Eight Years

 Hey Bubby, 

It's been almost eight years Lukie. Eight years since I hugged your neck, eight years since you threw yourself in my arms from across the room. Eight years since I kissed your nose and told you how much I love you.

Some days it feels like yesterday, and somedays, it seems like a lifetime ago. I remember how to breathe on most days now, the days I forget are few and far between. I still think of you every day, several times a day. You are still the first thing on my mind when I wake up, and the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep. 

There is a family I follow on social media, their three-year-old twins drowned in November.  The sister made a full recovery.  The brother, not so much.  He is alive and breathing on his own, but that's all.  He is stuck in a body that doesn't even function as a newborn.  My heart aches for his mama, with every update she posts, the optimistic and the forlorn ones. She is trying so hard to stay strong for her baby boy, chasing treatments and processes, trying to give her little boy some semblance of his former life back. I can't help but think that could have been us. I could have done the same things to you. Hoping, praying, traveling all over the country trying to find a treatment, a provider, a cure for your body and mind. I wonder if I would have had the strength to work that hard for you. Was it easier to just let you go? The more I think about it, and I think about it a lot, I think I did the right thing by letting you go. I think you fought hard my little man, you fought to come back to me, to us, but your body had had enough. It was tired and shutting down. I don't know if this little boy's mind is the same as it was, but I can't help but think you would have been miserable and wished for release instead of being stuck in a body that didn't work. As energetic and active and full of life as you were, living in a body you couldn't control would have been awful. 

I know, not I just believe, but I KNOW that you are in Heaven with your brothers, your Pappaw, and your Grandpa.  I know you are free to run, climb, chase angels, poor angels. I can't wait to see you again, to hear your squeaky voice say I love you mama.  I can't wait to hold you in my arms again Lukiepie. I miss you THIS much. 

PTSD

I haven't really talked about how J and K are doing since Luke’s accident.  I try to respect their privacy, especially since I am always telling them once you put it on the internet, it is out there Forever.  But I feel like I should talk about J for this post.  He was diagnosed with PTSD a little over a year ago.  He saw Luke drown in front of him, he tried to save his baby brother and failed.  He saw them sticking Luke with needles and putting tubes all over his little body. He saw them shocking him, he saw the CPR and the doctor’s and nurse’s faces while they worked.  He stood next to me while Luke took his final breathes.  That is a lot for an adult, I can’t imagine what it was like for a 9 year old boy.  From the time Luke was born, he was J’s best friend.  There was NEVER any jealousy on J’s part.  He took his role as big brother seriously.  He was Luke’s best friend, protector, cheerleader and co-conspirator.

After Luke died, I immediately put all three of us in therapy.  Due to insurance constraints, we have had a few therapists…. The most recent is Thelma.  She specializes in childhood trauma and is working on her Doctorate degree in Psychology.  She is the most patient, caring person I have ever met.  She has been good for J and me. 

That said, J and Thelma are doing hard work, talking about the day Luke drowned.  They have been working on that day for the last 2 months.  J finally had a breakthrough Friday and was able to name a feeling, an emotion about that day.  He has struggled with that for the last 15 months.  We are both SO proud of him!  On the dark side though….. This has been very, very hard on him.  He is not handling things well.  My once sweet, huggy, wouldn't hurt a fly child is struggling with anger towards himself, his dad, his sister and me about that day.

I have told him so many times it wasn't his fault, it should be ingrained in his head.  I have told him the same amount of times that his dad did not mean for Luke to get hurt and die, that he made a very bad decision.  J is mad at his sister for not going that weekend, not being there to save Luke.  He is mad at me for making them go with their dad that weekend.  He hasn't said he was mad at Luke, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was, that is a normal part of grief.  Luke left him here and is in Heaven with grandpa and papaw.  Crap, I am kinda jealous about that!

This weekend has been horrible.  There are so many triggers for his PTSD, it is like living in a minefield.  It has been one outburst after another.  He has spent more time in his room calming down than he has in the 3 years we have lived here.

I would appreciate any and all prayers for my kids…..  we have a long road ahead of us.

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.

