Columbine, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech, Simon’s Rock-School of Bard, and now Parkland, FL. All school shootings in the US that have occurred in my lifetime. I will admit that until November 17th they were just tragic events and I went on with my everyday life once the media stopped flashing them all over the screen.

The shooting in Parkland, FL affected me like no other. In a visceral way I feel for the parents of those 14 murdered students, 3 staff members the 5 in critical condition. There lives will never be the same ever again. The parents of the 17 people that lost their lives have now become members of the Crappiest Club that no one ever wanted membership in. We are like the mean girls group in High School. There is special criteria to join, (the death of your child, regardless of their age) and a secret handshake (ours is the look of grief and the pain in our hearts). None of us want to be part of this group, we wish our membership could be revoked. That we would never have to wear the pain in our hearts and the fake masks on our faces for the rest of the world to make us seem like we are coping well. Wearing pink on Wednesday’s would be so much easier!

Although I don’t know the families of these 17 personally, I don’t know any of their names. I know what they are going through, the shock, the disbelief, the bargaining with a higher power to change what happened. The realization that now you have to plan a funeral for your child. Something you are ill-prepared for in your numbness and grief. I feel the pain that the families of the 5 in critical condition are enduring. The not knowing what the future holds, the panic every time your phone rings,or the doctor enters the waiting room to talk.

I have walked both sides of that line, I don’t like either side. It is terrifying and painful, you can’t imagine you have that many tears in your body to shed. But I can assure you, once the shock,and numbness wears off and you are left with your overwhelming grief. You will have more tears to shed. Find a way to channel your pain,write, talk to others, talk to their friends, paint, sing, whatever lets it out, but don’t bottle that pain up so you explode like a half drank bottle of Prosecco. You will find your true friends, the ones that pick you up, send you little treats in the mail, take you out to breakfast or lunch. Trust me, they may not be the ones you expected, but hold onto them like a life raft, because they care and they will walk this long, pot hole strewn road with you.

Once I was old enough to figure it out I believed that Valentines Day was a made up holiday. Made up by Hallmark, FTD and Nestle to gain revenue with sappy card , overpriced flowers and chocolate sales. Now I adore flowers, the quickest way to my heart is to bring me a bouquet of flowers. My cousin Cindy Dufour always said her sister Kim and I were Miss Hall Prep School wanna be’s. We attracted the guys that brought the flowers and drove the fancy cars and wore the fancy clothes, she was right!!💐🌹❤️💕👞👔

I still want flowers, but on Valentines Day, roses are hugely overpriced, and Chocolate is a awful for my low carb lifestyle. This year what I want and need is love, and I have it. I have true friends, I have husband who holds me when I cry and sob and rage at the world and how unfair it is. An amazing 21 year old son, who is wise beyond his years. I will take the credit for that wiseness and how mature he is for his age. I have Connor’s amazing girlfriend Jordan, who is my connection to him, I have Connor’s friends who constantly remind me of what a fantastic kid he was.

I have a job that I love, with a company that I love. A boss that is a fantastic guy, who understands that I have good days, bad days and days that I can’t even get out of bed. I can’t ask for more than that.

To be honest in my heart of hearts I ask for more than that on a daily basis. I ask the why question over and over. With no real answer, I know I am not the only one. Anyone who is a member of this crappy club asks the same question. There is no answer, and there never will be, but it doesn’t stop me from asking just the same.

I belong to a few Grieving Mom groups on line. I have witnessed moms being hurt and judged when their children were murdered, committed suicide or died due to an overdose. This post is for them, and all others like them. We are all hurting, this loss is enormous and the pain is beyond what anyone can comprehend. Please don’t judge a mom whose child died in a way you think is “less than noble”it doesn’t make her hurt any less, or any easier to comprehend. I have an amazing community behind me, I wish every Grieving Mom was as lucky as me in that respect. We all hurt, we all cry, we all ache, all of our hearts burn. Please be kind to all of us.

The death of a child leaves a hole regardless of whether that death is due to an illness, an accident,a murder at the hands of another, a suicide or an overdose. A loss is a loss is a loss, there is no changing that, but what is different is the way the community and those around you react to the death. In a perfect world no parent would be treated any differently regardless of the manner of death of their child. Unfortunately we don’t live in a perfect world, by any means.

When the death is the result of an accident or an illness, the support comes pouring out of the woodwork. Everyone wants to know what they can do, how they can temper your grief or make you feel better? As if there is any way in they immediate aftermath that will happen.

When murder or overdose or suicide is the cause of death all of a sudden your parenting is called into question. What kind of child did you raise that they would be put into a situation where murder was an option? What were they doing that caused such rage on the part of someone else to cause them to take your child’s life?

