There are many reasons autumn used to be my very favourite time of year. The trees and their leaves, changing colours like some mystical fairy tale painting. I love watching the leaves float to the ground like little falling stars. I love breathing in the crisp autumn air and feeling the crunch of dried leaves crackle beneath my feet.
Autumn brings with it birthdays. Lots of birthdays. My grandmother (how I miss her), my brother – who turns 33 today (Happy Birthday Stretch!), my daughter and in a few days, my very own birthday. Quite a lot of cake for one month. I have many September childhood memories filled with chocolate frosting and wrapped in tissue paper..
Of course the birth of autumn brings with it the start of school. A parent’s personal celebration. What is there to not love about September?
Turns out, a lot.
These days, autumn and the months which follow, are brutal. It would be less painful if I just bent over and you all took turns kicking my ass.
Seriously. And not just because my arse region has recently acquired some padding.
This is the time of year my husband and I refer to as our “Season of Grief.” It is a tough time for all of us around here. We miss our kid. Our son, their brother. The next few holiday and birthday-riddled months do nothing but amp up our grief and spin it into an emotional monster which threatens to swallow us whole.
It is hard to have a birthday or holiday celebration without noticing the glaring absence of a boy long lost. I know as I put on my mommy happy face and try to make the best of this trying situation that I’m not the only one affected, the only one limping along in pain.
What does one say to their children when you know what their birthday wish is, and will be? What does one do when you watch your otherwise-very-happy child blow out her candles, close her eyes and wish her brother was home in our arms? How does one react when you hear your son pray every night to see his little brother once more?
It kills me. Slowly, one cell at a time, it’s taking me down and stomping on my spirit.
There is no escape from this feeling for the next few months either. Next month is Frac’s birthday, Thanksgiving and then the anniversary of Bug’s passing; November brings about the painful reminder of Boo’s father’s absence, only to be followed quickly by Christmas. Just when we have hobbled our way through the most painful holiday of the year, we get beat on the head by Bug’s birthday, the first week of January.
It’s a party non-stop around these parts for the next four months.
I had hoped this year would be easier. After all, we are approaching the second anniversary of his passing. The pain has to end sometime, right? Or at least slacken a bit. This choking noose that leads me around by my heart every day has to relax eventually, one would think, right?
That may be true, but I’m still waiting.
I wait to notice when my scars are scabbed over and finally healing. I wait for the seepage to stop. I pray every day that nothing comes along to pick at these wounds and releases the pain again.
All of this waiting is damn near driving me insane. Almost as insane as painting those darned polka dots on my daughter’s walls. I’m trying my best to keep it together, but I have to tell you, this sanity business is harder than it looks. All I want to do is hide in my pantry, curl up on the floor with a soft pillow and nurse a nice red into oblivion. I’d try it now, but I’m pretty sure Fric and Frac would find me and knock on the door, demanding to be let in.
I wish there was a magic formula for me to stop missing my Bug, to stop feeling this pain. I’m sick of carrying this weight on my soul and quite frankly, I resent it all to hell that this is my family’s burden to bear. This is the legacy I passed on to my children. A pain that will follow them until the day they die.
I somehow managed to find the gift that just keeps on giving. Too bad I can’t find the receipt to return it.
I just wish there was someway I could make my children’s birthday wishes come true and bring their brother back.
While I’m at it, I’ll take three magic beans and that goose that shits out golden eggs too.
Might as well reach for the stars when I blow out my birthday candles.
carrie
Sending you a hug, and a bottle of red. Holidays and celebrations tend to get the best of us when we miss those who aren’t able to be here with us anymore, I know.
Wish I had more for you, but that’s all I got.
Tera
I’m coming out from hiding because it sounds like you could use another ‘friend’ offering support. I can’t offer much else as you bear this pain. I’m truly sorry for your loss and the loss your children have had to endure. I read what you write and I know that your kids are working through this grief in a very positive manner…because you are there for them and helping them. I hope your little bug shines down on you with extra flair today. He gave you happiness in life, may he bring you courage and strength in death…courage and strength as he had. enough to get through another day. My prayers are with you and your family.
