I tried. I really did. I went through the holidays. I wrapped the presents. I decorated the tree. I pretended to hang the stockings with cheer. I said, "Happy New Year"...I even made some lame valentines and mailed them. But it isn't the same. It still stinks. I am still lonely and empty and without you. People have for gotten. Most people have forgotten. But I- I cannot. I am dying. I am a lost Momma cat searching for my kitten that someone stole to give to a new home. And like her, I meow and search everyday for him and he is gone. WHY! for what purpose? I do not know. I do not understand. I search and I search. I wake up everyday and open my eyes and hope...just hope that this has been one long butted dream that really stunk. But it is not. This is my life. And no matter how many times they make me laugh, or make me proud, or even make me angry, they cannot fill the void.
People lie. They say it gets better, it gets easier with time. But it does not. It just gets more tolerable. I tolerate this mess called suicide. I tolerate the empty face on my wall, the stone I visit in tears, the looks of pity. I tolerate the "what ifs" and the "whys", but I do not want to. I still want to throw myself on the ground and throw a fit in my "mary janes" and my "pinafore dress" and scream, "WHY, why him, why me, why us?" But noone answers. Because noone knows. I do not even think Jeff knew.
And I tried. Tried so hard to make him happy. So hard to be the Momma that he did not get. Tried so hard to evercome the hurt and pain. But it didn't work, because in the end, I had to make a choice to allow him to be a never ending, hurtful jerk to all of us or let him leave. So I let him leave. And I became the bad guy- to him, his friends, his adult helpers, to anyone who bought his stories.
But, I never stopped loving him, never stopped calling. Never stopped praying he be the man that God intended him to be. But it did me no good.
Yes, he finally came home to me- to us. He gave us a beloved week. he held my chin in his hands and told me to "believe that he loved me"...he said it over and over. And I believed it. I believed it. I REALLY BELIEVED IT....but I do not know if I believe it now.
I see Katce crying over him, and I cannot believe the overwelming hurt that this has caused. I cannot believe that even after a move, I am still picking up the pieces to my heart. I cannot get it together. I forget sometimes that they look to me for guidance because, "Hell, I got no clue either"...I do not know how to get through this.
I see his car on that misty morning, I see my sister telling me its too late. I see her look at me in unbelief. I see the blood. The gun. I feel my knuckles tighten as I try to get into the car. I fall to my knees and screams, "Dear God...NO!" and I die...in that moment, I die too. And this past year of pain, guilt, hurt, and anger begins and never ever stops.
Find solace. Find God. In bits and pieces. Get it together. But there is a kitten gone. I cannot pet him anymore. And so I mourn again and again and I beg for someone anyone to hear and help me. But they do not. They go on with their lives and want me to too....
But what I want...I want to imagine he is still here in my arms and Katce is laying on him and I am stroking his head. I want to imagine he is trying to hit me or yell at me or even tell me he hates me because that would be better than this. But I cannot because I am the Mother....and I have to be strong...well not today...not today... today I am just gonna cry....
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Thursday, December 22, 2011
I'll be Home for Christmas
I'm dreamin' tonight of a place I love
Even more then I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you
I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
If only in my dreams
Today I went to the store to get all of the children a Christmas ornamant as I do every year. And who,who do you think I found the first one for...you Jeffrey. Only this time it wasn't of a basketball player or a black santa...it was a precious gold, glittery ornament that I can place your photo in so that somehow when all of the kids come down the stairs on Christmas morning, you will be there hanging on the tree- a small part of our lives. But what will really stink is that no matter how hard we try- it will never ever be the same again. You will never be here for Jesus' birthday party. You will never ever be here for the Christmas Eve party with Grandma and Grandpa Burd. You will not hear Grandpa read the Christmas story. You will not eat Grandma's rolls. You will not watch as people crazily try to control their children as the gifts are torn open and the pandemonium continues. The laughter, the fellowship, the hugs, the love that is such an inherent part of who we Burd's are. And you will not be here.
You will not be here at 6am Chrustmas morning when Katce screams at the top of her lungs how "Santa has come" and to get up. She will not be able to crawl on your lap and cuddle in your stinky armpit. She will be lost. Hell Jeff, we'll all be lost. And we'll smile, and we'll pretend. But we'll all know- know that you are not here and will never ever be here again. This will be the hardest day without you yet. I do not want to eat Lacey's homemade cinnamon rolls without you. I do not want to have Grandma and Grandpa over for dinner without you or skype with Tierney and Jake and now Amelia without you.
But Jeff, what do we do? You have left us now choice.
The song says, "I'll be home for Chrustmas", but you are not here....yet in some strange way...I think that you are home for Christmas. You were never happy here on earth...not completely. There was always a piece of you that had been hurt and damaged and no matter how hard we tried- we couldn't fix it...happiness for you was unattainable.
But this year...this year...you are Home for Christmas...safe in Christ's arms and perhaps for the very first time, you will be happy...totally happy. I guess that helps some to imagine you with Christ under the tree, looking at all of the angels, having a huge celebration....I guess if I had to give you up that giving you up to jesus where you are finally happy and with no pain makes it worth it...at least for this moment...at least for today...
Even more then I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you
I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
If only in my dreams
Today I went to the store to get all of the children a Christmas ornamant as I do every year. And who,who do you think I found the first one for...you Jeffrey. Only this time it wasn't of a basketball player or a black santa...it was a precious gold, glittery ornament that I can place your photo in so that somehow when all of the kids come down the stairs on Christmas morning, you will be there hanging on the tree- a small part of our lives. But what will really stink is that no matter how hard we try- it will never ever be the same again. You will never be here for Jesus' birthday party. You will never ever be here for the Christmas Eve party with Grandma and Grandpa Burd. You will not hear Grandpa read the Christmas story. You will not eat Grandma's rolls. You will not watch as people crazily try to control their children as the gifts are torn open and the pandemonium continues. The laughter, the fellowship, the hugs, the love that is such an inherent part of who we Burd's are. And you will not be here.
You will not be here at 6am Chrustmas morning when Katce screams at the top of her lungs how "Santa has come" and to get up. She will not be able to crawl on your lap and cuddle in your stinky armpit. She will be lost. Hell Jeff, we'll all be lost. And we'll smile, and we'll pretend. But we'll all know- know that you are not here and will never ever be here again. This will be the hardest day without you yet. I do not want to eat Lacey's homemade cinnamon rolls without you. I do not want to have Grandma and Grandpa over for dinner without you or skype with Tierney and Jake and now Amelia without you.
But Jeff, what do we do? You have left us now choice.
The song says, "I'll be home for Chrustmas", but you are not here....yet in some strange way...I think that you are home for Christmas. You were never happy here on earth...not completely. There was always a piece of you that had been hurt and damaged and no matter how hard we tried- we couldn't fix it...happiness for you was unattainable.
But this year...this year...you are Home for Christmas...safe in Christ's arms and perhaps for the very first time, you will be happy...totally happy. I guess that helps some to imagine you with Christ under the tree, looking at all of the angels, having a huge celebration....I guess if I had to give you up that giving you up to jesus where you are finally happy and with no pain makes it worth it...at least for this moment...at least for today...
We (every Christian on the face of the earth) Are Responsible
Children
by Ina Hughes
We are responsible for children
who put chocolate fingers everywhere,
who like to be tickled,
who stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants,
who sneak popsicles before supper,
who can never find their shoes.
And we are responsible for children
who can’t bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
who are born in places we wouldn’t be caught dead,
who never go to the circus,
who live in an x-rated world.
We are responsible for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who sleep with the dog and bury goldfish,
who cover themselves with Band-aids and sing off key,
who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,
who slurp their soup.
And we are responsible for children
who never get dessert,
who have no blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can’t find any bread to steal,
who don’t have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We are responsible for children
who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse out the tub,
who get no visits from the tooth fairy,
who don’t like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at, and
whose smiles can make us cry.
We are responsible for children
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who have never seen a dentist,
who aren’t spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.
We are responsible for children
who want to be carried and for those who must,
for those we never give up on and
for those who don’t get a second chance,
for those we smother, . . . and
for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to
offer it.
Even though my son killed himself...I would not trade the thirteen years that the Lord blessed us with Jeff's presence. It was an honor to parent and get to know him. Please consider adoption...so many children need good parents. It is needed. It is Biblical. And it is our responsibility. If you do not believe in abortion- you better believe in adoption. Think about starting your new year with a new family member...the statistics are in your favor....
by Ina Hughes
We are responsible for children
who put chocolate fingers everywhere,
who like to be tickled,
who stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants,
who sneak popsicles before supper,
who can never find their shoes.
And we are responsible for children
who can’t bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
who are born in places we wouldn’t be caught dead,
who never go to the circus,
who live in an x-rated world.
We are responsible for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who sleep with the dog and bury goldfish,
who cover themselves with Band-aids and sing off key,
who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,
who slurp their soup.
And we are responsible for children
who never get dessert,
who have no blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can’t find any bread to steal,
who don’t have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We are responsible for children
who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse out the tub,
who get no visits from the tooth fairy,
who don’t like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at, and
whose smiles can make us cry.
We are responsible for children
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who have never seen a dentist,
who aren’t spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.
We are responsible for children
who want to be carried and for those who must,
for those we never give up on and
for those who don’t get a second chance,
for those we smother, . . . and
for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to
offer it.
Even though my son killed himself...I would not trade the thirteen years that the Lord blessed us with Jeff's presence. It was an honor to parent and get to know him. Please consider adoption...so many children need good parents. It is needed. It is Biblical. And it is our responsibility. If you do not believe in abortion- you better believe in adoption. Think about starting your new year with a new family member...the statistics are in your favor....
Monday, December 19, 2011
Jeffy's Boyhood Picture
When we first adopted the children, I got each of them a picture that reminded me of them. Ironically, Jeff's picture was of a boy praying. It wasn't until after he died that I noticed the angel looking over him actually has a tear in his eye....
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Tomorrow...tomorrow...I love you Tomorrow...
The sun'll come out
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
There'll be sun!
Just thinkin' about
Tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs,
And the sorrow
'Til there's none!
When I'm stuck with a day
That's gray,
And lonely,
I just stick out my chin
And Grin,
And Say,
Oh!
The sun'll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You're always
A day
A way!
Tomorrow...
Tomorrow I will go to church like I do every Sunday and pretend that everything is alright. Tomorrow I will fight back the tears as I sit next to my beautiful lil niece Mandy and I watch her become my parent and cradle me as I cry about every song that is sung and every word that is spoken. I will fight the tears with a huge lump in my throat,. My heart will pound as I pray for someone else's child. I will look pretty outside, but inside I will be a mess. I will see Jeffrey in each corner of the church and I will dread running into each one of his old friends. But I will go and I will do it because it is tomorrow, and in my tomorrows- that is what I do- what is expected of me.
The only difference about this tomorrow is that my children will sing their first Christmas concert without their brother listening and watching with his big toothy grin on his face. Even though I will see Jeffy in my heart and in my memories- he will not be there. And while I try to watch my other children perform, I will be watching Jeffy "not being there" instead of enjoying them.
I wish I didn't dread all of this. I started out tomorrow in the Christmas season by being so filled with the Christmas spirit and so overwelmed with joy that I just knew this was going to be the best Christmas ever. But as each tomorrow comes to pass, I am filled with torment and trepidation that I will not make it through another day. I want to yell. I want to scream. Wait! Wait! something is not right. Something is amiss. We cannot have Christmas without Jeffy. We just cannot. How will I fake this? How will I let this tomorrow pass with out completely falling apart inside this insanity called grief? I do not know.
