Grief is ugly and dirty

Grief. What is grief? I dont know the words to explain grief. But I do know how it feels.

It's been almost 8 months since Tony died. Not a day goes by without feeling his absence. Not a minute goes by, it seems. I see him every where. The memories overwhelm me sometimes. A lot of the times.

I feel this awful emptiness; sadness; loneliness. The days seem to get dimmer and dimmer. And no, that's not the time change. I feel I have no faith anymore. I feel like heaven doesn't exist. That when we die, that's it. There's nothing. That this feeling or belief of something coming after is just to bring us comfort. So it's not so hard to deal with - versus knowing that when we die, we cease to exist. I feel like when people have near death experiences, they are their brains reacting to lack of oxygen, and the "dreams" or whatever you want to call it, are reflections of their personal beliefs. That's why "heaven" looks different to different people.

So I don't think I believe Tony is in some wonderful after life. I don't believe he exists at all anymore.

And that's hard to swallow.

No one wants to witness grief. So we hold everyone at arms length, so we don't get dirty. Grief is messy. And anyone who gets close, gets splashed with it. No one likes that. And so people choose to avoid. They use words like "you handle this so well" and "I dint think I could handle this as gracefully as you". That avoids the question of "how are you today? How are you really?" No one asks that. Everyone offers to be there if you need them. But when you do, they are no where to be found. And thus, grief is loneliness.

Everyone grieves differently. I've never been one to hold feelings inside. I did it in high school. My depression was all consuming. I dressed in black. I rarely smiled one year. Or I put on a fake face. I mean, that's what everyone wants to see. I cut myself. The sadness had to get out somehow. Now, I'm faced with holding it in again. No one talks about it. My husband shuts up if I being it up. But if I wait for him, he never brings it up. He just goes about life life he always did. Ignore the bad. Ignore it and it doesn't exist. Tony's death is bad. So just ignore it. I'm the one that decorates his grave site. I'm the one pushing to find a head stone, tho he refuses to even sit and discuss it. I'm the one that wanted the memorial birthday. I'm the one that brought up having a scholarship in his name, and worries if we will find enough $ to fulfill the obligation. Grace also doesn't talk about it. Ignores it. She has said if we stay home on Christmas and do nothing, she will go hang with get friends. She doesn't want to be in a sad house.

So I hold it in. Every once in a while, it gets out. I talk or I cry. But inside, day by day, minute by minute even, I'm withering and shriveling up. I fear it won't be long until there's nothing left to feel inside. But maybe that's better, because feeling this awful consuming grief is overwhelming most of the time.

Jason woke up this morning and said "I'm glad Bubba died". Does he understand what he said? No. Probably not. Heck, we question if he even remembers Tony. I dont think he does. But, regardless if he understood his words or not, it doesn't hurt any less. It thrust a knife deep inside me when I heard the words.

No one understands this pain. Everyone grieves differently but no one - no one - wants to get dirty from it. No one wants to get close enough. 

Bo's Place

Bo's Place (www.bosplace.org) is a place for grief therapy. They have many different groups - from pregnancy loss, to adult groups, young adult groups, school based, to preschool groups. Once you complete a group (typically 8 weeks), ages 5 and up can join the ongoing groups at any time. 

We decided that Jason and I would attend the "Little Friends" group - for preschoolers 3-4 years old. It started on a Wednesday. June 29. 1030 in the morning and lasted until noon. The last class was August 17. 

The sessions were all pretty much the same. We met for circle time, in a large room called a tornado room (padded walls - where kids could go normally and let out their aggression and anger). There were pillows on the floor, in a circle. Each pillow had a name tag on a string. We all sat on the pillows (some adults in chairs), and then went in a circle. We introduced ourselves and who in our family died. (Every week except the first, we also talked about our homework) About half of the circle was volunteers - they said their names and what group they would be with. Almost volunteers worked with the kids. After introductions, the director went over the days plans. Then the kids lined up, grabbed an instrument (maracas, tambourines, bells, etc), and then they marched a noisy parade to the group room. They had sharing activities, play time, pretend play, etc. At this time, the adults went to our group room. It was a room with several chairs and couches set up in a circle. We typically had 1 or 2 volunteers with us to facilitate our discussion. 

Our group time consisted of introductions (not in order. That kind of drove me nuts b/c I would have preferred to just get that out of the way. Instead, whoever felt like going, went. And there was a lot of uncomfortable silence while people waited). After introductions, we discussed how our week went, or talked about what the facilitator suggested. It was good I think. Initially we started with 9 kids I think, and 9 adults. I think we ended up with 8 and 8. There was me, and Jason - who lost a son, and a brother. There was a mom and dad and their daughter - who lost an infant and baby sister. There was a man with his grandson - who lost his daughter and the boy's mom. There was a lady with her granddaughter - who lost her daughter, and the girl's mom. (this was the woman I became closest with. Her granddaughter and Jason became fast friends. The lady lost her 23 year old daughter in a car wreck. So I think our grief mirrored each other much more so than others.) Then there were 4 ladies who all lost a spouse and 5 children who lost dads. (one mom had twin boys) One of the moms only came the first week. The kids lost a loved one to SIDS, car accidents, murder, suicide and cancer. 

Once our group times were over, we went back to the tornado room, to circle time again with the kids. This is where we got our homework for the week, counted how many sessions we had left, grabbed hands and did the wave (sort of) for a positive good-bye. Then we left! Normally, Jason and I went outside and he ran around the memory garden with some other kids and then we headed home. 

