jae_1950

Yes, the pain is beyond description. Now you are in a space where nothing is
the same as it's been for the past 18 years and it is a sorrow that only
those who have lost a child, can know. The times you will spent going
through this sorrow will bring those people to you, and you'll hate them
sometimes, but you need them. Grief is such a lonely business.

If my son didn't die, then I'd say to you, "I'm so sorry" but I wouldn't
know how sorry. The road is long and your grief has just begun. Trying to
find relief, (As far as I'm concerned) is impossible. Troubles we've had in
the past don't compare to this. I have cursed the world and meant it. There
have been very, very few people who could sooth me for a short time, till I
was alone again to weep. The stages of grief were foreign places that my
psyche didn't recognize until they became a part of who I am. Now I am that
woman who's bright, fit, handsome, fun, beautiful son died. I didn't want to
be her. I wanted to be the woman who had 4 kids.

Yes, I am sorry for you. I am terribly sorry for you and all that is ahead
of you. There is so much I want to say to you but everything I know you will
feel and are feeling, is swirling around in my heart. All the things
parents see and feel after a child crosses over becomes sacred somehow.
It's my belief that the only way we can even begin to live with it, is to
understand that our children exist somewhere else. When we get too tired of
being angry, shocked and hurt, we fall into a heap of agony and the
resignation forces that belief.

There are times when I've gotten petty and angry with people who say, "I
know how you feel" or "Time helps" and now I know that was just my grief
yelling. There are still times when I realize people, family, and friends
are no longer in my life because the terror of losing a child lives in all
people and they don't want to be reminded of the possibility hitting their
lives, so they avoid me. I thought to myself, "God, why do you want me to
endure this, I can't do it!" (It is a very lonely, grief ... )

This week is the first anniversary of the Station Fire, here in Rhode
Island. There will be a memorial service for those hundred people who died
in that fire. Over twenty thousand children made paper butterflies to honor
them. The fire took that hundred people in minutes. Suddenly a hundred
families were tossed into the space you're now in and none of them are
unique. It is no wonder people avoid grieving parents. (Not to me anyway.)

When I meet anyone who has lost a child, all I can think of to say is, "Hold
on" . There is something in the journey that you must not miss. It is a kind
of baptism by fire. It is like the pressure that makes diamonds. There is
value in all the pain you are about to perceive. Somehow. I'm not sure how.
Not yet.
I've had days when I didn't know who survived my son's death. Was it me? Was
it him?
I think it was him. I have formed that belief I told you about.. He has to
be smiling and happy. He is.
Find a hand to hold and come here to get some hope.
It's a good group.
Hold on,
Jae


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----

--
Why, anybody can have a brain. That's a very mediocre commodity. Every
pusillanimous creature that crawls on the Earth or slinks through slimy seas
has a brain. Back where I come from, we have universities, seats of great
learning, where men go to become great thinkers. And when they come out,
they think deep thoughts and with no more brains than you have. But they
have one thing you haven't got: a diploma. - The Wizard of Oz

jae_1950

Yes, the pain is beyond description. Now you are in a space where nothing is
the same as it's been for the past 18 years and it is a sorrow that only
those who have lost a child, can know. The times you will spent going
through this sorrow will bring those people to you, and you'll hate them
sometimes, but you need them. Grief is such a lonely business.

If my son didn't die, then I'd say to you, "I'm so sorry" but I wouldn't
know how sorry. The road is long and your grief has just begun. Trying to
find relief, (As far as I'm concerned) is impossible. Troubles we've had in
the past don't compare to this. I have cursed the world and meant it. There
have been very, very few people who could sooth me for a short time, till I
was alone again to weep. The stages of grief were foreign places that my
psyche didn't recognize until they became a part of who I am. Now I am that
woman who's bright, fit, handsome, fun, beautiful son died. I didn't want to
be her. I wanted to be the woman who had 4 kids.

Yes, I am sorry for you. I am terribly sorry for you and all that is ahead
of you. There is so much I want to say to you but everything I know you will
feel and are feeling, is swirling around in my heart. All the things
parents see and feel after a child crosses over becomes sacred somehow.
It's my belief that the only way we can even begin to live with it, is to
understand that our children exist somewhere else. When we get too tired of
being angry, shocked and hurt, we fall into a heap of agony and the
resignation forces that belief.

There are times when I've gotten petty and angry with people who say, "I
know how you feel" or "Time helps" and now I know that was just my grief
yelling. There are still times when I realize people, family, and friends
are no longer in my life because the terror of losing a child lives in all
people and they don't want to be reminded of the possibility hitting their
lives, so they avoid me. I thought to myself, "God, why do you want me to
endure this, I can't do it!" (It is a very lonely, grief ... )

This week is the first anniversary of the Station Fire, here in Rhode
Island. There will be a memorial service for those hundred people who died
in that fire. Over twenty thousand children made paper butterflies to honor
them. The fire took that hundred people in minutes. Suddenly a hundred
families were tossed into the space you're now in and none of them are
unique. It is no wonder people avoid grieving parents. (Not to me anyway.)

When I meet anyone who has lost a child, all I can think of to say is, "Hold
on" . There is something in the journey that you must not miss. It is a kind
of baptism by fire. It is like the pressure that makes diamonds. There is
value in all the pain you are about to perceive. Somehow. I'm not sure how.
Not yet.
I've had days when I didn't know who survived my son's death. Was it me? Was
it him?
I think it was him. I have formed that belief I told you about.. He has to
be smiling and happy. He is.
Find a hand to hold and come here to get some hope.
It's a good group.
Hold on,
Jae


----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----

--
Why, anybody can have a brain. That's a very mediocre commodity. Every
pusillanimous creature that crawls on the Earth or slinks through slimy seas
has a brain. Back where I come from, we have universities, seats of great
learning, where men go to become great thinkers. And when they come out,
they think deep thoughts and with no more brains than you have. But they
have one thing you haven't got: a diploma. - The Wizard of Oz