At least that is what my therapist told me.
She told me to write my feelings, not to suppress them at all, and just go with it when they show up.
So that is what I have been doing these past two weeks.
Today is the two-week anniversary that my beautiful son went to Heaven. The wound is still so very fresh, but writing calms my nerves and I do believe my "Wilhelmina" when she says, "Write your feelings and don't suppress them."
I can't write about that day.
Not now.
But I will write about how I deal with that day. How my feelings are moving along, and hopefully other mothers like myself(and dads too) can heal when it comes to the loss of a child. My baby is gone, and I am still wrapping my brain around that. It isn't any easier just because he didn't live here, I know in my brain that he isn't going to be knocking on my door, or messaging me on Facebook anymore, or calling me but there are days I think this isn't real.
That horrible worst day of mine and my daughter's life happened and it feels like it was months, not weeks or days ago even.
People have been so gracious during this time to my daughter and I.
They have texted, called, visited, brought food, ordered food and sent cards and flowers. I received so many hugs and condolences and offers "if you need anything, please let me know." What I need is my son back, what I get is "You have to wait to get to Heaven to see him again," from God.
What I want is to hold him in my arms, to have been able to drag him away from those evil people that gave him those evil drugs that caused him to lose his precious life. We all tried to help him. Every last one of us who loved him. I was the only one I believe who didn't give up on him, I kept praying, I would defend him and say "He didn't wake up one morning and say 'I think today I want to be a drug addict", when they would say things like "I can't believe he could be so stupid to do drugs."
Listen to me when I say this, "Addicts aren't stupid. Addicts have a sickness, they have mental issues that they just simply don't want to deal with and so they escape them by using." Kind of like you over there pointing your fingers and judging that "stupid addict" on the street corner, you know when you rack up a $10,000 credit card bill to deal with the fact your husband is probably cheating on you, or you over there, with your drinking problem, you drink like a fish to deal with your inability to cope with the poor choices you made in life.
How does it feel when I say such mean and ugly things? I don't mean them, believe me I don't, but that is what I hear, that TONE when people would say such cruel things about my son. He is not a label, he is a person.
Think about that next time you judge or label an addict.
My child was my baby.
My first born.
My child was not only my child, he was a brother, grandson, nephew, cousin, best friend and most important he was a daddy.
He was a person, who was SICK! Understand that.
The persons who gave him the drugs, they are sick too, very sick. Me judging them is like me judging my baby, and I won't have it. I don't have to associate with those people, but I can pray for them. As hard as that is for me, I pray for them. Not every day, it's still too fresh, but I HAVE prayed in the last two weeks for those individuals who were a part of this sickness my son had.
For the longest time I blamed myself, my poor choices in men, my inability have any sort of self-esteem, my self-worth, believing men and people in general who told me I was stupid or I "had to settle" in a relationship because I will never do any better. Because I chose to date or marry people who truly didn't love me, instead of staying single the rest of my natural life.
That ate away at me for the longest time, I surely didn't need anyone else reminding me of stupid mistakes I made in my past, I did enough self-destruction in my head over my self-worth and my parenting for the longest time. You don't need to remind me of my poor choices, the devil had a hold on my thoughts for the longest time back then and occasionally he pops up now still.
Then one day, my son was about to have a lung-valve replacement surgery in 2018, and as I spoke to him for the first sober moment in years, I told him, crying hysterically no less, how sorry I was, that all the men I married or dated I was just trying to do right by both of us but it was an epic fail in that department and that I am to blame for the predicament he was in.
Know what he said to me? In the most calming reassuring voice, he said to me, "Mom, I am an adult, and I made my own choices. This isn't your fault."
It's like someone blaming my mother for my poor life choices, I'm an adult. It's not her circus, not her monkeys.
If people blame me, that is their issue. Please look at your own sins before pointing out the ones you may think I have. If people want to call me names, threaten me or say it's my fault he is gone, let them.
It doesn't make it truth.