I am frightened. I am frightened everytime I see people fighting in a store. I am frightened everytime I see or read of the silly disputes people have. I want to yell, "Do you not know that there may not be a tomorrow filled with peace and joy and hope?" People waste so much time on stupid things. They get angry at their loved ones and live without them on earth when they are really here to enjoy. How dare they? How dare anyone let the sun go down on their anger and waste this precious life being mad at their loved ones. I do not know. I only know that as I face tomorrow again without my son, that I would give anything, anything to have him back with me. I would give anything to hear his voice, to feel his touch, and yes even watch him walk away from me in his anger. When I lost him to suicide, I lost a piece of me that I cannot get back- a hole I cannot fill. And for some reason- I do not want it filled.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will go to church. Tomorrow I will try to look pretty. Tomorrow I will open my Bible; I will study God's word and I will learn to get through that day without my son. Christ will help me overcome this next fear so that I may be ready for tomorrow again....
God help me...please.
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
There'll be sun!
Just thinkin' about
Tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs,
And the sorrow
'Til there's none!
When I'm stuck with a day
That's gray,
And lonely,
I just stick out my chin
And Grin,
And Say,
Oh!
The sun'll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You're always
A day
A way!
Tomorrow...
Tomorrow I will go to church like I do every Sunday and pretend that everything is alright. Tomorrow I will fight back the tears as I sit next to my beautiful lil niece Mandy and I watch her become my parent and cradle me as I cry about every song that is sung and every word that is spoken. I will fight the tears with a huge lump in my throat,. My heart will pound as I pray for someone else's child. I will look pretty outside, but inside I will be a mess. I will see Jeffrey in each corner of the church and I will dread running into each one of his old friends. But I will go and I will do it because it is tomorrow, and in my tomorrows- that is what I do- what is expected of me.
The only difference about this tomorrow is that my children will sing their first Christmas concert without their brother listening and watching with his big toothy grin on his face. Even though I will see Jeffy in my heart and in my memories- he will not be there. And while I try to watch my other children perform, I will be watching Jeffy "not being there" instead of enjoying them.
I wish I didn't dread all of this. I started out tomorrow in the Christmas season by being so filled with the Christmas spirit and so overwelmed with joy that I just knew this was going to be the best Christmas ever. But as each tomorrow comes to pass, I am filled with torment and trepidation that I will not make it through another day. I want to yell. I want to scream. Wait! Wait! something is not right. Something is amiss. We cannot have Christmas without Jeffy. We just cannot. How will I fake this? How will I let this tomorrow pass with out completely falling apart inside this insanity called grief? I do not know.
I am frightened. I am frightened everytime I see people fighting in a store. I am frightened everytime I see or read of the silly disputes people have. I want to yell, "Do you not know that there may not be a tomorrow filled with peace and joy and hope?" People waste so much time on stupid things. They get angry at their loved ones and live without them on earth when they are really here to enjoy. How dare they? How dare anyone let the sun go down on their anger and waste this precious life being mad at their loved ones. I do not know. I only know that as I face tomorrow again without my son, that I would give anything, anything to have him back with me. I would give anything to hear his voice, to feel his touch, and yes even watch him walk away from me in his anger. When I lost him to suicide, I lost a piece of me that I cannot get back- a hole I cannot fill. And for some reason- I do not want it filled.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will go to church. Tomorrow I will try to look pretty. Tomorrow I will open my Bible; I will study God's word and I will learn to get through that day without my son. Christ will help me overcome this next fear so that I may be ready for tomorrow again....
God help me...please.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Not There
I remember when we first got the children. The boys came with a bag of girls clothes. It wasn't intentional, an accident of the "wrong bag". But the boys were so excited to go and pick out their own clothes, bedding, and etc. Jeff loved brand named items always. He loved the newness of new clothes- to have something noone else had ever had.
Every morning at Christmas, I would be amazed how he always got me the exact appliance I needed. I never told him, but he just watched me throughout the year and knew instinctively what I needed to make our busy lives easier. Jeff was good about that. He didn't show much emotion outright, but he showed it in so many small ways. So many "Jeff" ways.
I think the most amazing memory of Jeff at Christmas was the year I opened the gift from him and it was one of his favorite stuffed toys and whistles. I knew he had given me one of his precious treasures and it brought tears to my eyes. I looked at him and he looked at me and we knew...we knew the love was there. I remember through the years looking at that toy and remembering what that gift cost jeff. It cost him giving away something that was his and to a child who had everythig taken away from him, that was huge to give up a possession.
Last year he didn't have any money so he gave me a picture of a smurf that he'd colored. I know for a college kid that seems silly, but Jeff knew me so well that for me. I would rather have something they made for me than a million dollars. Today that picture is one of my most treasured gifts and will stay in my treasure chest where I keep all of my priceless possessions. The look on his face when he gave it to me was priceless...no apologies...just waiting for me to make over it which I did...
Last year he didn't have any money so he gave me a picture of a smurf that he'd colored. I know for a college kid that seems silly, but Jeff knew me so well that for me. I would rather have something they made for me than a million dollars. Today that picture is one of my most treasured gifts and will stay in my treasure chest where I keep all of my priceless possessions. The look on his face when he gave it to me was priceless...no apologies...just waiting for me to make over it which I did...
It had been very hard this Christmas season . The wave of grief has been hitting hard and knocking me over so much that I feel as if I will drowned in my tears. I compensate by pretending nothing is wrong, but it is. It is so very, very wrong. I cannot fathom how we decorated the tree without him. How we will make cookies, or food without him. Mainly I cannot imagine waking up Christmas morn without his smiling face always watching quietly from the sidelines to see what everyone else has gotten and if they are happy. His ornaments hang from the tree, but he is not here. His treasures and clothing lay in a trunk downstairs, but he is not there.
So I make my pilgrimage to the old cemetary and I place a poinsetta in the urn and I wipe off the snow...and he is not there. I stop, I stare, and long to see him where he is. My heart aches because I cannot be with him. I long to figure out all of this mess and to turn back the clock. Every song, evry place, every friend of his reminds me that he is not there. I do not know what will happen. I do not know how I will cope. I just know that I will. I will ride the ebb of this tormenting, agonizing grief, and I will overcome it. I will not ever be whole again. there will always be a huge piece of my heart missing. The tear will never really heal, it will just become a scar, that like any war wound, I will have stories and pictures to brag about. But it will still be that , a war wound. One whose battle I fought long and hard and lost; lost so dearly and lost so much. I didn't want to fight that fight. I didn't even want to be a soldier in that war, but I was "called" and try as I might to put a deaf ear on that call, I answered it with vigor. The call to be an adoptive Mom was so strong that it nearly bowled me over with the urging. God knew who we were and what we were capable of...or did He? But who am I to question His will when I have so very much to be thankful for.
I sometimes wonder if this time...this time He may have given me too much. I could handle raising these children, but I am sure having troubles with the burying part. This was not in those contracts, not on any dotted line. I want a "do over'...I want to escape back to last Christmas and hold Jeffrey in my arms and beg him to move home...I want to face possible hate and rejection...after all, anger would be better than this, right? I do not know. And I guess after a while I get tired of not knowing and looking to see if he is there.
Where is Jeffrey? Everyone says he is happy and he is in heaven...I know I believe it, but as a mother I cannot fathom that... I just cannot. I selfishly want him. I want to hold his hand, stroke his hair, cook for hime, fold his clothes, ....I sometimes wonder if I could unbury him and hold him forever. Does this make me crazy? I do not know- I've been crazy before over these kids.
Like the time the teacher made Timara take off her hat that she agreed Timara could wear for pictures and her hair stuck to her head. Then that teacher wouldn't let her call home to have me help her with her hair. Boy did I rake her over the coals. "Well Mrs. Burd, I have apolojized, what would you have me do?" the teacher said sarcastically. "I would have you make yesyterday never happen!" I blared back with my hands on my hip. "that is impossible", she said quietly. "Yes, and tell that to my daughters humiliated spirit." That teacher never messed with my kid again. I pulled her outta school and waited for a better one to come along.
Like the time that some kid called Dragos a retard and Timara picked the fat kid up, laid him on the ground and made him eat dirt. Noone messed with her brother, but her.
Like the time James through rocks at the school window to see how many it would take to break it....five...it takes five.
Like the time Lacey swallowed Campho Phenic and had to have her stomach pumped. If I hadn't insisted , "Do it- pump her stomach," that child would be here walking today.
Like the time Tierney read a book by herself after we struggled all year to get her caught up in reading. She graduated sixth grade with all her friends and I balwed in my seat.
Like the time Joshua had a severe pain in his abdoman and the docs couldn't figure out what was wrong and I insisted I stay overnight with him in the hospital. He didn't want to be babied, but I didn't care. i rubbed his head until he went to sleep and watched him all night.
Like the time Dragos beat all the fat kids in the 70 meter run in track and I wept on my knees as I cheered him on. Only to look in the stands and see everyone weeping too. Pretty good for a kid who wasn't supposed to live much else walk or talk.
Like the time I prayed to God to take Katce from this world when she had meningitous and was in so much pain- or give the pain to me- anything than watch her suffer so. And God broke that fever that very next minute.
Like the times I watched Kayla suffer as she wauted for her bio dad to show up even though he never did. how I buried her head in my lap, and figured out how to bail him outta jail so she could see him. I never told her where he was. A kid doesn't need to know that adults in their lives can be idiots.
Like the time I held jeff as he cried and cried because his heart was so broken that his bio dad walked away from him and didn't love him. I lied and said I knew his dad did that he was just too young and drugged out to keep him.Like the time I found Jeff hiding in a corner afraid to tell me he had wet the bed because he was afraid that I would make him sleep inthe bathtub with peed underwear on his head like had been done to him by other "parents". Like the time he begged me not to lock him in the closet when he was bad because it too had been done before. Like the time I held him while he was going through r
ritulan withdraw and fighting anyone in his path. Like the time I listened to him call me a "bitch" and telling me his whole life was my fault and watching him walk away. Like the time I lay on the floor with the flu and I puked and then Jeff puked together all day in pain, but together. Like the time Jeff stole our car because he couldn't deal with the fact that Katce may die of meningitous and begging someone to help him mentally. Like the time I didn't sleep all night because Jeff was angry and kept sleeping with weapons under his bed and praying he wouldn't hurt us. Like the time I begged the prosecuting attorney to just get Jeff help and drop the domestic abuse charges. Like the time I spent my whole week finding jeff a job, bringing him home to live, staying up with him, watching him every minute until I could get him talked into getting help and then when I did I found him the next day dead. And finally, like the time katce and I covered him with a blanket before they laid him in that cold ground to be buried forever.
I worry over them and mother over them all everyday. Death didn't stop that with my Jeffy. Even when he left our home, I still called in the storms to check on him. I still wonder if he is happy and what he is up to.My mothering him will never ever stop. is this normal? I do not know.
Like the time the teacher made Timara take off her hat that she agreed Timara could wear for pictures and her hair stuck to her head. Then that teacher wouldn't let her call home to have me help her with her hair. Boy did I rake her over the coals. "Well Mrs. Burd, I have apolojized, what would you have me do?" the teacher said sarcastically. "I would have you make yesyterday never happen!" I blared back with my hands on my hip. "that is impossible", she said quietly. "Yes, and tell that to my daughters humiliated spirit." That teacher never messed with my kid again. I pulled her outta school and waited for a better one to come along.
Like the time that some kid called Dragos a retard and Timara picked the fat kid up, laid him on the ground and made him eat dirt. Noone messed with her brother, but her.
Like the time James through rocks at the school window to see how many it would take to break it....five...it takes five.
