In 3 Days

In 3 days, my first born son will be 23 years old. In 3 days, I will not be able to tell him Happy Birthday. In 3 days, he will be celebrating his birthday in heaven. In 3 days, it will mark the 3rd birthday he has had without me. In 3 days, I pray that I make it through the day.

I’m back and reclaiming my JOY

It has been quite a while since I have wrote. There has been a lot going on. I had surgery. Church has kept us going. Our kids and everyone else has kept our calendar full. My daughter announced that she is going to have a baby so I am going to be a Granny. My niece has moved in. School is out and summer fun is underway. So so much is keeping us busy that I would like to say that is why I haven’t put pen to paper. But sadly it is not.

I have let something terrible happen in my life. I have let someone take my joy away. Actually more than one person. But to start, I let the words of someone who is very bitter with their own life get to me. Get into my head and into my heart. I let this person strip me down to the core with her words and leave me questioning everything in my life. What makes this so sad? This person knew the right words to say and how to use them. Even sadder, none of the words she said were true or even relevant. I had never in my life been spoken to with such hate and anger as I was then. Even though I knew everything she was saying was just pure hate, I let it sink in until it took my joy. I let this person who is so miserable in her own life, damage mine.

It caused a ripple effect too. It started with me feeling down from the words. Then it had me questioning the things said. This caused me to start letting other things get to me. Other people’s problem became like bricks on my shoulders. I let the words and actions that were so tiny aggravate or hurt me like they were the worst in the world. I even let someone at church almost rob me of my safe place at the altar. I would show up to places with an escape plan already in place and dread in my mind. I was only happy at home in my comfort zone.

What brought me out of it? I just dug in deeper and read more of my Bible. I did more praying and even more praying after that. Then one night last week, I had just had it. I realized that I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t joyful. I was sad. I was lonely. I was faking my way through so much of life that I quit even really living. So I reclaimed my joy. I took back my happy. I gave all the burdens that I was taking on from others back. I turned a deaf ear to negative and an eye to the positive. I for the first time in a long time got the urge to write again. I gave the hateful person that started this downward spiral to the Lord and her words to pray. I hope she finds happiness somewhere in her life and gets right with God. But for me, I am reclaiming all that is good, happy and joyful for me.

And now the writing begins……………….

I Failed My Children

I failed my children. I have made one of the biggest mistakes a parent can make. Powerful words for a Mom to say. But it is true. What could I have done that was so bad?

Well, I didn’t beat, starve or abandon them. I didn’t take them to church every Sunday like I should have. Every single Sunday I should have had them in Sunday school and then sitting in a pew with me hearing the Word of God. Oh I took them here and there. But I failed to make it a priority like food, clothes and shelter. I let them go with friends and relatives to church and youth groups. But I didn’t take them myself consistently. We were not in church every Sunday as a family.

Why didn’t I do this? There are many excuses I can make for it. I was tired. We didn’t have a church we liked. There was that thing we wanted to do. I wanted to sleep. We will go next Sunday. It’s okay, someone else will take them. Well, we have had a hectic week. My Mom and Dad are to blame for not taking me regularly. On and on I could go but they are just that excuses. But there is no excuse. It clearly says in Proverbs 22:6 Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. I taught my children manners, right from wrong and how to be good people. But that alone will not get them into heaven.

I am extremely thankful that the good Lord saw me failing my children and put people in their life that would lead them to be saved. I will forever regret not being that person. I do have peace of mind that their salvation is secure.

So where does that leave them now? I am in church every time the doors are open. And where are my children? Well, they are there sometimes but not every Sunday. They are adults and I cannot force them. If I had started from the start of being in that pew every Sunday, then they would wake up every Sunday out of habit and be there. Then the habit would turn into a need to be there like mine. I did not train them up in the way the real way they should go. Now they are busy on Sunday. Too much to do, they have plans with friends, or simply just don’t want to.

I have ask for forgiveness over my mistake. But I still beat myself up over it. The verse from 1 Timothy 5:8 really convicts me. It says – If any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied them faith, and is worse than an infidel. pretty bad when the Good Lord calls you like you are. I pray every day that my children will see how I jump up to go to church and tag along. I pray this cycle will be broken and they will do better than I did.

