While at camp today someone commented on my Connor/Baseball tattoo, and wanted the story on it. I opened my mouth to speak, and with the words came tears. I realize that I have been bottling it up for months.
Once the tears start it is hard to get them to stop, and along with them comes the hard reality. The reality that no matter how much I cry and whine about it. HE IS NEVER COMING BACK.
I have an awful habit of not letting people in, I donāt want to burden others with my grief. But as I stood there explaining the story, with the big fat ugly tears running down my face. I realized that not sharing it makes the pain fester
There will never be a day in the future that I wonāt miss him, and wish that things were different. It is unnatural to bury a child. There name and dates should never be on a headstone before yours. No matter how pretty the headstone is.
As Iām typing this, sitting in a comfy chair at the pavilion. Iām hoping that too many people canāt hear me sniffle, or the tears running down my face. Unlike earlier today they arenāt big ugly fat tears. But just tiny rivulets of pain streaming down my face.
Sometimes letting people in, and sharing my pain and grief with them isnāt such a bad thing. It temporally unburdens my heart, and makes me realize that Iām not alone. Now if I wasnāt so stubborn and did it more often, maybe the scabs on my heart wud get a chance to form. This is a hurt that will never heal, but maybe I cud get it to abate a little.
This has been a rough month. This ankle break has given me time, time to think and reflect about the last 5+ years. First I lost Connor, then Steve, then the shuttering of Keyes Electric, then the accident that sent me flying through the air. Flipped four times after being rear ended, walked away bruised and bumped with a severe concussion. Then the klutz that I am, fell in the garage and ended up like this.
When the boys were little, the thought of spending a week in bed being waited on was an unattainable dream. To just lay there, read, sleep, watch tv (all the things on the ID channel that I love,) Well all those things have happened, Mark has been on meal detail since this has happened. I have only gotten up to go to the bathroom, get a shower in and in the last week work from my dining room table and sometimes move to sit in the living room.
I am BORED, I have read 10 books, my Apple Watch says that I have a serious sleep credit, I have streamed everything I can find that I might like. But one thing hasnāt changed. I miss Connor, and all this āleisureā time has given me time to think about it.
There will not be a day, until I am out in the ground next to him that I wonāt miss him. When Iām watching Law & Order:SVU I miss him laughing at the āheinousā crime intro and calling an aneous crime. Saying āmom is watching weird murder crap again.ā
When I flip through all my streaming services I come across things he would be watching, FORGED IN FIRE, JACKASS, DEADLIEST CATCH, STREET OUTLAWS, THE ENTIRE FAST & FURIOUS SERIES, & MOONSHINERS. They make me smile, and there are always some tears shed. In my head I can hear his commentary, and him on the phone with Jordan.
I swear sometimes I hear his laughter from from his bedroom. I know it isnāt real (but that doesnāt mean I havenāt opened the door to check.) But all I find are the memories of him, his Hard Hat from Tech, signed by his classmates, the Eversource Hard Hat that they dropped off the day of the funeral. The pictures that he took of him and Jordan. His ski and baseball gear, and all the crap that a teen boy collects.
People have told me that I need to clean out his room, that keeping it as a shrine isnāt healthy. But in my mind, once I clear it out, that means he is NEVER coming back. I know in my head he is never coming back, but my heart just canāt get there yet. Iām not sure if it ever will.
I know it has been a hot minute since I have posted. So I will update you on the changes in my life. I have a new job at All States Material Group, as the A/R Supervisor. It is a huge change from what I am used to. Policies, procedures, red tape and only being responsible for A/R.
In all of my previous jobs I was responsible for all of it A/R, A/P, Payroll, HR, scheduling. As my dad always says āchief cook and bottle washer.ā It is truly a step outside of my comfort zone.
The Post Concussive Symptoms arenāt diminishing like I hoped. Headaches, dizziness, nausea, thermoregulation issues, extreme exhaustion, vision issues., anxiety, memory issues, brain fog, sleep issues, either I canāt sleep, or I am so exhausted I canāt get out of my own way. All of these impact my daily life, as well as my work performance. On a daily basis I question my ability to do my job effectively, to supervise correctly, and to be part of the Accounting Team.
Last week I had a meltdown, I used to be able to remember everything, hell I still remember Keyes Electricās bank account number. Now I have to write everything down, even the smallest detail so I can work effectively. I cried, actually sobbed for the loss of the person I used to be.
When that lady rear ended me and sent me flying and flipping, she took away the life I used to have. I am angry, sad, and frustrated. I want my life back, the life that was stolen from me, due to her negligence.
I refuse to throw myself a pity party, but a pity day every now and then seems to be in order. Between the loss of Connor, the loss of Steve, and this accident I feel like I have paid my dues. I am at my limit, I canāt handle anymore. Too much grief, sadness and life changes for 1 woman to handle.