The truth is as much as I loved him, as much as I and everyone else around him tried to help him, in the end he made a life choice that was his own.
Does that make me sleep any better at night?
Pardon my french here, but "Hell no."
I couldn't sleep at all last night. I kept waking up every hour on the hour pretty much. I cried, I had some really crazy dreams, and finally around 3 a.m. I got some shut eye until my alarm woke me at 5:15 this morning to get my daughter coffee and off to school.
See this mountain?
This is Jared's mountain.
I call it that because when he lived with us here in Vegas back in 2009, we went there with his twin brothers and his baby sister. He left us at the bottom of that mountain on the left and hiked up the taller mountain on the right, against my wishes. He said, "Don't worry mom, I'll be okay."
And he was.
We all hiked to the first mountain, on the left. Then I stopped, I was getting nervous. We took a few photos up there. Here's a few of them:
Jared climbing the mountain, he's that little black dot in the middle.
He and I together at the top of the first mountain.
He kept going and when he got to the top of the mountain, his brothers thought that was the coolest thing as he waved from the top, I kept yelling "Come down now!" but he couldn't hear me.
He had no fear.
He would sit out in lightning storms and watch the lightning...while sitting in a metal chair.
No joke.
I would tell him to come in and he would say, "I'll be fine mom! Don't worry!"
He was always fine, until he wasn't anymore.
His life choices began to spiral out of control, until nobody could help him but himself.
How do you handle this kind of grief? There are no words. There is no perfect time to cry and then laugh again.
How do you laugh again without feeling you shouldn't be laughing?
Yesterday was my first day back at work after this happened. People meant well with hugs and condolences. I managed to keep it together, until I ate my lunch. We laughed a little at the table some coworkers and I, Then after I finished my lunch, I grabbed my soda and my phone, grabbed a dessert headed back to my classroom way down the hallway, shut the lights off, sat in a chair by the table and cried.
Then, five minutes before my shift ended I ran into a nice young man who I knew in the lunch room, and he asked me how I was and I lost it. He had soap on his hands and when I told him what happened, soapy hands and all he hugged me so tight and all he kept saying was "I'm so sorry Miss Barb". I felt a little better after that purge of tears, wiped my face and headed back to my room.
It hit me again on my way to get my daughter at her dad's.
How many parents out there can relate to this? Does it get any better? One woman I know lost her son 5 years ago. He was only 5 I think when he went to Heaven. She told me it doesn't get easier but because my faith is so strong I need to just keep holding onto God through all of this.
If it wasn't for my faith in God being so strong, I think I'd of lost it by now. He has surrounded me with so many people who have been here for me and my daughter since this all happened. Thank you Jesus for being my best friend in all this. Thank you that I have a network of people in Vegas and out of Vegas, people who are family that aren't even related to me. Thank you to my baby brother for the text that awful day. For picking up the phone when I needed you. Thank you to my second-oldest and thank you again to my brother and his amazing wife for defending me when I was being attacked verbally by a very sick individual. Thank you mommy for being there for me too! I love you all so very very much.
I have to give this to God.
It's in His hands.
Though I prayed scripture over him, and my Pastor called from back in Vegas and prayed over him, and my other Pastor friend and his wife and the people all over the world from Russia to Lithuania to Greece prayed over my boy on a thread that had over a million followers, though everyone prayed for him to be healed and to come home with my daughter and I, though I begged God to take me instead, he took my first-born baby boy.
He took him home to heaven.
There are no words.
Just this emptiness inside of my heart, my daughter's heart and all those who loved him.
The only thing, the ONE thing that makes me at peace a little bit is this, not only is he in the arms of Jesus now, but the people who hurt him, the people who did things to him to harm him for the drugs and because of the drugs can no longer hurt him ANYMORE.
My sweet baby I will always, always love you to the moon and back to eternity.
Your life lost will not be in vain. I know God has a plan sweet boy. (Romans 8:28)
I love you always!!
