MBN

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About MBN

  • Rank
    Member

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  • Gender
    Female
  • Location
    South Florida
  • Loss Type
    18 year old son
  • Angel Date
    6/7/2012

Converted

  • Last Name
    Northrup
  • First Name
    Mary Beth
  • Zip
    33025
  1. I had the most wonderful dream with my departed son last week. It was nearly time for me to get up for the day, I looked at the clock (about 4 am), then dozed back off. In the dream, I was in a room going through a stack of paper, and ran across a lengthy checklist of things that I had had to submit for my son's school when he was younger. Then, suddenly, my son was there and saying how much he appreciated everything that I had done for him. It was an extraordinarily vivid dream, and I knew that I was in a dream, that he was dead, and even what day it was and what was scheduled for that day. I was able to hug him, and we talked of all sorts of things. I talked about my concern for his dad and how he was handling the loss. It was like we were both physically present, together. i was very aware how special this time was, and how important it was to make the most of our visit together. Then, suddenly, I woke up, looked at the clock, and it was 4:15 am. Even though the dream was about 15 minutes, it seemed much longer than that. I remembered everything upon awakening, and felt that I had been given the most amazing gift. I have NO DOUBT that our souls were truly communicating.
  2. I do understand -- I lost my 18 year old son in a car accident on June 7, 2012. In the morning he was fine. A few hours later, he was gone. No warning, no chance to say goodby. Just ... gone. It has been the hardest thing I've ever had to face. The thing that has gotten me through this is a deep belief that he is not dead, but is alive in spirit form. I believe he is still with me, still connected. He has just graduated to another form, as I will eventually. Call me crazy, but I still talk to him all of the time (in my head) and occasionally will hear a response. I've communicated with him through a medium. I KNOW that he is just fine. I miss him unbelievably here in the physical world and wish he were still here. But I also know that I am still here for a purpose, and we are not meant to dwell in sadness and grief. It doesn't stop the pain and feeling of loss, but it helps. My heart goes out to everyone in this club that we never wanted to join.
  3. Peanuts mom, you can have a reading over the phone, it doesn't have to be in person. I know that I struggled to find a medium, not knowing who to trust. In partnership with the www.channelingerik.com web site that I mentioned earlier, Jamie Butler (a very talented medium) is doing bi-weekly small-group conference calls with Erik. The next two (Nov 1 and Nov 15) are specifically for grieving parents. it is limited to 6 participants, so you get about 10 minutes during the call and the cost is $50. That sounds like a short time, but it is more than you think, and if you have just a few really burning questions, then you can get those answers you seek. Go to her website for more details: http://withloveandli...ersonal-growth/ and look for the grieving parents conference calls. I wondered if it was all real. Then I participated in one of Jamie's conference calls, and I KNOW it was really my son. He drowned in a car accident and I had agonized over wondering whether he suffered, and what really happened that he couldn't extricate himself. I learned that he felt the initial impact and then that was it ...he was in another place. He didn't suffer, he wasn't panicking, it all was over so fast he didn't even have time to think. I was so comforted by that and grateful to know that he's really OK. I also know that he isn't gone, he still is here -- with me -- just not in the same way. It makes all the difference in how I can get through this loss. I know there are other talented mediums, and a lot of not-so talented (or even outright charlatans). But Jamie is the real deal.
  4. Yes, I have talked to a medium. It has been incredibly healing to talk with my son on the "other side", to learn that he did not suffer in his fatal accident, and to know that he is still with us. Although the waves of loss still come, they are not debilitating. I can live my life in this frame with joy and purpose, knowing with certainty that we will be fully reunited in spirit. As tragic as losing our 18 year old son was, it has launched me on a new journey of discovery about the spiritual realm, the afterlife, and my own purpose for being. It is taking me in unexpected directions and has been a time of accelerated personal growth. One catalyst was this web site: www.channelingerik.com. I'm not affiliated with it in any way, I just found the content to be enormously enlightening. It's written by a mother who lost her 20 year old son in 2009 to suicide. Her struggle to deal with his loss took her to several different mediums where she continues her dialogue with him in the afterlife. What he has shared has blown my socks off and changed my entire outlook. I found the medium I used through this site.