Tammy King
I’m so sorry. All I know to say is that I don’t even know you but, this brand new mom in Kentucky who never wanted any children, was overwhelmed with motherhood, you were my personal 2×4 upside the head. You make me kiss alot more, hug a little tighter and look upward and say out loud “Thank you God for my angel”. I only hope that I can
be half the mom that you are. Thank you for the laughter. Thank you for the tears. Most of all, thank you for the wake-up call.. I don’t even begin to speculate on God’s reasons for taking your son. But, I know this, your little Shalebug continues to help one mommy try harder, love stronger and hope for a million life times with her.
Simply Jenn
Hi! I don’t think I’ve ever actually commented on your blog, but since I decreed today compliment instead of comment day on my blog I needed to come by here.
Your writing is inspirational, the way you celebrate your missing Bug is exactly the way it should be. I can’t imagine the loss you feel, but you are so strong for your other children. And your parenting methods? Well, I find embarrassing the hell out of my kids in a public place the best way to insure the behaviour I want too.
I love your sense of humor and enjoy reading you every day. You are, in a very real way, my hero. I mean it in a down to earth, this woman rocks sort of way. I’m not a stalker, just someone who appreciates a strong woman. Also, you inspired me to have a (bigger than I imagined) tattoo carved in my leg to honor my dear friend who died in a car accident nearly 2 years ago when she was 29. Every time I look at it I feel a piece of her (I also hear her laughing at my astonishment that it’s bigger than expected). Thanks for showing me that carving our skin with pretty colors can add some sense of calmness and tribute.
PJ
The joys of motherhood are often crowded out by shadows of grief … in your case, the darkest, most unfathomable kind of grief.
I tried to write more but there are no words. Except how very sorry I am for what you went through, and what you’re still going through, over and over again. I can’t imagine that kind of pain — pain that only a parent who has lost a precious child can know.
You’re in my thoughts.
Above Average Joe
Happy Sept. birthdays to you & Fric. The Champ turned 6 on the 16th & Mrs. Joe turns 35 today.
Yeah, 35, its not a too good of a day today in my house.
selzach
I don’t have any words to offer, but have lots of hugs.
LarryLilly
I have been where you are. Our time of grief was the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and yes, those first several years were indeed very hard. In an effort to try to lessen the effect it was having on the surviving kids, I had decided after three years to look at a calendar not as a circle, but as a straight line. Yes, man has devised a way to measure time in a way where months repeat and days within months repeat, but in reality, time is linear, it just keeps going on, each day further than the previous so on and on.
You are a ways from being able to isolate the two events, the passing of your son and the birthdays of your brother, your daughter and yourself. Dont get down further on your inability to isolate yet these two distinct events, the passage of time here; birthdays, and the passage of time not here; death days. They are different, each has a different emotion, but yet, they are different.
You know full well the loss of the future your son’s death has brought, but at the same time, the joys you have of your surviving kids, ok, well maybe not joy joy as you describe their antics, but the hidden joys that your daughter and older son bring you on a daily basis. Your younger son, like my only daughter, will be forever frozen in time but still, their light burns on.
Its hard as a parent since we are trying to not show favorites with our children, and you getting down during THEIR season (birthdays) may create that illusion. So try to balance the birthdays from the death day. Its hard, but you are doing it OK even this year.
Yes, in time, it gets different, I dare not use the word easier, as it is never easy, but it gets different. I focus on my daughters life while she was here, and not on what could have been, for we have no control on our tomorrow or on THEIR tomorrows, we only have today, and we have our days past memory’s burned deep in our minds and hearts. So release your joy in your daughters birthday, and the coming holidays and the rest, and when that ONE day comes, treat it with whatever emotion you need to, and when that day is over, you go on. I guess my attitude was based on what my dad told me when she killed herself, “Son, you life live looking forward, you cant go back, you can learn by looking at the past, but dont dwell on it. If you dwell on the past, life will run you over as it is always moving forward.”