So my advice to all the ones with children… Take them to church. Let them see it as a good time and not a burden or a chore. Let them see you excited to go. Stop looking at your watch ready to bust out the door before your pew ever gets warm. Teach them. Talk with them. Pray with them. Do it now while they are young and they will standing beside you with their families when you are old.

Lil Sis Got Hitched! Part 1

My littlest sister, Jessi Rae, got married this past weekend. These past few weeks have been a whirlwind of her crazy wedding planning. It seemed as if everyday she was making yet another list that had the same things from the day before’s list. It almost got to where when I saw her walk in with a pen and paper, I wanted to run! But she is the baby so we made lists. And more lists, And more lists.

She wanted to do most of the wedding herself and not pay people to do things that she could do. Or things that I could do. Like baking and cooking. So the last few days before the big day, I was a candy and cookie making fool. But I was also a crying babbling fool. I just didn’t know how I was going to get through her getting married! Why did she have to be grown? Why were my kids grown? WHY WHY WHY!?

Jessi is 16 years younger than me. I know! How gross is it that my parents were still making babies when I was in high school? Anyway, that is something for my therapist to deal with. When this little baby was born, I didn’t think I could ever love anyone as much as her. Yes, I had two other sisters but this one was special. She was perfect. Being the oldest, I quickly took on the role as “other Mother” to her. Jessi was my practice baby and I loved her so much that I didn’t think I would ever want a kid of my own. in fact two years later, I was told I would never have children and it really didn’t bother me because I had her. Well, that idiot doctor was wrong because a few months later I was able to tell Jessi that Sissy had a baby in her belly.

Because Jessi was so little when Richie was born, they were more like brother and sister, Richie was her living baby doll and she adored him. When Luke came along, she had another baby doll to play with and the 3 of them were inseparable. Everywhere we went, we had Jessi right along with us.Everyone thought we had three kids. I don’t know who was more excited when we found out that the 3rd and last child was going to be a girl, Jessi or everyone else. Now she had a real live girl to put dresses on and tote around. And dress up and tote around did she do. Jessi was more like my daughter than my sister and we had her every chance we could.

These sweet little babies grew up into aggravating little turds. Aunt Jessi turned into the confidant and alibi they needed. While I am still scared to hear all the things they got into, I am grateful that they have had someone to lean on when they couldn’t with me. The sweet little kids that played in the mud grew up to be adults before I could blink.

Jessi had a baby girl and then a baby boy who are more like my grandchildren than my niece and nephew. I love all my nieces and nephews but these two are just so special to me. I literally sit and cry sometimes because I love them so much. We went through losing Richie and my heart broke for Jessi. She lost more than a nephew, she lost a brother, While I lost my first born son, my heart broke because I could not take the pain from my kids and Jessi. But through our ordeal, we had this very special man to lean on…. Kevin.

Kevin is the one that Jessi has chosen as her life mate. We always been very hard on anyone that Jessi has ever brought around and no one was ever good enough. I used to say that if a man was hand picked from heaven and sent here, I still wouldn’t like him totally. Well, I think Kevin was hand picked by Jesus and sent here. He has always been the nicest and sweetest to all of us but it wasn’t until my darkest that I really saw the heart of this man. The week after we lost Richie, I was always turning around to him being right there. At night when he would go home, I would find little notes and messages from him saying he loved us. Since the moment I lost my son, he has been there to lean on and hasn’t left yet. I knew that he had gotten close to the kids but was not aware of how close until then. He mourned as if he had been raised from the start with Richie. When he was lifting me, Jessi and the family up, he had tears of loss in his eyes.

Beyond how great he is in our times of needs, Kevin is just the most fabulous, Dad! He not only took in Lexie and loved her as his own but he is dedicated to her. Shae has not one need or want that he doesn’t fill. He steps in for Father/Daughter days with pride. He really and truly loves her without any thought to biological ties. She is his, end of story. And the way he is with Kane. From the second he knew Jessi was pregnant, he was in love with a child he never met. And now that he has met him, they are best friends. I have sat here trying to find the words to describe how amazing of a Dad he is. There are none that do it justice. He is just simply unconditionally devoted to loving that little boy.