, 

 This was week 1. Each child got to pick a stuffed dog - a lab (Bo was a boy that the place is in memory of. Bo loved lab dogs). In the beginning circle time, we got to put beads and individualize our name tags. J picked dinosaurs. J picked a brown dog named Chip. They also got to pick a quilt. J picked a pink one because it had purple and blue on it - which are his favorite colors. At home, he curled up with his dog and blanket to watch tv. 

The 2nd week, our homework had been to bring a picture of the loved one to share with the group. Jason picked a picture of Tony and him, where Tony is showing J how to play the guitar. Then he had fun running around the memory garden with the other children.

Week 3, the children learned about living and dead things. We had to bring both something living and something dead to share. We brought some dead pine tree needles; and a spider in a jar. The kids got to plant grass seeds too - to take home and water and watch grow. (which, we tried to keep alive but eventually died)

This week, the kids continued to learn about living and dead things. They received a book called Lifetimes (which I already had bought myself, so I donated one to the town library, since the library didn't have any books to help explain death to children). You can see J with his friend K in the memory garden, and posing with the statues.

There is a week i didn't get pictures and the kids (and adults) painted rocks in memory of our loved ones. And we placed them in the memory garden. The following week however, Jason decided he wanted to keep his memory rock and brought it back home. 

This week the children painted memory boxes to take home, and put
items in that reminded them of their loved ones or that had special
meaning. We were to bring the boxes back the next week
I didn't get pictures the following week again, as the kids brought
back their memory boxes. J had a photo album of all the pictures I could find, since his birth, of him and Tony. He also put a red hot wheels car inside - since red was Tony's favorite color. He placed his memory rock inside. Also a harmonica that Tony had given him.

Here we are at the last week. This week we talked about goodbyes. J and I got there a little early so we got pictures outside first. Which was a good thing, because good-byes are hard. The adults exchanged emails after our group. We got several pictures. The kids made handprint posters for each other - of the kids waving good-bye. We got to keep our name tags. The kids released balloons - which caused J to have a complete meltdown. He didn't want to release his balloon and he felt it was broken at that point. He was crying and upset and wouldn't say good-bye to his friends. And then cried the whole 45 minute drive home because he didn't say good-bye, and because he lost his balloon.









Overall, I felt the group was fantastic. Jason is not old enough to continue on to the ongoing groups. We are debating going through another session of little friends. I miss that weekly group session of talking with others grieving and experiencing a lot of the same or similar emotions. Even though our losses were all different, a lot of the emotions were very similar.

Little friends ended a month ago. J still talks about "sharing time" (his name for it). He even sang/chanted a song they would do at the beginning of their group. I'd never heard it before a week ago. "Hey, Hey! What do you say? We are here to start our group today. We come to talk, we come to share, we come to show how much we care! Hey hey!"

I am considering taking Grace to the teen group, once marching band is over. She has made several comments in the last few weeks, which lead me to believe that she could benefit from it. She, of course, will say no, she doesn't need it. But I think, meeting with other teens, who have experienced traumatic/sudden loss (her teen group would be divided into traumatic/sudden loss - versus the chronic illness or something. I can't remember the name of the other group). Even if it's just relating to parents grieving and trying to find her place.

Check in

It's been awhile since I posted last. We have passed the 4 and 5 month marks - and I'm learning if I stay busy on those days, I don't focus on it as much. Thus, it's a little easier to get thru the day.

Jason and I went to a Grief Therapy program in Houston - a facility called Bo's Place. They have lots of therapy options but we attended an 8 week class called Little Friends (for ages 3-5). I'll make a separate post about that.

We had a family activity the other night - painting rocks (a local facebook group started this fun thing - where you paint rocks and leave them around town and people find them and keep or rehide them. Kinda like geocaching or pokemon go). So we all painted rocks (and found out Grace is PHENOMINAL at her art). We enjoyed our time doing it - and for the first time, I didn't feel extra sad that we were doing something Tony couldn't do with it. Maybe it was because it was an activity we had never done before with him. I'm not sure. But I went to bed that night almost feeling a little guilty - that I didn't feel sad. I had to recognize that this was a good thing. I still need to make memories with my kids and they don't need to always be overshadowed by sadness.

A couple months ago - I had a few dreams about Tony. I had begged and pleaded with God to let me dream of my son, to give me some message he was ok. I always read about people getting all these signs that Their loved one is ok. I haven't really gotten that. So I finally dreamed about him - and it wasn't reassuring. I may make a post about those dreams too.

I did end up having a day where 3 things happened that made me FINALLY feel he was telling me he is ok.

We are trying to plan a 21st birthday bash - a memorial birthday party. I need to get on the ball with that. We are also trying to organize his scholarship fund. (and everyone else is having birthdays too coming up - mine is next week, followed by Jason's 4th at the end of the month. Then in November is Grace and Steve's)

Grace wants to invite a friend over for Thanksgiving because she spent it alone last year and it looks like she will again this year. I told her it was fine - but to realize it may also be a hard day for us. I'm hopeful that having a friend over, and possibly going to my sister's, will keep us distracted enough to not focus on the empty seat.

In some ways, I feel the grief has gotten worse. But in therapy, I realized that it is possible I have moved from beyond that "shock" (where we still felt this was a joke, or that he would still walk thru the door) - to "acceptance". That's a hard stage. Accepting that my beautiful boy - this handsome young man so full of life - is now gone. It's very hard to look at pictures and not feel that grief. The pictures, for me, just show how much life he had.

