I make people uncomfortable.

I make people uncomfortable.  I.  Make.  People.  Uncomfortable.  My life or my situation makes people uncomfortable.  I am the mother of a lost child.  I am the mother of a child who died too young.  If it can happen to me, it can happen to other people.

People are scared to talk to me about my child who died.  They are afraid they will make me cry.  They are afraid they will cry.  Maybe my loss reminds them of a loss they have had in their lives, something hidden and buried and tries to break free when reminded of my loss.

Maybe they don’t know what to say, afraid of saying the wrong thing, so they say nothing.  They ignore posts on social media, they pretend nothing has changed.

This past weekend was Luke’s 9^th birthday and Mother’s Day.  It was a rough weekend.  A friend, “C” actually shared a Facebook Post about talking to grieving moms, she said it helped her to see that saying anything is actually comforting and helpful. You can read the article here. This is how to stop the world 

I have an amazing group of online friends I met years ago in a group called Spals.  They have called, send cards and flowers and checked in regularly to make sure the kids and I are OK.  They remember every holiday and anniversary.  They too are mothers of kids in heaven.  After we graduated from Spals, most of us not planning on having any more Spals babies, we kept in touch by a new e-mail group and now by Facebook and texting.  There have even been a few “Surprise” babies.  It is hard to believe I have known some of these women for 15 years!  They even forgive (I hope) my lack of communication when I just can’t talk about things and my rambling, long confusing posts when there is no one else to talk to.

I spent part of the weekend being sad and frustrated more people in my off-line life didn’t recognize Lukie’s b-day.  It seemed besides “C”, everyone who posted or said or did something to remember Luke has lost a child in one manner or the other.

Today it occurred to me that maybe the people whom I was disappointed in were hurting too.  Maybe my loss, maybe Luke’s dying reminded them of something they have buried so deep they don’t even realize it is still hurting.  They deal with my hurt by ignoring it, brushing it under the rug, going on with life as usual because to acknowledge my pain would be the catalyst that brought their own pain rushing back to the surface.

To everyone who acknowledged Luke’s birthday Friday, Thank You!  To the people who find it too hard to think about….. I am truly sorry for your pain.  I pray you find the strength to deal with whatever is hurting you.

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. 

Sharing the loot (Picture heavy)

My current goal in life is to make Thelma cry, and type 65 words a minute.  Making Thelma cry seems to be easier. So, here goes nothing. J

Friday night, J went Trick or Treating by himself.  This was probably his last year to go, so we hit every house we could for 90 minutes.  He got quite a load of candy, Thank you neighbors!

But he also got quite a few Reese Cups.  Since they were Luke's all-time favorite candy (man, were is hard to write), we took them to the cemetery yesterday so he could share with Luke.  (I think that is the most unnatural sentence I have ever written.)

Here are a few pics from the visit.

Trick or Treat

Today J woke up sick, and I was happy.  A sick kid meant I didn't have to deal with Halloween.  But by the afternoon, he was better and thinking about his costume.  He finally decided to be a Zombie Soccer Goalie with an Easter bag from Kroger to use to carry his loot.  I did a pretty good job on his make up if I do say so myself!

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But then we started trick or treating.  It was a cold, windy, and overcast night and there weren't many kids out.  K is staying with Grandma for the weekend, so J just had me.  It hit me, watching him walk up and down driveways that Luke should be walking with him, they should be giggling and making monster noises as they beg strangers for candy.

It wasn't long after that J asked if I wanted his Reese Cups.  I said, “No thank you.”  He asked a few more times and finally asked why.  I explained that was Luke’s favorite candy, and I couldn't eat them because of that.  I asked if he wanted me to take them to work for the techs.  He thought for a few minutes and asked if we could take them to Luke’s grave, tomorrow because it would be too creepy to go on Halloween night.  “Of course.” I told him, we will go tomorrow afternoon.  As I was going through his candy after we came home, I decided Reese Cups were on clearance…… he had about 20 full size Reece Cup singles.

I hate seeing J do things alone he should be doing with his little brother.  This new normal really sucks.