Sitting with Mark around the fire pit tonight and reflecting on everything, even though I tried to hold them back the tears began to flow. Connor was my “fire bug”. He loved to light sticks and wood on fire. He was forever asking if we could have a fire, so he could burn the marshmallows so they were not edible and then end up feeding them to Cooper.

All those memories came flooding back, they couldn’t have been clearer if Connor was right there in front of me. Rolling on the grass, tussling with the dog and laughing like only he can.

I have been told many times that I am not even a year into this tragedy and I am doing better than people thought. What I do know is that as we creep closer and closer to the year mark I feel like I am falling farther and farther down the rabbit hole.

Last year when the holidays rolled around I was numb, I went through the motions, doing what needed to be done. But not really knowing what I was doing. Numb will not be the emotion this year, I will feel everything, and of that I am afraid.

My heart feels a lot like the fire pit as it burned down. Full of pain, and the burning feeling that there is a huge hole in my heart and soul. The knowledge that losing a child makes you a different person, a person who has to put one foot in front of the other and learn to take the emotions as they come. That is not something that I’ve ever been good at. I’m a planner and I want things to run smoothly and according to plan. Grief takes planning out of the equation, because there are just days that no matter how much I’ve planned, my heart says “Nope we aren’t doing that today, and the tears take over.” So instead now I will plan for these emotional roadblocks and land mines. Secure in the knowledge that whatever comes my way I can handle it, the burning pit of grief will not consume me. It may lick at the tender parts, but I will keep the flames at bay.

My family has known tremendous loss, there is no manual for what we have been through. And as I have said before, if there was one I wouldn’t have read it, because I was stubborn and even a little too cocky to think that it wouldn’t happen to me.

On the flip side we have been showered with overwhelming love and friendship. That love and friendship will never bring Connor back, but it truly reminds me that to fully live in this world it takes a village. None of us are an island, nor should we be. Human beings are social creatures, we are meant to lean on each other, help each other through through the rough times, and rejoice in the good times.

My village is amazing, they have held Dodge Ball Games, thrown a benefit/Birthday Party for Kyle and I. Followed me through FCTS baseball season, awards night, graduation, the dedication of the FCTS Football Stadium Lights. My village has traveled with me through good, bad and ugly, handed me tissues and held me while I cried.

The quiet behind the scenes village of my neighborhood built us a gorgeous outdoor living space with a fire pit, chairs, solar lights and flowers. A place where we can sit, reflect, toast marshmallows and remember all of Connor’s outdoor antics.

He was my fire bug, lighting the dead leaves and grass on fire. Rolling around with Cooper and being silly. When we lit of fireworks he was always the one who wanted to light them, and then run.

These memories will always make me smile, right now they make the tears flow too. But that’s what love is. Memories that leak out your eyes and down your cheeks. I wouldn’t change any of those memories for anything, I would do anything, or give anything to have him back. But no matter how hard I try it just wont happen. So I will cherish the memories I have and know that Love is what you make it and who you fill your life with.

Right from day 1 if you asked me how I was, or how Connor was (when we were still in the PICU.) I told you, I didn’t sugar coat it, I wasn’t rude, but I didn’t give anyone any false hope. I would tell you, “today is a good day, or we are stable, or today is a bad day and I am worried.”

Once our lives no longer revolved around the PICU and we were back home. I maintained my stoic attitude on the outside. On the inside I was crumbling, arranging a wake and funeral for Connor just about broke me. It made it so real, having to go to the Church and figure out where he would be buried brought a flood of tears when I didn’t think I had anymore.

If you ask me how I am I will tell you, “I’m having a rough day, and I don’t know why, or I have been crying for 2 days straight and I haven’t bothered to put makeup on.” On my good days I will tell you about those too “today is good, I’m hanging in there and I’m doing good.”

I learned early on if I wasn’t honest with people I wouldn’t get the support I needed, and there was no way I could go through this alone. By telling everyone I was fine I would be pushing them farther away and that was not something I wanted.

My dear friends have been the best of all worlds, holding me while I cried, giving me the space I need, keeping me busy, yet not crowding me. They truly are the flowers that grow in my garden of life, and I could not do this without them❤️💐.

Therapy is never easy, it always tugs at my heart and drags things to the surface that I would prefer stay buried. Today was a particularly rough session. I know intellectually that I made the right decision to remove the tubes and let Connor go. But intellectually and what my heart feels are 2 completely different things. My heart still isn’t reconciled to that fact, my heart still thinks that I failed Connor. That by not holding on for longer, by not fighting even harder for him, I took the easy way out.