The love story between Jessi and Kevin is like something from a romantic comedy. Me and my sisters just laugh at the two of them. One minute they can be arguing about the stupidest thing on Earth and then Jessi will look at us and say, “He is just so good looking I can’t even take it!” Or he will just look at us and say something corny like, “I love her so much I can’t imagine life without her.” We just look on bewildered and slightly jealous. They are so obsessed with each other that they had no choice but to get married and stay together forever. They have ruined each other for other people. If Jessi ever says she wants something, you can bet your last nickel that Kevin will have for her very soon. If Kevin wants something, Jessi will make sure that it is a priority. NEVER EVER LEAVE YOUR PHONE UNATTENDED AROUND THEM! If you do, there will be tons of pics where they just take one after the other of themselves. One day we all went on a family outing and Jessi had my camera to take pics. Out of almost 200 pictures, only 50 were of the trip, there rest were them cheesing it up.

I have spent so long talking about them in this I never got to the wedding! I will do that in the next one! Lil Sis got hitched and I am still a crying mess. They have  a true love stroy, an endless love for each other and a lifetime of dreams to fill.

At least…..

“At least you had 20 years with Richie” If I had a dollar for every time I have been told that! I could I certainly could live high in the hog until the end of my days! I usually just nod my head and not think about it. But in the past few days it has really struck a chord with me. Does this mean I am luckier in my son’s death for the 20 years as opposed to someone who only had a few days, weeks or years? I am going to give four different death stories that have touched my life. They all have different amounts of time and circumstances. Then we will see who is luckier.

Let’s start with Renee. She was pregnant and excited for the new life she was carrying. Her family was busy buying everything they could get their hands on. Then she went into early labor. Just a week before the six month mark. She fought for more than a week and then the doctors had no choice but to deliver. Little Ian was delivered and only survived just shy of 2 hours. In this short time she held her baby, loved him, prayed for him and memorized every part of his tiny self. Time with her child: less than 2 hours.

Zack was the son of Tonya. Tonya spent ten years trying to have a child. Then when she gave up, God blessed her with a son. She raised Zack for 18 years. He was on the way to his high school graduation rehearsal when he was in a car accident. A few days later in ICU, he turned 19. Five days after that, he succumbed to his injuries. In the 19 years Tonya had Zack, she raised him, loved him and lived for her only child. Time with her child: 19 years 5 days.

Richie was my son. He was my firstborn of three. If you have been following my blog, you know our story. Summing us up because I will spend hours writing of his life, he was called home after an auto accident almost two years ago. Time with my child: 20 years 5 months 23 days

Ricky is the son of a precious lady named Mrs. Laurie. He is one of two sons she had. He fought hard to beat cancer but lost his battle in March. He was a loving husband, father and grandfather. Time with her child: 52 years 5 months 21 days

So which one of use Mothers is luckier? Is it one that has lots of memories to cling to? Lots of memories at times that cause us to want to scream because they are nothing more than memories now? The one that got 19 years with  her only child she didn’t think she would have? The one that had 20 years and but has her other children? 52 full years with a son that she thought would bury her? I could go into great detail about what each has and what others don’t. The one that has grandchildren from her child to watch versus the one that will never have a grandchild. The way people say it it almost makes me think that I should have one the lottery. Oh I had 20 years so bells and whistles and confetti should come out. On and on I could go!

But why compare. If we all four were to sit down to discuss our stories together, we would all have the same feeling… This is horrible all around. None of us is luckier for the amount of time we had. None if us are sitting around thinking about how the time we had was just the right amount. Not one of us would say that if we had a minute more it would have just ruined our lives. Or one minute less would have been much easier. You cannot put an amount on time when it comes to your children! The natural order a Mother thinks is this: The perfect amount of time we should have with our children is the time we have until our death, not theirs. That is the most perfect time no matter what it is. No matter how many other children we have. No matter how many memories we have.

I am not lucky for the 20 years, 5 months and 23 days I had. I am grateful for the 20 years, 5 months and 23 days I had. Forever grateful! Anytime we have with our children we should be grateful for. No matter what age our children are called home, we will mourn the could haves. We will forever wonder what they would be doing at this time in their life. What would we be doing. All I know is each and every day when I talk to God, I ask him to give my son love for me and ask him to just let me live one minute longer than my children still here with me.

UGH! Some Women!

Yesterday I posted on the blessing of a prayerful friend! Today I just have to vent over “friends” that are just the opposite.

