Ebb and Flow of Grief

Recently I was told I needed to schedule my grief. Or, more specifically, I needed to set aside time everyday to cry for Luke.  I wasn't sure how to take that piece of advice.  As I look over the last 15 months since Luke died, I can see a huge improvement in how I have handled things.  In the beginning, it took everything I had to get out of bed every day and go to work or do anything around the house.  We ate a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches and mac and cheese.  The kids did the laundry and took out the garbage.  I didn't go back to work until after the kids went back to school, although school for me started the week after Luke’s funeral.

The waves of grief were overwhelming.  At any moment, I would not be able to breath, the weight of the entire world would rest on my chest, the tears would flow; there was no stopping it.  Anything and nothing would trigger these episodes.  It was a horrible way to live.  A week before I was scheduled to go back to work, I got a call on a Sunday morning that the dispatcher scheduled didn't show up, could I come in to work.  I went in, relishing the feeling of the normalcy of work.  Nothing at work changed, the techs were the same, the work was the same, I was alone in the office with the phones and computers.  The day was going fine until I started missing Luke and picked up the phone to call home and talk to him.  The breathlessness and tears came in full force.

Since then, the days of not being able to breathe and the tears have slowly decreased, instead of a few times a day, to once or twice a month.  There are still times that hit me unexpectedly, seeing little boys that are Luke’s age or that look like him.  Seeing a picture or status about him on Facebook or Time Hop.

Now I cry on the way to work, if I get to leave work early, I head to the cemetery before going home and have long talks and tears with his headstone.   I cry before going to bed, silent tears as I get ready, sometimes on more difficult days, sobbing in the shower.

The last week was bad, getting ready for Christmas and missing Luke.  The feeling of despair was weighing heavy on my heart.  I wanted to crawl in a hole and die most days.  It took everything I had to get out of bed and function.  I have noticed it is the days leading up to a holiday, anniversary or other special day that are harder to deal with than the actual day itself.  Last week was our Christmas party at work.  Even though Luke wouldn't have been a part of that in any way, except maybe helping decorate cookies, it was a hard day.  My secret Santa gave me an ornament for each of my kids, including Luke.  That brought on a fresh wave of tears, not only did she remember him, she included him.

There are good days, days when I can laugh, when the kids have fun and are kids again. When the world isn't so dark and dreary, have glimpses of light and air. Days my every thought is not consumed with the loss of my sweet baby boy.

I started this post a few days before Christmas.  On Christmas day, I woke up feeling like a weight had been lifted off of me.  The craziness of the Christmas season was over, I was able to sit back and enjoy my family and our day. 

I have not had so many bad days, but I have had some wild dreams.  Some include Luke, some don’t.  The ones that don't leave me shaking my head, sending a tech to Africa to install cable only to have him get lost while I watched his truck drive along the ocean border. So I hopped a plane and road a pig to find him…

There are still days when I can’t catch my breath or thinking about one thing starts a chain reaction of thoughts and memories that leave me in a puddle. 

We are short-staffed at work right now, so everyone is working more hours and more days, leaving us all on edge.  The lack of sleep and time off isn't helping any. I need to replenish the tissue supply more often than ever right now.

K stepped on glass the other night, bleeding all over my house.  It was obvious fairly quickly that she needed to be seen, so off we went to the nearest hospital instead of Children’s where Luke spent his last hours.  I thought everything was OK until she started crying, having flashbacks of the PICU with Luke.  She spilled her heart as we talked about what could have been and what we could have done differently.  It was a hard lesson in hindsight being 20/20.  We had a good talk about God, and how He knows our entire lives before we are ever born.

The kids and I are surviving; there are more good days than bad days.  But there is still a huge hole in our lives.  That will never change.

So goes the ebb and flow of my grief…..

