Any of my followers know that I don’t sugar coat the truth. It is what it is, this new normal isn’t pretty by any means. When Connor first died I tried to numb the pain with bottles. Bottles of Prosecco, Pinot Grigio and Chardonnay. It was a temporary fix, it temporarily dulled the pain. But when I woke up the next morning the ache was still there, with an added headache and sometimes some nausea.

It didn’t take me long to realize that this wasn’t the way to cope with my grief. What I needed was therapy, so I hauled my butt back to therapy, then to my PCP to get something to deal with the overwhelming grief.

After a few trial and errors with meds I think we have found the sweet spot. An anti depressant, a med to keep the nightmares at bay and a short acting anti anxiety for when I am too wired.

My one recent worry was I was becoming a walking embodiment of my grief. That it was becoming all consuming and all anyone saw when they saw me. One of my dear friends reminded me last night

Nah. You kick ass. Your fun to be with. Pretty. Wicked smart. Hilarious when you want to be. Loyal. Dedicated. And there’s a wild streak in you too. A wild side only your friends know.

Your straight up kick ass female.

So I am remembering that, I have been through hell, I am still less than 7 months into this new normal. My sparkle will return, but right now I am a little scuffed up and tarnished.

I made a promise to myself and his teammates. A promise to attend each and every one of their home games this year. I sat in the cold, the rain, a little bit of warmth (there wasn’t much of it this year.)

Through amazing wins and crushing losses, watching them play their hearts out. At each home game seeing Connor’s bat bag hanging on the fence, along with his #3 FCTS Jersey. Both of those things made me proud, but I won’t lie to you, they also made tears sting my eyes, sometimes flood my eyes and sometimes roll down my cheeks.

But I kept that promise, I kept it because spring would not be spring in my life without baseball, and I have known some of these teammates since Connor played Rec Ball. These boys are part of my history, Connor’s history of baseball.

These boys have been through more than most kids their age this year. They are strong and they are tough. Stronger than they should have to be, stronger than any teenage boys should have to be. I wish that none of had to be this strong.

I am proud of them, proud of how they have navigated these uncharted waters. No one asked for this, none of us expected or knew how to deal with this. We just did the best we could, and played the hand we were dealt.

Tonight they played their first and last playoff game against the Mt. Everett Eagles of Sheffield, MA. They lost 4-2. They played a good game, a hard game, full of heart and soul. They left everything on the field. I can’t ask anything more of them, ever!! 7 innings later, Poof, the promise I made is fulfilled . The season is over and we all of us can say we did it

#3connorstrong4ever❤️💙⚾️🦅🎓

Yesterday morning was FCTS graduation practice, it didn’t go well, lol. Somehow the ability to put one foot in front of the other escaped the 2018 graduates. They could do everything but, they laughed, giggled, cut up and fooled around. Everything to wind the administration up.

Although Connor wasn’t there in body, I know he was there in spirit. His untied chips clunking along with his buddies, being “unable” to walk as well. Trying to put his Fox hat on under his Graduation Cap and complaining that his robe was too hot.

His crazy sense of humor and inability to take most things, along with himself to seriously is one of the things that I miss most about him. He was intent about his Trade, but he was a fun loving, silly, crazy kid. I couldn’t discipline him without bursting out in gales of laughter, and he knew it.

He taught me patience (something I don’t naturally have a lot of, it’s a Whalen thing). He taught me to laugh at the world, and at myself, he picked on me incessantly, but I’ve been told that he would light up when he talked about Jordan or I.

Today is the culmination of the hard week, the week I have been dreading for months. The finality of watching his friends walk across that stage without Connor there to join them. Knowing that I had waited and anticipated this day for years. He will be honored, but in a different way. I miss him every minute of every day. Fly High Connor!!❤️❤️

Even though Connor was pretty grown (17 at the time of the accident) he will always be my baby. Mark and I went to the new Runnings store in Hinsdale to check it out and while I was wandering in the dog aisle. I heard the running of little feet and a mom yell “Connor pick up your feet and don’t run!” My heart skipped a beat, those were words I uttered so often it was like I spoke them myself. He stopped for a second but then darted off and she repeated herself but he was gone to head to the camping aisle after his dad. She stood there shaking her head in frustration. I wanted to go tell her that him picking up his feet or chasing after his dad weren’t worth worrying about, but by then the tears were running down my face. So I turned and walked away.