But in some ways I think things are getting easier. Or rather, I've gotten stronger. I don't panic every time Grace leaves the house to drive somewhere. I don't panic every time she forgets to text me that she arrived ok. I can talk about Tony a little more often, without tears.

We are approaching the 6th month mark. Steve will be out of town at that time, and I'm not sure how to keep myself occupied. I dread this anniversary. To know half a year has passed - in a freaking blink of an eye - without hearing his voice, seeing his face, feeling his hug, witnessing his vibrance. It's very difficult.

We are also experiencing facing death in a new way. Steve's mom had another heart attack and was hospitalized in July. This time there was enough damage that she has been placed on hospice. She is currently in a nursing home not far from here and Steve can visit every day. Jason and I go up about 3 or so times a week. But, for me at least, it brings up a lot of emotions about Tony and his death.

I had a neat message from a friend of Tony's. Her grandfather had passed away - and she wanted to know if I could help plan the funeral. She said funerals have always been sad, but Tony's wasn't. At first I was taken aback. But it was also a compliment. Because we really wanted that - for his friends to not have such a sad memory. I didn't help her plan it - but I did tell her the starting point we had for Tony. Who was he? What did he love? What kind of person was he? And how do we honor those memories? How do show others the beautiful person - without making it about our loss and grief?

Jason doesn't talk about Tony as often. He still includes him in the family (when he names people or draws pictures). I do wonder if almost 6 months is taking its toll on his memory. It makes me so so so sad to think about Jason not growing up with his fantastic older brother. I hope we can do a good job of keeping his memory alive.

I think Grace is struggling. And I think this is what we sort of expected. Marching Band is in full swing. Grace is a drum line leader. She's playing snare again this year. However, the percussion director has left and a new director came in, but he doesn't know percussion. So there is a lot of stress on her - both as a leader this year - and as a possible teacher since they don't have that. She had a breakdown the other night - crying and letting out all the stress and frustration with band and school. She doesn't talk about Tony much. Occasionally mentioning a memory but she never talks about his death. I am considering taking her to Bo's place after marching season - even if she doesn't want me to. Just to see if it helps her. I feel she needs to connect with other people, her age, that lost someone. But also - that are dealing with parents that are grieving. I think that might be the hardest for her - maybe she doesn't feel she can talk about it. Or maybe she feels like she isn't grieving correctly. I'm SO open with my grief, and Steve is stoic and rarely talks too. I worry a lot about her.

My faith is practically non-existant these days. I've lost faith mostly in the people in my ward as a source of strength. I need to put that aside and go to church for me. But my ward is a difficult one. Many people have left over the years and talked about how different it is elsewhere. I attend very occasionally with my mom at her ward. There's such a difference there for me. I feel, in a way, several of those members care more about me and my family and our grief - than my own ward. But I'm currently bitter and not really wanting to let go of that either. I need to find a place where I'm comfortable letting go of that grief. Mom is praying for me.

I guess that's pretty much what's happened since my last post.

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.)

No words

I just miss Tony. More than words can describe. Pain, grief, sadness - there just isn't a word that explains the feeling in one's chest, my heart. No word does it justice.

Tender Mercies, Blessings and Silver Linings

“But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance” 

(1 Ne. 1:20)

I think I began to recognize the small tender mercies from the Lord almost immediately. Some might say some things are just perspective; choosing to see something one way instead of another. I say, that, in and of itself, is a tender mercy. I can choose to dwell on the negative. The terrible. The awful. I can also choose to find the little positive things; the little blessings I feel are from the Lord, to make this bearable for me. (I may add to it over time as I remember things)

--- Barely 10 minutes before I learned my world stopped moving - that awful day - I received a happy, cheerful phone call from my daughter! Because of the delay getting home (due to transportation issues), this seems even more of a blessing. If she had delayed calling me by a half hour, what a change that could have been. An awful, horrible car ride home. Instead we had a cheerful conversation, full of love and happiness. That is how the next 7 hours progressed for her. 

 --- I saw that post on facebook about the accident, also barely 10 minutes before the police knocked on my door. (I found out days later that the accident was actually 2 hours previous to my notification. He'd passed from this earth to the next 2 hours prior.) That post had been up for maybe an hour. Had I seen the post when it was shared - and the comments about the type of car - I can only imagine the stress and anxiety of not knowing if Tony was ok. Would I have loaded Jason up and driven there? Would I have found Dylan and JT? Would I have seen my son's smashed car, and a body under a white sheet? I don't know what I would have done. Instead I saw the post just minutes before the knock on the door happened. I didn't have to spend a long time wondering if Tony was alive or dead, or why he wouldn't answer his phone. I knew almost immediately after reading the post. I didn't have to wonder WHY the police were there, or for WHOM they were telling me. I KNEW it was Tony. Yes, my world stopped spinning for a time - and would never spin quite the same again. But it could have happened much differently.

--- Tony passed from this earth instantly. Yes, that is hard to accept sometimes. It even took me a couple of days to accept the blessing in that. He didn't suffer pain, or disability prior to passing. He didn't end up on life support, or have a permanently broken and altered body and mind. Both of which HE would not have wanted. There was no real surviving the accident. So to pass instantly was a blessing. Steve and I do have flashes of what we imagine his last moment was like just before he crashed - and this causes great pain in my heart - but we can't know for sure what went through his mind. Maybe God was merciful, knowing his time was up, and shielded him from fear and terror at what was coming. I pray for this to be true. 