Christmas

Two thousand years ago, God sent his only Son to save a sinful world.  Mary gave birth to a baby boy who would one day save her soul.  God knew on the cold, lonely night that one day, His baby boy would die with the sins of the world on his shoulders. But he still allowed Mary and Joseph to raise that little boy, to love and care for him with all they had.

Eight years ago, I had a baby boy whom I love with all my heart.  I cared for him, kept him safe and healthy.  I kissed his boo-boo’s and brushed his hair, just a Mary did for Jesus.  Mary had Jesus for 33 years, before watching him take his last breath.  I had Luke for 7 years, before cradling him while he took his last breaths.

I firmly believe Jesus met Luke in the water.  He held my baby boy and kept him from being afraid.  I KNOW  Luke is with Jesus now, planning a huge birthday party for the King of Kings.  I am pretty sure Luke is trying to convince Christ to have spaghetti and chocolate cake for his birthday party, maybe even spaghetti taco’s.

Merry Christmas baby boy, give Jesus a birthday hug for me and please don’t try to give him birthday spankings!  I know you can count that high, that’s not the point.

Thanksgiving

I tried posting this last week, but Blogger and I weren't getting along.  So I am trying again.

Thanksgiving.  We made it through our second Thanksgiving without you here begging for the Witch bone.  This year wasn't nearly as hard as last year… the girls at work have been super excited about the holiday, spending time with family and of course the food.  It was easier to get excited about being off work and spending the day at home with J and K and your grandma.  We all ate dinner together, and of course ate way too much turkey.  I have been thinking about how 

Thankful I am for the seven years I got to be your mama.  You were my surprise baby, and you kept me on my toes.

I am thankful for the nights you slept in my bed, snuggling your hard head in my ribs or smacking me in the face.  I miss your bed head in the morning and your squeaky voice saying in a sing song way, “Good morning Mama.” 

I am thankful that you still wrote on the walls, the doors, the furniture and the scarecrow.  I still have all that “artwork” to remind me of you.

I am thankful for the dirty corner wall where you spent your time-outs, the nose and forward prints are your growth chart.

I am thankful for all your footie jammies, especially the ones I had to cut the feet out of so you didn't break your collarbone trying to wear them.

I am thankful for Austin and Mario, I snuggle them every night.

I am thankful for my last conversation with Thelma about your last days. Her theory is you came back that Saturday night, Jesus met you in the water and took you to heaven, but then He sent you back for the next day and a half.  You were here with me, you heard me say, “I love you baby.” You felt me kissing your hands and rubbing your arms and face.  You felt me brushing your hair and kissing your head and nose.  You heard your brother and sister at your bedside telling you they love you and encouraging you to wake up.

I am thankful that all of us know Jesus and have accepted him into our lives.  I am thankful that you are with Him and that one day we will all be together again. (The sooner the better.)

I love you bubberbutt!  I can’t wait until I can kiss your face again. 

Haven't you moved on yet?

It has been 15 months since Luke died.  15 months since I hugged and kissed my baby boy.  To say a lot has happened in the time would be a gross understatement.  To say life has been hard would be like trying to fill a bucket with an eye dropper.  We have all changed.  J, K, and I are different than we were 14 months ago.  We still get up every morning; we still go to school and work.  The kids play, bills are paid and the cats are fed.  Sometimes, everything is done all on the same day. 

I have started to hear, it’s been a year already, aren’t you over it yet?  You can’t use Luke as an excuse the rest of your life, you need to get over it and move on.  You have to start living again.  Life goes on… the kids need…. (Whatever the person decides the kids need.)

So here is my reply to “Aren’t you over it yet?”  No, I am not over losing Luke.  No, my kids aren’t over losing their baby brother.  We will never “Get Over It.”   If you lost your arm in an accident tomorrow, would you ever “Get Over It?”  I don’t know, but I do know you will have a part of you missing for the rest of your life.  You will learn to do things with your other arm, you will probably become very efficient at living life with just one arm, but there will always be a part of you missing.  There will be times when you forget about that missing arm and try to use it. Then the pain and knowledge of the missing limb will hit you life a punch in the gut.   There will be times you would give anything to have that arm back, even if just for a few minutes.