I know that nothing about this was easy, it was heart wrenching and miserable. It was the decision that no parent should have to make. That is what I believe makes me question everything. To lose a child is a pain that never goes away, to be the one that made the decision to let your child go is a whole different kind of pain. As a Mom, you carry a child for 9 months and then nurture, love and raise them after that. It isn’t natural to end that nurturing by choice. Although this wasn’t a choice, it was a decision led by medical know how, second and third opinions and the knowledge that Connor would never be him again. Even having all that knowledge, doesn’t make my heart feel any better, it doesn’t soothe my wounded soul. As odd or crazy as it sounds it can make my heart and soul feel even more shattered, it pulls them in opposite directions, between the knowing and the what if.

Nothing about losing a child is easy, it doesn’t get easier after almost 10 months. I don’t know if after 10 years that will change, what I do know is that my heart n soul cry out for Connor on a daily basis, I try to answer them the best I can, but I never knew I had so many tears to cry😢

Last night was the culmination of years of hard work. FCTS now has a lighted Football Field. Connor and his fellow Electrical Shop students worked putting in those lights. Running the conduit and everything else necessary to for Tech to be able play under Friday night lights.

Unfortunately Connor wasn’t here to see them to fruition. But all the people who love him, and have supported me were there. There as Superintendent Rick Martin said “Connor will live on through those lights, and that every time we turn these lights on we will honor Connor.” My heart broke a little bit, but swelled with pride and honor all at the same time. Pride and honor because of the exceptional young man I raised. Broken because he wasn’t here to witness the fruits of his labor, because his was a life cut way too short.

Connor didn’t play Football at Tech, but he played Suburban Football and Middle School Football at Mohawk, much to the chagrin of this nervous Mom. I spent many nervous games watching through fingers over my eyes. He got bumped and bruised. Never seriously hurt. But I was glad when he chose not to play at Tech.

Instead he chose to follow his passion, Baseball and Electrical. There is no way I could be any prouder of him. It goes without saying that I wake up every morning wishing that this was a bad dream, realizing that it isn’t and there isn’t a damn thing that I can do about it. But hold onto all the memories and all the honors bestowed upon Connor and all of us.

Today Mark and I did something we haven’t done all season. We went to a Horse Pull. This one was at the Goshen Fairgrounds in CT, my old stomping grounds, so my dad joined us. We went to watch Jordan’s Dad Brad and her brother Jarred drive their Belgians “Spudsy, Ira, Bode & Morris.”

When Connor first starting dating Jordan he knew nothing about horses. He had dealt with the 2 that Shawn & Karena have next door, but only because they are next door. He grew to love the horses, the pulling ones, Jarred’s Mini’s and even Chance (Jordan’s barrel racing mustang) and he came to an understanding.

He was learning to “hitch evener” with Brad and Jarred and loving every minute of it. Jordan was less than enthused with having to share her boyfriend with her dad, but they were all one big happy horse family.

Watching Brad and Jarred, with a friend of Brad’s in Connors place today was hard. Knowing in my heart that Connor should have been hooking that hitch made me blink back tears.

A few times standing around the trailer shooting the shit, I swore I saw him out of the corner of my eye. In that S Keyes Electric shirt of his, his favorite jeans (with the holes in the pockets) the Fox hat that only left his head when he slept and his well worn Chips. But once I blinked the mirage was gone, and I was left thinking I was crazy.

I know I’m not crazy, just a mom that sees remnants of her son everywhere. In Jordan when she wears his Mohawk Football sweatshirt with his name and number in it. Our cat Precious that loved him and sleeps on his bed, like she is waiting for him to come back. And each and every one of us that is missing a piece of our heart that died with him that day.

Tonite I did something that Connor would have normally done. I took Jordan shopping for school supplies. We went to Hadley so she could get what she needed at Staples. Next stop was Hannoush Jewelers to exchange Jordan’s Alex and Ani’s ring that was missing a blue crystal, and our final stop was Sephora. Now that place is a girly girl’s paradise. Makeup and perfume and hair what nots as far as the eye can see. I left with some new perfume …Good Girl by Carolina Herrera. It smells sexy and divine.

Even the packaging is sexy, who can resist a perfume bottles to look like a stiletto pump??

The whole time we were wandering the mall, I kept thinking, Connor should be doing this, he should be helping her pick out school supplies. Knowing exactly how many binders and notebooks and packets of loose leaf paper she needs. He should be telling her that she looks perfect without makeup, and she doesn’t need waterproof mascara, that there is nothing worth crying about. But unfortunately he isn’t here, he isn’t here to entertain her with his silly antics, to spoil her with all the love he has to give her.