--- I found out a few days after the accident, one of the men that performed CPR on Tony had just gotten out of the truck that Tony hit. He could have been injured or worse, had he still be in or near the truck. This also brings to light that NO ONE else was involved. Only property was damaged. His friends witnessed the awful scene, but were not involved. No one else on the road, no one in the parking lot were hurt in any way. We took comfort in knowing that no other parents or loved ones would be going through what we were going through at that moment. I can only imagine the guilt we might feel, as parents, to know our son caused harm or death to another person because of his recklessness. That, on top of the grief, might have been unbearable. 

--- Tony had had a lot of stress recently. He had lost his job last year, shortly after moving out on his own. He made really good money for a (then) 19 year old. He had a pretty sizable savings but he had been unable to find another job before that ran out. He did odd jobs, got a weekend security job at the docks, tutored kids in the evenings. He had unemployment to cover the shortage. He still managed to keep his bills paid. He may have eaten a lot of rice and beans - but he was fed. He had recently gotten a steady job, manual labor, and he liked it. He still hoped an IT position would open up eventually. But he knew his bills were being met and he was breathing a little easier. That Wednesday, he called in sick to work. He had plans with his friends to go shoot a video at an abandoned building. (He had told me they had plans to do this video there - but not when - and I, being a mom, of course, ran down the list of things that could be an issue. Including trespassing. But he was 20 - and on his own - a mom can only do so much) So that day - he had fun with his friends. He enjoyed his day. And it was a GORGEOUS spring day. He was still enjoying himself, on his way to his friends. While I don't see his recklessness as a blessing - but the cause for his death - he was having fun. He was enjoying his life. We have found a small comfort that he probably laughed a LOT that day, and enjoyed the company of his friends. He was not home sick. Alone. He was not bogged down with stress at that moment. We have to see the small mercy in that - for *our* peace of mind. 

--- We were close with our son. Steve didn't get to see him as much as I did - as Tony would often stop by before Steve got home, and leave as well. Or he called or texted me more often. It's not that they weren't close - they were. Tony knew his dad would listen to him, would be there for him no matter what, that his dad loved him. They bonded when they were alone together - working in the yard or taking a trip. (like when he had to drive him once to dallas to visit the lyme disease doctor - b/c I was too heavily pregnant to make the drive; or when they went out to my dad's place to work). That's when they'd have their deep conversations. Those are what stick with my husband. For me, we had a lot of fun conversations. Sometimes deep. Sometimes normal.I don't have as many deep, long moments like Steve does. But I have a TON of small, moments and they have added up. Tony knew he could count on us. We loved him. We were proud of him. There weren't any negative words or feelings between us when he passed. Our last communication had been just the day before even. I went and had lunch with Steve - and was taking him back to work when Tony called. He felt sick at work and needed advice. And since his dad was there too - he talked to him as well. He was planning to move in with a roommate and wanted to borrow the truck. We discussed that together. We told him we loved him. I often wonder how much greater the grief would be - if we had regrets.

--- Jason and Tony were very close. They were 17 years apart in age - and we used to joke that Jason had 2 dads and 2 moms - since his siblings were so much older and could act more like parents sometimes. But Tony loved spending time with Jason - playing games, racing cars, trains, going to the park or the indoor trampoline place. He was always fun and patient. And Jason ALWAYS said he loved Bubba, or that Bubba was his favorite. I'm grateful that Jason seems to understand more than we do where Bubba has gone. That the veil is thin. He often tells me that Jesus is taking care of Bubba now. 

--- The door was opened with Ashley just a couple weeks earlier for communication. Initially it was just with me. She didn't want to talk to her dad or grandparents or anyone. But because that door was opened - it made the process to get her down for the funeral that much easier. And the visit easier as well. This is a definite tender mercy - softened hearts all around.

--- The crowdfunding site - and everyone that gave gave gave. It was so humbling and even overwhelming (in a good way) - we wouldn't have to worry about how to financially cover the burial of our child. There were people that even helped beyond that. Such as the mixup with the train ticket for Ashley. Quite a few offered to help pay for a new ticket - or a plane ticket. A couple even offered outright to buy a ticket. And my friends that came together with sky miles to cover the ticket - and Crysty for organizing it all. And then helping when delays and things happened. (on the way here but also on the way home.) When our emotions are completely overwhelmed and hitting a snag just made it that much worse - friends and family were there to take over and handle it for us. 

--- A blessing I think about - Tony never changed his address on his driver's license. With it listed as here - I was able to be notified. Had it been at his apartment, who knows when we would have found out! The stress of that would have been unbearable I'm sure - seeing the post on facebook, not being able to reach Tony, wondering, worrying.  

We get to finally see him

Monday came bright and early. Like it always does. Today was the day everyone would start wearing red. The high school kids, people who saw the instagram post. Our friends that wanted to wear red. Some would wear red 2 days in a row. Those that wore it would post on facebook, instagram, etc and use the tag #red4aj (or #redforaj - because I shared it incorrectly). We had a LOT of people wearing red!

I know we worked on more pictures and video stuff. I was stressing big time. Yelled at people. Stomped off to be alone. I felt awful. But I felt panicked and things were out of control. My emotions were spilling over! I wanted my son back! I didn't want this to be real! How could he be gone? I mean, truly gone? He didn't live at home anymore - so he just wasn't home. This had to be a joke!

Eventually the time came for us to head to the funeral home. Steve, Grace and I drove up there. I was super nervous. Did I really want to do this? Was I really going to see my son - my handsome, funny, loving son - in a casket?? This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. And yet....here we were. Standing at the funeral chapel doors.