We all have them in our lives. The friend that has done everything bigger and better. I have one that when she saw that I love to write and had started blogging, all of a sudden came out of the closet as a writer. I was not looking to her for praise over my writings, I had looked to her for guidance on if I should be sharing them like I do. Guidance I did not receive but I did get to hear all about how she has wrote blogs, books and magazine articles but “never published” them.

Then I have the a friend that I shared with her some of the hardships I went through as a child and how I was trying to reconcile them. She all of a sudden shared with me how her struggle was so much bigger and grander. She apparently even had to walk to school barefoot in the 2 foot of snow when she lived in South Florida. I got that story after I shared with her how we went without power at times because of my Father’s drug addiction.

How about the friend that is always sicker than you? Or their family has had scarlet fever, monkey pox, yellow fever, bubonic plague and leprosy all because you said your house was passing around a stomach virus. Why one up sickness????????

Women that just can’t let you share a life moment and be supportive. They have to find a negative. Or say you only got it because of this or that. I had one lady who is no longer in my circle say I was only getting support because I had a child die.

I have a “friend’ right now that I am really struggling with. She is constantly talking about the way her kids could die. Constantly telling me how she doesn’t want them to die like my son. Truthfully, I think she is sickly jealous that this is a struggle she can’t make up. Death of a child is nothing to brag about or covet!

So what I guess I am wanting to know is….. Why is it so hard for women to just be happy for each other? Why can we not celebrate in others joy and accomplishments without backlash? Why do we feel the need to one up? There is a big difference in sharing life experiences and testimonies and being a snarky jerkwad! As I was reading my bible this morning, I read in Proverbs 14:30, “A sound heart is the life of the flesh:But envy the rottenness of the bones.” Why do women envy?

Yes, I know at times we ponder why the blessing is happening to the other person when we have been praying for our own. That is human nature and self. I have learned one thing and that is that we will get the blessing when it is our time. When a friend receives a blessing and shares, I pray thanks for them. When a friend is sharing a struggle, I listen, give advice if I can and pray for them. If I have been through a harder yet similar trial, I share it in a way of love. If a friend tells me how their child won the spelling bee, I do not one up them by saying my child got first place at the science fair.

I have been holding back on sharing things with people that are supposed to be closest to me because I am scared of the disappointment I will receive from their response.I have even stopped sharing things with family because I no longer feel the love of each others lives. No longer do I shout praises of thanks because most are not thankful with me. I have once again tightened my circle to the women that uplift me, support me and are just filled with unbiased love.

Remember: Women should lift other women up. Women should love and pray for others even when it seems unfair!

Prayerful Friends

I actually started a post yesterday about prayer. I stopped in the middle when I got stumped and was messaging a friend of mine. Our conversation made me delete what I wrote.

My friend’s husband has been having some health issues lately. Since the start all she has asked for is prayers. Prayers is what she has gotten. It was looking like her husband was looking at major setbacks in his recovery. She asked for even more prayers. Which they got! Talking with her at the beginning of the day it was about bad health. Last night, she told me that one of the major hurdles was turning around! Prayers of thanks went up. She had thanked me earlier for praying for them. I found that to be silly to thank me for. We are good friends. Friends pray for and with each other. Truly prayerful friends that is.

I can tell you that I have surrounded myself with True Prayerful Friends. I know that if I am having a bad day with grief, I can reach out to my friends Tonya or Mrs. Laurie and prayers are said immediately. When I just need prayers of comfort and guidance, Melanie is the first one I reach out to. If I need prayers to help me watch my tongue, Misty is the one I call. When I just need a flooding of prayer, I send a mass text to the Ladies of my church. I know my new friend Sheryl is about one of the most faithful praying friends I have. When I am needing deep prayers and questioning my faith, I make a call to my pastor and his wife. I have others that I know really pray. I can feel prayers being said right when they are requested. I also know that these people along with a few others, are really gonna get to the business of praying.

I have changed from the praying person I was 18 months ago to the one I am now. Most of the time when people asked for prayer, I would wait until bedtime or when I remembered it. Now I pray immediately. I have failed so many people by using the phrase, “I will pray for you.” I would say it and then just go about my business and my life. It took seeing some of the small blessings in my life that came only after prayer from myself and others to see the real power in it. Real prayers. Sincere prayers. Now when I say I will pray for someone,it goes in a prayer book and it gets prayed on multiple times a day!