I didn’t lose my arm, I lost my child.  The child I carried inside of me for 9 months, the child I rocked to sleep, the child I caught when he would hold his breath until he passed out.  The little boy who would hide in cabinets, text me while standing in front of me, launch himself into my arms from across the room, the snuggle bunny who wanted to hear Jack and the Beanstalk before bed, and then tell me he was too scared to sleep alone.

This amazing little boy was ripped from our lives.  There was no long lingering illness; there wasn’t knowledge that he would be living this world after a just seven short years.  I talked to him on the phone, told him I loved him and would see him the next day. 30 minutes later, he was gone.

So as hard as I try to keep life going for my two living kids and myself, as hard as I try not to use Luke as an excuse for a bad day, for the kids misbehavior, for the constant stomach ache and short temper, it is because my baby died. 

I know teachers are tired of hearing me explain what my kids have been through in the last 15 months, and I don’t want the kids to use Luke as an excuse for poor school performance and bed behavior.  I don’t want to use Luke as an excuse for missing work and trouble concentrating.  But sometimes, that is what it is.  Sometimes, like now, there is no amount of deep breathing, going to a happy place or breathing in a bag that can stop the tears and not being able to catch our breath. 

I still haven’t figured out how to live life without Luke.

Friday Night

Tom came.  On Friday night, after K asked to see her dad, he came.  My mom was here, Thelma (one of our new therapists, she picked Thelma from Thelma and Louise.) J was here.  It was awkward, tense and stressful.

He sat in the corner of the living room, I sat in my chair, K, grandma and Thelma sitting on the couch.  K tried and tried pushing his buttons, trying to get some kind of reaction.  Telling him of the last year, how hard things have been, how much she has struggled.  He sat, nodded and smiled.  There was no reaction.

J talked, played on his dad's phone and told him about his last year.  He skirted over the hard stuff.

The tension kept getting thicker.  The kids were sent outside to play.  Grandma went first.  18 years of words bottled up for so long were finally let loose.  Lines were drawn, the gauntlet thrown down.  When the steam ran out, I started.  While you have destroyed our family twice now, you go about your business, living your life like nothing has happened.  I am left to pick up the pieces, to put our kids back together again.  I blame myself for Luke's accident, J blames himself, K blames herself.  What responsibility do you take?  Excuses, might as well be crickets.  More excuses, no responsibility.  I am not surprised.  K appears indifferent, but I know her heart is breaking.  She wants to be a daddy's girl, and I have failed her in that.  I gave her a dad who has no idea what a precious gift she truly is.  J only knows how to relate to him with sports, but J is not a sports person.  Remind Tom of that.... anger seethes, face turns red, hands yank on fingers and pants.  Nothing has changed.  Nothing will ever change.

Have you been to Luke's grave?  Have you seen his stone?  If you are going to see it before it gets dark, you should leave now.

Kids in hives, stress of the weekend finally coming out.  Not able to say what needed to be said, manifests itself in their little bodies.

I can tell my kids all day and night dad is not going to change, he will always be like that.  But they will have to learn it for themselves.  I won't keep them from a relationship, but the rules have changed.

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.

10 Months

It has been almost 10 months since you left baby boy.  That means it has also been almost a year since you ran across the room and threw yourself in my arms.  
There are no words to say how much I miss you little man. Some days it hurts to breathe, it takes everything I have to get up and get out of bed.  To cook supper and take care of your brother and sister.  It is so unfair that life keeps going on without you.  Doesn't the world know my baby boy is gone and everything should stop and wait with baited breath until Jesus comes back and I get to see you again?

School gets out in a few weeks, you should be finishing up the second grade and getting ready for the third grade.  I can't believe you would have been in the third grade in August!  The time since you were born has gone so fast.  I can only hope it continues to keep speeding along, the sooner I get old, the sooner I get to see you.