As for overdose, opiate abuse has become such a hot button issue in our country and especially in the North East that everyone has an opinion. People on both sides of the issue, both sides thinking that they are right. Forgetting that a Grieving Mom That has lost their child is stuck in the middle. They just want compassion and love, they honestly don’t care what your politics are about addiction.

As for suicide that is a hurt all of its own. Depression and anxiety generally caused a fear that none of us could comprehend. In their mind the only way out was to take their own life. To stop the pain, the hurt and fear and depression. That leaves behind unanswered questions for those parents mired in that type of grief.

Let me make one thing absolutely clear to anyone who has never set foot in this awful club. A Grieving Mother harbors enough guilt all on her own. Guilt that she couldn’t protect her child from the illness, the accident, the weather, the imagined harm that we should have protected them from. Our jobs as moms is to protect our children from everything, both real and imagined. When the worst happens, when our nightmares come true we don’t need to be reminded that we failed. We are quite aware of that scenario, we relive it every single day, more moments than anyone will ever know. It haunts us day and night, it is the plot of our every nightmare and every daydream. We don’t need your help reliving it.

So please do all of us Grieving Moms a favor. If you want to judge us for our failings. Judge us for the reasons that our children are gone. Please do it silently and from afar. We judge ourselves more harshly than you will ever know, we don’t need your assistance. Grieving Moms need your assistance and support, we need your love and affection, friendship and hugs, not backstabs and snotty remarks. We can beat ourselves up all on our own, please don’t do it for us.

I have some amazing friends, the kind that will pick me up when I need it the most. The kind who will schedule a day with me to go to lunch. Make me laugh, listen to me cry, split an ultra hot appetizer of Firecracker Calamari with me (even though heat is not her thing.)

This particular friend has been in my life since we were in High School, we have moved far away at times. But thru the magic of technology we have kept in touch. I was there for her when her mom was sick, and ultimately cried when she passed on Christmas Day. I have watched her life change as she has grown and evolve. She is not only an awesome friend, she is a fantastic mother, and she adores her big dogs as much as I love mine.

A weekend in CT to see my parents is never complete without a visit with a Gina, whether it is quick drinks, lunch somewhere, or a night watching her karaoke. She has an amazing voice, and never fails to make me wish I could sing.

Midway through our lunch on Saturday she said “this will sound odd, but I was afraid you were going to be emaciated or 30 lbs over weight, because you weren’t taking care of yourself, I’m glad it was neither of those.” I said “well, I have gained 10 lbs that I just can’t get rid of, but I am not as disciplined as I was before.” To that she commented “It will go, but don’t beat yourself up about it.”

I have been worrying about it, but I just can’t stay on track, it doesn’t seem important at this time. What I do know, what is important is this: Friends are good for your soul. They nourish a part of you that food and drink can’t touch. Friends make you laugh, and cry, smile and scream. Experience every range of emotion that is possible. I don’t know what I would do without my friends. I am pretty sure I would be lost, in a sea of emotions that had no bottom. There is a reason we are not meant to be solitary beings. We are pack animals if you will, we need others like us. That celebrate our quirkiness and our eccentricities. Those are our tribesmen, I need my tribesmen or I wud go stark raving mad!!!❤️❤️💙😂🤗

Yesterday I was managing to slog through my day. Going about my day and honestly wondering why I was such an emotional train wreck. It didn’t hit me until I began to write out a deposit slip 2/6/18… bam it hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks.💥💣. It was 3 months from the accident, the tears started to roll down my cheeks, luckily Rachel had run home to get lunch, so I could cry like a fool all by myself😢😢😫.

At the end of the day I went to my weekly therapy appointment, giving up any pretense of holding it together. I walked in the door with my cup of tea and instantly the tears began to roll. “How long is it gonna hurt like this, is my heart always going to feel like it has been bludgeoned and abused.” In her infinite wisdom my therapist calmly spoke “You are only 3 months into this lifelong journey, it will change and evolve as time moves on. You will always miss him, but in time the pain won’t be so sharp and intense.”

As I poured my heart out and wiped my tears, over and over I began to understand that as much as I hurt today, it wasn’t as much as I did that awful day in the PICU Waiting Room. The pain is still there, lurking and hiding, waiting to ambush me when I least expect it. I don’t think that those ambushes will stop anytime soon. I just need to learn to live with them.

“Life is a beach, you just have to learn to ride the waves.”🏝⛱🏖 Says the wine glass that I got for Christmas, those waves can either be calm or overwhelmingly wild and choppy. Like trying to surf in a hurricane.

