THE LITTLE THINGS

Michael loved peas.  The first time I cooked peas after his passing, I broke down into tears.  I prepared the rest of the meal sobbing.  A few weeks ago, I found a tiny screw from a laptop and was sad for the rest of the day.  Michael had taken his old laptop apart.  He loved breaking things down and seeing how they worked.  Then two weeks ago, I was with close friends at the home store on base and broke into tears.  My friends gasped, "what's wrong?"  I had been wanting to buy Michael a new bedroom set for about two years.  There was the set that I would've loved to have given him. 

When you are grieving it is so difficult to accept that it's okay to be sad.  Especially after a few months have passed.  But time is different for the ones who have experienced the loss.  It slows down and passes us by at the same time.  It's been almost 8 months since Michael has passed, but in some moments it still feels like a few weeks ago.  The memories are still fresh, the pain still very raw.  I used to hate this part of me that can break down at the smallest thing.  When I'm with friends it makes me feel silly and mostly embarrassed. 

I am learning to accept these moments.  They are the part of the memories and emotions that keep Michael and I's strong bond held firm until it is time for us to be together again.  They are difficult and hurtful but the pain is the testament to how great our love for each other was.  I thank the Lord for the bond that was created between me and my precious child.  Therefore, in a way, I must thank him for the pain that comes with being separated as well.  I think of the quote, "I thank God for every rememberance of you" and I hold those memories close to my heart as a way to hold Michael close to me.  I am so glad that the Lord made my brain so intricate that I can recall special things about Michael with the smallest prompting.  I know one day these little memories will not be so emotional for me and will maybe just bring a smile to my face or feel like a hug from beyond.  I look forward to that.

DESCONECTARSE

In January of this year I lost my 20 year old son, Michael, to SUDEP.  I will explain SUDEP and Epilepsy on a subsequent post.  The shock of losing my son suddenly and unexpectedly has changed our lives drastically.  There is the material and emotional change of having one less person in our home and all that comes with that.  But there are also almost imperceptible changes to our inner selves that we are still exploring and will continue to discover for years to come.

"There is no way out, only a way forward." --Michael Hollings.  One of the things that you learn when you have experienced severe grief is that you can't escape it.  You just have to keep breathing, keep living, keep praying, keep believing that one day you will come to the other side of the grief.  I am still in my grief.  I can stand still or I can go forward.  Those are the choices that I have.  I choose to gently keep going forward.  And that brings me to Desconectarse.  

Desconectarse is a form of a spanish verb for “disconnect”.  The Spanish use it to express “stepping away from what inhibits you so that you can be who you should be”.  I have been told by others experiencing the loss of a long time loved one that you change and become a new person or just MORE.  I don't know who the new ME is going to be.  I don't know how she will feel, or look, or live.  The world is almost as NEW to me as it is still the same.  I hope that through writing my feelings and sharing my experiences that I can come to know and understand this new me and "become who I should be".

As I share my recovery from the loss of my beloved child, the survival of my childhood, divorce, and other losses that have affected my life; I hope that I can pass on the lessons that I have learned, the positives that have emerged, the joys that I have found and my solid foundation of faith and hope.