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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.