Walking this path

A little boy in our town has died. He drowned in his grandparents pool. An example of how tragic life can be at times, despite how much love we have to offer. My heart aches for these parents. For this mom. Her heart now missing a piece - as it traveled to heaved with him.

I don't know why I'm so drawn to situations like this. I see car wreck posts and it sucks me in, Especially if there's a fatality. I guess partly because I don't want someone else finding out like me. But - I think I'm still looking for a connection, to feel less alone.

I see other families lose their children. I remember a boy last year that was accidentally shot by a friend. 15 years old. Another that was fishing and got accidentally electrocuted by an unknown downed power line. He was 19. This little boy. 2 years old.

I've talked with other moms online. From my community. I don't know why I let myself get sucked in. Like I see out these online posts, these stories. I don't intentionally do that. But I think - I just .... want to offer comfort. For them to know they aren't alone. That others have walked this awful path.

But mostly.....I think I want to feel less alone. To feel recognized. For someone to see me. Not my outward appearance or physical self. But to SEE me. To say "I see you. I recognize you as a mother with a broken heart. A piece of your heart is missing. I see that. I recognize you in me. You are not alone."

But in reality, what do I have to offer another? My grief is unique. My pain is my own. Her pain will be her own. We have all walked this path - this unknown, awful road - of losing a child. Yet.....every step we take is uncharted. None have gone before. This is not a well beaten path. It has had thousands, if not millions, of mothers and fathers walk it before. Yet, it is also unwalked. Untouched by others. Rugged. I do not place my foot in the spot another's has stepped. But I step in a new, overgrown, thorny, gnarled up spot. I am not alone. Yet, I am utterly alone at the same time. I must forge my own way.

Forgotten

Do you ever feel alone or like your friends have forgotten about you, or your struggles? Or like no one understands? Well, wait til you have a child (or spouse from what I hear) die.

People don't know what to say - so they say nothing. They don't know what to do - so they do nothing. If you cry, they say things like "it's ok", "it will be ok", "don't worry", and "He's in a better place". People don't want to feel sad. So when you feel sad, they move away.

I don't go to church much. I usually get hugs or bombarded with "i miss you" or "it's good to see you". (That's good, right? That means I'm not forgotten, right? Except, the minute I leave church, I hear from no one. For weeks. Day after day.) But if I show sadness, I get scripture thrown at me - how scriptures tell us where he is, what he is doing, etc - and that should bring me comfort. Like, somehow, if I show sadness or grief - it's somehow tied inversely to my faith. Weak faith = grief and sadness. Strong faith = happiness and joy in the loved ones salvation. Well guess what? None of that is true! What is true? I can have a terrifically strong faith and still grieve deeply!! Why is that? Because I loved deeply! I loved hard! My heart ACHES deeply because I still love him and I MISS him! I miss him terribly! Not because I'm unaware of his salvation, or because I lack faith. But because, in my mortal form, this earthly state, my timeline is vastly different from beyond the veil. So each day seems an eternity without my son. I KNOW I will see him again. But that time frame I agonizing while I'm still here and he is not!

I post on facebook a lot. Maybe people feel like those virtual "(((hugs)))" and heart emojis somehow express their sympathy and I feel less alone. Except it doesn't work that way.

I feel like I'm left to mourn, alone. That no one cares enough to mourn with me. The emojis and (((hugs))), etc - they aren't real hugs. They aren't a friend just sitting next to me, even if nothing gets said. They aren't someone going through old photos with me, and laughing at the memories, or crying at the memories. They aren't helping me tackle laundry because all my energy involved getting out of bed and feeding my 3 year old. There isn't an EFFORT involved in those things.

The funny thing - someone I knew online, met in a group of similar interest, but didn't really KNOW - frequently sent me private messages. Maybe it was a silly heart emoji - but it was sent on her time, when she thought of me. Or maybe an inspirational thought or saying. Maybe just a note to say "hi, I'm thinking of you. You don't need to respond but just know I'm here." This lady I didn't really even know was a friend when my local friends were absent. She had so much on her plate, and it constantly astounds me to think of the time she took to send me messages often. She was an example to me.

Because you see, before I lost a child, I thought a Facebook comment was enough. I thought a hug when the person showed up on my world was enough. I didn't really make the effort to go into their world.

Now I know. Grief lingers. It stays for a long time. Maybe you know someone that died and it made you sad. Maybe you cried and felt lost. And then, after the funeral, you moved on. Maybe you thought of the person who passed frequently but maybe it didn't affect your life; your day to day activities. But someone intimately tied to that person - a parent, a spouse, a child - they lost something that is much harder with which to move forward. The grief stays with them. But the world kept spinning. People kept doing their day to day things. Maybe you were one of them. But someone, somewhere, struggled just to crawl out of bed; just to put a bite of food in their mouth; just to even get dressed.

And now, they are alone and feel forgotten.

(this is not to suggest, imply, outright state that there haven't been moments that I felt people cared. Someone from church left goodies for me, even a card and pampering gift on mothers day - because she herself knew the struggle and pain of that first mother's day. But that time seems to have passed and I'm left to mourn and grieve alone.)