I love you so much Lukie!

May 8, 2014

     On May 8, 2014, Jonathan, Katie, Grandma and I celebrated Luke's 8th birthday by putting new flowers in the vase and releasing 8 bright, colorful balloons at his grave.  We left 2 Mylar balloons he would have loved.  I attached cards to the balloons we released and asked people to come here and put their first name and city and state where they found the balloon.  The pictures are out of order because I uploaded them from my phone at the cemetery.

  It is my hope all 8 balloon are found and counted here.

Luke's Balloons

If you found a Balloon with this website on it, please let us know in the comments where you found it. Then take a moment to read about our LukiePie.

Thank you!

Happy Birthday Handsome

 Eight years ago on May 8, 2006, Luke Christopher Bernard Zimmerman was born screaming via emergency c-section.  The nurses who cleaned him up and checked his apgars jokingly asked if we had signed him up for Kindergarten yet.  My baby was 9lbs, 8 oz and 21 inches long.  He was a BIG boy!

 

 

 Katie and Jonathan both fell in love with their new little brother instantly.

He became Katie's baby and Jonathan's best friend.  Life with Luke was never boring,

Hiding in Cabinets

Robots out of Toy boxes

Hot wiring a Little Tikes Car

Heatwave 2012/Soccer Camp

Spaghetti his favorite meal

Last year, my baby boy turned 7.  This was the last birthday he would celebrate here on earth.  He finally received his coveted Nintendo 3DS and as a joke, eye patches for his lazy eye.  We went out to eat and came home where all three kids devoured his HotWheels birthday cake.

A few months later, he thought it was hilarious to text me from Jonathan's hand-me-down cell phone while standing in front of me.

Life with Lukie

This is the letter I wrote for Pastor Scott to read at Luke's Memorial Service.  It started off as a letter to Luke and ended up being a letter to Scott.

Luke, from the day you were finally born I think you have been holding on to this world by a thread.  Life was certainly never boring after you came along.  Between the passing out from holding your breath, to the getting stuck in anything and everything you could put all or some of your tiny body into, you kept me on my toes.  There is so much I want to say, but I can’t find the words.

Living with Luke was trying to contain a tornado.  He didn't do anything in slow motion.  He was smart, he could do brain teasers that exhausted me, he has the memory of a steel trap, the determination of Luke.  He was going to get what he wanted and he would wheel and deal and bargain until you gave up out of frustration or confusion.  He was full of life and love.  So much love that last year he was naming the ants on the sidewalk and bringing them in because they were his friends.  He wanted everyone and everything to like him.  After a week at VBS where the theme was New York, New York, the Big Apple, he was going to live there when he grew up.  He was also going to build a great big house for him and me, but Jonathan and Katie had to live in the backyard because they were too messy.

He always had a hug, usually preferring to run across the room and jump into my arms before giving me my hug, and then repeating several times.  Bath time was pretty fun, Elmo tablets and whatever toys or cats he could sneak into the tub.  Reminding me to pat his butt if I forgot. .  He loved to snuggle up next to me in the chair or in the bed and beg for a bedtime story, to have his head rubbed or both.  He always wanted to hear Jack and the Beanstalk, then tell me he was too scared to go sleep in his bed.  And I fell for it every time.  After we were in bed, I had to sing to him, but not all the words. I could sing, “I love you Lukiepie, I love you my…” and he would have to say the next words.  It was like that for every SINGLE verse.  Then he would hug my neck, say, “I love you Mama.” and snuggle down deep.

When he turned six last year, I made a big deal about how he was such a big boy now.  He said, “Mama,” in that exasperated high pitch six year old voice, “I will always be your baby bubberbutt.” 

Last year, he has his first trip to Build A Bear where he made his dog Austin.  Austin was then a mainstay in our home, replacing all the Webkinz that were carried around, operated on and given baths.  He loved that dog, making sure to put a seatbelt on him every time we were in the van and sneaking him to school in his backpack.