Like the time Lacey swallowed Campho Phenic and had to have her stomach pumped. If I hadn't insisted , "Do it- pump her stomach," that child would be here walking today.
Like the time Tierney read a book by herself after we struggled all year to get her caught up in reading. She graduated sixth grade with all her friends and I balwed in my seat.
Like the time Joshua had a severe pain in his abdoman and the docs couldn't figure out what was wrong and I insisted I stay overnight with him in the hospital. He didn't want to be babied, but I didn't care. i rubbed his head until he went to sleep and watched him all night.
Like the time Dragos beat all the fat kids in the 70 meter run in track and I wept on my knees as I cheered him on. Only to look in the stands and see everyone weeping too. Pretty good for a kid who wasn't supposed to live much else walk or talk.
Like the time I prayed to God to take Katce from this world when she had meningitous and was in so much pain- or give the pain to me- anything than watch her suffer so. And God broke that fever that very next minute.
Like the times I watched Kayla suffer as she wauted for her bio dad to show up even though he never did. how I buried her head in my lap, and figured out how to bail him outta jail so she could see him. I never told her where he was. A kid doesn't need to know that adults in their lives can be idiots.
Like the time I held jeff as he cried and cried because his heart was so broken that his bio dad walked away from him and didn't love him. I lied and said I knew his dad did that he was just too young and drugged out to keep him.Like the time I found Jeff hiding in a corner afraid to tell me he had wet the bed because he was afraid that I would make him sleep inthe bathtub with peed underwear on his head like had been done to him by other "parents". Like the time he begged me not to lock him in the closet when he was bad because it too had been done before. Like the time I held him while he was going through r
ritulan withdraw and fighting anyone in his path. Like the time I listened to him call me a "bitch" and telling me his whole life was my fault and watching him walk away. Like the time I lay on the floor with the flu and I puked and then Jeff puked together all day in pain, but together. Like the time Jeff stole our car because he couldn't deal with the fact that Katce may die of meningitous and begging someone to help him mentally. Like the time I didn't sleep all night because Jeff was angry and kept sleeping with weapons under his bed and praying he wouldn't hurt us. Like the time I begged the prosecuting attorney to just get Jeff help and drop the domestic abuse charges. Like the time I spent my whole week finding jeff a job, bringing him home to live, staying up with him, watching him every minute until I could get him talked into getting help and then when I did I found him the next day dead. And finally, like the time katce and I covered him with a blanket before they laid him in that cold ground to be buried forever.
I worry over them and mother over them all everyday. Death didn't stop that with my Jeffy. Even when he left our home, I still called in the storms to check on him. I still wonder if he is happy and what he is up to.My mothering him will never ever stop. is this normal? I do not know.
I just want this ache to stop overtaking me. i want to just be soft, and peaceful and quiet inside. most days I am, but not today. because jeffy is not there. he is not where I expect him nor where I want him to be. I will have to reast in the fact that this Christmas will happen, it will come and go and we will make new memories...but that Jeff will not be there....
Saturday, December 3, 2011
The Panic
Today was a good day. In fact, today was a great day. And it is on these days that somewhere, out of the blue, panic will set in. A panic over Jeff that is so strong that it is like a wave of nausea that quickly makes you throw up. It isn't like this always, just sometimes. But the sometimes are hard and they hit so dark...if it weren't for Christ...I wouldn't recover the nausea...I would just throw up all day...
When James called and said that there had been an accident- my heart sank. I could feel my throat tighten up for about 3 seconds and I wanted to panic. But as he continued to narrate the story and it was clear that Timara was helping a friend who was just in a scary accident at school, but was alright...I began to breath easier. And while there were prayers sent up and much concern for the parties involved...it was "do"able. Little did I know...
We arrived at the school to watch Timara's game and I was prepared for the uncomfortableness that I always get when entering that gym. The acute awareness that Jeff was here. His people were here. Much of his life was spent right here in this gym. What I wasn't prepared for was how I would ract when I saw Timara's friend, Em, who had been in the accident. There she was, sitting on a low bleacher, pale as a ghost, trying to stay quiet and be a part of the game- yet not. Her mother sat behind her, carefully monitoring her daughter. The closer I got to sit with them, the more I felt obsessed with Em. I could see the bruising. I could see some scratches and blood. I could see she was still frightened and in pain. I could see I needed to mother her. And then came the panic. The overwelming need to push her mother aside, take Em into my arms, and make her awful care accident away. I wanted to take her home, mother her , and make sure that she was well. It ran through my mind more than once that I would have her in the hospital right now, that I would demand every test on the face of this earth in order to insure her safety- needed or not. But I don't know this child this well, and I am not her mother, who is a great mother, and would never endanger her child. So, I kept babbling to her, trying to nonchalontly mother her, and somehow get this awkward feeling about Em and her appearance and her owies to go away. I watched her so much that I could hardly watch the game. I could hardly concentrate....the need to "fix" her was overwelming. I kept watching her...kept questioning her mother, kept offering to help in some way. I had to mother this child and the feeling got stronger and stronger until I almost reached out and stroked her pretty lil head. And it wasn't until her mother took her home early to rest that I looked up and I realized why I was feeling panicky- why I couldn't get Em and the need to take care of her out of my mind. It was him....
I heard the buzzer sounding. I knew that we had lost the game. But my eyes remained fixed on the records board up on that gym wall. Fixed on Jeff's name. Fixed on Jeff's accomplishments. Fixed on his life. And then it hit me..the panic...the hot tears...the overwelming sense of loss. the need to turn and run and run and bury my head in anyone who could shelter me from this pain. It was Jeff...I wanted to mother Em because when I came upon Jeff's car and realized there was blood and realized...I had to get into that car...and that I couldn't ...and that it was too late...I could not mother him. i could nit make this better. i could not ever ever make him better again....I fell to my knees and raised my hand to the only entity who could help Jeff and that was God. And the ambulance came...and I couldn't see him...and I couldn't touch him....and I couldn't make sure he was dead or heaven help me...alive... I could only do what what I was told....answer questions and walk away...But with Em....I could help...I could take care of her...I could mother her...I could make it all better. Only I couldn't- for Em is not my child. She has a mother. A good mother. One who would die for her. So I, I had to remain trapped in this horrible panic of helplessness because she was not my child- nor was she Jeff. And so i sat. i sat in a room full of people and I wept. I wept for Em. I wept for me. I wept for Jeff. I wept because it wasn't supposed to be like this. Not for him. Not for me. Not for us. I felt all of the memories as rush back. All of the baskets. All of the finish lines. All of the cheering. All for Jeff. I saw him....winning, striving, hearing me cheer him on. I saw all of races. All of his fouls, his baskets, his touchdowns. All of the things that made him the great athlete that he was.
And I wept until I looked up and met his eyes......
"Looked up didn't you..." he said quietly and I nodded. "Don't ever look up..." and he took my hand and padded it."The car is on this side why don't you take kate and go out there..." I nodded again.
I looked around and realized that everyone in that gym had no idea that pain that I was in. They had no idea that while they waited for their daughters to amerge from the locker room, that my life had went to hell and back there in that five minute interval of time. Will it always be like this? Will i always get well meaning hugs, but feel so alone, and so knowing in a room full of people. Will I and I alone alwyas have this sick know;ledge that in a split second your life can change, and scare the hell out of you for the rest of your life. Will there ever be a normal? Will there ever be a day when i can't see him, sense him, hear him, and smell him? Will I ever be able to live?
I do not know. I know that when Sarah asked to watch Katce inthe hallway...and I made up some lame excuse that she couldn't I wanted to turn to her, take her hands, and yell, "Are you kidding me? I have to watch her. I have to know where she is all of the time. What if something happens to her...I love you sarah and you are a great mother, but I have to see her every minute. I have to!" I love Sarah. She is truly a great gift. But she does not know (and I pray to God she never does). The panic. The fear. The sheer terror of not seeing Katce and sometimes the overwelming sense of dread that this death could snatch another one from me.....take another one of my babies and leave me to die this slow death of this disease called life.
No, I do not feel like this everyday. I do not panic everytime when I cannot see them or they are away from me. Omly sometimes. So if you see me, or any other parent who has lost a child either by suicide or any other means, hug them, smile at them, look into their eyes with genuine concern. And when they say that they are okay...know that sometimes they are lying and just. just be their friend. (Thanks for the hug tonight Michele Siple...you have no idea how much it helped)....
When James called and said that there had been an accident- my heart sank. I could feel my throat tighten up for about 3 seconds and I wanted to panic. But as he continued to narrate the story and it was clear that Timara was helping a friend who was just in a scary accident at school, but was alright...I began to breath easier. And while there were prayers sent up and much concern for the parties involved...it was "do"able. Little did I know...
We arrived at the school to watch Timara's game and I was prepared for the uncomfortableness that I always get when entering that gym. The acute awareness that Jeff was here. His people were here. Much of his life was spent right here in this gym. What I wasn't prepared for was how I would ract when I saw Timara's friend, Em, who had been in the accident. There she was, sitting on a low bleacher, pale as a ghost, trying to stay quiet and be a part of the game- yet not. Her mother sat behind her, carefully monitoring her daughter. The closer I got to sit with them, the more I felt obsessed with Em. I could see the bruising. I could see some scratches and blood. I could see she was still frightened and in pain. I could see I needed to mother her. And then came the panic. The overwelming need to push her mother aside, take Em into my arms, and make her awful care accident away. I wanted to take her home, mother her , and make sure that she was well. It ran through my mind more than once that I would have her in the hospital right now, that I would demand every test on the face of this earth in order to insure her safety- needed or not. But I don't know this child this well, and I am not her mother, who is a great mother, and would never endanger her child. So, I kept babbling to her, trying to nonchalontly mother her, and somehow get this awkward feeling about Em and her appearance and her owies to go away. I watched her so much that I could hardly watch the game. I could hardly concentrate....the need to "fix" her was overwelming. I kept watching her...kept questioning her mother, kept offering to help in some way. I had to mother this child and the feeling got stronger and stronger until I almost reached out and stroked her pretty lil head. And it wasn't until her mother took her home early to rest that I looked up and I realized why I was feeling panicky- why I couldn't get Em and the need to take care of her out of my mind. It was him....
I heard the buzzer sounding. I knew that we had lost the game. But my eyes remained fixed on the records board up on that gym wall. Fixed on Jeff's name. Fixed on Jeff's accomplishments. Fixed on his life. And then it hit me..the panic...the hot tears...the overwelming sense of loss. the need to turn and run and run and bury my head in anyone who could shelter me from this pain. It was Jeff...I wanted to mother Em because when I came upon Jeff's car and realized there was blood and realized...I had to get into that car...and that I couldn't ...and that it was too late...I could not mother him. i could nit make this better. i could not ever ever make him better again....I fell to my knees and raised my hand to the only entity who could help Jeff and that was God. And the ambulance came...and I couldn't see him...and I couldn't touch him....and I couldn't make sure he was dead or heaven help me...alive... I could only do what what I was told....answer questions and walk away...But with Em....I could help...I could take care of her...I could mother her...I could make it all better. Only I couldn't- for Em is not my child. She has a mother. A good mother. One who would die for her. So I, I had to remain trapped in this horrible panic of helplessness because she was not my child- nor was she Jeff. And so i sat. i sat in a room full of people and I wept. I wept for Em. I wept for me. I wept for Jeff. I wept because it wasn't supposed to be like this. Not for him. Not for me. Not for us. I felt all of the memories as rush back. All of the baskets. All of the finish lines. All of the cheering. All for Jeff. I saw him....winning, striving, hearing me cheer him on. I saw all of races. All of his fouls, his baskets, his touchdowns. All of the things that made him the great athlete that he was.