Today I woke up to snow, and the painful thought that on Snow Days before Connor could drive himself everywhere. We would stay home, have breakfast (eggs or waffles with bacon and coffee or hot cocoa). Those times will never be recreated again, no more snuggling and trying to convince them to go back to sleep because there was no school. No more bundling them up like Michelin men so they could go outside and sled, or make snowmen, or throw snow balls at the dog.

I eventually got up, made some breakfast and found a project to occupy me. I made a collage of “Connor Pics” for the front of my wall hanging jewelry box. Then made a wall hanging collage of “Kyle Pics”.

The last 2 days have been full of choppy seas, surfing in a hurricane is not something I am good at. But I am learning to stand on the board, hold on tight and in the words of Jimmy Buffett ….” I ain’t afraid of dyin’, I got no need to explain. I feel like goin’ surfing in a hurricane“

On Saturday two of my best friends organized a Connor Strong Benefit / 50th Birthday Party for me at the Shelburne Falls Eagles, with the local band Lakeside Drive providing the entertainment. I was completely stunned by the amount of people that showed up. About 250 people were at the Eagles, dancing, drinking, socializing and eating. At first I was reluctant to dance and “look like I was having too much fun” after all this is a benefit for Connor and he has only been gone for just over 2 months. After I had been there for about an hour and Lakeside Drive was really cranking up the tunes, my toes were tapping and I was remembering how much I love to dance, and how much Connor loved to dance too.

I looked a everyone out on the dance floor, having a good time and the idea of having to stand on the side and “not have too much fun” and mourn all night, just sounded awful to me. So the next time they played a song I really liked I put my drink down and headed to the dance floor. Adding myself to the big group of people out there, enjoying the music, the lights and all the people there. I realized shortly that I could have fun and still carry Connor in my heart. A place that he will always inhabit. I wondered for a split second if anyone would judge me, and then decided that these people were here to support me and my family, judging was not on their mind.

There is nothing like being the center of attention, when this cake comes out, with your picture on it (picture supplied by Mom) and then the band and everyone sings you Happy Birthday.

Any thoughts of being judged flew right out the window just like my old life. I’m learning to live this this new normal. Not necessary liking it, but learning to live it and realizing that I will get through it. I am stronger than I ever thought I was, ever thought I could be or needed to be. I realized Saturday not only were we celebrating for The Connor Strong Scholarship and my 50th Birthday, but also celebrating my strength, and my ability to take on this new life.

My friend Tracy said to me shortly after Connor’s death, “I don’t know how you are able to let Kyle go off and drive without having a panic attack.” My answer was “He is almost 21 and I can’t keep him in a bubble forever, I have to let him have wings too.” Well the driving part I am still ok with but now Kyle is sick, cough, body aches, fever, wheezing (due to his asthma) generally feeling like crap. My mom instincts have kicked in and I want to put him in a bubble. I hear all this talk about the flu, how it is deadly this year and moves quick. I want to protect him, and keep him safe at all costs.

In the face of a husband who says, “It is just a head cold, give him NyQuil, let him rest and he will be fine.” That doesn’t make me feel any better, I want him to share my worry and concern. I need him to be know that this could be a dire situation. But it seems to not be as dire on his radar as on mine.

Granted last year if Kyle had these same symptoms and the flu was this deadly. I would have just done my normal sick protocol. NyQuil, lots of fluids and announced he was home until he feels better. But this year and last are about as different as Kyle and Connor were. My emotions are different, my reactions are different and things that wouldn’t bother me in 2017, send me overboard in 2018.

My life has changed, I am a different person. I need to accept that. Accept that I am now hyper vigilant to things that wouldn’t have even been on my radar before. Ambulance sirens make me break out in a cold sweat, specific songs make the tears flow like rain, and sickness makes me worry like the mom of a newborn. I’m hoping that the ambulance and the song effect will relax over time. But I think the worry and concern for Kyle may always be hyper vigilant. It is something he will have to get used to. His wings may be a little more clipped than he thought, because, As Long As I’m Living My Baby You’ll Be.

I came to the conclusion yesterday that I need to invest in some good Waterproof Eyeliner. I get dressed in the morning, do my hair, put my makeup on and look fairly presentable (most days). Some days are a challenge, I go from presentable to streaked makeup and puffy eyes in the blink of an eye. Those are the days that I wish my emotions had an on/off switch, or at least a “don’t blubber in public switch”. Unfortunately we as moms and especially Grieving Moms don’t have that function installed, or even an option in the beginning.

