Sharing this journey

Throughout the first year (or year of firsts) after Tommy died, I found it easy to share some of my thoughts and emotions surrounding the devastating loss. I also felt comfort come back tenfold when I made myself vulnerable.  I know it was a way for me to release all that was in my brain but also a way to stay connected to the people who were sending me love, prayers and support.  This support - from adults and kids - some I knew, some I did not, has been truly life saving.  I feel so very fortunate in this regard.  It may have felt uncomfortable fo the supporters at times, but from where I sit, it has truly held me up through the darkest of days.  Saying his name, sending a photo, a message or a prayer is invaluable to me.  Some friendships have grown and some have withered, but that also comes with my move to a new place.  I’ve been touched by new bonds that have immersed out of this tragedy and also thankful that so many have stood by me through this time.

When we came up on the one year mark, I expected things to change within my support community.  I’d talked to enough people to know that this is the course life takes and I really am ok with that.  People fall off. I stopped sharing as much and life moves forward.  What I didn’t expect to happen was the shift in my willingness to be vulnerable and the hesitancy I felt in sharing.  I believe in part that this happened because of everything that I was going through with my mom just before that year mark (I hate the word anniversary in reference to June 12).  

Seeing her fading away in front of us and then dying just two+ weeks before that date made the grief and the vulnerability so much more complicated.  Suddenly, I felt guilt for putting more attention on Tommy’s death and also guilt for not completely falling to pieces after my mom died.  I believe that she would understand.  Her death was in the natural order of life.  I spent the last four weeks with her, at her side and wouldn’t trade that time for anything.  It was truly a gift.  She still knew us, despite the dementia, and she was funny and happy and we were able to say goodbye.  We held space for her departure out of this life as beautifully as she lived it.

So, when June 12th came around, there was compound grief.  Grief on grief.  Sadness on sadness and all of the sudden it all felt much more private than it had felt for the entire first year.  The grief felt like it needed its own sacred space.  For me, it felt a bit like it was time to take the public sadness down a notch.  I didn’t want to share things and have the reaction be ‘oh god, she’s sharing more about loss’.  The loss and the emptiness never ends.  A year could be a week or ten years or…. The sadness dulls but it doesn’t leave.  I don’t cry as much these days, but I still feel a huge void in my life.

Someone told me once on the subject of memoir writing that the audience wants a happy ending.  They want hope, not just ongoing sadness with no end.  I believe in a sad way, that stuck with me and that is part of why I became more hesitant to share.  But in not sharing, I feel that I’m not being true to myself or to Tommy.  I don’t want my sadness to become a burden to others.  I also want hope.  I want a happy ending.  I want all of these things and honestly, throughout the last year, I have experienced happiness and also joy.  I am trying to find out who I am now and while it’s not a path I would’ve chosen, I am trying to put the work in to move forward.  I have lots of ideas about what comes next, my mind never stops and I am putting the time into figuring out my next career here in Montana.

Over the last 15 months, I have done medium readings every couple of months, with four different mediums.  These have brought me the most comfort.  When I feel a little more brave, I will share some of the messages that I’ve received.  I know that Tommy and my mom are with me every day guiding my walk down this path.

Last summer, one of the things that I believe Tommy put in my path, was the awareness of death doulas, sometimes referred to as end of life doulas.  I did a lot of research, started volunteering with hospice in my local community last winter, completed a death doula program and am in the process now of becoming certified.  I was mid-class when I went to be with my mom for those four weeks and truly believe this was one of the reasons Tommy sent it to me last summer.  The knowledge that I’ve gained has been beautiful and I know that somehow, by sharing this knowledge, I’ll be able to help others.  One of the statements that I’ve heard that has stuck with me the most is that dying is not a medical experience, it’s a human experience and after being with my mom at the end of her life, I truly believe this.  

Sharing this journey has been hard at times, but backing off from sharing has left me feeling empty.  While the grief of losing Tommy now feels more private and personal, I am certain that I’m not alone.  If it gets to be too much, you can unfollow, or not read, it won’t hurt my feelings.  I understand that it can all be hard to digest.  Facing the loss of a child, which is every parents’ worst nightmare, including my own, is scary.  But, if you want to follow along, I am truly humbled and oh so very grateful.  Being in a new place, with all new experiences, makes me want to share part of my life with you.  I am going to try my best to continue sharing things that range from very important, to not important at all.  It all matters.  The ordinary is where the beauty of life lives. 

As always, big hugs from me and thanks for reading and feel free to share if you feel the urge ❤️

xoxo