Instead I am a poor substitute for the young man that she loves so dearly. The young man that hung the moon in her eyes, my Connor, her Connor. The sweet, gentle, crazy guy who won her heart, and had plans to keep it for the rest of their lives.

If you have any friends with infant children I’m sure you have seen these.

The “I am However Many Months Old Blanket”. I have seen it over and over again on Facebook, and my thought is, maybe Grieving Moms need them. Although keeping track of the months and days can be obsessive, sometimes it becomes inevitable. When I write the date on a deposit slip, and all of a sudden I realize why I have been in a funk.

Tomorrow I can circle 9 on that blanket, 9 months since Connor has been gone. Some days it feels like 9 months, other times 9 years or even 9 minutes. It all depends on the day.

Earlier this week Jordan and I were laughing on the phone about him, recounting that he had many great traits, but a good sense of direction was not one of them. Connor had a terrible sense of direction, without his GPS, I’m not sure he could have gotten out of Colrain. I always was afraid I would get a call from him saying, “Mom, I’m lost, the sign says Ohio!” LOL

Tomorrow morning, I will get up, make myself a cup of coffee, and go sit in his room for a bit. I’ll have a conversation with him, albeit one-sided. Tell him how much I miss him, how this counting BS sucks and how I wish he could come back. I will cry into the pillow that still smells like him and embrace the memories that I have that allow me to put one foot in front of the other and head towards month 10.

Since November our lives have changed in so many ways. The loss of Connor being the most obvious. Kyle moved out in May and our nest became empty. Empty in a way that I wasn’t ready for. I always knew it was coming, but I thought had more time. Let me give you a hint, time goes too quick, don’t blink, because they are grown adults before you know it. Texting you with laundry and cooking questions, instead of emptying the refrigerator while your back is turned.

I started with one tattoo, an infinity piece to keep Connor on my body, because he will always be in my heart and soul. I have added 2 more, butterflies (a family of 4) following Connor as he is trailing off. And now a piece to honor all the friends that have stood with me through this. Who have held me while I ugly cried and assured me that my makeup didn’t look awful.

Mark and I have grown closer, spending our free weekends at the beach, enjoying the sun and quiet that it brings. We have spent time working on the house. Cleaning closets, working on emptying our cellar, getting rid of stuff we don’t need, and eventually painting the interior rooms. All the things that we needed to do when the kids were little and we just never got to it.

Our eventual plan is to sell this house, the house I moved into when I got engaged to Mark, the house we raised Kyle & Connor in. We had always planned to sell and move once Connor graduated from FCTS anyway. I am tired of living so far away from everything and the winters on top of this hill are brutal. Now the memories in this house are another kind of brutal. They are every where I turn, I will take the good memories with me. But I need to not be smacked in the face by them at every turn.

I know it will hurt when we move and this chapter ends, but if the loss of Connor has taught me anything. It has taught me that I am stronger than I ever thought and he will be with me forever. Those memories don’t reside in wood and nails, but in my heart and soul.

Since that fateful day in November of 2017, when my life was turned on it’s head and shaken. I have truly learned who my friends are. Some of those friendships came as no surprise to me, they were people who have been in my life for years. Other people have truly stepped up and showed me their true colors. Showed me that they are not friends that will vanish when things get hard.

Friends that will be there when I need someone to cry to on a random Tuesday because I just can’t stop crying. Friends who think dinner out on a Thursday night is the best idea. Friends that won’t let me stay home and wallow in my own pain. They use their broad shoulders to take on some of that pain with me.

Only a few of these friends have ever been through this awful loss of a child. But they have all suffered a loss of some kind. Whether it is a parent or a grandparent, a close friend or relative. Loss has touched all of their lives in some way.

Yet no one has ever said to me, ” I know what you are going through because I lost….”. They understand the loss of a child is a different loss type. It shares no components with a loss of any other kind. Your heart is broken, the mother child bond has been shattered, like a delicate China plate that someone tossed on a tile floor. No amount of Gorilla Glue will put it back together, like no amount of glue or stitches will repair my heart right now. But these friends of mine, the family that I chose, know that what I need is compassion, and love and fun, and the ability to fall apart when necessary. They give me all those things and more. They are the FRIENDS THAT GROW IN MY GARDEN OF LIFE. And I am eternally grateful for them, like wildflowers they weren’t planted. They just grow and bloom where they land, and the fact the they landed here makes me happy, and happy is what I need now.