And I wept until I looked up and met his eyes......
"Looked up didn't you..." he said quietly and I nodded. "Don't ever look up..." and he took my hand and padded it."The car is on this side why don't you take kate and go out there..." I nodded again.
I looked around and realized that everyone in that gym had no idea that pain that I was in. They had no idea that while they waited for their daughters to amerge from the locker room, that my life had went to hell and back there in that five minute interval of time. Will it always be like this? Will i always get well meaning hugs, but feel so alone, and so knowing in a room full of people. Will I and I alone alwyas have this sick know;ledge that in a split second your life can change, and scare the hell out of you for the rest of your life. Will there ever be a normal? Will there ever be a day when i can't see him, sense him, hear him, and smell him? Will I ever be able to live?
I do not know. I know that when Sarah asked to watch Katce inthe hallway...and I made up some lame excuse that she couldn't I wanted to turn to her, take her hands, and yell, "Are you kidding me? I have to watch her. I have to know where she is all of the time. What if something happens to her...I love you sarah and you are a great mother, but I have to see her every minute. I have to!" I love Sarah. She is truly a great gift. But she does not know (and I pray to God she never does). The panic. The fear. The sheer terror of not seeing Katce and sometimes the overwelming sense of dread that this death could snatch another one from me.....take another one of my babies and leave me to die this slow death of this disease called life.
No, I do not feel like this everyday. I do not panic everytime when I cannot see them or they are away from me. Omly sometimes. So if you see me, or any other parent who has lost a child either by suicide or any other means, hug them, smile at them, look into their eyes with genuine concern. And when they say that they are okay...know that sometimes they are lying and just. just be their friend. (Thanks for the hug tonight Michele Siple...you have no idea how much it helped)....
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Letting Go
Sometimes it frightens me to know that each and everyday I let a little more of you go with God to heaven. This journey has been so hard and such an uphill battle. I know- I know that you are already in heaven and that in reality, I should have given you up to him and not fought this process so much. But ...I ...couldn't...I had to hang on to you and my dreams for you. I have dreamt them since I first laid eyes on that big bright smile. And I know alot of times they were my dreams and not yours ...and I know that sometimes your many talents were your biggest downfall....but in you I saw everything that I had always wanted to be....lovable, cherished, talented, funny....Today I will let go of many things because today, you will never be a part of our being Thankful again.
Today I am letting go of ...
the fact that I will never see you become the olympic runner you were meant to be,
I will never walk into your classroom and watch you teach a group of naughty preschoolers,
the look on your face as she walks down the aisle and becomes your wife,
watching tears roll down your face as she delivers your first child while I watch from the sidelines,
waiting for you to come home,
and mostly watching you grow into the man that I know God planned you to be.
I know I should be happy that you are with Christ. But I am not. I selfishly want you here to experience all of the things that God has blessed us with since your death....
Dragos lived through a major seizure and is still driving us crazy,
Caleb called me "Duck" instead of Grandma,
Joshua is driving a "Stang", got his ears pierced, and Dad still loves him,
Timara is in "love" and dating and so beautiful,
Kayla had the twins Cullen and J'Lynn and they are awesome and she is a great Momma,
James has starred in a play and is really coming into himself and showing his "moves",
Lacey and Ben had Jesse come help with the ministry and watching them parents a "fast" Caleb...
and finally Jake and Tierney had their beautiful lil girl Amelia whom you would adore and have a beautiful marriage...
you missed it Jeff, all of these memories, all of your family and friends going on with life. Not because they want to but because they have to. And we will continue to go on, each holiday, each day for the rest of our lives. But never ever forget that we miss you in each memory, each moment, each day. For you my son, were always meant to be a part of this family- this life. And so you are...in our hearts forever.
Happy Thanksgiving Day Son....today as I make some memories...I will certainly miss you...
Love,
Always,
Momma
This month has been very tough for me. I am exhausted as another one of our children and grandchildren came close to death. It was a very frightening experience to realize again that in an instant you have no control over anything. I wanted to run, to hide, to bury my head in as deep a sand that I could find. But I did not. I went into the bathroom, got down on my knees and begged God for these lives. Begged Him to spare them and leave them with me. And after many hours..He did. I realized that I did not have that chance with Jeff, I wasn't allowed to beg for his life because he chose to take it. I realized, that in my mind, I thought if I was with my daughter in her greatest time of need, that I could somehow prevent any wrongness to happen to her. Sadly, i cannot. I am not God. Heck, I'm barely me. But what I can control is how I react to the situation; Whom I turn to, and how I let go. So now this journey is taking on a new issue...letting go...letting go of control, letting go of Jeff, letting go and letting God.
I have decided to let go of people in this life who make me feel that I am not allowed to have my own feelings or be who I truly am. It is too hard right now to jump through hoops and apolojize for my every thought or motive. I just want to "be"...Tim says I have to just walk away...
And finally, I have let go of the fact that I could have stopped Jeff because, quite frankly, I could not. I did everything I could to stop him. But he was going to do this regardless of what day and with what weapon. I know that now and it's okay. Am I sad? Sure. Will I have those dark days? Sure. But when I have those days it will be because my heart aches so for a child who chose not to be with me, but with Christ instead. It will not be because I failed. Despite what some lifesucking people have told me all of my life, I am not a failure...I may have had a few failures, but I , myself, am not a failure. And I will continue to prevent future failure until the day of Christ....
Today I am letting go of ...
the fact that I will never see you become the olympic runner you were meant to be,
I will never walk into your classroom and watch you teach a group of naughty preschoolers,
the look on your face as she walks down the aisle and becomes your wife,
watching tears roll down your face as she delivers your first child while I watch from the sidelines,
waiting for you to come home,
and mostly watching you grow into the man that I know God planned you to be.
I know I should be happy that you are with Christ. But I am not. I selfishly want you here to experience all of the things that God has blessed us with since your death....
Dragos lived through a major seizure and is still driving us crazy,
Caleb called me "Duck" instead of Grandma,
Joshua is driving a "Stang", got his ears pierced, and Dad still loves him,
Timara is in "love" and dating and so beautiful,
Kayla had the twins Cullen and J'Lynn and they are awesome and she is a great Momma,
James has starred in a play and is really coming into himself and showing his "moves",
Lacey and Ben had Jesse come help with the ministry and watching them parents a "fast" Caleb...
and finally Jake and Tierney had their beautiful lil girl Amelia whom you would adore and have a beautiful marriage...
you missed it Jeff, all of these memories, all of your family and friends going on with life. Not because they want to but because they have to. And we will continue to go on, each holiday, each day for the rest of our lives. But never ever forget that we miss you in each memory, each moment, each day. For you my son, were always meant to be a part of this family- this life. And so you are...in our hearts forever.
Happy Thanksgiving Day Son....today as I make some memories...I will certainly miss you...
Love,
Always,
Momma
This month has been very tough for me. I am exhausted as another one of our children and grandchildren came close to death. It was a very frightening experience to realize again that in an instant you have no control over anything. I wanted to run, to hide, to bury my head in as deep a sand that I could find. But I did not. I went into the bathroom, got down on my knees and begged God for these lives. Begged Him to spare them and leave them with me. And after many hours..He did. I realized that I did not have that chance with Jeff, I wasn't allowed to beg for his life because he chose to take it. I realized, that in my mind, I thought if I was with my daughter in her greatest time of need, that I could somehow prevent any wrongness to happen to her. Sadly, i cannot. I am not God. Heck, I'm barely me. But what I can control is how I react to the situation; Whom I turn to, and how I let go. So now this journey is taking on a new issue...letting go...letting go of control, letting go of Jeff, letting go and letting God.
I have decided to let go of people in this life who make me feel that I am not allowed to have my own feelings or be who I truly am. It is too hard right now to jump through hoops and apolojize for my every thought or motive. I just want to "be"...Tim says I have to just walk away...
And finally, I have let go of the fact that I could have stopped Jeff because, quite frankly, I could not. I did everything I could to stop him. But he was going to do this regardless of what day and with what weapon. I know that now and it's okay. Am I sad? Sure. Will I have those dark days? Sure. But when I have those days it will be because my heart aches so for a child who chose not to be with me, but with Christ instead. It will not be because I failed. Despite what some lifesucking people have told me all of my life, I am not a failure...I may have had a few failures, but I , myself, am not a failure. And I will continue to prevent future failure until the day of Christ....
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Attitude Check...
The Serenity Prayer
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
... and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely
happy with Him forever in the next.
Amen
Lord,
Help me to always be heard in love and to never be taken too seriously and protect me from those whose intention it is to hurt or manipulate me. Forgive me for a word taken wrongly for it should never be my intention to hurt someone. Take off my blinders and help me to be better each day. Thank you for this journey and for the people you have placed in my life to uphold me. In Christ's name...Amen.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
... and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely
happy with Him forever in the next.
Amen
Lord,
Help me to always be heard in love and to never be taken too seriously and protect me from those whose intention it is to hurt or manipulate me. Forgive me for a word taken wrongly for it should never be my intention to hurt someone. Take off my blinders and help me to be better each day. Thank you for this journey and for the people you have placed in my life to uphold me. In Christ's name...Amen.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Please Do Not Judge Me...you are not invited to do so....
After a week of hard observations...God has lead me to write this ...however...it isn't intended for anyone in particular- just thoughts that have been on my mind. If anyone is offended, please forgive me as that is never ever my intent...
Somehow people believe that those of us who experience suicide especially that of a child, experience the same grieving process as those of a nonsuicidal death....totally not so...the fear and the guilt with a suicidal death is much deeper and never ends. Please do not misunderstand where I am coming from- simply know that finding your child dead from his own hand is not something that I will ever... ...ever get over and to expect this process to be over or want me to be joyous when someone dies because they are experiencing heaven is insensitive to my needs as not only a mother but as a person as well. While death in itself is horrendous, when a child decides to end their life, their life never comes to fruition nor do your dreams for that child. Those dreams and hopes don't die with your child...they are still hidden in your heart. To expect me to just pack up these hopes and put them away is as easy as burying him was- never to see his face again. You are wrong that heaven should hold joy for me. Heaven holds my child and the only way I can see him is to die...so do I kill myself to spend eternity with him- leaving eight other children and four grandchildren without me? So you see, while you may have grieved in your lifetime, you have not grieved a suicide. You have not walked in my shoes, and quite frankly- I pray you never have to.....
Today I learned a valuable lesson- that you really know who your friends are when the chips are down. I wrote a blog (the one above) a few weeks ago, that was spurred on by a few conversations that I had had with several people over a period of time. I had also spoken with a friend of mine who has actually experienced the death of a child by suicide and she totally felt the way I was feeling- that death of a suicidal nature is different then suffering a regular loss by death. The blog was about being judged. What I was asking for was compassion for myself and others who are experiencing this awful grief, but what I got was a total misconstrued, angry post from a woman whom I have looked up to in many times of my life. So now because of what I felt lead to write this woman has broken off a twenty one year friendship and I am left with the holidays coming up that we have to face without Jeff, and now dissention...oh how I dislike dissention...
Sometimes I wonder what people think when they verbally attack someone...or what happened to them they they think everything is about them and everyone is out to hurt them. Life is just too short for this game playing. why can't we just love each other for our opinions...I do not know...I cannot change who I am or how I feel for anyone...not anymore...I have realized that life is too short to chase my tail for someone else...I'm too busy chasing it on my own...
He see's me in the morning,
Lifting him out of bed.
The sun comes with little warning,
A brand new day's ahead.
To the kitchen for some breakfast,
A plate of toasted bread,
A cup of milk just as expected,
Close your eyes and bow your head.