Memories

Sometimes my memories of Luke are so strong I can feel him leaning on me.  When I sit down to do homework, all of a sudden I will feel him leaning on my arm, asking how much longer because he wants to play on the computer.  I will see him running down the hallway and hear his silly giggle.  Our home is full of Luke memories, there is no place to hide from them.

I struggle with loving the memories that feel like he is here with wondering if he really is hanging around.  In my soul, I know my baby is safe in Heaven, surrounded by family and friends who went before him.  He is probably making the angels crazy trying to talk them out of their wings and swords.  But my heart and sometimes my mind want him here with me, even in spirit form.  What if he gets a day pass to come visit us, what if the goosebumps really are Lukie hanging on my arm or giving me a hug?

The past year has been the worst year of my life.  The kids still struggle with the loss of their brother and best friend.  J has PTSD and more anger than should ever be bottled up in a little boy. K struggles with guilt for not going that weekend and anger.  We have new counselors, yay insurance....  They have been good though.  We had Snap, Crackle and Pop at first because I fought to get them.  They knew the kids, they knew me, and most importantly, they knew Luke.  The new counselors are brand new and have experience and specialized in Traumatic Grief and PTSD.  I think they are going to prove to be invaluable in our future.

Snap, Crackle and Pop

Snap, Crackle, and Pop are the team of therapists who have walked Jonathan, Katie, and me through the last 5 months of grief. 

We first met Snap last year after Luke was diagnosed with ADHD and ODD.  She became my lifeline to accessing services and help for Luke at home and at school.  She worked several kinds of magic to make sure Luke had the therapy he so desperately needed.  She was/is a life saver!  Snap is our Care Manager.

     Pop was Luke's first therapist.  She was incredibly patient as she learned more than she ever wanted to know about Mario Bros. and Webkinz.  Luke was a computer junkie and would have spent hours watching YouTube videos of people playing Super Mario Bros.  Pop was around for about five months, with the understanding we were waiting for a male therapist to free up, then Luke would transfer to him.  I loved Pop because she is a reader, after Luke's therapy, we would talk about books. 

     In May, a male therapist finally had an opening for Luke and we met Crackle. Crackle is a no-nonsense therapist who would go round and round with Luke like no one else!  He is very articulate and could definitely hold his own against the little boy who could talk an Eskimo out of his igloo.

     The day of Luke's accident, I think I send several text messages them all telling them what was going on with my baby.  After sending several messages, I finally focused on Crackle alone since he was Luke's therapist at the time. 

Luke with Austin and the two Mario's

Thinking back and looking at those messages, I can't imagine what I put those people through.  But they handled things with grace and professionalism.  Crackle came to Kosair on Sunday afternoon and spent quite a bit of time with Luke.  He also sat with Jonathan in the waiting room, talking to him about what had happened and offering a friendly ear and shoulder.  He brought Luke a giant Mario doll that Luke never saw.  The doll was in the pictures we took of Luke in the hospital, front and center on Luke's table at his memorial service and sits on the top of the bookcase with other Luke items in my living room.               

Luke's Memorial Service with
Austin the Dog, Mario the Bear
and the Original Mario.

     After we came home, Crackle kept in touch with Jonathan.  He visited a once or twice that week, and said he would be there for Jonathan at Luke's memorial service if he was needed.  He continued to come until school started and Jonathan was able to connect with a few people at school.  Later on, when it became obvious that was not going to be enough for Jonathan or Katie, Snap and Crackle helped us secure services for both kids.  Crackle saved a space in his schedule for Jon and Pop said she would come back as Katie's therapist.

     With these two people, we have talked about "The Hard Stuff", the good things, cried and even screamed and yelled.  But they come back every week anyway!  I owe my sanity to them both, they have gone above and beyond, coming extra days when needed, staying for hours and hours making sure we were OK before leaving.

     Obviously they all have real names, but to protect their identity, {they may not want to claim us ;)} I gave them nicknames.  They used to be the Three Musketeers, but in my warped mind, they all met at the office every day before starting work and talked about their cases over a bowl of cereal. Hence, Snap, Crackle, and Pop were born.