  5. Banu, thank you for your note. Yes, this is a most difficult time, one that I would never have foreseen. I am so sorry for your loss. Only another grieving mother can understand what we go through. But I believe in my heart that my son is not gone, but is with me in spirit. That gives me comfort, I know we will be together again one day.

  6. Hi MBN! I .lost my 20 year old son who drowned..on 16 th... The suddenness is so unreal...still not come to terms. Weeping everyday...feel like a robot...just blindly doing what is expected of me. The road is so empty...meaning less.. Swelling with pride whenever I think of him. He was an expert swimmer..while trying to save his friend he too lost his life. The loss hits in the face.heart....

  7. Robin, I am so, so sorry for your loss. For me ... it is 3 months today since I lost my 18 year old son in a car accident. It seems like forever, and it seems like yesterday. My life completely changed in a moment. In my belief system, my Nathan isn't gone. I believe that everything he is -- his spirit, his personality -- is still very much alive, just in a place that I can't see or touch. I believe that he is still connected to us, still communicating his love in subtle ways. I've had signs that I believe are from him -- call it wishful thinking or delusion, but it is incredible comfort to me. It helps me go one and live my life. It's not good-by ...it's see you later. So even though I still cry every day, I'm trying to move forward and do all of the things we've planned. Some days it's like moving through quicksand, but other days are better. We had planned to clean/purge/refresh the house once the kids were out of the house, so I'm working on that little by little, room by room. It helps me feel like I'm taking control of my environment. We adopted an adult rescue cat - something we couldn't have before because Nathan was severely allergic. Our new kitty is a purring fuzzy snuggle-bunny that brings life into our home. We have our friends, family, and our church family. We are keeping to our normal routine. I believe life is still good, that joy is possible, and we are still on this Earth for a reason. Before, I was primarily engaged in this life on this plane of existence. Now, a piece of my heart is tied to the next. I am committed to living my life here fully and with purpose, but when it is my time, I can go joyfully because my Nathan is there and I will see him again. I don't know why, but I just felt compelled to share this today -- I hope it doesn't offend anyone.
  8. Hi Peanuts Mom, I'm so very sorry for your loss. I lost my 18 year old son in a car accident on June 7. It will be 3 months tomorrow. Our situations are similar -- I lost my son very abruptly, in a car accident that left him dead and the other three teenage boys in the car with him essentially unharmed. The car that Nathan was riding in overturned in an Everglades canal and Nathan drowned before rescuers could reach him. Nathan had just graduated from high school, was going to start college last month, and had his whole life ahead. To say we are devastated is an understatement. It changes everything. I think it becomes "real" on different levels over time. Certainly on an intellectual level, I understood he was dead. I saw his body in the ER. We had his funeral. But, in my heart, I kept expecting him to breeze in, toss his keys on the kitchen counter, and ask what's for dinner? It's only been a few days for you, and I know it takes much longer to fully process what just happened. I'm still processing myself. Most of the time I feel fine, and feel that I've reached a level of acceptance. But then, something will hit me. I was looking at the kitchen counter and noticed the hooks that hang underneath, the ones that hold our Christmas stockings. There are 4 hooks, but now we only have 3 people (myself, husband, and older son who is currently away at college). I started to cry, trying to fathom what I would do with Nathan's stocking -- hang it anyway? Don't hang it at all? Either choice seems unbearable. It's little things like that ... the grief comes in waves. The good news is that it isn't like that all the time. The desperate feelings of grief ease. Will it hit you at work? Maybe, but it's OK. Work is both good and bad. Good in that it gives me structure, distraction, and a sense of normalcy. Bad, in that I'm not fully functional really ... it's hard to focus and I'm not as productive as usual. Fortunately I have an understanding workplace. One thing to expect is that everyone will want to come to you initially and share their thoughts of sympathy. That was the hardest part for me - it was heartwarming to see how much others cared, but it didn't give me a respite from thinking about my loss. If you cry, people understand -- even expect it. I don't know what kind of work you do, but having a chat with your boss up front may not be a bad idea. Most supervisors are understanding and can cut you some slack. I've had to excuse myself and go cry in the bathroom. I've shed tears at my desk. For weeks, I cried every time I drove back and forth to work because I had time to think. I kept a Kleenex box in my car. But most of the time, the work was sufficient distraction to keep me together. And it has gotten better -- although as TucsonDavid has described, I struggle with more-than-usual fatigue and underlying sadness. It's not clinical depression, it's just a general feeling of sadness and loss that ebbs and flows. Grief saps an unbelievable amount of energy. There's no rush about going into your son's room. You can wait a while. At some point you will feel ready to deal with that. I don't know that it will make it any more real or not -- I think only time does that. Hugs to you and prayers from another grieving mom.