You can thank him for anything you want to,
For the flower's and the trees
And pray,Lord Jesus, make me,
A little boy on my knees.
He's Mommy's little helper.
Learning to comb his hair.
And loves his baby sister,
Though he doesn't always share.
A quarter in the bucket,
A memory verse or two,
Although he may not know it,
He's beginning to follow you.
You can thank him for anything you want to,
For your Daddy and for me.
And pray, Lord Jesus, make me,
A little boy on my knees.
As we teach our Son to serve the Lord, in every way,
Lord the most important thing is this that we now pray,
Lord, we thank you everything you give us, but most importantly,
We pray Lord Jesus, make our Son a little boy on his knees.
Lord we thank you for everything you give us, but most importantly
We pray, Lord Jesus, make our Son,
A little boy on his knees.
We pray that someday he'll become,
A young man on his knees.
Lifting him out of bed.
The sun comes with little warning,
A brand new day's ahead.
To the kitchen for some breakfast,
A plate of toasted bread,
A cup of milk just as expected,
Close your eyes and bow your head.
You can thank him for anything you want to,
For the flower's and the trees
And pray,Lord Jesus, make me,
A little boy on my knees.
He's Mommy's little helper.
Learning to comb his hair.
And loves his baby sister,
Though he doesn't always share.
A quarter in the bucket,
A memory verse or two,
Although he may not know it,
He's beginning to follow you.
You can thank him for anything you want to,
For your Daddy and for me.
And pray, Lord Jesus, make me,
A little boy on my knees.
As we teach our Son to serve the Lord, in every way,
Lord the most important thing is this that we now pray,
Lord, we thank you everything you give us, but most importantly,
We pray Lord Jesus, make our Son a little boy on his knees.
Lord we thank you for everything you give us, but most importantly
We pray, Lord Jesus, make our Son,
A little boy on his knees.
We pray that someday he'll become,
A young man on his knees.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Light at the End of the Tunnel
When the weight of all my dreams
Is resting heavy on my head,
And the thoughtful words of health and hope
Have all been nicely said.
But I'm still hurting,
Wondering if I'll ever be
The one I think I am.
I think I am.
Then you gently re-remind me
That you've made me from the first,
And the more I try to be the best
The more I get the worst.
And I realize the good in me,
Is only there because of who you are.
Who you are...
And all I ever have to be
Is what you've made me.
Any more or less would be a step
Out of your plan.
As you daily recreate me,
Help me always keep in mind
That I only have to do
What I can find.
And all I ever have to be
All I have to be
All I ever have to be
Is what you've made me.
Today was the first day in weeks that I have not cried. I did not fight this day...I simply let it happen. And remarkably, much to my surprise, I have survived. I didn't think about death. I thought about life. Jeff's life and how very much his life and being a part of it- changed my life and formed who I am today. And I thought about an old school chum, sandy Springer, who spoke with me at lunch. She made me feel special. She made me see that Jeff's choice didn't ruin my testimony or what people thought of me, but rather strengthened it through the diversity that I have suffered and am now overcoming. For the first time in seven months I was proud of who I am and what I have accomplished as a mother to these motherless children. And I am thankful- no priveledged to have been Jeff's mother. Because without me, Jeff never would have known what a mother's love was all about and he never would have known a lullaby. And he never would have known true happiness and the effects that our choices have on a family. He never would have known that he had choices. And he never would have known about Jesus Christ. But because we chose to obey God and love him...he knew...and because of me...my little boy is in heaven and not hell and that is a big accomplishment...and for that, I am thankful...
Thanks Sandy, for today...you'll never how God used you to bring back from a place I keep going back too....you may have saved my life today....
Is resting heavy on my head,
And the thoughtful words of health and hope
Have all been nicely said.
But I'm still hurting,
Wondering if I'll ever be
The one I think I am.
I think I am.
Then you gently re-remind me
That you've made me from the first,
And the more I try to be the best
The more I get the worst.
And I realize the good in me,
Is only there because of who you are.
Who you are...
And all I ever have to be
Is what you've made me.
Any more or less would be a step
Out of your plan.
As you daily recreate me,
Help me always keep in mind
That I only have to do
What I can find.
And all I ever have to be
All I have to be
All I ever have to be
Is what you've made me.
Today was the first day in weeks that I have not cried. I did not fight this day...I simply let it happen. And remarkably, much to my surprise, I have survived. I didn't think about death. I thought about life. Jeff's life and how very much his life and being a part of it- changed my life and formed who I am today. And I thought about an old school chum, sandy Springer, who spoke with me at lunch. She made me feel special. She made me see that Jeff's choice didn't ruin my testimony or what people thought of me, but rather strengthened it through the diversity that I have suffered and am now overcoming. For the first time in seven months I was proud of who I am and what I have accomplished as a mother to these motherless children. And I am thankful- no priveledged to have been Jeff's mother. Because without me, Jeff never would have known what a mother's love was all about and he never would have known a lullaby. And he never would have known true happiness and the effects that our choices have on a family. He never would have known that he had choices. And he never would have known about Jesus Christ. But because we chose to obey God and love him...he knew...and because of me...my little boy is in heaven and not hell and that is a big accomplishment...and for that, I am thankful...
Thanks Sandy, for today...you'll never how God used you to bring back from a place I keep going back too....you may have saved my life today....
Friday, October 21, 2011
Still So Sad...and it's been seven months..
Today....seven months after Jeffy shot himself...
I stood there at the football game tonight and realized that I no longer fit in. I am not "Kari Burd, mother of all the kids"...I am "kari Burd, mother to the kid who committed suicide"...and really, truthfully that is how I feel inside too. Everywhere I go people are smiling and laughing and having a good time. Their lives have went on- they have forgotten. But I- I can never ever forget that Jeff is dead and that he killed himself. I cannot have a good time anymore- at least not for long. Jeff is everywhere. He is on that football field, being under utilized and smiling and shaking hands in spite of not playing. he is on that track, beating his opponents without really even trying. he is in the stands, crying brcause he doesn't want to live and is contemplating suicide. he is everywhere there. And, he is eveywhere wherever I look. And I am sad. I miss him so much. So very much that much that my heart aches. It is breaking you know. Slowly, ever so slowly breaking. I am lost, empty, and virtually alone. In a world full of people, in a room full of people, in a house full of people- I am alone. And I hate it. I hate everything about jeff's death. I hate what it has taken from me; him, my health, my trust, my happiness. I hate that I wake up in the morning simply waiting to go back to bed again at night. I hate that i am afraid to go places because I cannot control this sadness. I hate that I cannot stand for my cjildren to go anywhere because they may get hurt or killed. I hate that I die inside everytime they are ill because I realized I have no control over this life and they could not get better. I hate that people tell me it'll get better when mostly they don't know that it will. Honestly, how many people lose a child to suicide. I hate that I cannot feel when my husband laughs, or talks, or plans...I hear his voice, but my heart is void of emotion. And I hate that I want to die...truly die if the rest of thsi life entails living in this frightening grief. And I hate that I am still mad that noone would listen to me and get him help and that the do gooders that did help him only thrust him closer to death because he didn't need us with their help. But I think what I hate the most is that I cannot ever, ever say good-bye. I cannot have closure. Sure I know it wasn't my fault and I know that Jeff was ill. But I cannot say to him, "I love you and I would've given my life if yours was spared".
My heart aches to see his face again. My hearts aches to hear his voice. My heart aches to have one of those people who blame me for his poor life to come up and apolojize to me and say, I'm sorry...I didn't know. He was sick. You were right". Somehow that would validate all of those "tough love" decisions that I had to make.
But what I love is...that my children are here and give me reason to go on each day. That I have my friends who have always been there and never let me down. I love that my sister feel severy bit at a loss as I do and she helps me. I have my Katie Aronin who has more wisdom in her little finger than I have in my whole being. I love that I can go out to his grave and talk to him. I love that I have grandchildren. I love that I have an amazing church family. I love that I have a child who paints pictures with mascara, jumps in mud puddles with her church shoes, and dances naked in Walmart. I love that I have a husband who loves me and is my best friend and will wait until I can find my way again. But mostly I love that even when I cannot be who I am meant to be- I have a God who lets me throw a fit, walk away, and He still sits there waiting for me to run into His arms and bask in His comfort.
So now I know I will get through because like it or not I have to ...because I have still made a choice to live and live I will...
Clair had all but givin up when
when she and edwin fell in love
she his touched his face and shook her head
indisbelieve and sighed and said
in many dreams i've held you near
no at last your really here
Where you've been i've looked for you forever and a day
Where you've been i'm just not my-self when you're away
he asked her for her for life
and she became a sales mens wife
he was home each night by eight
but one stormy evening he was late
her frightened tears fell to the floor
until his key turned in the door
Where you've been i've looked for you forever and a day
Where you've been i'm just not my-self when you're away
they never spend a night apart for sixty years she heard him snore
now there in the hospitle on seperate beds on different floors
clair soon lost her memory, forgot the names of family
she never spoke a word again, then one day they whelled him in
he held her hand and stroked her hair, in a fragile voice she said
Where you've been i've looked for you forever and a day
Where you've been i'm just not my-self when you're away
no, i'm just not my-self when you're away
I stood there at the football game tonight and realized that I no longer fit in. I am not "Kari Burd, mother of all the kids"...I am "kari Burd, mother to the kid who committed suicide"...and really, truthfully that is how I feel inside too. Everywhere I go people are smiling and laughing and having a good time. Their lives have went on- they have forgotten. But I- I can never ever forget that Jeff is dead and that he killed himself. I cannot have a good time anymore- at least not for long. Jeff is everywhere. He is on that football field, being under utilized and smiling and shaking hands in spite of not playing. he is on that track, beating his opponents without really even trying. he is in the stands, crying brcause he doesn't want to live and is contemplating suicide. he is everywhere there. And, he is eveywhere wherever I look. And I am sad. I miss him so much. So very much that much that my heart aches. It is breaking you know. Slowly, ever so slowly breaking. I am lost, empty, and virtually alone. In a world full of people, in a room full of people, in a house full of people- I am alone. And I hate it. I hate everything about jeff's death. I hate what it has taken from me; him, my health, my trust, my happiness. I hate that I wake up in the morning simply waiting to go back to bed again at night. I hate that i am afraid to go places because I cannot control this sadness. I hate that I cannot stand for my cjildren to go anywhere because they may get hurt or killed. I hate that I die inside everytime they are ill because I realized I have no control over this life and they could not get better. I hate that people tell me it'll get better when mostly they don't know that it will. Honestly, how many people lose a child to suicide. I hate that I cannot feel when my husband laughs, or talks, or plans...I hear his voice, but my heart is void of emotion. And I hate that I want to die...truly die if the rest of thsi life entails living in this frightening grief. And I hate that I am still mad that noone would listen to me and get him help and that the do gooders that did help him only thrust him closer to death because he didn't need us with their help. But I think what I hate the most is that I cannot ever, ever say good-bye. I cannot have closure. Sure I know it wasn't my fault and I know that Jeff was ill. But I cannot say to him, "I love you and I would've given my life if yours was spared".
My heart aches to see his face again. My hearts aches to hear his voice. My heart aches to have one of those people who blame me for his poor life to come up and apolojize to me and say, I'm sorry...I didn't know. He was sick. You were right". Somehow that would validate all of those "tough love" decisions that I had to make.
