Today

[johnryansmom]

Tomorrow will be 8 weeks since my son John Ryan died. Last week was an awful week. On the floor, sick with grief, crying, begging, all that.

Two weeks ago, I had promised some little girls across the street that I would take them to a children's art program, which occurred yesterday. Their mother is single and she has another child, a toddler boy, three years old. She struggles financially ... sometimes I don't think they have food. (Well, I know they don't have food sometimes because I have taken her grocery shopping because I found her in tears sitting on the curb in the dark of night, wondering what she was going to feed her kids.) Anyway, yesterday I had to straighten myself up and take the little girls to the art program. When I approached their front door to get them, their mother came out with the toddler and asked if she could come along. So of course I said yes. We actually had a good time. I had not told this young woman that my son had died, so I filled her in. She sat and cried with me. I think I have a new friend, although my husband (not my son's father) warns me to be careful and not "take them all to raise." He's a nice man, but he's worried about me because I am not acting normal these days.

So I got up this morning and I opened my meditation book and the word for the day was "acceptance," which struck me as fitting. So I sat and meditated on "acceptance" and of course, acceptance of my son's death came floating up. I decided that my theme for the day would be that I will accept that my son died, would accept that he probably died in a time of difficulty and sadness, accept that I had chosen not to go help him or invite him to stay with me the month before he died (because I thought there would always be another time), accept that he's not coming back, and accept that it is pointless to review the details of why and how and when he died, accept the responsibility to move forward.

I had a fairly good day. Taking some advice from this forum, I walked 3 miles and went for a swim and cooked dinner and other mundane tasks.

But tonight, I am sitting here feeling like something is wrong. Why was I able to have a good day when the dearest person in my life has died? I feel sort of dirty for having a good day ... or that I frolicked with those little girls yesterday, like I no longer give a damn that my son died. Like he's slipping away from me.

I feel crazy.

Thanks for listening.

[robyn]

Tomorrow will be 8 weeks since my son John Ryan died. Last week was an awful week. On the floor, sick with grief, crying, begging, all that.

Two weeks ago, I had promised some little girls across the street that I would take them to a children's art program, which occurred yesterday. Their mother is single and she has another child, a toddler boy, three years old. She struggles financially ... sometimes I don't think they have food. (Well, I know they don't have food sometimes because I have taken her grocery shopping because I found her in tears sitting on the curb in the dark of night, wondering what she was going to feed her kids.) Anyway, yesterday I had to straighten myself up and take the little girls to the art program. When I approached their front door to get them, their mother came out with the toddler and asked if she could come along. So of course I said yes. We actually had a good time. I had not told this young woman that my son had died, so I filled her in. She sat and cried with me. I think I have a new friend, although my husband (not my son's father) warns me to be careful and not "take them all to raise." He's a nice man, but he's worried about me because I am not acting normal these days.

So I got up this morning and I opened my meditation book and the word for the day was "acceptance," which struck me as fitting. So I sat and meditated on "acceptance" and of course, acceptance of my son's death came floating up. I decided that my theme for the day would be that I will accept that my son died, would accept that he probably died in a time of difficulty and sadness, accept that I had chosen not to go help him or invite him to stay with me the month before he died (because I thought there would always be another time), accept that he's not coming back, and accept that it is pointless to review the details of why and how and when he died, accept the responsibility to move forward.

I had a fairly good day. Taking some advice from this forum, I walked 3 miles and went for a swim and cooked dinner and other mundane tasks.

But tonight, I am sitting here feeling like something is wrong. Why was I able to have a good day when the dearest person in my life has died? I feel sort of dirty for having a good day ... or that I frolicked with those little girls yesterday, like I no longer give a damn that my son died. Like he's slipping away from me.

I feel crazy.

Thanks for listening.

You are NOT crazy. Let's just take care of that one right up front.

I know that feeling you are talking about- I sometimes wonder if the joy that overcomes me sometimes is "not normal". As if, perhaps, I should be curled in a fetal position in some corner somewhere. Caring for others takes us "out of ourselves". It is something we can do that honors our precious ones, and gives us a chance to "keep working" until God comes for us. If I couldn't be strong for my family, I expect Chrissy would be pretty disappointed in me. Your husband's concern is understandable, but in time, he, and you, will find a balance. Being patient with ourselves is the best little gift we can give ourselves for now.

We had our precious children for awhile and it was a wonderful gift. While they were here we gained memories, and we learned from them, too. Now, they want us to be ok, and they know we will be together again. We can believe that. If it gets less painful in time, that's ok. Having a good day is ok too. There is a time for being kind to yourself.

Robyn