The doors opened. The casket was at the very back (or front?) of the chapel. Yet, I could see his profile - his hair, his beard, his nose, clearly. There was no mistaking that profile. I collapsed against the wall and just felt....gut punched. The overwhelming emotions were there again - spilling out in giant tears, running down my face and onto the carpet. My heart was hemorrhaging and there wasn't a way to stop the bleeding. Steve rubbed my back. I felt terrible because I do not know how Grace handled it. She seemed strong - but maybe she held it together on the outside because I was falling apart? Maybe she was falling apart on the inside. I don't know.

I finally got up, and we made our way to the casket.

I've been to enough funerals, touched enough dead bodies to know - the skin doesn't feel like healthy, living skin. The body is cold. The face *never* looks like the living person did.

I reached for his hand - somehow expecting......warmth. It was ice cold. I yanked my hand back. It looked like him - yet - didnt. He didn't have his glasses. They were shattered in the wreck. I touched his face. I touched his head. It just didn't feel real. He felt.....well, he felt like a wax statue, or like plastic. I started talking to him. It was the only way I would get through this. I told him I loved him. I missed him. I told him about his clothes. Grace told him his hair was a mess. He had told me, the previous Monday, that he needed a haircut. Grace decided she had to do something about his hair!

Now, Tony hated Grace messing with his hair. But, my daughter loves doing hair and makeup. It's her passion. And she couldn't stand for this awful mess! The funeral director brought a comb and hair spray. It's all they had I guess. Well, she did the best she could - but really, he DID need a haircut! We figured, as much as he loved to torment her - as older brothers do - he could put up with a bit of a bad hair style for the eternity. Heehee! I buttoned up his vest and then started working on his tie. I was going to do a trinity knot. I had the youtube video pulled up. It's very difficult to tie a tie, when the person is not helping. It's hard to move. I ended up tying it twice but it looked GOOD! He would be proud of his mama tying that for him! We spent some more time talking to him.

Something else that happened - a little back story. Tony had a motorcycle. He had specific plans for it. To paint it red, with pin striping. We had a neighbor a street or 2 over from us that did that kind of thing. He had painted my husband's bike. And had actually painted Tony's tank red. Well, steve talked with him about doing a little pin striping on the casket. He said he would love to do it - and wouldn't charge us.

So while at the funeral home, you could smell the paint. So we found - at the foot of the casket, on the top - the pin striping. And it looked fantastic!

Eventually we all sat on the front pew and cried quietly. We could see Grace struggling quite a bit. That was hard to see. It's hard to see your kids struggle and be unable to help them. There is no ointment or bandaid or surgery to fix a broken heart. And this is one of the broken-est types of hearts. We didn't stay a long time. We came back home.

That afternoon, Grace and I took her car to Tony's apartment. We had decided on exactly the things we wanted to display and needed to finish getting all of that. Steve wanted me and Grace to go - so we could have that time together. Grace drove her car - so that Steve could take mine and get it washed and vacuumed. He had some errands to run too, although I can't remember what. We got to his apartment and - yup - still a mess. Ha! That boy! Grace had a laugh at the burned food on the stove. We started going through his things and packing up. There was a point however when I was done emotionally. When the depression and sadness hit me hard. I sat on his couch and hugged his pillow. I looked at all his things. Most had been given to him (furniture for example) but some he had worked hard for. Or had collected over his years growing up. Each item represented him - and the dreams and goals he had. The stage of life he was in. How he wouldn't progress any further here on Earth. He wouldn't go on to college (he had already worked in IT. He had been considering college in the fall - to pursue cybersecurity). He wouldn't eventually open his own fusion restaurant or be a pastry chef. (3 years in culinary in high school. He loved to cook and bake. He wanted to open a restaurant one day with Austin. Or be a pastry chef. Or maybe both!) He wouldn't settle down, get married, maybe have babies. He wouldn't be there to tell me jokes. Or explain math things to me that were way beyond my comprehension. (he used to say "math is my first language". He was super excited about some new prime number that had been discovered). He wouldn't show me videos on fractals. Or do yo-yo tricks. Or solve a rubik's cube in under 30 seconds. Or do some really neat magic trick - like fill an empty coke can and seal it! He wouldn't play cars or trains with his baby brother. He wouldn't give his sister a hard time, or jam to the beastie boys in the car at unbelievable volume. He wouldn't give me that "look" when I went to take a picture. Or give me a hug.

The sadness was heavy. Very heavy. The apartment no longer had his presence. Not like it did that first night. Now it was just sad.

Steve's post 3/21 3:18 pm "Today I experienced the most painful, yet beautiful moment that I have ever experienced in my life. Today, we saw you for the first time since you left. Two of the strongest women I have ever known stood to each side of me. I watched your mother tie the Trinity Knot in your tie, and button your vest. And I watched your sister comb and fix your hair. We spoke with you for a few minutes. We cried. We laughed. And we bowed before God, asked that he would give us strength, and watch over you until we meet again."

My post 3/21 4:17 pm "Today we went to see Tony - first time since the wreck. I keep saying the hardest moment for this or that. Fact is, they are all hard. It's interesting to see the shell of a body. Yeah, it looks like it. But not really. The soul changes a body - gives it life, personality. And that changes how you look. There's comfort in knowing his shell isn't really him. That he's all around me. He's in my memories. He's in my heart.

I learned to tie a trinity knot tho, so he could have a fancy tie knot, like he always loved. He'd be proud. Grace tried to tidy up his hair - he needed a haircut tho. But she did a good job."