But what I love is...that my children are here and give me reason to go on each day. That I have my friends who have always been there and never let me down. I love that my sister feel severy bit at a loss as I do and she helps me. I have my Katie Aronin who has more wisdom in her little finger than I have in my whole being. I love that I can go out to his grave and talk to him. I love that I have grandchildren. I love that I have an amazing church family. I love that I have a child who paints pictures with mascara, jumps in mud puddles with her church shoes, and dances naked in Walmart. I love that I have a husband who loves me and is my best friend and will wait until I can find my way again. But mostly I love that even when I cannot be who I am meant to be- I have a God who lets me throw a fit, walk away, and He still sits there waiting for me to run into His arms and bask in His comfort.
So now I know I will get through because like it or not I have to ...because I have still made a choice to live and live I will...
when she and edwin fell in love
she his touched his face and shook her head
indisbelieve and sighed and said
in many dreams i've held you near
no at last your really here
Where you've been i've looked for you forever and a day
Where you've been i'm just not my-self when you're away
he asked her for her for life
and she became a sales mens wife
he was home each night by eight
but one stormy evening he was late
her frightened tears fell to the floor
until his key turned in the door
Where you've been i've looked for you forever and a day
Where you've been i'm just not my-self when you're away
they never spend a night apart for sixty years she heard him snore
now there in the hospitle on seperate beds on different floors
clair soon lost her memory, forgot the names of family
she never spoke a word again, then one day they whelled him in
he held her hand and stroked her hair, in a fragile voice she said
Where you've been i've looked for you forever and a day
Where you've been i'm just not my-self when you're away
no, i'm just not my-self when you're away
Monday, October 17, 2011
The Treasure Box of Memories
I ran my hand along that box,
that held what's left of your life.
I fingered it with gentle love,
and my heart swelled up with strife.
How can it be- this is all that's left,
of the boy I loved so dear,
I shook my head, began to cry,
the memories so fresh and clear.
The first time that I met my son,
he was an angry little boy.
Life had stripped him of his love,
and left him pain not joy.
But in him I saw what noone saw,
a scarred up little man.
I gave him all I had to give,
I did the best I can.
I placed my arm around his hurt,
I scared the monsters away.
I instilled in him a love for Christ,
and that in him would stay.
I took him fishing at the pond,
played hide and seek all day.
I gave him what a boy would need,
to grow into a man someday.
He was the best of boys you see,
and he was so worth the trouble,
I loved to watch him laugh and play,
but was glad he wasn't double.
I loved him more than anything,
I wished that he were mine,
I missed so many firsts you see,
in my womb he wasn't inside.
The talent that this boy did have
no sport he couldn't do,
He'd throw the ball or run real fast,
his losses were so few.
The games we stood in rain or snow,
we never missed not one,
we cheered him at the finish line,
he was our eldest son.
But winning wasn't what he sought,
to fill the void inside,
he needed to heal a hurt so deep,
where not even Hope abides.
So soon it became so very clear
that something was not quite right.
He couldn't handle change at all,
and to him it gave a fright.
I tried to get him help you see,
the moods they were so bad.
But noone would believe my truths,
they thought he was just sad.
And so our lives became a game,
of what mood was he in?
Would our day be filled with fun,
or awful and so grim.
Then he began to run away,
from those who loved him most.
He stole a car, he stole from work,
nothing of worth to boast.
It wasn't long before his hate,
turned from him to me.
And I tried so hard to please him,
and be all he needed me to be.
And then it happened one awful day,
he raised his fist at us,
broke up our house and yelled and screamed,
to his family so unjust.
With all the courage that I had,
I yelled, "you must get out",
we couldn't take the hurt no more,
it's not what family's about.
He drifted in and out of life,
it lasted nearly two years,
I'd like to say there was some laughter,
but mostly there was just tears.
He'd come around from time to time,
but it would never be the same,
he could not forgive what we had done,
yet to this day it bears no name.
I think if he was left alone,
and allowed to figure his way,
but well meaning folks kept stepping in,
and in college he never stayed.
They bought him a car and he had a phone,
and didn't need us anymore,
they gave him every thing you see,
but it was us who knew his needs more.
So when the walls came crashing down,
he couldn't live up to their dreams,
all those folks where were they now,
he was coming apart at the seams.
He tried to do the best he could,
and a smile he'd try to muster,
but deep inside the hurt stayed there,
and his life it got too flustered.
It's hard to be a great big man,
when you're just a hurt lil boy.
He needed his mom and dad you see,
not a world filled with grown up toys.
And so my sweet, my eldest son,
began to die inside,
he hatched a plan to take his life,
and on that he could abide.
He came home to me that winter day,
and said he'd been so wrong,
he didn't want to leave again,
he wasn't feeling very strong.
He put his hand beneath my chin,
and said, "I love you Mom",
I held his heart, I stroked his hair,
I tried to remain so calm.
We thought we had him back again,
we thought he'd surely stay,
But he wasn't saying "hello" to us
but bidding us "good day".
We hold on to those memories;
the love the joy, the fun,
we had him back our lil boy,
for one brief and final run.
I went to get him that early morn,
thinking I'd get him help.
But when I got to his red car,
he'd killed his own little self.
I called upon our sovereign Lord,
I begged for his dear life,
but God had already taken him home,
he taken him from his strife.
We lived a nightmare from then on,
a week of hell on earth,
the funeral and the burial,
to me they were the worst.
To lay your child inside a box,
and try to say good-bye,
to never see his face again,
nor hear his little cry.
The nights they are so endless,
but the days they are much worse,
you place a smile upon your face,
but your heart it holds the curse.
You are the Mom of that one kid,
who committed suicide,
you wear an "S" brand on your clothes,
but burns you deep inside.
And so I touched his little box,
the one that holds his things,
I lay my face upon it's top,
and oh the closeness that it brings.
For it's all that I have left him,
the boy that I so loved,
His lives now with his Savior,
in heaven up above.
that held what's left of your life.
I fingered it with gentle love,
and my heart swelled up with strife.
How can it be- this is all that's left,
of the boy I loved so dear,
I shook my head, began to cry,
the memories so fresh and clear.
The first time that I met my son,
he was an angry little boy.
Life had stripped him of his love,
and left him pain not joy.
But in him I saw what noone saw,
a scarred up little man.
I gave him all I had to give,
I did the best I can.
I placed my arm around his hurt,
I scared the monsters away.
I instilled in him a love for Christ,
and that in him would stay.
I took him fishing at the pond,
played hide and seek all day.
I gave him what a boy would need,
to grow into a man someday.
He was the best of boys you see,
and he was so worth the trouble,
I loved to watch him laugh and play,
but was glad he wasn't double.
I loved him more than anything,
I wished that he were mine,
I missed so many firsts you see,
in my womb he wasn't inside.
The talent that this boy did have
no sport he couldn't do,
He'd throw the ball or run real fast,
his losses were so few.
The games we stood in rain or snow,
we never missed not one,
we cheered him at the finish line,
he was our eldest son.
But winning wasn't what he sought,
to fill the void inside,
he needed to heal a hurt so deep,
where not even Hope abides.
So soon it became so very clear
that something was not quite right.
He couldn't handle change at all,
and to him it gave a fright.
I tried to get him help you see,
the moods they were so bad.
But noone would believe my truths,
they thought he was just sad.
And so our lives became a game,
of what mood was he in?
Would our day be filled with fun,
or awful and so grim.
Then he began to run away,
from those who loved him most.
He stole a car, he stole from work,
nothing of worth to boast.
It wasn't long before his hate,
turned from him to me.
And I tried so hard to please him,
and be all he needed me to be.
And then it happened one awful day,
he raised his fist at us,
broke up our house and yelled and screamed,
to his family so unjust.
With all the courage that I had,
I yelled, "you must get out",
we couldn't take the hurt no more,
it's not what family's about.
He drifted in and out of life,
it lasted nearly two years,
I'd like to say there was some laughter,
but mostly there was just tears.
He'd come around from time to time,
but it would never be the same,
he could not forgive what we had done,
yet to this day it bears no name.
I think if he was left alone,
and allowed to figure his way,
but well meaning folks kept stepping in,
and in college he never stayed.
They bought him a car and he had a phone,
and didn't need us anymore,
they gave him every thing you see,
but it was us who knew his needs more.
So when the walls came crashing down,
he couldn't live up to their dreams,
all those folks where were they now,
he was coming apart at the seams.
He tried to do the best he could,
and a smile he'd try to muster,
but deep inside the hurt stayed there,
and his life it got too flustered.
It's hard to be a great big man,
when you're just a hurt lil boy.
He needed his mom and dad you see,
not a world filled with grown up toys.
And so my sweet, my eldest son,
began to die inside,
he hatched a plan to take his life,
and on that he could abide.
He came home to me that winter day,
and said he'd been so wrong,
he didn't want to leave again,
he wasn't feeling very strong.
He put his hand beneath my chin,
and said, "I love you Mom",
I held his heart, I stroked his hair,
I tried to remain so calm.
We thought we had him back again,
we thought he'd surely stay,
But he wasn't saying "hello" to us
but bidding us "good day".
We hold on to those memories;
the love the joy, the fun,
we had him back our lil boy,
for one brief and final run.
I went to get him that early morn,
thinking I'd get him help.
But when I got to his red car,
he'd killed his own little self.
I called upon our sovereign Lord,
I begged for his dear life,
but God had already taken him home,
he taken him from his strife.
We lived a nightmare from then on,
a week of hell on earth,
the funeral and the burial,
to me they were the worst.
To lay your child inside a box,
and try to say good-bye,
to never see his face again,
nor hear his little cry.
The nights they are so endless,
but the days they are much worse,
you place a smile upon your face,
but your heart it holds the curse.
You are the Mom of that one kid,
who committed suicide,
you wear an "S" brand on your clothes,
but burns you deep inside.
And so I touched his little box,
the one that holds his things,
I lay my face upon it's top,
and oh the closeness that it brings.
For it's all that I have left him,
the boy that I so loved,
His lives now with his Savior,
in heaven up above.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Sad Day...Mondays Are so Hard
A Broken Wing - Martina McBride
She Loved Him Like He Was
The Last Man On Earth
Gave Him Everything She Ever Had
He'd Break Her Spirit Down
Then Come Lovin' Up On Her
Give A Little Then Take It Back
She'd Tell Him About Her Dreams
He'd Just Shoot 'em Down
Lord He Loved To Make Her Cry
You're Crazy For Believin'
You'll Ever Leave The Ground
He Said Only Angels Know How To Fly
And With A Broken Wing
She Still Sings She Keeps An Eye On The Sky
With A Broken Wing
She Carries Her Dreams
Man You Ought To See Her Fly
One Sunday Morning
She Didn't Go To Church
He Wondered Why She Didn't Leave
He Went Up To The Bedroom
Found A Note By The Window
With The Curtains Blowin' In The Breeze
And With A Broken Wing
She Still Sings
She Keeps An Eye On The Sky
With A Broken Wing
She Carries Her Dreams
Man You Ought To See Her Fly
With A Broken Wing
She Carries Her Dreams
Man You Ought To See Her Fly
The Last Man On Earth
Gave Him Everything She Ever Had
He'd Break Her Spirit Down
Then Come Lovin' Up On Her
Give A Little Then Take It Back
She'd Tell Him About Her Dreams
He'd Just Shoot 'em Down
Lord He Loved To Make Her Cry
You're Crazy For Believin'
You'll Ever Leave The Ground
He Said Only Angels Know How To Fly
And With A Broken Wing
She Still Sings She Keeps An Eye On The Sky
With A Broken Wing
She Carries Her Dreams
Man You Ought To See Her Fly
One Sunday Morning
She Didn't Go To Church
He Wondered Why She Didn't Leave
He Went Up To The Bedroom
Found A Note By The Window
With The Curtains Blowin' In The Breeze
And With A Broken Wing
She Still Sings
She Keeps An Eye On The Sky
With A Broken Wing
She Carries Her Dreams
Man You Ought To See Her Fly
With A Broken Wing
She Carries Her Dreams
Man You Ought To See Her Fly
Some days I just wake up feeling sad.I feel this sense of dread that I cannot explain. It is an emptiness...a loss so dark and still that I cannot fathom how I will ever get out of it. Today is one of those days. Before my feet even hit the floor- the devil had an awful morning planned and if it could go wrong- it would and it has. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. I miss him..I miss him so much. I want to hold him, see him,smell him, but most of all talk to him. I want to hear his voice....i don't even care if he is yelling...anything is better than nothing. I pray to God and he has this plan, but this awful grief keeps getting in the way. So today- today while the world is functioning all around me, I will barely get by. I will fight back the tears. I will pray noone says or does anything that will set me off. I will spend the day fulfilling my obligations and then I will flee to my home where the memories of him asre so strong that the tears will engulf me and I will succumb to this grief and cry until there is nothing left. My children will look at me dumbfounded...my huband will wring his hands, and I will be trapped once more inside a pain that I fail to understand, comprehend, or avoid. I think I will never do this again, but I will. I will do it again...and again and again....And I will live through. God will give me something tangent to hold onto...a smile, a child's success or failure...a broken situation that needs me...and for a while...I will live again as if Jeff never killed himself...I will function again- But life...life as I knew it- so sheltered and full of dreams is gone...leaving with this sense of reality that in a moments time...your heart can be crushed and stifled until there is no more...