Are you a True Prayerful Friend? Or are you someone that feels comfort in just saying you will pray?

Self Under Construction

Well, I did it. I have officially decided to take time for myself, I have decided to for once to take care of me. This decision has racked me with pain, guilt and many sleepless nights. By all means, the outward appearance that everyone sees is of someone who is smiling, handling life and seems “okay”. The truth is that person has mastered putting on the face of happy deception. In reality, I spend my nights tossing and turning. Crying and screaming into my pillow. I spend my days with headaches and pure exhaustion. On the days that are good for me, there are the moments that fleet across my mind and will have me crying hysterically for a brief second. But that second is enough to leave me just ready for the day to end so I can crawl into the bed with sleepless exhaustion.

I was spending my days taking care of children when I could barely take care of myself. It is hard to put on a smile and fix grill cheese for these innocent faces when you just want to be alone. It has not been fair to them or me. They are not getting the best me they deserve. How do you answer them when they ask why you are crying? Well little child, I am crying because I miss fixing my son peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Or how about I am crying because Richie used to play this game with you and it hurts me now to do it. Not fair at all for them to have this sad mess instead of the MumMum that used to dance with them and sing at the top of my lungs over the littlest things. Not fair at all.

So what do I do when the last child leaves each day. I immediately go into shut down mode. I do not want to deal with life. I do not want to do anything. I want to go to bed at 5:30 and sulk in my own world. This is not fair to my husband or two children living at home with us. Well, Luke and Savannah are grown you may say. They can take care of themselves.Jeff can get his own supper and let you rest you say. Yes, they can and yes at times they do. But is this fair to them. They did not sign up for this grief ride either. I am the Mom. I am to take care of them no matter their age and I am to be the Mom. They do not deserve a Mom that shuts down from life every evening and does not share in their life fully. I should be making meals for us to eat around our table and hearing about their day. Instead they have been getting a Mom that is quick tempered, stressed, red eyed, frazzled and just a teary mess. My husband does not deserve to come home to a wife that tells him she has had a bad day and is going to bed the minute he walks in the door. How many moments have I missed with them that I can’t get back? Have I gone on too long like this that they no longer desire to be around me?

Then there is this….. Jeff and I have no more children we are responsible for. They have been raised, graduated and are off making there way in the world. What do we do now? We have always taken care of them and put them first always. I can’t count how many date nights were spent with a car load of kids and their friends because we didn’t want to leave them. Now what do we do? Are we even still close enough as husband and wife to be us? What if we don’t even like each other? How do we be us with just us? This scares me more than anything. How do we handle being married with just us? We are having to learn each other all over again.

Now the biggest one…. How do I take care of me? I have always taken care of others. My kids, their friends, my husband(s), others people’s kids, my family, my friends and even the daggum hamster! Now how do I take care of me? I have decided to start counseling to work through some of the things that are haunting me.Things that have haunted me since childhood. I have decided to rest. That is the hardest adjustment so far. I cannot sit still from thinking I have to do something. I am going to write, read, cross-stitch, volunteer at church and just take a walk. If I want to stay up all night crying, I will. If I want to scream at 12:34 in the afternoon because I want my son back, I will. If I want to go have lunch with my handsome son Luke, I will. If I want to go rambling with Savannah, I will. If I want to surprise Jeff with a picnic lunch in his office, I will. (I have always wanted to do that) I will do what makes me happy. I will take care of myself. I will for once let the grief out instead of holding it in until everyone else is taken care of. For once in my life, I will be under construction to be a better me for me. Not for others. Please pray for me. Aside from burying my son, this is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

Happy Birthday To Me!!!!!

Yep! I am 29 again this year! I have been 29 for so many years that I cannot remember what my actual age is. I have to always ask my husband! I haven’t been writing lately. I have been caught up with life. Caught up in my own problems and self-pity. What a better day than today to get back at it. I thought I would do a year’s review and let everyone see a summary of how life can change, rise, fall and flourish.

We have had many happy events this year. Some major life milestones. Savannah graduated high school! Krista got to sing the national anthem twice at Atlanta Motor Speedway. I got baptized! Luke has been working hard at being a firefighter. We got to meet Richie’s heart recipient Lance. We also met a tissue recipient Morgan. Luke bought his first truck with actual payments and even got lasik surgery. We have a new addition to our family. Maggie. A great dane/ german shepherd mix. Richie’s dog Sam and his hamster Pippin are still alive and kicking. (Pippin is now living beyond normal hamster years.) We have Jeff’s stomach issues under control and that is a relief. Will started college! We are officially settled into this house and preparing for some remodeling.Jeff and I have attended many Donate Life events in honor of Richie. Just to name a few for the ones in the house.