Steve picked up Ashley from the airport around midnight. Despite flight issues, she arrived. And it's all thanks to Crysty who handled his ticket and switched it last minute to avoid delays that were happening. All to ensure she arrived in time. We have been humbled by the outpouring of support, and going that extra mile. 

Trying to deal with details

Day 2 came. I can't believe I even slept at all. But I did. Maybe just 4 or 5 hours, but I slept. I've always slept late - totally not a morning person. For the first time, I was up with the sun and before Steve.

March 17 6:07 am - my facebook post "I slept some and just woke up. I don't know how to navigate this. Please share your favorite scripture or saying. I need comfort in my soul"

He had gone to Tony's apartment after Grace and I had gone to bed. He went to change the locks - because we didn't know who had a key to Tony's apartment. And we knew he had some electronics that were valuable, as well as possible sentimental things. (maybe we wouldn't have even thought about that - except after Steve's dad died, he had brothers go in to his mom's house and take things they felt were valuable to them and that his mom didn't or shouldn't have. Piece of advice - don't ever do that. It's morally wrong.) Steve brought back some clothes too we had discussed burying Tony in. (He also stopped by the wrecker yard to retrieve items from Tony's car. He went with a friend. He took pictures but won't show them to me. I was told that the driver's side is basically gone - it was crushed in so badly. I'm sure I don't want to see the pictures. The ones in my head are bad enough).

Tony liked 2 things with clothes. Maybe more. But 2 stood out. He LOVED to dress up - he was snazzy when he wanted to be! Nice button ups, vests, ties. He also loved tying those ties in fancy knots! His other was graphic tees. Boy did he own a lot of those! And his love of Vans shoes. He had a red pair that we had given him for Chistmas a couple years prior that he wore completely out!

We wanted to bury him in his fancy dress with a tie tied in a trinity knot. So he had some clothes. He said it was hard and he sat there longer than he needed to (as far as getting stuff) but not longer than he needed to (emotionally).

After we were up, and my friend Stacey showed up (wonderful friends that help at a drop of a hat), Steve and I left to visit funeral homes and stop again at Tony's apartment. My timeline may be off. It's hard to remember and I can't believe it's been almost 3 weeks already. (I always wonder, how do people make it 1 year, 5 years, 10? But here we are, almost 3 weeks. Time keeps moving, even if I don't want it) We stopped by his apartment. It was obvious he was a 20 year old bachelor who hated living alone. He was never home to clean up! Holy moly what a mess! There was actually a pan of burned food on the stove (my son wanted to be a chef at some point, took 3 years of culinary in high school, and took pride in his food. And he BURNED food! We had to giggle at that). Clothes everywhere. Trash. Just - a mess. I started cleaning - or picking up - the living room. We were trying to find his important papers - bills, insurance, etc. Honestly, that gave my mind something to do. It wasn't difficult to be there - I thought it would be. I felt he was there too. Maybe that's why it wasn't as hard as I thought.

We went to 2 funeral homes. We didn't have a clear idea of what we wanted, and certainly didn't know what to expect. We didn't have life insurance - my husband had lost a job last year that had great benefits. All of our kids were covered medically and with life insurance. Now, his currently job, had nothing. Maybe it's a kind of blessing he passed instantly too - because he had no medical coverage. And if he'd survived, surely he would have had a long hospital stay - or even lifelong care needed. Anyway - by speaking with these 2 people at the home, we were able to kind of get an idea of cost, and maybe what we would want to do. No plans were made. We came back home.

My sister and her older daughter was there, Faith. My mom. I can't remember if anyone else was there. It seemed like our house had a revolving door for a few days, and everything kind of blurs together.

One thing I forgot to mention - we have a lab. Tony brought her home as a stray, starving puppy last year. We were so MAD! We didn't want a lab. We'd just had to rehome one b/c he liked to chase our chickens (and dig holes, and chew up things). We told him this was HIS dog, and we wouldn't take responsibility for her. Well, of course that changed. Eventually he moved out and couldn't take her with him. So she stayed. Finally in January I scheduled her a vet appt to be spayed. Of course by February we realized that was too late. On March 2, she gave birth to 10 puppies. I told Tony he was a grandpa. haha! On March 14, he came over and met his future roommate here - and they picked out a puppy!

Anyway - so we had Lucy (the lab) in the house with 10 puppies. And because so many people were in and out, as well as possibly the negative emotions, she began to get defensive and protective of her puppies. While we were gone - she bit my 18 yo niece and drew blood. I was mortified! But my friend Stacey was still here when it happened and she is a nurse  - and tended to the wound. Faith was ok when we got home. I can't remember if that night or the next day - but moved Lucy and her puppies out to the stables in an enclosed area.

Grace had several friends come over this day as well. And it helped keep her occupied. They made plans for the next time to have a get together at one of the homes and get her out of the house.

Tony had his 2 best friends, Austin and Dylan, come by the house. Dylan was with Tony, in a separate car, when he had the accident. They were actually on their way to Dylan's house when it happened. I don't know if there was a specific reason they wanted to come by. Maybe Dylan felt guilty because he was there? Did they want to say sorry? Were they scared we would be angry? I don't know. I do know that I felt good when they were there. Like a piece of my son was there too. Steve cried. Dylan told us what happened, which we kinda already knew. Austin wasn't there. Austin and Tony were really close. There was a point where we wondered about Austin - like, was he a good influence or not for Tony? Was he just an "Eddie Haskel"? (from the show Leave it to Beaver. Eddie was always polite and nice and charming to the parents but a real hellion when away from the parents). But Tony was fierce about his friendship with him.