You'll Get Through This...Martina McBride
Pull the shades down on the sun
Don't want to see the morning break to another day
I don't have the strength to face
Close the door and keep it shut
Lord this ache is just too much for me to take
How do I begin to pray
My way back to some kind of peace of mind
But then I hear love whispering through the darkest of times
You'll get through this
You'll break new ground
When you're lost within your weakness
Hope is waiting to be found
You'll get through this
No matter what it takes
I believe in you for heaven's sake
You'll get through this
When doubt starts tearing it
The faith deep in you don't be afraid
Just remember what I say
Nothing formed against you will succeed
As long as your hearts turn to me
You'll get through this
You'll break new ground
When you're lost within your weakness
Hope is waiting to be found
You'll get through this
No matter what it takes
I believe in you for heaven's sake
You'll get through this
Nothing formed against ya will succeed
As long as your hearts turn to me
You'll get through this
You'll break new ground
When you're lost within your weakness
Hope is waiting to be found
You'll get through this
No matter what it takes
I believe in you for heaven's sake
You'll get through this
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Dear Jeffy she came to you today.....
She reached up and she took my hand,
and held on oh so tight,
I didn't have the heart to speak,
I could not make this right.
"Mommie, I just have to know
where Jeffy sleeps each day,
does he live there all alone,
beneath that stone of clay?"
I watched her little tear filled eyes
look upon his silent stone,
and as we slowly came to it,
surely he must have known.
She laid her fingers on the etchings,
as if to touch your face,
her hand so tender and so loving,
your little Katie-Grace.
She held the wilted flower,
I left for you last week,
it was so awfully quiet,
I dared not try to speak.
"Mommie, why couldn't Jeffy be better,
and come back with me to stay?'
My heart began to slowly break,
"Your Jeffy, he chose to go away..."
"See Sissy when he was a little boy,
someone hurt your Jeffy bad,
he never could be happy again,
and his heart it was just too sad."
She raised her so slowly,
and gave up her little loss,
"Someday I'll go to live with them,
Jeffy and Jesus on that pretty cross."
And so your little Baby Sister,
the one you loved so dear,
knows now that you aren't coming back,
but now she has no fears.
For she will see you on that day ,
when Jesus calls her home,
and you can call her "Baby-Girl",
and tell her what we've known.
That life for you down here on earth ,
was filled with so much pain,
you couldn't bear to stay with us,
you had to avoid the rain.
I want you to know,
as I took her hand
and led her on our way,
she never ever said "good-bye"to you, she only said "good-day".
For Jeffy, she remembers still,
your life, your love, your touch,
and always in her little heart, your love will mean so much....
Today, my little baby girl wanted to know if her Jeffy had a stone. Did he live under it? Was it pretty? Was he alone? So I drove her to the cemetary and showed her where Jeffy stays. It was one of the most precious moments of our lives as she tenderly gave closure to this little uneasy grief that she has suffered the last six months. I felt peaceful as she teared up and loving, gingerly patted his stone. I felt relief as she held his cross and babbled about how much he liked them. But mostly I felt freedom that somehow, someway God worked it out for this sweet child to understand this mess. A mess that I still struggle with today....
See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.
(Matthew 18:10 ESV)
and held on oh so tight,
I didn't have the heart to speak,
I could not make this right.
"Mommie, I just have to know
where Jeffy sleeps each day,
does he live there all alone,
beneath that stone of clay?"
I watched her little tear filled eyes
look upon his silent stone,
and as we slowly came to it,
surely he must have known.
She laid her fingers on the etchings,
as if to touch your face,
her hand so tender and so loving,
your little Katie-Grace.
She held the wilted flower,
I left for you last week,
it was so awfully quiet,
I dared not try to speak.
"Mommie, why couldn't Jeffy be better,
and come back with me to stay?'
My heart began to slowly break,
"Your Jeffy, he chose to go away..."
"See Sissy when he was a little boy,
someone hurt your Jeffy bad,
he never could be happy again,
and his heart it was just too sad."
She raised her so slowly,
and gave up her little loss,
"Someday I'll go to live with them,
Jeffy and Jesus on that pretty cross."
And so your little Baby Sister,
the one you loved so dear,
knows now that you aren't coming back,
but now she has no fears.
For she will see you on that day ,
when Jesus calls her home,
and you can call her "Baby-Girl",
and tell her what we've known.
That life for you down here on earth ,
was filled with so much pain,
you couldn't bear to stay with us,
you had to avoid the rain.
I want you to know,
as I took her hand
and led her on our way,
she never ever said "good-bye"to you, she only said "good-day".
For Jeffy, she remembers still,
your life, your love, your touch,
and always in her little heart, your love will mean so much....
Today, my little baby girl wanted to know if her Jeffy had a stone. Did he live under it? Was it pretty? Was he alone? So I drove her to the cemetary and showed her where Jeffy stays. It was one of the most precious moments of our lives as she tenderly gave closure to this little uneasy grief that she has suffered the last six months. I felt peaceful as she teared up and loving, gingerly patted his stone. I felt relief as she held his cross and babbled about how much he liked them. But mostly I felt freedom that somehow, someway God worked it out for this sweet child to understand this mess. A mess that I still struggle with today....
See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.
(Matthew 18:10 ESV)
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Choice
For six months I have struggled, wrestled really, with the fact that Jeff chose to take his own life. The pain, the guilt, the whys, the hows, the unbearable unanswered questions- all of it consuming me until I myself began to wonder if this life and all of its unknowns and pains are really worth living. I have known for a while now that I was at the end of my rope both physically and emotionally not to mention spiritually. And then- then- on the six month anniversary of Jeff's death, the answers to my questions finally dawned on me. THE CHOICE.
Jeff made a concious effort to kill himself. He set the chain of events in motion. He spent the last four years of his life alienating his family from him. He spent the last two years of his life completely destroying all the good that was there. He came back to us and left abruptly several times. He walked away from all the people that mattered, who knew him, who could make a difference. He threw away all of his momentos of his childhood.Then, after everything was gone and he had nothing left. He came home. He gave this family one last week of the real Jeff- the man God intended him to be.He laughed. He joked. He smiled. He said his sorries. He gave me the best gift I could ever have...to be his mother again. He layed his head on my lap and I rubbed his lil boy head once more. He asked my advice. He asked for my help. But then he made a CHOICE.....He said his good-byes. He stayed up all night. He didn't eat. He left in the weee hours. He stole a gun. He drove to a friend's house. He pitched an ultimatum. He ran to his car. He put the gun in his mouth precisely where he knew he should. He agonized for a few moments...and then...he killed himself. That was Jeff's choice. I did not choose that for him. I did not want my son dead, especially by his own hand. But Jeff's choice wasn't about what I wanted. Jeff's choice was about what Jeff thought was best for him. It wasn't a good choice and God knows- it wasn't the only choice, but Jeff made the choice and he killed himself.
And on that day, that awful day when Jeff made his choice, I made the choice to go and get him and bring him home. It was not a choice made without reservation. I knew my son was ill afterall I had tried for four years to get him help and convince anyone who would listen- I knew he could harm me and others. But it was a choice I made because he was my son. He was one of my babies and I chose to rescue him that morning. Trouble was, God had already rescued Jeff. I believe that with all my heart as Jeff ran to his car, God decided that no matter what, Jeff was hell bent on taking his own life (he tried it before). The life that God gave him. The life that God had so carefully orchestrated and rescued him to to create our family. Jeff's life was more than a regular life- God had a supernatural plan for Jeff and gave him so many gifts that it still astounds me- even today. But God saw Jeff running and I know He said, "If you're really gonna do this, then let's just do it and you come on home Jeffrey". So by the time Melissa and I got there the choice had been made.
And from that day on I made the choice to blame myself for Jeff's death. Even after God gave me a direct sign that it wasn't my fault. I chose to rehash and relive everyday with Jeff and revel in this misery of death until I was no good for my husband, my children, my family, my church, and my friends. I have let this death run my life every day for six months....until I too have contemplated suicide because I couldn't live with Jeff's decision to kill himself.
But then, in the quietness of the morning, in the stillness of His Word, I made a choice to live - really live. To wake up each day and find the strength through my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ to walk past this misery, past this death, and watch as my Children do remarkable things. See my Grandchildren smile at me as if I hung the moon. Reach over and hold my Husband's hand, still get butterfiles in my stomach, and know that together we can survive anything. Wait, watch, wonder, and marvel at all of these beautiful gifts I've been given and thank God everyday for His blessings and His mercies and most of all His grace. And then every now and then...me and God will go to a quiet place together, get out this awful painful hurt, and He and I will shed some tears, have a pity party- He'll listen and I'll bawl. And together God and I will get me through. And slowly ever so slowly, this hurt will heal and I will be who He intended me to be once more. Not who I was- I can never be her again, but a new Kari who is a little more wary of this world, and alot more aware of other's pain and the powerful need to fulfil my place in this life as a wife, mother, daughter, and friend....it's my CHOICE...
Jeff made a concious effort to kill himself. He set the chain of events in motion. He spent the last four years of his life alienating his family from him. He spent the last two years of his life completely destroying all the good that was there. He came back to us and left abruptly several times. He walked away from all the people that mattered, who knew him, who could make a difference. He threw away all of his momentos of his childhood.Then, after everything was gone and he had nothing left. He came home. He gave this family one last week of the real Jeff- the man God intended him to be.He laughed. He joked. He smiled. He said his sorries. He gave me the best gift I could ever have...to be his mother again. He layed his head on my lap and I rubbed his lil boy head once more. He asked my advice. He asked for my help. But then he made a CHOICE.....He said his good-byes. He stayed up all night. He didn't eat. He left in the weee hours. He stole a gun. He drove to a friend's house. He pitched an ultimatum. He ran to his car. He put the gun in his mouth precisely where he knew he should. He agonized for a few moments...and then...he killed himself. That was Jeff's choice. I did not choose that for him. I did not want my son dead, especially by his own hand. But Jeff's choice wasn't about what I wanted. Jeff's choice was about what Jeff thought was best for him. It wasn't a good choice and God knows- it wasn't the only choice, but Jeff made the choice and he killed himself.
