Friday, October 3, 2014

Looking For a Bright Spot, Even a Penny

It's been almost 10 months since I learned that my son, Ethan, was dead.

Almost 10 months since my reality, my expectations for the future, my whole world was shifted on its axis.

Ethan had been troubled with drug addiction and the accompanying legal, emotional, mental, developmental and financial chaos since he considered himself an adult at 16. He'd pulled himself away from most of his family like a baby tooth working its way loose from the mouth. I always thought he'd eventually see that he couldn't keep on going like he was, that he'd reach bottom and come back to us.

He didn't.

Reaching bottom turned out to be fatal for him, as it too often does. The medical examiner ruled his death an accidental overdose, just a step too far along his search for escape and the ultimate high.

My reality was that there would be no more Christmases, no more birthdays, no Mother's Day cards, no special girlfriend leading to a wedding and more grandbabies, no more phone calls just to talk or even to ask for something. Nothing. Period. The end of the life I had a part in creating. There were days when it felt like just too much effort to cope, but I was needed by my husband, my daughter and granddaughters, my son-in-law, a lot of people and their dogs, so I kept going. I blogged and found a community of mutual support. I made new friends who had also had devastating losses.

For the last month, however, I've been pushing away the tides of emotions and letting my busy days keep me from following where they were taking me. Now it's October now, it's raining and sometime in the next day or so we're supposed to see our first dip into the 30s. I hate cold weather and I fear that the coming dark and cold will pull me into a void of depression. I'm scrambling for ways to avoid sinking under a dark cloud that won't go away.

Losing my church, albeit my decision, didn't help. Instead of somewhere I could turn for comfort, it turned into another of life's painful experiences that at best has me second guessing what should have been, much like my son's life.

Part of avoiding my emotions has been the all-too-easy option of not writing a blog. But my blog has been my therapy since Dec. 15 and it's helped me work through what life has thrown at me, so I'm back. I'm trying to arm myself in every way I can to fight the compounded effects of cold weather and grief. I'm trying to deal with things in small bits, so they don't become overwhelming like a the accumulated belongings of a hoarder -- a good analogy because instead of holding onto my sadness by hiding it, I'm going to start tackling it again.

I'm fighting back by joining the gym, going to Zumba classes (including one with the instructor and many other dancers from my old studio), and by buying a few things that I hope will be distractions as the weather shifts, like a big bounce house for the girls and a hot tub for the back yard.

I've quit letting myself indulge in eating binges of comfort foods that bought me short-term gratification, but were beginning to make my favorite clothes uncomfortable. I'm halfway back to where I want to be and already find a little more breathing room in my shorts and jeans. I got my hair cut, just a little, so that it had a bit more style than just long, curly mess. I'm getting a massage and an expensive cosmetic treatment that I've wanted a long time this month. In short, I'm looking for ways to be kind to myself that don't involve eating, although I've also fallen in love with a salad blend from Costco that I eat to excess -- far better than a Krispy Kreme doughnut at least.

I'm also reconnecting with the people that I found were so wonderful to be around, gathering them back like snuggling into a warm blanket on a cold night. Last week we did a quick, impromptu dinner with another couple and this week it's dinner at our house with a few more friends. Instead of working to exhaustion every Saturday and collapsing by the television, we're going to start engaging with others again -- people who have been here for me and my husband through thick and thin.

I don't know that it will be enough. I don't know how I'll work through the coming months, when already I feel like I'm teetering on the edge, and things as simple as a Facebook post about wonderful sons or a TV show where a dying mother tells her son goodbye will send silent tears sliding down my face. I don't know why I feel Ethan's blue eyes looking at me, intently as they so often did, and why if I have to sense that I cannot also feel some reassurance. Instead I feel like he's watching me, worried and uncertain if I'll be OK, because that's how it feels -- how I feel.

Then I find change outside my car door in the parking lot, a quarter and a penny, and I remember the poem about pennies from heaven. I smile and pick it up and toss it in my console, drawing comfort wherever I can. I close my eyes and send a mental hug to my baby and imagine his arms around me and his strong grip as he lifted me from my feet. I drive home with tears streaming down my cheeks again, but still hopeful that I won't let him down by failing in some way to do what has to be done.







16 comments:

  1. Sending you a hug. I still pick up pennies, too, and consider them a gift from my parents. They're long gone, but always in my heart.

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    1. I never paid this poem any mind until I lost Ethan. I still remember the first time I saw pennies on the ground after reading it. Yes, silly as it is, it brings me comfort sometimes, and I'll take comfort wherever I can find it.

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  2. I don't know what to say to a sadness this deep. I can only imagine that finding some meaning must be very hard for you. Be well and let time pass. But please don't stop writing. Bouncy houses and a hot tub are signs that the future may be better than you can ever imagine. I am hoping for you....

    b+

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    1. I know the future is not all glum. Not with three grandchildren, a wonderful husband and a daughter and son-in-law who are very much a part of my life. I'll take my blessings where I can find them and carry Ethan with me in my heart through every adventure to come.

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  3. How heartbreaking. I'm so sorry for your pain and loss--as Barbara said, it's hard to know what to say in the face of such sadness. But I hope you'll be able to face this fall with the help of people who care for you. Best wishes to you.