  9. One of the things I had regretted is not keeping more of Nathan's things from when he was little -- you know, the arts and crafts and papers and things that they bring home by the reams in the early grades. After a while it stacks up and I just tossed it out after a while as I cleaned. I thought it was all just gone. But ... as I was cleaning a file cabinet on Saturday, I found a file with photos and something made by Nathan when he was about 2 years old. It was from pre-school, Valentines day .. a pink construction paper heart with his little hand print in the middle. So precious ... something I thought I had long ago discarded. And then, yesterday, I happened to spy some papers at the very back of a drawer. Somehow, stuffed back behind a cabinet that I was sure I had entirely cleaned out was a small stack of Nathan crafts from around kindergarten time frame. One of the crafts was a (then) life-size tracing of his body outline, cut out of a large piece of paper, and then colored / decorated by him with a paper plate "face". Maybe it's just coincidence, but I found these things in a place where they shouldn't be, at a time when I wished that I had something from that era. I feel so strongly that Nathan is still connected to me. He's not "around" all the time, it's as though he knows that in my heart I've given him the freedom to fly. Just as in life, I want him to spend time with his friends and enjoy his new existence in a realm that I can only imagine. I'm not going to hold tightly to him, I just want to hear from him from time to time. It gives me incredible peace and comfort to know he's still out there, happy and being himself. Although I'm sad, and I miss him beyond words, it somehow gives me strength and heart to live my own life fully. I don't know if I'm making sense. But it helps me get through this.
  10. Reema, I'm so very sorry for your loss. Yes I believe in life after death and yes, i believe our loved ones stay connected to us and communicate in subtle ways. I don't think you are losing your mind. (If you are, then so am I) I truly and firmly believe that our spirit is eternal and lives on in a wonderful place beyond this life that we know. Your loved one is not only fine, I believe that he's in a beautiful and loving place. I lost my 18 year old son 2 months ago in a car accident. Since then I have also seen signs of his continued presence and I feel him to be still around. Shortly after the accident, my husband heard our son's voice in his dreams saying "Dad, I'm OK. I'm all right". Our son's friends have reported having vivid dreams of being with him, and that upon awakening, feel as though they have "hung out" with him again. I think he really IS visting his friends - and doing what a teenager does. There are many people who believe as we do. You aren't alone.
  11. The day Nathan died, we were two weeks away from our usual, planned summer vacation trip to the mountains. We had enough time to make the necessary arrangements, host relatives, etc -- and then we escaped to our retreat. It was enormously healing, and literally gave us some space to grieve and come to terms with our loss. Nathan wasn't coming this year anyway (school schedule), and we did everything we had originally planned. We spent time with family and friends, hiked and backpacked, and did whatever we felt like, away from the daily pressures. I don't know that this kind of thing is possible for everyone. But for us, it helped during those first awful grief-stricken weeks. I could escape into the mountains and go hiking, and wear myself out physically so I could sleep. Or, we could just sleep in and rest. Whatever we needed. We were there for over two weeks. By the time we had to go home, the raw chest-ripping grief had eased up a bit, and I was ready (mostly) to go back to my regular life. I still have nights where I can't sleep, days when I eat too much (or not at all). Focusing at work is sometimes impossible. I backed into a mailbox a couple of weeks ago and dinged my bumper. I usually feel tired -- I drag myself through the days. I skip workouts in favor of another hour of sleep. One night last week I woke up at midnight and stared at the clock until 2:30 am. I still get the tightness in my chest sometimes. I still cry every day. I understand. I see things gradually improving, and I believe it will continue to get better .... with time. Getting away was helpful, so we are planning little weekends away. I have a trip coming up next month (previously planned). I should be wildly excited about that trip, but it's hard to muster much enthusiasm. But, I am still going. The distractions help as does something to look forward to.