The phrase āGod only gives you what you can handle.ā Well I am at my limit, I canāt handle anymore, my broad shoulders are tired and bowing a bit. The grief that hits out of nowhere, the realization that in November Connor will be gone 5 years, the Facebook Memories showing the last first day picture I took of him, with his precious car, and the expression that said āare you done yet, why do we have to do this Mom?ā
I am grateful for these last set of pictures, grateful for all the memories of the fun times. But I am tired of all the emotions. In the words of Chris Young, āI gotta say, missing you comes in waves, and tonite Iām drowning.ā I need the waves to calm down and not be 100 feet tall every 10 seconds, give me a chance to catch my breath in between.
Last weekend was a rough one, to say the least. Mark and I put up the Christmas Tree, something that the boys and I normally did. This is the 3rd tree that I have put up without Connor. Jordan came to help one year and Kyle normally helps, but due to the fact that he is working in towns that are considered COVID RED ZONES. He is doing his best to limit his exposure to me, I am high risk due to my asthma and he is doing the right thing, but grr it sucks.
We have an artificial tree, a nice one, but still artificial. I am deathly allergic to real ones. The last time I had a real tree I was a freshman in College, my dad was sure I had āoutgrownā the allergy, I spent 90% of the day in the Formal Living room. As far away as possible from the tree. That night my mom took me to the ER, on the way out the door she said to my dad āthat tree needs to be gone when we get backā. When we got home, the tree was in the snow bank, with all its lights, tinsel and decorations on it, he listened in his own way, lol.
To make artificial trees look real each branch needs to be arranged and fluffed. It is a time consuming project, that normally ends in laughter and Christmas stories. This year it was Mark and i fluffing, with me telling him how to do it, and him telling me it was fine. Even though there were sections of the tree with huge holes because the branches were matted flat.
This is how we used to put the top on a 9ft tree
Then came the lights, even though this is a pre-lit tree (with white/clear lights). I also put 8 strands of multi colored LED lights on it as well. I have a system, we start at the bottom, running around the tree evenly. With each layer spread equidistant apart. None of this on an angle shit!! I spent a lot of time re-doing what Mark did.
After the lights came the beads, I gave up tinsel a long time ago. With pets in this house, that eat it..and what goes in must come out. You get the pictureš¤Ŗš¤Ŗ. Just like the lights, there is a system for the beads. The long ones get draped along the branches, much like the lights. The short ones get tossed onto the tree, think Mardi Gras and the tree is the people you are tossing the beads to. All of this needs to be artfully done, so it doesnāt look like a toddler did it.
Once that is done, then and only then can we add the ornaments. This year all the fancy breakable ones will stay in a box. Only the un breakable ones make the cut. Jezebel is already chewing on the branches, a good glass ornament..aah I think not.
Not this years tree.. ornaments arenāt up. A tree from previous years
Have you ever done something that was terribly hard when you did it, but you knew in the depths of your soul that it was the right thing to do? I have done it twice, the first time 3 years ago when we made the decision to turn off Connorās machines, and just now when I made the decision to stay home for this holiday season.
That is the way I feel about Thanksgiving this year, we normally spend it in Connecticut with my parents. The last time we didnāt join them for this holiday was the year that Connor died. 2017, as far as I was concerned that Holiday Season could have just disappeared. That year we spent Thanksgiving with Markās boss John in Southwick, MA. We had prime rib, and all sorts of great sides. I drank way too much wine, and John introduced me to the cheesiness of Hallmark Christmas Movies.
In the depths of my soul I know that going to CT to spend Thanksgiving with my parents during this worldwide COVID-19 pandemic isnāt smart or safe. My mom suffers from MS, and has for 38 years, my dad has recently been diagnosed with A-Fib, add my asthma to the mix and it isnāt safe for any of us.
Just because I know that this is the right decision doesnāt make it any easier. My parents and my brother are my rock. They have held me up, when my legs were too wobbly to stand on my own. They have given me the confidence that I will make it through this overwhelming loss. That no one walks through this valley of death by themselves.
I know this is the right decision, as hard as it is. It will be the same decision that we make for Christmas. These are holidays, holidays that we usually spend together. But I have learned the value of loss in the past 3 years, and I want the rest of my family to be here for these holidays next year.
So this year we will spend them here in Colrain, and when we get a vaccine and it is safe. We will have a hell of a bash, be it Easter or sometime in the summer.
Just when I think I have this grief well in hand (yes I should know better, it always bites me.) Something sneaks up and grabs me out of nowhere. Today was one of those days, if it wasnāt songs on the radio. Damn Hardy and their tear provoking songs, followed by Chris Young and Drowning.
As I was driving down Main Street in Greenfield, there was a man getting ready to cross the crosswalk by where Wilsonās used to be. That man could have been Steveās twin. Navy blue t-shirt, khaki shorts, and eyes glued to his iPhone. My eyes said..Thatās Steve!!!, my heart said..OMG!! He is right there..but my brain said NO, that isnāt him..you know it isnāt!!
Then as I pulled into Stop & Shop today my heart nearly stopped. There in the parking lot in front of me was a young man that could have been Connorās twin. Blue t-shirt, faded jeans, half-tied Chippewa Boots and a Black Fox Hat.
I parked my car, and followed him into the grocery store. Once I stopped to pick up a head of cauliflower, and then looked back up he was gone. Like he was a figment of my imagination to begin with. But I know he wasnāt, I know he existed, I saw him, as plain as day, heard his boots make that unmistakable sound as they clunked on the linoleum floor.
