This Village is STRONG!!

For everyone suffering the loss of Connor Powers and now the loss of Autumn Walsh. I wish I had words of wisdom to heal all of our broken hearts, to magically make the pain go away. But alas I am neither Mary Poppins nor Harry Potter with his magic wand. All I do know is that these losses will change us, in ways that we never imagined, both good and bad. They will make us stronger, and weaker, more resiliant and yet more vulnerable. With a stronger outside, but mored tender and soft on the inside, maybe just call us all turtles. Call us what you want, but we will survive this because we are fighters.

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Autumn

 

This path that we walk now sure isnt pretty, but we can walk it all together, leaning on one another when necessary, picking up the ones that stumble along the way, and carrying the ones that just can’t walk any more. We are a strong village, stronger than we ever knew, stronger than we ever thought we would have to be. The young ones among us, the friends and aquaintances of Connor and Autumn are feeling this grief in ways that I never imagined people that age would have to.

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They have been stunned and heartbroken in their late teens and early 20’s, by losing someone in their own age group. That type of loss didn’t hit me until I was well into my 40’s. This generation has grown up much faster, handling grief, addiction, gun violence and the perils of this grown up society that we have handed them at a much earlier age than most of us adults handled when we were that age.

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I have mo magic panacea to fix the perils of the society that we live in, guns, drugs, hate and other things that teens love.  What I do have is the idea that this community we live in, Franklin County , Massachusetts,  is pretty amazing.  We may the the county forgotten by the lawmakers and anyone east of Gardner, but we make up for it with an abundance of love, compassion, broad shoulders and the ability to make casseroles for grieving families and big listening ears. That may be why we are the forgotten county, we know that help and love comes in old fashioned ways, and for that I am proud of my village.

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My Field of Dreams

Today is 8 months, 8 months since my sweet, baseball loving, prank playing, hardworking and ambitious young man left this earth. This morning my Facebook memories was full of statuses about Tournament Baseball, and the Youth Clinic he attended on the Cape with my Uncle John Lamb. Oh how I hated to get up at the crack of dawn when he had early morning Tournament Games. But I did it all for him, because he loved the game of baseball and I loved him, more than words could sum up. Now I miss him more than words can express, and more than my heart can fathom, it is a pain that tears at my soul, a physical pain that burns like no other.

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I would give anything to be back at that field in Turners watching Connor play again, heck to be at any field watching him play. My boys never could understand why I have always loved the movie “Field of Dreams”, I feel like I am in my own Field of Dreams. Wondering if like Ray Kinsella if I tear up my side lawn to build a baseball field, will he come back and play for me? Will I be able to see him play the game he loved, watch him, even from afair again, listen to him talk, just be near him. I know it is a fantasty, but it is a pretty good one.

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Connor and my Uncle John Lamb

These memories flood back on a daily basis, some of them fill my heart and my head with happy memories, some of them open the wound in my heart so the scab is ripped open again. Either way they are the memories are what I have, to keep Connor alive in my heart and soul. The memories to fill the gaping hole in my heart. It will never be completely whole, but eventually it won’t be a gaping wound.

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Statue of a Bereaved Parent

With memories like these to keep it full of the love, laughter and joy that he brought to me and to the world. I have hope that I can get through this. One day, moment, heart beat, and even tear drop at a time.

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Overflowing

My original plan was to go back and get my CPA once Connor had graduated from Tech. That changed a year or so ago, I don’t want to be locked in a room, just tallying numbers, I am happy with what I am doing now, that may change. It seems everything else in my life has. I never planned to have an empty nest so soon, to only have to cook for Mark and I, do laundry for 2, it all seems so foreign.

 

We were a couple for such a short period of time when we first got married before Kyle was born, just 10 months before we became a family and no longer a couple. This is all so new to me, new in ways that I don’t really like, or have come to terms with yet. New in a way that I never expected, in a way that my heart can’t understand, or really deal with yet, or I think ever.

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I knew eventually Kyle would move out, of course he was my oldest, he would spread his wings and see what the world was all about. What I wasn’t prepared for was in the blink of an eye was to be an Angel Mom, to only have one child needing to spread their wings. To have Connor gain wings of another kind has broken and crushed my heart in ways that is inexplicable.

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I know I am melancholy and maudlin in a way that is unusual in this blog. I try to be upbeat and as happy as possible, put a sweet spin on things, dust it with sugar and Mary Poppins glitter and send it out into the world. I am struggling this week, Mother’s Day is approaching like a fast moving train, and graduation isn’t far behind. If this is a test of how I am supposed to react, I am failing miserably.

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I know there is no right or wrong in this situation, no handbook for this crap. It is just one day at a time and what feels right at the time. What I feel right now is sadness, and grief ,anger and fear.  Anger that the world for taking my beautiful, handsome 17 year old Connor away.  Fear that I didn’t prepare Kyle enough to be an adult in this world, and fear that something will happen to him to, yet I can’t hold on tight to him. I have to let him be an adult. I am full of emotions, like a boiling pasta pot, letting it overflow just causes a mess, but holding it all in causes a mess of another kind.

Pan smilies, seamless