Tuesday, June 27, 2017



Saturday, June 24, 2017


Last Thursday I went to my first counseling session.  The lady was calm and we seemed to have a few things in common.  I appreciated her help.  I felt better.  I had words and tools to use.

Then today happened.

I feel as though I am back at square one, the day you died. 

Tears fell for it seemed like hours. 

It's all I can say.


Tuesday, June 20, 2017


You would have been 46 on June 16, 2017.  

It was a hard day.

Sweet Wife, Son, Daughter were here.  

You were here with us in a special way.  Thankful!

Then your Sister and Niece arrived Saturday.

Your Brother and SIL arrived Saturday evening.

We celebrated Fathers' Day.  Your first one not here.

We celebrated Dad and his birthday yesterday.

You are missed daily, hourly, by the minute.


Wednesday, June 14, 2017


When I was a child, we lived near the beach in Virginia.  My mom, my brothers and another Navy wife with her three children all went one day.

Oh, I need to tell you that my mom could not swim.  So, she stayed on the beach, chatting and watching her children.

Well, something happened that I still remember today.

I was caught in an undertow.  I remember being tossed around like a rag doll, spinning head over heel, scared, drowning.  Then, it was if I heard a voice.  Stand up. it said, put your feet on the sand and push.  I did and my head broke out of the water into the wonderful air.

I was so out of breath.  I staggered to where my mom and others were sitting on a blanket.  I told her what had happened.  She had me sit on the blanket near her until I could get calmed down.  I did and eventually went back into the water but only up to just above me knees.  

No way was I going to try that again.  I did later on and still love the beach today.

I've found out that grief is like an undertow.  I can be walking down the aisle of a store and feel the rush of grief overpower me.  I start to breathe differently.  I cannot focus on much of any thing.  And, it just keeps coming.

People are trying to comfort me by comparing the death of their brother, or sister, or any one else, to what has happened to my son.  It doesn't help.  


Because there is no pain like the pain of loosing one of your children.  

The grief keeps coming.  I think about his children, how young they are, how their story will be all of their lives....my daddy died when I was 8, my daddy died when I was 6.

It breaks my heart.  

I don't understand.  It doesn't make sense.  I am drowning. 

I hang on because I have my daughter and my son.

Thank God for the voice.

Thank God for my children.


Saturday, June 10, 2017


From everything I have read, to date, one never gets over loosing a child.  

A Facebook page for parents that have lost a child is hard but helpful.  It has multiple posts from many different people, loosing children of all ages.  Reading it is depressing but at the same time, it is comforting. 

 Does that sound weird? 

 It is.  

Comforting because I realize the experience is the same for every one.  

When you bury a child, you bury part of yourself.  

That one statement alone explains why those that have not lost a child really do not understand.  They are not suppose to understand.  Only the experience binds you with others of the same experience.  

Another reading is from a nonprofit.  

I think I will scan it and post on this blog.....just in case it helps someone else who has a broken heart.

Life does go on.  My children, husband, friends, have all given me my needed space.

The only thing I know is if I make it through the night, I will get up, eat breakfast, shower.  

After that, I know nothing.  I plan but do not do. 

I breathe. 

 I mourn.  

That's it.


Wednesday, June 7, 2017


It has now been 3 months since my son's death.  

Today I am.


Just numb.

Life goes on so they say but it is no longer the same life.  


Just numb.