And on that day, that awful day when Jeff made his choice, I made the choice to go and get him and bring him home. It was not a choice made without reservation. I knew my son was ill afterall I had tried for four years to get him help and convince anyone who would listen- I knew he could harm me and others. But it was a choice I made because he was my son. He was one of my babies and I chose to rescue him that morning. Trouble was, God had already rescued Jeff. I believe that with all my heart as Jeff ran to his car, God decided that no matter what, Jeff was hell bent on taking his own life (he tried it before). The life that God gave him. The life that God had so carefully orchestrated and rescued him to to create our family. Jeff's life was more than a regular life- God had a supernatural plan for Jeff and gave him so many gifts that it still astounds me- even today. But God saw Jeff running and I know He said, "If you're really gonna do this, then let's just do it and you come on home Jeffrey". So by the time Melissa and I got there the choice had been made.
And from that day on I made the choice to blame myself for Jeff's death. Even after God gave me a direct sign that it wasn't my fault. I chose to rehash and relive everyday with Jeff and revel in this misery of death until I was no good for my husband, my children, my family, my church, and my friends. I have let this death run my life every day for six months....until I too have contemplated suicide because I couldn't live with Jeff's decision to kill himself.
But then, in the quietness of the morning, in the stillness of His Word, I made a choice to live - really live. To wake up each day and find the strength through my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ to walk past this misery, past this death, and watch as my Children do remarkable things. See my Grandchildren smile at me as if I hung the moon. Reach over and hold my Husband's hand, still get butterfiles in my stomach, and know that together we can survive anything. Wait, watch, wonder, and marvel at all of these beautiful gifts I've been given and thank God everyday for His blessings and His mercies and most of all His grace. And then every now and then...me and God will go to a quiet place together, get out this awful painful hurt, and He and I will shed some tears, have a pity party- He'll listen and I'll bawl. And together God and I will get me through. And slowly ever so slowly, this hurt will heal and I will be who He intended me to be once more. Not who I was- I can never be her again, but a new Kari who is a little more wary of this world, and alot more aware of other's pain and the powerful need to fulfil my place in this life as a wife, mother, daughter, and friend....it's my CHOICE...
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Dear Kari.......Love God
When the rain
Is blowing in your face
And the whole world
Is on your case
I could offer you
A warm embrace
To make you feel My love
When the evening shadows
And the stars appear
And there is no - one there
To dry your tears
I could hold you
For a million years
To make you feel My love
I know you
Haven't made
Your mind up yet
But I would never
Do you wrong
I've known it
From the moment
That we met
No doubt in My mind
Where you belong
Is blowing in your face
And the whole world
Is on your case
I could offer you
A warm embrace
To make you feel My love
When the evening shadows
And the stars appear
And there is no - one there
To dry your tears
I could hold you
For a million years
To make you feel My love
I know you
Haven't made
Your mind up yet
But I would never
Do you wrong
I've known it
From the moment
That we met
No doubt in My mind
Where you belong
I'd go hungry
I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling
Down the avenue
No, there's nothing
That I wouldn't do
To make you feel My love
The storms are raging
On the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret
Though winds of change
Are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing
Like Me yet
I could make you happy
Make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends
Of the Earth for you
To make you feel My love, To make you feel My love
I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling
Down the avenue
No, there's nothing
That I wouldn't do
To make you feel My love
The storms are raging
On the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret
Though winds of change
Are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing
Like Me yet
I could make you happy
Make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends
Of the Earth for you
To make you feel My love, To make you feel My love
Sunday, September 18, 2011
The Silent Pleas
As the months have passed I have tried to go on. I have tried to live this life as normal as I can. But the truth, the painful hard truth, is that I find I cannot go on. I cannot live with this failure in my heart. This failure that is so large that it is eating me up inside. There is a lump in my throat everyday. There are tears in my eyes because I cannot face life wothout him. I tried so hard to save him and noone would listen. Now I find I am trying so hard with myself and noone hears my pleas. My silent, deafening pleas for help. Life has went back to normal for everyone, but not for me. For me there is no life. There is a space in my heart that is dark and black and oh so bleak. People say, "You have to be strong for your other children!" But how can I when I have no strength left.
Jeff is everywhere here. He is in my basement. The soft, quiet lonely still basement that holds a treasure box that is filled with what is left of my son's life. He is on our livingroom wall. His pictures look at me with smiling faces that I cannot fathom ever held any truth in them. But mostly, mostly he is in my mind. I struggle every moment when something of him flashes through my mind. I am alone in a world full of people who do not understand. I am tired. So very tired of Tim, my children, and this life. I cannot meet their needs anymore because I am dying inside.- dying. I am pleading for help- begging God to get me through just one more day. And for what? For the constant reminder that I failed my son. That I failed to get him help. That I failed to see the depth of his anger that was really pain.
And why? Why did he do this? Was it really just one more thing to hurt me. Well, it worked. I am broken. I am more than broken. I am crushed to the very core. I am hanging on by a thread. Won't someone make this pain stop. This body is failing me so fast. I have no energy. I have no motive. I have nothing that makes this life a joy anymore. I tell myself I have these children, these grandchildren, this life. But as each day goes on I can see that I am a true failure in every sense on the word. I cannot remember things. Everything I do is wrong. People want so much and I cannot give anymore. I cannot do this anymore. There is no tomorrow...there is only today...this moment...and in this moment is so much pain for the child I gave everything I had to. He broke me. I am broken and I fear I shall never be fixed....never....
I thought getting the stone would help, but it does not. It is just a painful reminder that is real and he is never ever coming back. He chose to leave this life rather than be with us. I sucked that bad.
I thought going to see my grown children would help, but they are no comfort. They are so wrapped up in their own lives- their own grief that they cannot help their Momma- they can barely help themselves. Sometimes my friends see that I am losing it. And they hug me, but I want them to hold me...to take me in their arms and carry me away from here...away from this constant seering pain. I want to crawl inside of them and feel something, anything, but this. But they smile. They hug. And they go back to their unscathed lives and go on.
I tell everyone that I am living through it, but I am not. I am living in it. I am living around it. I am crying and sobbing and running so far and so fast that if I stop...I will curl up in a ball and die....I want to lay next to jeff one more time and rub his head and sooth his fears. I want to go to the top of the world and say, "IF YOU WOULD HAVE LISTENED- MY CHILD WOULD'VE LIVED!"
My body is here, but I am dying inside....just dying...the glass isn't half empty or half full....there is nothing in it anymore....Each time a child leaves my home, each day one of them gets sick, I am terrified they will die and with them a bigger slice of me will fgo until there's truly nothing left but a shall of a woman who had so many hopes and dreams for a family and children who are no longer the same. It will never ever be the same.
I need to get passed this to survive. I need to write out this pain and let it heal, but I cannot trust God. I hang on to Him and wait for the next tragedy to come and pray I can get through. What if I cannot? Will I succumb to insanity....I do not know....
Jeff is everywhere here. He is in my basement. The soft, quiet lonely still basement that holds a treasure box that is filled with what is left of my son's life. He is on our livingroom wall. His pictures look at me with smiling faces that I cannot fathom ever held any truth in them. But mostly, mostly he is in my mind. I struggle every moment when something of him flashes through my mind. I am alone in a world full of people who do not understand. I am tired. So very tired of Tim, my children, and this life. I cannot meet their needs anymore because I am dying inside.- dying. I am pleading for help- begging God to get me through just one more day. And for what? For the constant reminder that I failed my son. That I failed to get him help. That I failed to see the depth of his anger that was really pain.
And why? Why did he do this? Was it really just one more thing to hurt me. Well, it worked. I am broken. I am more than broken. I am crushed to the very core. I am hanging on by a thread. Won't someone make this pain stop. This body is failing me so fast. I have no energy. I have no motive. I have nothing that makes this life a joy anymore. I tell myself I have these children, these grandchildren, this life. But as each day goes on I can see that I am a true failure in every sense on the word. I cannot remember things. Everything I do is wrong. People want so much and I cannot give anymore. I cannot do this anymore. There is no tomorrow...there is only today...this moment...and in this moment is so much pain for the child I gave everything I had to. He broke me. I am broken and I fear I shall never be fixed....never....
I thought getting the stone would help, but it does not. It is just a painful reminder that is real and he is never ever coming back. He chose to leave this life rather than be with us. I sucked that bad.
I thought going to see my grown children would help, but they are no comfort. They are so wrapped up in their own lives- their own grief that they cannot help their Momma- they can barely help themselves. Sometimes my friends see that I am losing it. And they hug me, but I want them to hold me...to take me in their arms and carry me away from here...away from this constant seering pain. I want to crawl inside of them and feel something, anything, but this. But they smile. They hug. And they go back to their unscathed lives and go on.
I tell everyone that I am living through it, but I am not. I am living in it. I am living around it. I am crying and sobbing and running so far and so fast that if I stop...I will curl up in a ball and die....I want to lay next to jeff one more time and rub his head and sooth his fears. I want to go to the top of the world and say, "IF YOU WOULD HAVE LISTENED- MY CHILD WOULD'VE LIVED!"
My body is here, but I am dying inside....just dying...the glass isn't half empty or half full....there is nothing in it anymore....Each time a child leaves my home, each day one of them gets sick, I am terrified they will die and with them a bigger slice of me will fgo until there's truly nothing left but a shall of a woman who had so many hopes and dreams for a family and children who are no longer the same. It will never ever be the same.
I need to get passed this to survive. I need to write out this pain and let it heal, but I cannot trust God. I hang on to Him and wait for the next tragedy to come and pray I can get through. What if I cannot? Will I succumb to insanity....I do not know....
Friday, September 2, 2011
So Tired
I am tired. Tired of fighting to keep my head above water. Tired of trying to make everyone feel better. Tired of trying to figure out what the heck happened and why. Tired of trying to help my family. basically, I'm tired of this life. Actually, I am tired of this death. I am tired of everyone making this seem like a huge remember Jeff love fest. I am tired of noone saying that what he did was wrong, hateful, and hurtful . I am tired of watching Katie-Grace die inside as she grapples to figure out this stuff that I can't even figure out. I am tired that Jeff never thought about her, or them, or us when he did this. I am tired that for alot of people this is over. BUT FOR ME- IT IS NEVER OVER. I see his death everywhere. In Katce's face, in there quietness, at his grave, in a song, in a photo, in my nightmares (that's if I ever sleep), in the anger on his face- I see it every moment of everyday. I am tired of trying to be happy and find joy. I am tired of waking upp and wishing I could go back to sleep. I am tired of never being good enough at this and tired of wondering if I really care. I am tired of needing God so badly that it hurts that I cannot forgive Him for what Jeff did. I cannot fathom why this pain has to go on, I see the rainbows, but I cannot holding up the umbrella in the rain. I am tired of getting up, breathing, being afraid, being paranoid, having life go on, forgetting stuff, wondering everyday for the rest of my life if I couldn't have done one more thing to stop this- one more thing to stop him. I am tired of not being able to control one aspect of my life and tired of trying to get antwhre, anytime, with anything. This is a huge bad dream and sometimes I cannot shake it. I am tired of being messed with, ignored, and unloved. I DID NOT DO THIS! I spent the whole last 2 years of his life trying to get someone- anyone to listen to me and HELP HIM! It isn't me who failed- it is a society, a system, hell bent on people's rights, but not so bent on protecting someone from those same rights. I stood over that car and saw the blood, the gun, the hot humid air, and I died with him too. I will never ever forget that awful day...but must I relive it everyday of my life....I am soo tired...
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