More days without him than with him

My baby boy has officially been gone longer than he was here on this earth with me. I just realized it tonight as I was driving home from visiting him at his grave. I hate that I have to go to his grave. I hate that I have to go to a cemetery PERIOD. I have had a lot of memories of him pop up recently. There are so many things that Ledgyr does that has brought all those memories of Corby flooding back. Now that I am home on maternity leave I have a lot of time to my thoughts. I would like to say that it’s been healing. I feel like I am spiraling deeper down and moving backwards when it comes to my grief and heartbreak. I have been told several times by numerous people that the heartbreak doesn’t go away, but you learn how to live with it better. I’m not feeling like I’m learning to live with it. I feel the same that I felt a year ago. I used to love the fall season. Now it gives me a lot of anxiety and it makes me feel like I’m going to have an anxiety attack at any moment. It feels like I’m in a small box and very claustrophobic. I can’t look around and see the beauty that I once loved about fall. I look at it and think about how this time of year was the year that my entire life, everything that I knew, fell out from underneath me and  there was no net at the bottom to catch what had fallen. It’s gone forever. I will never be able to have that same life again. I don’t like to leave my house because I have to be reminded what time of year it is by how it looks outside. I keep my blinds and curtains shut for that reason too. I don’t like to watch regular tv either to avoid the seasonal commercials. Either it’s off or Addy watches her cartoons on Netflix. It makes it so that I can go through the day without loosing my mind and being ornery with Addy for no reason. I have noticed that every time we need to leave I get frustrated with Addy for no reason. It has, just today, dawned on me as to why I do that. Just leaving my house gives me anxiety and makes me uneasy knowing what I have to look at when I get outside. I have to look at all the presents and I would be buying, all the clothes I would be picking out for him. All the people with three children living their perfect lives.  

Last night I was looking through my photo albums on Facebook looking for a baby picture of Brock to compare him to Ledgyr. I started to look through all the other albums on my page and some of those consisted of the usual albums that every young married woman has on her page: engagement pictures, bridal pictures, and wedding pictures. I couldn’t help but notice the sparkle that we both had in our eyes. The innocent happiness and us thinking that everything in our lives was perfect. I couldn’t help but think about how that innocent girl had no idea that 7 years later she would be a mother of three children, but only raising two of them on this earth. Never did that young girl think that something as earth shattering as losing a child would ever enter her life in any close proximity what so ever. Now, looking at those pictures, oh how I wish I could have that sparkle back in my eyes. I wish I could see that sparkle in my husbands eyes again. I wish most of all  that sparkle would come back in Addy’s eyes. Her, of all people, shouldn’t know this sort of tragedy at such a young age. 

I am so unbelievably happy and it's written all over my face. People have told me my whole life I smile with my eyes and show my happiness through my eyes. This is a great example. 

Brock even has that sparkle

We are just smiling. Faking it. We should be absolutely delighted that we just found out we were having a boy, but our eyes tell the world that we have underlying sadness in our hearts. That happiness sparkle that should be there isn't.

Addy's sparkle isn't even there. She's just simply smiling for the camera. 

Today, as she was writing her letter to Santa she asked Santa for “two Corby bears for mama to help make her feel better.” She went on asking for one thing for her and then a truck for Corby and toys for baby as well as many other things for other people in her family. She has such a tender heart by always thinking of others and I can see that Corby is on her mind constantly as well. 

When I told her that we were going to visit Corby I was half expecting her to get excited thinking that we were going to actually see him as she has done several other times in the past. She got excited, but she knew that we were going to visit his grave and not him physically. It made my heart ache when she got excited, but then said “mama when we go visit Corby’s grave can we play at the playground there?” I didn’t say that we were going to his grave, but just to see him. I hate that she knows what it means to go visit Corby now. She has lost that hope that he is coming back to her some day. It hurts so much to see that hope lost. I couldn’t protect Corbyn that night from death, and I can’t protect Addy from such excruciating heartache. I can’t help but feel like this is how our Savior feels about us as well. He understands the plan and can see everything happening, but he still can’t protect us from such heartache and pain. He can help ease it once tragedy does strike, but that is all he can do is ease the pain. With his heart aching just as much as ours for us. I wish I could take Addy’s pain away from her. I wish, more than anything, I could have this pain taken away completely from me, but my hope for that has been lost. I now find ways to ease through my grief by, what my grief counselor calls, grief work. One of those ways is writing. Writing out my pain and frustration for anyone that wants to read. I find this to work quite well because I can get it all out and I don’t have to have anyone interrupt my thoughts to try and offer advice. From what I have seen so far in this grief journey is that every griever want’s to talk. They NEED to talk. They don’t need to listen the majority of the time. Advice generally isn’t necessary unless it’s asked for. We usually need to just get this mess and frustration off our chest. I’m not saying that I don’t like talking with people. I do. It is good to talk with physical people as well. Sometimes, though, being able to just write and let everything spill out at once feels good too. I also feel like I walk a thin line talking about my pain with people now. Not a lot of people understand that this isn’t something you get over, and you will always need to talk about it. So I don’t like to bring it up in fear that people are going to think “not again” or “how can I get out of this conversation”. 

This time of year is hard for all of us in the grieving club. It’s a reminder of the family that isn’t here to celebrate the holidays that are celebrated with the ones they love. It’s a reminder of all the presents they won’t be buying. A time of year when they have to think really hard about all the things they are grateful for when all they have on their mind is that one family member that isn’t here to be thankful for. I challenge you to go ask a griever sincerely how they are doing. I don’t mean just walk up to them and ask them how they are. We have learned that most of the time when someone asks us that they are just trying to be polite and really don’t want to have us pour our heart out to them so we just reply that we are “good” or “ok”. Sincerely ask them how they are handling this season with their loved one gone. Ask them what they are finding to do that helps them through this time of year. Let them talk about their broken heart if they want. Even a simple letting them know you are remembering their loved on during this time of year can do wonders. You may be surprised what you learn from a griever don’t be afraid to open up and find out. We don’t bite and we aren’t contagious.