  12. We lost our 18 year old son in a car accident on June 7. Ever since then, the touch lamp in his room has come on at unpredictable intervals. It's possible it did that before -- but I don't remember it doing that. My husband and I compared notes ... and even early on, we joked that it was Nathan's ghost. I've since cleaned and re-purposed his room as a guest room, but we left the touch lamp in there, plugged into a different outlet. It still goes on unpredictably. I never see it actually light up, it is just on when I go in there. I've tried to figure out a rational explanation for it -- vibration, power surges, appliances kicking on/off, cell phone signals. I haven't found any concrete reason for it to just turn on spontaneously. When do I find it lit, I talk to Nathan, as if he was there. I feel I can almost sense his presence, it's hard to describe. The other day, I walked into his room and the light was on. After turning it off, I said aloud how I wish that I knew it was really him ... if there was just some way to show me that he was really there. I left the room for just a minute to get something, walked back by and it was on again!! I don't remember it turning back on right away before! There was absolutely nothing going on that could account for the lamp to spontaneously turn on. I was struck with certainty that Nathan WAS there and he had turned the light right back on to prove to me that it was him and not just something random. I thanked him and told him that I believed! :-) And here's another odd thing -- when my husband finds the lamp on, it is "clicked" twice. (It's a 4 way switch, as you touch it, the light cycles through 3 levels of brightness, then off). That is a convincer for my husband, who says that "one click" might be random ... but two couldn't be! Yet, for me it is always clicked only once. Go figure. I still half wonder if it is all random coincidence somehow (I AM a scientist), but the belief that Nathan is still here, still with me -- is incredibly comforting. It gives me joy and a sense of peace. Also, two separate friends of his posted on his Facebook page about having vivid, realistic dreams that he visited them, and they "hung out" just like they used to. I think he is visiting them ... it would be so like him! Why wouldn't he spend time with his friends, just as he did in life? That also makes me smile, and know that my Nathan hasn't changed a bit! It's totally what he would do.
  13. Lulla27, Back around 1974 (I was 14), my grandmother shared her NDE story with me. She had recently been very ill in the hospital and related a story of going through a tunnel into a beautiful meadow. The meadow was filled with flowers and there was a bright beautiful light and a feeling of overwhelming love and peace. She told me she saw her beloved husband (who had passed years before), who told her it was not her time yet. She didn't want to go back -- but she did. She had no doubt that she visited heaven. She did not fear death, because she knew it was a wonderful place. Now this was way before I had ever heard anything about "NDE", and I'm not sure why she told me. I don't know that she ever told anyone else. But we were very close, my grandmother lived with us , she was like another mother to me. To hear this experience related by a trusted and beloved grandmother -- I *knew* it was true. It resonated with me so much, that have never forgotten what she said that day on the porch swing. The memory is crystal clear. When my grandmother died suddenly a few years later and it was so clear that her life force was gone from the earthly shell that was her body -- I never doubted that her essence/soul was eternal and that it was in heaven with my grandfather. Knowing that is what gets me through this. I also believe that she is taking care of my Nathan for me, that he is not alone, but is with people that I knew and loved in life. It occurs to me to wonder if she was prompted to share that with me (all those years ago) as part of God's loving plan to bring comfort to me in this present time of loss. Who knows? If our God is loving and our spirits are eternal, then why can't our "passed" loved ones stay connected to us? Why can't they communicate, just a little, between dimensions? Maybe those signs of communication are clear, or maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. But it gives me comfort to think that he is near, that I haven't really lost him. I think I've seen signs -- but real or not, they make me feel better. They make me smile. So, I choose to believe they are real, and I don't care what anyone else thinks.