Luke was my baby, my light and breath, but he is Jonathan’s best friend.  Jonathan takes his role as big brother very seriously.  He protected Luke on the first days of school in kindergarten and first grade, he made sure he had breakfast at school and didn’t leave his backpack in the van.  He was there when Luke went to Chess Club the first time and practiced with him at home so he played better.  They were looking forward to both being on the stacking team at school this year.  Nobody could make Jonathan as crazy as Luke would, but in the next breath, they would be hugging snuggled together reading a book or playing a game.  To Luke, Jonathan was more important than peanut butter and bacon!  And those were pretty important to Luke.

Occasionally we would buy lottery tickets if the jackpot was big enough.  That meant we had tickets to check the next time we went to Kroger.  One day we had the Powerball number.  Only the Powerball number and won a few dollars.  That didn’t keep Luke and Jonathan from screaming, “We WON the Power Ball!!” in the middle of Kroger’s, garnering several interested looks from strangers.  I thought we might get mugged for $7.00.

Katie would babysit while I was at work.  I would get phone calls from Luke hiding in the bathroom to “Tell on” Katie.  He was very matter of fact on the phone and would call several times a shift, “Just to see when you are coming home.  And can I play on the computer? And can you bring me some food?  Katie won’t feed me.”  It was always fun to let my co-workers hear those messages.

We had several conversations about God, and Jesus and Heaven.  Luke knew he had two brothers that went to heaven before they were born and his grandpa in the ground went to heaven when Mama was a little girl.  Last summer, Luke prayed for Jesus to be his savior and prayed the sinner’s prayer.  So I know he is there with family gone before waiting for us to meet him there.  I can only pray it is sooner rather than later.

Luke loved when all of his family was around, he was always asking to go see Aunt Mary and Uncle John, to go see Grandma and the dogs.  Can they come over here?  Why do they have to work?  They don’t need money, they can live with us!

He had an answer for everything.  Except where his shoes where, why there was a peanut butter jar under the bed or milk in the closet.  He didn’t know who wrote Luke on the bathroom door or colored the white cat pink.  Heavy Sigh, “Ok mama, it was me…  But I can give him a bath!!”

Luke loved to clean, especially dust.  And if he couldn’t find the Pledge, he would use the butter flavored Pam.  On the TV.  And the wooden TV cabinet. But give him a Magic Eraser and the walls would shine.  So would the mirrors, windows, and cat.

There is so much more to Luke, his smile and laughter that lite up a room.  His strange sense of humor and dry humor.  He was too old for his age.

As Luke crossed over into the arms of Jesus, he was surrounded by the love and support of family.  They stood guard, surrounding us like an army of angels protecting us and giving us their strength.  I was able to hold Bub on my lap, snuggled in my arms while he took his last breaths and let go of the cord holding him to earth and me.  Several years ago, I was in a worship service and saw God’s angels kneeling in the aisles, wings folded, and swords in their sheaths.  Monday morning, I saw angels in GiGi, Sammy, Timmy, Uncle Sherry and Aunt Lee, Jenn, Grandma, Jonathan and Katie.  It could not have been more peaceful or beautiful.  Luke Christopher Bernard Zimmerman was born into this world on Monday May 8, 2006.  He left this world and went to heaven on Monday August 5, 2013.

Give your grandpa and papaw and brothers a hug for me and say hi to all the Spals and PALC kids for me.  I miss you baby boy.

What do you say?

What do you say to a parent who has lost a child? You say, “Hi.” You say you say, “I have been thinking about you.”  “I have been thinking about your child.” You ask about other family members. You listen when I talk about my child. You cry with me, and you aren't afraid of my tears. Sometimes crying with someone else is just the release I need. You laugh when I tell stories of my baby.  My son was a very smart and funny little boy and not a day goes by something does not remind me of a Luke story.  You say his name.