Other good news! Sydney is about to head off to University of Alabama! Dillon and Lauren got married! Kaelyn and Nolie are walking! Hunter is still awesome! Briggs is adding more fish trophies to his name. Brandy is about to bust with boy #2. Josh has found him an awesome lady that we have just fallen in love with. Wesley is playing his heart out on stage in Florida. Ingles got to meet Lance! My family got to meet Lance! So many of Richie’s friends have just been out and tackling the world. I love when they call me to tell me what they are doing!

I have made many friendships this year. I have met many people that have touched our lives and hearts! Tonya and Robert have become close friends that we cherish like family! Debbie M and I have become like sisters. Misty started coming to my church and has quickly become my sister in Christ and confidant! I have made many friends through my blogging and Donate Life journey. I have gotten very close to our piano player at church after we bonded when she lost her son. I have also become very close with people in the community that reached out after Richie passed and have become more than acquaintances. they have now become people that I can depend on and reach out to share the good and bad. Our small circle of friends has now grown abundant.

Well, I was going to share the bad that has happened this year also but now I think I will just let it rest. Why should I focus on the bad? No matter what happened in the past year, nothing can be as bad as the day we lost Richie. So why focus on them? I think that is a big problem for the world today. Rather than focus on all the good things in life we tend to get hung up in the bad. The dishwasher broke, the tire was flat, JimBob didn’t get the promotion. Who cares! You still have life, your world didn’t stop turning. There are very many little blessing that should be celebrated each and every day. Even if it is just the fact that you and your family woke up and were able to put your feet on the floor. It would be very easy to get sucked into a world of self-pity and I have to stop myself daily. Life’s problems can consume us and make us miss God’s little blessings and rainbows. So what is the past year had hiccups along the way. I have been through the worst and none of it equaled that! So here is to turning 29 next year! May it be filled with many more milestones and many more friends!

You Really Wanna Know Mr. Osteen?

I keep getting asked how I am doing. I guess people think that because we are about to hit 18 months into the grief journey that things are just peaches and cream, rainbows and pots of gold. I am actually quite the opposite. I haven’t written on it because I have been trying to sort out this mind of mine that seems to be getting more frantic and loud. But after reading an article a fellow blogger shared about Joel Osteen’s views on grief, I had to share. Osteen believes that after a certain amount of time that grievers are only wanting pity. Well, Mr. Osteen, here is my response.

I am 18 months in this new life that God has dealt me. For 18 months, I have made sure to put others before myself. My children rarely see me cry. I make sure that each day they are not living in the shadow of their brother’s death. My husband and I have struggled to keep this family that was 5 and now 4 as normal as possible. We have struggled to keep our marriage strong when we have no words to ease each others pain and are lost as to how to be partners when our life is broken. I have to the best of my ability, and often failed, tried to keep up appearances at family events. I have tried to go to parties for other people’s children. I went back to keeping children one month after the death of my son. I never missed a school event with my daughter. I made sure my living son knew he was just as important to me as my angel son. If I was asked to do something, I 97% of the time did it. The other 3% I just mentally couldn’t. I never quit putting others before myself. I never said no when asked to do something for the church. I have smiled and tried my best to keep up a sense of the old life I had while trying to learn this new life. I will admit, I failed a lot. I failed my husband numerous times. I have even failed my children. I have horribly failed my sisters and mother. But I did the best I could to try to keep the hurt, sorrow, pain, and aching I felt to myself and not lay it on the shoulders of others.