I hope your seasons in the autumn are fruitful when they should be, and restorative when they need be.
Peace!
Sarah
I’m a new reader of your blog, and I just wanted to say that I am so very sorry. I don’t have any great words of wisdom. My heart goes out to you.
Mrs. Chicky
They make look scrawny, but my shoulders are surprisingly strong and really good for supporting someone who needs to vent. Anytime, baby. I think you still have my number, so call if you need to vent.
Thinking of you, and not in that dirty sort of way.
Alice C
I was really touched by this post.
Our daughter would have been 19 this year and we still remember her with love. The first anniversary of her death was so painful that I wanted to drown myself – not to die but to numb the pain. Sometimes it seemed that we would never be happy again.
But then two things happened – not at the same time and I can’t remember which order. We both decided that we absolutely did not want to be unhappy any more – we wanted to embrace the wonderful life that we had. The other thing was that I decided I did not want to be defined by my loss – I did not want other people to behave as though it was the only thing in my life. This did not diminish her or the life she had but gave us permission to live our lives – full of joy with her brother and sister. I very rarely talk about her – she is safe inside my heart and she always will be.
I think you have a great gift for joy and love. Give yourself time, don’t expect it to happen all at once but allow yourself to be happy again.
with my best wishes
Alice
martha Freakin Stewart
Well my dear where does one even start?? Just know that there are others out here missing him as well and we are here to help you through it all and to get old with you as well. Bug will always be a part of our lives and he is definately not one to be forgotten. Love you guys lots.
Trailin'
I hope your season goes a little better this year than the past few have. Things do get easier. I used to have a 6 month period like that when I was a kid when I would start acting out when I was depressed (I had about 4 family members die between June and December, and 1 get taken to jail). It does eventually get easier…but I’ve never lost a child or a parent before so I guess that I can’t totally relate. But, I do wish you and your family the best and I do honestly hope that this season is easier for you than last.
Beth
So many before me have said everything that needed to be said, about your fierce love for your children and your ability to go on living. Please know that I think about you a lot, and hope that you eventually feel less grief and more fondness. I know it would take me a long time, and I know you’ll get there eventually. In the meantime, I’m sending you big, ginormous hugs for you and your family. xoxo
MBKimmy
Oh my … i wish i lived down the street from you I would run over and give you a huge huge hug – not that that hug would help but it would at least make me feel better than just sendign a ((hug)) via internet …
my friend I am sorry you are sad and that this time is hard on you if I could take any of that burden off your shoulders I would share it with you!
You and your family is in my prayers!
jozet
Many (((hugs))))…and prayers for peace and stength.
canape
Oh dear. You didn’t give them pain that will follow them until the day they die. You gave the the ability to love more keenly, more deeply, and more fiercely than children should be capable of loving. That gift, the love they have for their brother, is so worth all the surrounding emotions that come with it, I think. They are such beautiful people because of their ability to love like that.
I’ll be thinking about all of you so much over the next 4 months. And Bug too.
nomotherearth
Hard times. I hope that it will get easier on everyone. It would be nice to remember all the good without the pain.
Jenifer
T, I am so sorry that this time of year which is supposed to be about blessings and togetherness and warm fuzzy feelings is so shadowed for you. I can’t pretend to know what you are going through, and I refuse to throw out meaningless platitudes that do nothing but take up space.
But you are in my thoughts, and ShaleBug is in my prayers. (((HUGS)))
Crystal
Just wanting you to know that I wish nothing but the best for you and your family…
and I will answer your beautiful email (you write so eloquently and I bust out my thesaurus to write back to you and then get drunk and cry over my inability to write as well), I just suck. NO other reason.
xoxoxo
Crystal