Someday these little things won’t grab my heart and pull at them like an out of control tornado, but that time isn’t anywhere close to now. For now I am trying to steel my heart and soul for the upcoming emotional week.

The week that I always told Connor I would cry about anyway, but I was gonna cry because he was my last one graduating. Leaving High School behind and heading off into the real world. Now these tears are for a whole different reason, he doesn’t get to head off into the real world, I never get to know what the world has in store for him. He is forever 17, and part of me is forever broken with him.

On Monday Seniors signed out of FCTS, and I cried, rephrase that, I bawled. Connor should have been one of those Seniors, he should have been driving down the Boulevard in the line of traffic, with his radio blaring and his car full of everything that he had accumulated all year long.

Instead he is GONE, gone in a way that I still can’t comprehend, a way that makes my heart ache and burn, and the tears roll down my cheeks like I am an open faucet.

I am trying to steel my heart and my brain for awards night and graduation. A task that is anything but easy. There will be an obviously empty chair where he should be, an empty space that nothing can fill.

There is nothing that can fix my broken heart, or return Connor to this world. I know that in the depths of my soul, but knowing it and liking it are two different things.

All I can do is go on, one step at a time, have some much needed time with friends that know when I need to talk, and cry and laugh. Sometimes simultaneously. There is no rule book for this, what I have learned is this. I am stronger than I think, but I don’t have to be strong all the time, and I have wonderful friends to hold me up when I think I can’t stand anymore.

This week (the week of the month that contains the 17th) never gets easier. Yesterday was a rough day. It was all I could do to drag my butt out of bed. Finally after as much procrastination as I could get away with I finally moved.

It wasn’t until I was making my breakfast with the news in the background, and the date ran across the screen that I realized why I was in such a funk.

Today it is 6 months, 6 months since I made the hardest decision that any parent should ever have to. To turn off the machines and let Connor go. Knowing it was the right decision, does not make it any easier or change the outcome.

I know that I will miss him every day for the rest of my life. The hole in my heart hasn’t even begun to heal and I am unsure when or if that will ever happen. What I do know is that I am surrounded by friends, family and an awesome community that has embraced me since this tragedy turned my life on its head.

It truly takes a village, a village to raise a family, and the same village to help you heal when you lose a child. I thank every part of my village because without them I would not be able to handle this at all. I draw my strength from them and know that they are here whenever I need them❤️

Today is just shy of six months, Connor has been gone 171 days. Please know that I don’t count the days in this terrible new journey I’m on, I have an online calculator that will do it for me when I need it.

In the beginning each and every one of those days was a fog. From the time spent at the Funeral Home making arrangements to the time spent with Rev. Bob Szafran discussing the service. I just walked through the days in a haze, going about the motions and getting things done, but not really dealing with the emotions or the finality of it.

I have gotten through Thanksgiving, Christmas, Kyle’s Birthday, My Birthday, Easter, Valentines Day, His 18th Birthday, Jordan’s Birthday, FCTS Junior/Senior Prom. Each one of them with their own issues and own emotional pain.

The next big hurdles are coming quick, they are Senior Awards Night, and FCTS Graduation. 2 nights I have looked forward to since he started FCTS as a freshman. The next right of passage in a young mans life. To watch him walk across that stage, and then throw his cap in the air when he was done. To listen to him tell me about all the graduation parties that he and Jordan were going to. To plan his graduation party, to have a yard full of all his friends, as well as our friends and family. Watching them have fun, laugh and be crazy.

These are all the things I will miss, the rights of passage that I don’t get this summer. In some ways I am jealous of all of my friends who get to experience all these rights with their kids. We have been invited to a slew of graduation parties. I have told everyone that it will truly depend on how I am doing at the time. I am happy for everyone, but at the same time my heart is broken and aching. Aching that I don’t get to experience the same things.

I will experience them through the eyes and hearts and love of my friends and their children. Knowing that Connor will be right there with me, nudging me along, telling me it’s ok Mom. Ok to enjoy them, and ok to be sad and miss me all at the same time.

I have wanted a tattoo for at least 20 years, but I could never nail down exactly what I wanted, or where I wanted it. I toyed with a butterfly on my ankle, or a cluster of flowers up higher on my calf. More importantly pain is not my friend and the thought of anyone drawing on me with needles terrified me.