So Mr. Osteen, do you really wanna know where I am at today in my grief? I am worse off today than I was the second the doctor’s gave me a time of death. I am worse off than the day we put my boy in his grave. In fact, 18 months of faking it and trying to be strong has taken a toll on me mentally and physically. I spend most nights tossing and turning. Releasing a days worth of built up tears. I do not want to attend any family events at all because my family is the broken link. I spend most days waiting on the clock to strike 5 so that kids go home and I can start my new rituals. What new rituals you ask? Well, Joel, can I call you Joel? I used to be very OCD about my house and life. The birth of my children’s half sister quickly let me see that this curly haired little toddler was winning the battle of messes. Now the OCD is back and I have the belief that if my house is spotless nothing tragic will happen to us again. My house was a little messy when we got the call of Richie’s accident. In fact, everything bad that has directly happened to us has come at a time when the house was a little untidy. I have been cleaning the house completely. Each room has been getting a deep cleaning. I dread having to get up in the mornings to take care of others. Nothing to do with them, I just can some days barely guide myself much less others. I hate answering the phone. People start conversations with “how are you?” I text very few people. Only the ones I can be real with get them. (A very short list) I am no longer the one at church that speaks to every single person. I sometimes fake reading something so that I do not have to socialize on Sunday mornings. I am exhausted by the end of Wednesday night Bible study because I have to fake happy on the bad days. I do not watch the news because it sends me into a tailspin of PTSD. I hate FaceBook because people seem to not understand that seeing wrecked cars and kids in the hospital bring back images that haunt me every single day. The sound of a train horn makes my heart leap into my throat. I only watch movies after they have been cleared by others for my broken mind to watch. TV holds little interest for me. The Travel channel is safe I have found. I hate 6:44pm on Sundays and the 29th of every single month. I feel as if I have won the lottery if I make it to 3:30pm on the 30th or a Monday and my living children are still living. I cannot eat chicken, mashed potatoes and corn in the same meal. Tried once and had almost had a nervous breakdown. I have started panicking about where my deceased son’s belongings are. Even though I know they are safely packed away in my guest room, I still have to go see they are there. I do this numerous times a day. It is all I have left that is tangible of him. I now get up numerous times to see if my living children are still breathing as they sleep. (They are 18 & 20.) A scratch on one of them has me thinking that the limb will be amputated and they will die. I text them constantly to see if they are safe. I text their friends if I do not get a timely response. I hate leaving the house other than once a week grocery shopping and church. I have certain things that we can not do on Sundays because if we do, one of my children will die. I am failing as a friend to the ones that are closest to me. I can’t remember when I last wished someone Happy Birthday when I was the one that was always the first. I cannot concentrate on tasks that are dear to me. I start projects and quickly lose interest.I spend some days pretending so convincingly to myself that Richie will be coming home that afternoon that by 4pm I feel like I lost him all over again. Sometimes I think that I put myself back into shock just to shut my mind off.

Even worst than the mental effects is the physical ones. I constantly have stress and tension migraines. I break out in bumps and itch like crazy if one thing starts getting out of the “new normal” I am enclosing myself in. I feel tired all the time but cannot sleep. And the absolute most terrible thing…. My heart constantly feels like it is constricting. It literally hurts all day every day. I believe my heart broke the day they told me Richie had passed. Since then I can feel it 24 hours a day. You really never know your heart is there until you experience a loss so gut-wrenching that you cannot even fathom it until days later. Then you are fully aware of its every beat. Every bloody thump against your chest feels like you are being stabbed. Do you understand the heart hurt Mr. Osteen? I am constantly on high alert, waiting on the next terrible thing to happen so my muscles are always sore. My nerves twitch. I have developed little ticks of nervousness. Some others never notice. I just feel like I am always in pain yet have no sickness.

Mr. Osteen, I have done it your way. I have not asked for self pity. I have hated conversations that revolve around me and my loss. I have put others first. I have not wallowed in my pain shutting myself off from the world. Where has it gotten me? It has gotten me no where. I am worse off than I was 18 months ago. I took care of everyone else and did not take any time for myself. So what am I to do now? Do I tell others that I need time now all this time later to be alone and grieve with no responsibilities? Do I continue doing what I am doing and hope it gets better? Quite a predicament I am in. There is no time limit on grief. Some parents lose a child and have another in a year later. Some can never imagine another child in their home. A wife can lose her husband and marry 6 months later. A husband can lose his wife of 60 years and pass away silently that night in his sleep from a broken heart. There is no book on grief. I hate the self-help crap people have been sending me. It would help to shove it up their wazoos. (I forgot to add the part about my quick temper being even quicker.) So please, Mr. Osteen, what do I do now that the way you wrote about does not work? You can email me your answer at mrsjschell@gmail.com. I will be awaiting your response.