More of the Same

I miss Jack.

I will always miss Jack. I’ll continue to say it and I’ll continue to write it. Bear with me because me missing Jack will never change. I was at the cemetery today and saw a banner with information for a “Grief Recovery” support group. Really? As if it’s even possible to "recover" from the death of my child. One doesn’t recover from grief, one merely learns to live with it. Okay, maybe it’s just semantics, but the message bothered me.

The days continue to be hard. I’ve cried more in the last two and a half months than I have the last 15 years. People have been telling me for years how strong I am and, yet, I never felt strong. I just did what I had to do for Jack. Jack was my motivation and my inspiration. Without Jack, I have to tap into every ounce of strength I do have just to get out of bed and give a damn. People tell me that Jack is still with me – in my heart. Sorry, I just don’t feel it. I don’t feel him at all. I think he must be mad at me. In the end, I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t keep him from dying. The guilt can be overwhelming at times. That’s probably what I need to work on more than anything  - letting go of the guilt.  I trust that time will get me there.  

I spend a lot of time at the cemetery. I go by in the morning on the way to work, at night on the way home from work, and at least once, sometimes more, on the weekends. The cemetery is about a mile and a half from our house, so I will often walk up there on the weekends. Hanging out at a cemetery is not something I ever thought I’d do. Then again, I’ve never buried a child before, so what did I know.  It’s another one of those things that I’m guessing time will heal and, eventually, I won’t feel the pull to go there as often. I don’t know. I don’t know much when it comes to this leg of the journey.   

Today's view

I’m heading to St. Louis at the end of this week. I’ll be there for a week and I’ll be spending time with “Jack’s people”. I’ll be visiting St. Louis Children’s Hospital, handing out “Onward” stones and just walking around the campus and visiting the places Jack and I used to hang out when we were there. Hopefully, it will be a sunny day because I’ll need to wear my sunglasses to hide all the tears I expect will be falling. It sounds strange to say I’m going to miss SLCH. But, those of you who have medically complex children understand the connection to a hospital and the medical team that cares for your child. Saying goodbye to SLCH is another painful step in the journey of letting go and learning to live life without my sweet Jack.

Finally, I was going through my old text messages on my phone and went back to January 5^th – the day Jack died. The text messages between Mark and me are tough to read.  With Mark’s ok, I’m sharing them. I'm sharing them mostly for me because I want to preserve as much of this journey as I can and, as painful as these are, they need to be saved.

(As I shared in Jack's Last Day, the decision to remove Jack from the vent never had to be made by us. Jack made that decision himself)

Thank you for all your love and support. You help me to push Onward. xo