Once my life imploded in November I knew that it was no longer a want, but a need. I would always have Connor in my heart and my memory. Now I needed him on my body. I needed to carry him around as physical memory on me, on a daily basis.

Anyone who knows me knows that:

1. I can’t draw to save my life and art was not anything I excelled at in school.

2. I can and will research the daylights out of anything that I am interested in.

I talked to people I knew that had tattoos, and found a local artist that I liked his work. Most of all, I was told repeatedly he had a “gentle hand”. I am a wimp, I wanted this tattoo, but I didn’t want to be in agony getting it.

I perused his profile and found a piece that he had done that I loved.

Messaged him, and he drew one up for me. We set a time, for me to be ink’d and all was set.

As the time grew closer, I got nervous, but I also knew that this was something I needed, wanted and more importantly had to have to move forward in the grieving process.

We showed up in Gardner at Kevin’s studio and he set everything up, his girlfriend put some music on. She started to talk me through the process. Telling me to breathe and relax. It really didn’t hurt as much as I expected. Just feeling like constant cat scratching. Once it was starting to hurt, we were done.

I now understand what everyone says about them being addictive, I am in the process of finding one to honor Kyle’s strength, because that young man is a Rock of Gibraltar, and he needs to be recognized as well!!!🗻

Connors friends and classmates never cease to amaze me. Since the first night of the accident, when my phone began to blow up. They all wanted to know if he was ok, and was there anything they could do. They organized donations at the school and have been beside us every step of the way.

These young men and women are hurting as much as Mark and I are. They lost a classmate, a friend, a teammate, and in the case of Jordan a boyfriend and soulmate. There hearts are broken, aching and hurting just like us. They don’t know how to process this anymore than we do, this is uncharted territory for all of us.

Two weeks ago was FCTS Junior / Senior Prom, an event that Connor and Jordan had looked forward to, but now something Jordan and I were dreading. She and I spent the day being pampered to try and block it out.

The Seniors had been planning, and need I say scheming to make sure Connor was at Prom in spirit. Krystal and Courtanie had the carpentry shop make this bat, CAD engraved the writing on it, and Courtanie painted the letters.

I got pictures of special couples holding the bat at prom. Pictures of friends of Connor and Jordan, smiling, but with melancholy looks in their eyes. But none are as special as this picture. This picture is Devon, Krystal and Kyle. All my Colrain kids from FCTS. The group that played ball together and hung together in elementary school. Showing me that he may not be there in body but definitely in spirit❤️

22 years ago I walked down the aisle, I was one of the last of my friends to take the plunge. I had sowed all my wild oats, earned 2 degrees and found the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

I envisioned a life full of happiness, things would be easy. We would sail along into blissful love and marriage. Lol, then reality hit. Kyle was conceived on our honeymoon and the first year of wedded bliss was paired with morning sickness and pregnancy hormones. Kyle came screaming into the world in January and we celebrated our first wedding anniversary in April of that same year.

Three years later Connor was born and our family was complete, I was a boy mom, I had always envisioned girls, and bows and dresses and lace. Instead I was surrounded by overalls and trucks and mud. I wouldn’t have traded a minute of that for anything.

Life doesn’t come with a manual, or if it does I didn’t get mine. I do know that I made some mistakes being a wife and a mom. Hell none of us are perfect. The June Cleaver era and doing housework in your pearls and heels went out a long time ago.

What I do know is that I wouldn’t change a minute of any of it, from the frogs in the laundry to the sleepless nights due to sickness, to the hours helping them work on projects or the countless field trips I chaperoned.

Tonight was the FCTS Junior/Senior Prom, just one more hurdle we have to get over. Jordan and I got massages and pedicures, wore our matching flip flops that Michelle Milton got us (they are awesome) and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening today.

In reality it was niggling in the back of my mind, just like always. But I was trying to focus on the good times, on all the fun he had, how he loved to dance and how he truly looked so handsome in his tux.

22 years, 2 boys, and 1 marriage later. Life doesn’t come with a manual, it’s a dance you learn as you go. And in my head I am dancing to his favorite music right now. Shall we line dance to the Cotton Eyed Joe anyone???