  14. Lulla27, I just think you have to do whatever feels right to you and not worry about whether it is morbid. 3 months ago I couldn't have imagined dealing with ANY of this. Talk about making it up as you go along ... we had no time at all to prepare for all of these decisions. I know what you mean about deriving comfort from seeing the postings and Facebook photos. I feel the same way, and his friends are still posting comments and photos. I also read a LOT of books about Near Death Experiences -- although I am a believer and felt assured that Nathan's essence was eternal, those books helped to reinforce my belief that he was in a Good place. We want our child to be OK, to be happy. I believe they are. Immediately after Nathan's death, I was contacted by our Employee Assistance person, who is also a personal friend. I talked to her a couple of times, including my first day back to work. For me, it was more of a "I think I'm doing OK but what do you think" kind of discussion. I found it reassuring, but felt no need to continue on with a professional counselor. I talked to friends and my husband, and I found this forum. I have trusted advisors that I can reach out to if needed, but so far, I haven't felt it was warranted. I just keep getting out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other and I get through the day. Right now, that's enough. I do think it helps to have someone to talk to, whether it is a friend or professional. My husband is a great person to talk to, but he is also grieving and sometimes he is in a different place than I am. I think you have to follow your instincts on what you need right now. My situation is a little different than yours in that I lost my younger son and my older son is 21 and off at college. We have a place in the Smoky Mountains, and our older son went up there with friends a couple of weeks ago (a pre-planned trip). I gave him a portion of Nathan's ashes, to scatter in the mountains where we had spent so much time as a family. In that way, he was able to have his own kind of ceremony and closure, with his close friends, who were also Nathan's friends. The rest of the ashes are in the closet, I don't know what I'll do with them yet, so I'm not doing anything for now. I'm not ready to let him go. MBN
  15. lulla27, I'm so very sorry for the loss of your son. I lost my 18 year old boy in a car accident on June 7. He was my baby, the younger of two boys. He was my light and joy -- happy, funny, loving and adventurous. He had just graduated high school and was preparing for college. He was just starting to fulfil his potential and had a promising future. Part of my heart was ripped out my chest that day. We became empty nesters - overnight. I'm not much further along the grief journey than you are -- but I well remember the first few days. The shock and pain seems overwhelming now, I know. What helped me was being surrounded by loving friends and family. I'm sure people have offered to help ("If there's anything I can do ...."). Don't hesitate to reach out for help. Let them bring over a casserole, or pick up toilet paper, or run your other son to soccer practice. They WANT to help, and you need it right now. It helps to lean on others. It's been 10 weeks now for me and I can tell you that it does get better. The feeling of desperate loss and pain has eased. The sadness is there underneath, but I also have moments of joy and laughter. Although it is painful to envision a future without my Nathan, we are slowly re-framing our life. It takes time and I'm not there yet. But I can see that there is a path forward. I believe that my son isn't lost to me forever -- but is still around me now. We won't be together again in this life, but we will see each other in the next. I believe he is in a wonderful and joyful place, and wants us to be happy too. I think he is still connected to us, and contacts us in subtle ways, if we are open to seeing. I believe in a loving God, who didn't take our child to punish us, but because it was their time - part of a larger plan that we can't see or understand. I don't know that things will ever be "right' again. Our life has changed irrevocably. We will always love and miss our beloved child that is now in Heaven. But I do believe life can be good, and we can find peace and joy again. There is hope. It does get better. Right now, my best advice is to be good to yourself. Take care of yourself physically as much as you can -- eat, sleep, and exercise. I went for walks with a good friend, who was kind and patient enough to listen to me as all of the feelings and fears spilled out. Reach out to your support system. Let them be there for you. Peace be with you, my friend.