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    1. Taking the time to say anything, each word of comfort through cyberspace, warms my heart and helps me keep going. I'll make it a day at a time as I have the last 10 months--it will be 10 months tomorrow since the last time we talked. Most days it is a little easier and I cling to that as a way to keep going as well.

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  4. Every time I read your posts my heart aches for you. Sending prayers of comfort to you from Kentucky.

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  5. Sending prayers and positive thoughts your ways. Thanks for sharing. Blogging is so therapeutic for me as well. I hit 10 months on Oct 13th, since the day I lost my wife of a year and a half. Reading your blog, others as well as writing has helped express necessary emotions to help keep us moving forward. Today is where I put my focus, not tomorrow, not yesterday. Its so mush easier said than done, this you know. The gym and running is by far one of my biggest escapes from everything! Im running my first half marathon this november in the very same place I married my wife. I pray that you find a way to escape this dark cloud lingering over your head, even if just for moments to catch your breath. Take care, wish you the best.
    Jesse Dill

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    1. Jesse, my 10-month anniversary will be Oct. 15... Paths so similar, but so different as well. It is hard to focus on the future when what we thought that future would hold is so suddenly gone, and yet we manage to go on. I try to keep exercise and moving (walking, dancing, running, or even yardwork) as a way to keep from being still and live in the moment. Plus the post-workout high is hard to beat!

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  6. I won't say I can imagine how you're feeling because I can't possibly. A year a ago Oct.2nd one of my very best friends shot herself in front of her husband and 18 year old son during an intervention about her addiction to pain pills. I thought I was doing okay finally and then this week along with some other emotional problems going on it just punched me in the gut and has left me gasping for breath. I admire your strength and your ability to see it coming and trying to head it off before it begins. I think of you and Ethan often. My own son and I are often at odds. He went to fight a war as my sweet little boy and came back a dark, angry man hell bent on destruction. I love him and try everything to help him but I'm terrified one day I'll get that call. He doesn't want mine or anyone else's help unless it's money. I pray he finds his way out of the darkness and I pray you stay along it's fringes until the sun comes back out again for you. You've had a hard time I pray you find peace and some genuine happiness. I love that poem by the way!

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    1. Rena, my heart breaks for you, because while you cannot imagine where I am, I know all too well where you are because I lived there for years. Regardless of the path they took to get to where they are, once our boys reach that dark place there is so little we can do as mothers but pray that they find their way out. Ethan didn't. I pray that your son will. Treasure each moment, even the calls for money. I'd give so much to get another one of those myself, even though they were so irritating and impossible to deal with at the time. That's not saying to always say yes, but make the decisions you can live with. I can live with mine most of the time, because I know giving it would not have bought him peace or life.

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  7. Oh Angela, I don't know why I say things to you that I wouldn't tell another living soul. It doesn't make sense except maybe it is the anonymous factor, or maybe the way your story touched my heart. I don't know. Everytime I see his name come up on my phone I answer just because of your story when in the past I would sometimes let it go to voicemail just to skip the frustration. He called a couple of months ago and when I
    refused this latest request for money he blew up at me and said things that cut me to the bone. Things that in reality were not true but obviously in his mind are and it just sucked the life right out of me. My husband wanted to get involved because my son listens to him alot. They have always been very close even though he is his stepfather but we married when he was only 2 so to him he's dad, even though his own dad has been in his life always. Anyway off topic there, I wouldn't let him get involved, even though it broke my heart and still hurts so bad, he has a right to his feelings. I know in my heart I have been a good mom, I've always put my kids first. One child was always easier to parent, my daughter. She was just always a hard worker, stayed out of trouble and made good grades every parents dream. To him she seems like the favorite because he was none of those things. It doesn't make me love him any less but he sees it that way. Her life hasn't been perfect she's had her dark spot that we all seem to get at some point in our lives. Someday I might be able to talk, about it but not yet. I almost lost her once because I wasn't paying close enough attention. He called the other day and acted like nothing in the world had happened. So I pretended it didn't too. I don't know if it was right or wrong but that's what I did just to hear his voice for a little while. He sounded good and talked about getting some help through the VA for his anger issues. He has said this before so I don't hold out alot of hope but a small part of me has my fingers crossed, once again. I feel like I'm just floating in this life between living with mom 24/7 and her Alzheimer's I just don't have anything left to give when they both seem to need something from me so bad. It's a vicious cycle. Soon there will be twins from the daughter and we are excited about that. My son has 2 sons that we love very much but have only seen a few times. Now that him and his wife are estranged it's even harder. So I know he will hold that over my head at some point. It just never seems to end. Damn it, I didn't mean to have this melt down on your site. I just feel so isolated and confused. I'm really sorry. I've said enough for sure.

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    1. Never apologize to me for being honest and getting something off your chest. I'm glad to listen. Ethan was the same way. It wasn't really him talking, it was his addiction. He always said his sister was favorite too, just because he didn't know her issues or problems I have with her. Then for years I devoted so much energy and money to him because he was lying to me and everyone else and really was sick although he was keeping himself that way. He was hurtful many times and there were so many ugly scenes, but I always held on to hope. It's hard to admit that in many ways life is easier not worrying about him because he was incapable of independence and drugs had trapped him in immaturity, but I miss his jokes, his hugs, his love.

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  9. You remain in my thoughts and prayers Angela.

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