My eyes said..Thatās Connor, my heart said..OMG!! He is right there..but my brain said NO, that isnāt him..you know it isnāt!!
I knew that this āphantomā young man wasnāt āmy Connorā. Just someone that looked eerily like him, enough so that I thought there was a ghost in Stop & Shop with me.
Some days there are just no explanations for what we see or feel. Just that it hurts, I am not naive enough to think that the pain will ever stop. I just live for the days that I can keep it far enough at bay that I donāt end up bawling in my car in the Stop & Shop Parking Lot. Today was not one of those days, but maybe tomorrow will be.
PTSD is a funny creature, just when you think that you have it under control. Something comes out of the blue to shake your world up and dispel you of that notion completely. We are never really in control, we may think we are, but it is an illusion, a fantasy if you will. We cling to that fantasy like a life raft, when in all reality we need to let it go, and understand that we are just along for the ride.
Last Wednesday I was running errands, minding my own business, checking things off my to-do list one by one. My monthly waxing appointment in Florence, pick up prescriptions at Walgreens, get Cat Litter for the picky babies, get my car inspected in Buckland then go back to Greenfield and have Sheila the Nail Goddess fix my nails.
So TRUE!!
As the phrase goes āThe road to hell is paved with good intentions.ā I accomplished everything but the car inspection and getting my nails done. I was driving up Route 2, minding my own business, headed to Mohawk Repair so that Keith Alletson could inspect my car.
This sure feels like HELLš„
As I approached the intersection of State Street (on my left). I began to turn, and that is when all hell broke loose.
I was rear ended by a car traveling at a high rate of speed. My car began to roll, I remember the first roll, but thatās it. The brain blocks out things that it doesnāt want us to remember. When I came to, my car was back on its wheels, there was a man in a yellow safety vest knocking on the windshield, all of the side curtain airbags had deployed, and there was glass everywhere.
I donāt think she will pass inspection now
I unlocked the door as he requested, and they scooted me out under the airbag, telling me that EMS was on their way. They carried me to the grass, and I asked them to call my husband. He came blowing up to the scene in less than 2 minutes.
If any of you know me personally, you know I donāt drive a vehicle or even ride in one without my sunglasses on. The force of this accident shot my sunglasses off my face, and my flip flops off my feet!
Sunglasses and Flip Flops..never leave home without them
EMS arrived, collared me, put me on a gurney and transported me to the hospital. Markās arm was all torn up from getting all my personal effects out of the car, and the kitty litter that I put in the back hatch, ended up in the backseat on the floor.
At Baystate Franklin I was Ultrasounded, and CAT Scanned from head to hip. I sustained a concussion, bruising and soft tissue injuries, scattered like an accident road map, up and down my body.
But worse than any of the physical injuries, I feel like emotionally I am back where I was when Connor died. All the hard work I have done to get to where I was on 7/28/2020 has been stripped away. In one swipe, by a careless driver, who wasnāt paying attention.
3 of us in happier times
The questions keep running through my head, questions that I donāt have any answers to, but they are on a repeat loop, nonetheless.
1. Why did I walk away from my accident and Connor didnāt walk away from his
2. Why didnāt we buy him a safer/newer car? One that had all the newest airbags and safety technology.
3. Was he riding with me (I always think he is) and did he save me and decide that it wasnāt time for me to come visit him yet?
4. I wish I had answers to these questions, but I also know that some questions just donāt get answers. Asking them is fruitless and painful.
My handsome Connor
What I do know is that physically my 2018 Nissan Rogue saved my life. My poor baby took the impact of the accident and crumpled like she was supposed to. Unfortunately there is no way for my brain to easily un-crumple after thatt accident. It will take time, hard work and therapy to put Humpty Dumptyās pieces emotional pieces back together again.
31 months and 1 day, and it doesnāt get any easier. There are days that hurt like hell. Days where it feels like my heart is breaking into a thousand tiny shards. Like someone broke a Pyrex dish and there is no way to put me back together again. There are other days that the hurt is just a dull ache, but it is always there in one way shape or form.
The day that Jordan graduated was terribly hard, it was a day that I had dreaded since Connor āgraduatedā in 2018. I knew what his plan was for her graduation. To meet her at the bottom of the stage, in that silly yellow rain suit, ring in hand and ask her the most important question of a lifetime.
The infamous yellow suit
That would never happen, no rain suit, no ring, no question of a lifetime. For the members of FCTS Class of 2020 they were frustrated that they couldnāt have a ānormalā non Covid Graduation. I on the other hand, was relieved, there was no place for my mind to hide him. Although I knew he would of found a way, because it was Jordan, and he would do anything for her. His love was strong, deep and everlasting.
Jordan 2020 Graduation
Unfortunately his life was not, here I sit just over 31 months later trying to figure out how to put all the pieces back together. In some semblance of order. But no matter how hard I try they just wonāt line up, and no amount of super glue will keep them together. So I just do the best that I can to go one day at a time, and know that tears are good, love is eternal and grief is the price that you pay for love.
A Hole in My Heart 