We hugged on them, cried. Steve talked to him.

Steve's facebook post March 17 at 4:47pm "2 of Tony's best friends are here at the house. Just hanging out. They came to offer condolences. One of these young men was with my son when he left this world. The other is his closest friend. I cannot feel any anger toward the boys he was with. I feel relieved that they were spared. I held to both these boys, and just cried with them. I asked them to please not let his death be in vain. Please take a lesson. Life is not going to fly by before you can enjoy it all. SLOW DOWN. Not just your speed. Slow down and don't be in such a rush to soak up every experience like it won't be there tomorrow. I want you boys to be old. I don't want your parents to bury you. I want to be a memory and you to be old before you meet this fate. There is so much left to do, but you can't experience it at the pace you are going."

My post at 5:35pm "So grateful for these young men. Especially that they were spared. I told them that they will feel guilt. It's normal. But don't let it consume you. Embrace the good times. Remember the funny moments, happy moments, even the drive-you-up-the-wall moments."

They stayed for maybe 2 hours? I got to spend about an hour on the porch with them just visiting - and talking about some of the fun times. When they left, some of the gloom returned. Like Tony's spirit had left with the boys.

That night, our bishop came by to meet with us. We talked about our funeral plans and began to put ideas on paper. We would completely finalize it the next day, when we went back to the funeral home and cemetery. It was a good meeting with our bishop.

Thursday night I slept again. Maybe just 4 or 5 hours and again, it was dreamless. I woke early and sat on the porch. It was kind of peaceful. I cried some. But it was peaceful also to think about all that was happening.

I found an instagram post. This was on a band nerd page, but one of the leaders/founders of the page was in the same band my son had been - and knew him. (She later told me Tony was her first kiss)

We met with the cemetery at 10 am. That was hard. Where is the perfect space? There were no spaces under trees or in shade. But Tony lived his life wide open - so maybe out in the sun was ok. There were 2 parts of the cemetery - one was more crowded, but cheaper. It was the older section. The newer section was more expensive. But it was likely that in a year or so - we could get spaces next to him, if we decided to do that. There were a couple of young people nearby. And a couple soldiers to look after him. And as we were walking, Steve saw a headstone - it was a dear friend who had passed a few years earlier. He knew it was the right place and I did too.

March 18 11:24 am "Picking your child's final resting place is one of the hardest things to do. And something no parent should have to do this. Yet we have found out many of our friends and family are members of this "grieving parents club". So we know we aren't alone."

We then went to the funeral home. We went with the nicer home - and it was a little pricier but not much. Honestly it didn't matter which one we went with - as far as facilities - because we wouldn't be using them. The nicer one was just closer to us. And once we were done nickle and diming everything - it was essentially the same price. We looked at their coffins. What an awful selection. Not meant for a 20 year old man at all! Baby blue or ruffles or bland. I envisioned a lot of elderly funerals. Not for children, or for young people.

Tony's favorite color was red. So we told the funeral home we would order a coffin online and have it sent there. The funeral home expected Tony's body to be released that afternoon or Saturday. I forgot to mention - that the day it happened, once an hour or so had passed from Steve getting home, he spoke with the medical examiner. Gave some medical history. But also asked about organ donation. (A year and a half previous - Steve's sister lost her 24 year old daughter tragically. Sarah was able to donate her organs. This brought up conversations with our kids. And Tony had agreed to be an organ donor. He was already one on his license - but as a family we had discussed it.) Because he died at the scene of the accident, his organs themselves were not salvageable. And once the tissue donation place called and found out he (and we) had Ehlers Danlos - a connective tissue disorder - he was ruled out there! But the eye donation place said it didn't matter. So maybe he can help someone see. And maybe I can see his eyes again. But even if they don't go to anyone - they will go to science. And he always wanted to help further science.

Anyway - with the donation as well as the autopsy - he should be at the funeral home Saturday perhaps. We also requested from the funeral home - that we could finish dressing him. This would be my last act of service for my boy. I didn't feel right completely dressing him. Mainly because I wasn't sure emotionally I could handle it - but also because he was a young man. In adulthood - in life - he didn't want his mama and daddy to dress him. So we would take the final part only. They said they would call us.

We decided the funeral would be on a Tuesday. It would be a 1 day event - with the viewing and service held in a 2.5 hour time period with the graveside after. This would save us some money but also make it easier on everyone. I've never been a fan of drawing a funeral out - with a viewing one day, a funeral the next and sometimes the graveside on another day. But mainly, sadly, we focused on cost.

We decided to celebrate his life. He was such an interesting and fun loving person, and our family has been filled with laughter and joy. Steve wanted to leave the young people that would attending a sense of peace about it all. They needed to know it was okay to laugh and remember the good times. I feel like funerals can be very depressing. Lots of crying, remember the person but feeling sad because they are gone - and the life that won't get lived. I felt like we would always have sadness or depression because our boy was gone. Maybe not. But it's what I felt at the time. I didn't want to feel depressed and sad on the day we laid him to rest. So we wanted a joyful ceremony. (and Tony was always full of information. He was always learning and doing new things. One of the most common things to come out of his mouth was "Fun fact..." followed by whatever new information he had learned or felt contributed to the conversation.)