Someday I am confident I will be able to get through a day without looking like a reject from a bad horror flick. That day is not now, probably not tomorrow, but in the future it is there. I have support from friends, family, co-workers, amazing support from people that check in on me, but they don’t crowd me or make me feel uncomfortable. Those are the best type of people to have in your life. They instinctively know what I need and how to get it to me.

That is what I’m most grateful for, the friends that have and will continue to hold me up when my body and my heart won’t do the job. I talked to a family friend who lost a son 37 years ago at just 2 years old. She gave me some very important words of wisdom yesterday. “You will be happy again, I promise you. Winter is the worst time in New England, when spring comes and things aren’t so barren, you will find things to make you smile.” But her most important words were this “It is too big of a burden to put your happiness on the shoulders on a 17 year old.” That rang true to me, Connor can’t be responsible for our happiness, he will always be part of it, but not the sole reason.

I am looking forward to the days where every little thing doesn’t make me cry. But until then I am right here in the trenches. Digging out, just like a New England winter, knowing it takes time, work and patience to get there.

We all have heroes in our life. Sports Icons or Business Icons that we hold in higher regard than normal people. Most of us hold out our parents as our heroes and that is certainly true for me. My Business Icon has always been Warren Buffett. He is smart, well spoken, has amassed a fortune with Berkshire Hathaway, but expects his children to work for a living and doesn’t just hand them things because. That is my kind of dad, the same kind I was raised by (minus the fortune) and the same type of parents Mark and I have always been.

I encountered a new type of heroes during this whole ordeal, the kind that work 12 hour shifts, don’t get holidays off (unless they have serious seniority), deal with terrified parents and loved ones, demanding doctors and other department heads. They do this all with grace, smiles, stethoscopes around their necks, iPhones in their scrub pockets (so they can do correct calculations every time a medication changes). The fluent knowledge of every machine on the floor and yet the ability to explain it to terrified parents in normal English, the calming tone needed to tell us that the crazy beep we hear every (what seems like 10 seconds) is not concerning at all. Yet the ability to scoot us all out of the room gently when major shit is going down so they can all do their jobs and we don’t have to see the carnage.

These are my new heroes, the PICU nurses that we encountered for 12 days at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield, MA. From the first night when Carly found me multiple blankets (because that room had to be kept so cold) and showed me how to unfold the love seat in Connor’s room into a bed and found me extra pillows to make me as comfy as possible. Then she pushed 2 chairs together for Jordan and found some blankets to cover her in as well, so she could be right next to Connors bed and hold his hand. Mark slept sitting up on the end of the couch with his feet on another chair, covered in another blanket. All of these things supplied by these angel nurses.

For 12 days Carly, Hillary, and the rest of them took care of not only Connor but us as well. They reminded us to eat, sent us to the Parent Sleep Room when going 5 miles to the hotel was an impossibility. At one point in time we met with Dr. Steve Lieberman to get some clarity and more information on Connor’s condition. He said to us “if you want to know how things are, and the status of Connor, don’t ask the doctors, ask my nurses, they run this unit.” Dr. Lieberman started the PICU 37 years ago, he is a wise man, and truer words have never been spoken. Those were the hardest 12 days of my life, but I also found some of the best angels in the process❤️.

The problem with having a brain that works like mine does is, well having a brain that works like mine does. Today I just couldn’t , I just couldn’t get out of bed and function. Last night night terrors destroyed any hope of sleep that I had. While having a conversation with my best friend (who is also a licensed social worker) I explained my night terrors and said “but Why explosions and fire? I just don’t understand.”

There was a long pause on her end of the phone, she and I have been friends long enough (longer than my marriage, it outlived hers and she remembers the birth of both Kyle and Connor) that I knew she wanted me to think. But my literal mind just couldn’t think outside of the box so I just paused along with her. Finally she responded with “just think about Tamitha (her nickname for me; don’t judge) your brain isn’t always linear but it is sending you messages.” Finally the lightbulb dawned… “omg my life exploded, and that’s what it means.”

Bingo, ding, ding. You win the prize. Although I am not really sure what the prize is, or even if I want it. She and I talked for another hour, about what hurts the most, what I am grieving the loss of. The loss of Prom 2, High School Graduation, the Graduation Party I don’t get to plan. The Engagement and Wedding, the grandchildren from Connor that I will never see. These are experiences that I lost, and the loss of them hurts.

After more conversation, not all crying. There were some laughs too. I came away with a plan. A night time routine, some self care, loving myself, and being patient with me. Realizing that It hurts so much because I loved so deeply. Emotionally letting go of the guilt and the feeling that I am at fault even though I know I am not. This will take time, so patience is the first order. I am not naturally patient, so I need to understand that “Miracles take time Cinderella!”