Grief and Life after Loss

Earlier today, I shared a post on Facebook about grief and losing friends after a loss.  It could describe my life to a tee.  Some people used Luke's accident and death to make themselves look good, while they were there for the kids and me in the hospital, then quickly disappeared again, and others have just stopped talking to me, and others have tried to get closer so they can be in the know, or to make themselves look good or feel better about themselves.  There has been a small, core group of people who have truly been there for me.  They have dealt with my tears, my mood swings and my crazy ramblings.  I am incredibly grateful for them.

However, I am getting the feeling that they think I should be "Over it" by now.  After all, Luke has been gone for over a year now.  We have been through all is first milestone's.  There should not be any more bad days.  Or they should be few and far between.  When I am having a bad time, it is an excuse to get out of something.

Here's the thing. I am NOT over losing my baby boy.  I will NEVER get over it.  I know from experience, the pain will lessen, it will become more bearable and I will be able to breathe on a regular basis.  But that will take years.  Even then, there will still be days that take my breath away.  The day his class graduates high school, when Jon and Katie get married, have babies, other life events where there is a hole where Luke should be.  

There are still days when it is like a sucker punch to the gut.  Days when the grief becomes too much to bear, when I can barely pull myself from the bed, much less walk to the living room or beyond.  I don’t know what else to say except until you have walked a day in my “Ugly Shoes”, don’t judge my grief.

Ugly Shoes

A Pair of Shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them.


I get funny looks wearing these shoes. They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.


To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.


Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think
about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.


Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

366 Days

That is how many days have passed since I buried my youngest son.  366 days ago, I stood at my dad's grave and watched Luke's body be lowered into the ground.  It is 370 days since Luke took a breath. I can no longer say, "This time last year, Luke..."  This time last year I was still in shock that I had buried my baby.  This time last year, I called the kids in from playing and hollered, "Katie, Johnny, Luke... time to come in."  As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized what I said.  That has happened a few times since.

My plan was to take the first 10 days of August off and focus on Jon and Katie and grieve Luke. Unfortunately, life got in the way of that, and we were busier than we were the entire summer.

I sense Luke often, silly things happen, doors won't shut, volume goes up and down.  The kids are convinced Luke is still here causing mischief.  But I know he is in heaven with Jesus and his grandpa and papaw.  But it is nice to think he comes and visits sometimes.

School starts in 3 days for the kids.  I am not looking forward to the first day.  This was Jon and Luke's last year together at Okolona.  Next year, I was supposed to have a child in elementary, middle and high school.  This new normal really stinks.