My sister had set up a crowdfunding site the night before. She set the goal at 10,000 to hopefully cover the funeral, cemetery, coffin, etc. And with our cost cutting - it would be plenty. In less than 24 hours we had surpassed that goal. She raised the goal to 15,000, simply to give us additional for a headstone, cover any unexpected expenses, time off work, etc. By the time the funeral would roll around, we would reach that goal as well. The day after the funeral, she shut the crowdfund down. We were in awe, though, with that first day of raising funds. Steve has a LOT of friends in the motorcycle community, around the world. And he has a lot of friends in general. Tony had a LOT of friends and coworkers that donated. And me as well. Not to mention strangers. It was touching and humbling. We could bury our boy and not have to worry. And we would find that there were plenty of expenses outside of the funeral! (We would also have friends give us cash, or continue for weeks to receive cards in the mail with cash or checks. One thing I want to say - you could honestly FEEL the paper were desperate themselves to help us somehow. Maybe it was a young person giving just $5 b/c that's all they could spare; or a friend we knew were struggling financially that still gave. It was humbling for sure. I hated being in the position of asking. But this - the money - became one area we didn't have to worry about thanks to people's generosity)

I don't remember how the rest of that day went. People would come by to visit. It was nice to see friends and be comforted. Food would be brought. Jason would be tended. It was a blur.

That night, I do remember, Grace went out with her friends. They played games and had fun and watched movies I think. I know it was good for her to get out of the house - away from the gloomy mood. I was grateful for the good friends she has.

Steve had run an errand - I can't remember what. But he also met with my nephew. Tyler was struggling pretty hard. We wanted to ask Tyler to be a pall bearer but we weren't going to push it - and if he couldn't do it, that was fine. But Steve wanted to meet with him to give him a chance to voice it all. They talked about everything, not just Tony. In the end (maybe that night? Maybe later? I can't remember) Tyler said he would do it; he would be a pall bearer.

While Steve was gone, I was looking for pictures. And I was sitting on the floor in front of my desk - and just started crying. Really hard crying. The gut wrenching cry. The ugly cry. It comes from deep inside and it just pure anguish. I was so devastated that my son, my beautiful, sweet, funny boy was gone. The pain was just awful.

Jason came over and rubbed my shoulder and said "It's okay mommy. I can make it better" (or something like that). I said "I just miss Bubba so much!" (now at this point - we had not formally sat down with Jason and explained death. We didn't know how) Jason said "It's okay Mommy. Bubba is at church with Jesus." I was shocked. Sometimes the veil - the thing that keeps our memory from remembering Heaven, God, Jesus - is so thin in babies. Maybe he understood death in a way that we could not.

Steve came home shortly after and sat on the floor and held me. (One thing we began to notice - my really hard, weak moments, were moments when he was strong. And vice versa) He then suggested we pray. Now, I love my husband and I know he has a belief in God and a faith. But he doesn't show it or say it much. And while he's prayed at home, it's not been (to my memory) something he, himself, iinitiated. He would pray if I asked. Or at meal times. And here he was, leading the family in prayer. And it was such a heartfelt, anguished prayer. Thanking God for things, asking for blessings. And in it - he spoke to Tony. Told him that we loved him, we were proud of him. that we were proud he'd been our son. He said a lot of things that were so touching and personal. It is a moment that sticks with me.

(I remember something else we did that day it happened. Around 1030 that night, I sent Kelly a message. Kelly is Tylie's mom. Tylie is Grace's best friend. Steve spoke with Kelly about the situation. And the reason was this: we knew that once Grace found out, and things calmed down enough for her to go to bed, she would probably send Tylie a message. And we wanted Tylie to be prepared ahead of time. I always wondered if that was the right thing - to tell Grace's best friend before we even told her. But ultimately I did not want her friend to be blown away with the news. I wanted her mom to help her with it - and then maybe she could help Grace. Kelly and Tylie stopped by either Thursday or Friday - I can't remember. I remember Kelly telling me she was in awe that we thought of Tylie at all. But really - that's almost all we did with everyone. It was hard to focus on our own grief - when we were thinking of others. Thinking of Tylie. Thinking of those boys - those friends of Tony's. Thinking of the men that pulled Tony from the car and tried CPR. Thinking of the job the police officers have, especially when they have to notify family of tragedy. And most especially thinking of our living children.)

March 18, 10:18 pm "I was sitting on the floor in front of my desk trying to find a lost cd of pictures. And feeling really down. And then I just lost it. I can't help it. J, in his infinite wisdom and thinner veil than I, says "mommy, it's ok. (He came and rubbed my shoulder) I will make you feel better. It's ok (he hugs me). It's ok. Tears make it better."

I said I missed Bubba (we haven't told J). He says "it's ok (rubbing my shoulder). Bubba is with Jesus. At church."

A red cardinal stopped and rested on the porch railing while we were outside. The birds never come by when we are outside. Tony loved them bc they are red."

Steve went back to Tony's apartment that night to look for specific things. 

March 19 3:41 am - His facebook post "It is 2:45 in the morning. I am just leaving my son's apartment after going to collect some of his clothes and special items for his funeral. Perhaps it was a selfish endeavor to go by myself, but I wanted a moment alone in his presence. I sat in his apartment and spoke to him as if he were there. I collected a few token pieces of who he was to display by his casket. I remembered events in his life that are so precious. I filled a suitcase with these items, along with his acoustic guitar, and I paused for a moment as I locked his door. Almost as if I was expecting him to tell me goodnight.

How do I define the beautiful boy, and the incredible man that my son was, inside the confines of a 2 hour gathering? There is no way."