memory making. For me, tonight will be another night of grief, sadness overload and memories missed.

Chad is out of town and has been worried that tonight will be hard for me.  He was right. This is a hard night for me.  But sometimes, having a hard night can be a good thing.

Sometimes, I need to sit in the sorrow.

Sometimes, I need to hurt in the hard.

Sometimes, I need to pause in the pain.

Sometimes, I need to taste the tears.

And sometimes, I need to give in to the gravity of the loss of my precious boy.

My grief is no longer overwhelming on a daily basis.  I find myself able to catch my breath and find joy between the waves. But I am not better…I am different. I am not over it…I am learning how to carry it. 

I wish the biggest hurdle I faced tonight was keeping Paxton from eating too much candy. Instead, I’m facing another Holloween  without him. It’s hollow because when Paxton was here, he brought the hype and hilarity to every Halloween. Now it’s just another slow, silent day.

I wrote “I only miss you” the first Halloween without Paxton. It seemed perfect to share again because I am missing him like crazy. Enjoy your kids tonight…no matter how big they are. And maybe let them have an extra piece of candy in honor of Pax. 

I only miss you

when the sun rises

when I open my eyes

when there are tears to dry

when I cannot cry

I only miss you

when the seasons change

when the sunlight fades

on a cloudy day

when it rains

I only  miss you

when they sky is blue

when the moon is full, crescent or new

when the grass is wet with dew

any time I think of you

I only miss you

in my dreams

when I can’ t sleep

when I’m happy

when the pain is deep

I only miss you

when I breathe

I only miss you

when my heart beats

the three Ws…part 1

WRITHING…wrestling…worship

writhe (verb)

  to twist from or as if from pain or struggling

  to suffer keenly

Writhing, wrestling and worship are three words that have been prominent in my grief journey. Some days, I only have to deal with one W. Other days, I finally make my way through the maze of one W, just to find myself faced with the maze of another. Then, there are days I feel like I’m on a ride at the fair. You know the rides where what you’re sitting in is spinning one way, but the ride itself is spinning another? Those days, the three Ws have me spinning so many different ways, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.

I’ve experienced pain before. We’ve had hard in our lives, marriage and our parenting journey, but nothing has compared to the pain of the past 21 months. Actually, when it comes to child loss, I would say the word pain does not come close to naming what bereaved parents feel.  I think writhing is a much more accurate description.  When I think of writhing, I think of immense pain to which there is no relief.  That is child loss.  Immense pain, that is, at times, less intense, but will never be fully gone this side of heaven.

Today I am writhing because the next three months we are facing a gauntlet. There aren’t just two hard dates ahead, there are multiple dates that will bring joy, sorrow, or most likely a mixture of both. They all have the possibility of being a trigger. Starting with Halloween…my birthday…Thanksgiving…the anniversary of Paxton’s accident…Christmas…Jenna’s birthday…our wedding anniversary…Paxton’s heaven day…Chad’s birthday…and the date of Paxton’s memorial service.  I wish I could go to sleep Wednesday and wake up February 3, 2025.

Another bereaved parent, who has become a precious friend, used a scene from The Avengers to describe the life of a bereaved parent.  The Avengers are in New York and need Bruce Banner to become The Hulk.  Captain America tells Bruce it might be a good time to get angry.  Bruce replies “that’s my secret Captain…I’m always angry”.  I’m not always angry (although I do get angry…but that’s for another post), but I am always writhing.  There are times it’s not visible, but it’s always there, under the surface.  I twist and turn to try and find permanent relief from the pain of Paxton’s death, but it’s always there and always will be.

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are those tears

or raindrops on my cheeks?

it seems the sky is also crying

a silent scream

comes from within me

my body bent in half with grief

from pain there is no relief

sorrow brings me to my knees

Jesus!

the only word I can speak

my soul is writhing