The Next 30 Years

Every child has two countdowns in their head. Christmas, of course. Then there is the birthday countdown. The countdown takes on different meanings as one ages. First, the completely selfish anticipation of presents. Then the milestones of 13, 16, 18, 21 and all the privileges that those years promise.  After that there is still a countdown but the anticipation is replaced by dread. More so as the years pass.

 My most recent birthday I turned 29. Yes, I really am 29...for the FIRST time. I don't think that I have the typical reaction to aging. Don't get me wrong. I completely ascribe to the philosophy "Don't trust anyone over 30". Next year my bewilderment at how I view myself will undoubtedly increase. I still maintain the rights to have a mini crisis and lie about my age. But this year, I was happy to see 29. It's the last year of an incredibly shitty decade of my life. Quite frankly, if this is my youth...youth can kiss my ass. 

My 20's have done me dirty. I was pregnant with my second child at the beginning. I was full of optimism, hope, life, really felt that I had the world at my fingertips. Chris and I were poor as hell and yet happy as humanly possible. All we did for many years was work and change diapers. But there was a fulfillment in knowing that anything was possible. One day, our hard work and intelligence would pay off and our family would reap the benefits of all the time and effort we put into life on a daily basis. By traditional standards we are in a much better place now. College educated, making enough money to pay our bills, still happily married. All of those things are quite an accomplishment considering the statistics that surround our beginning. I was told recently by a friend in the midst of  life turmoil that she considered me to be a "success story". 

So what if the world's version of "success" holds no meaning for you because of atypical events in your life? What i f you beat 99.9% of all the statistics yet fall into one tiny category on a pie chart that make all other successes and positive aspects of life seem irrelevant?  A statistic that you have no control over. A statistic that isn't caused by poor decisions. Just dumb, shit bad luck. Well, that's where I'm at. In considering my life as I move forward and gracefully age, it's hard (impossible) to find that same optimism of the world being a basically good place that I would eventually reign in. There is a quote that I can't find (google isn't as good as it used to be) that basically says the loss of a child is unique to any other loss because it takes the future instead of the past.  Having experienced 3 generations of death in my family I can back that up. 

There is a distinction that the world in general fails to recognize about death and loss. Death is a natural part of life. I was very close to my paternal grandmother. She passed away last summer at the age of 87. I can't say that her life was always fantastic but I can say that as long as I knew her she was a happy person that did as she pleased and was fulfilled.  As I drove to her funeral with my brother we were discussing why this was different for us. Different than our mother's death, different than Dodge's death. It was the first loss of a person close to us that hadn't been surrounded by tragic circumstances. A life well lived that had simply expired...the natural order of things. Not to say that we don't mourn her and miss her but there is not a deep seeded anger and pit in my stomach when I think about the end of her life.

Maybe her passing would have been much harder on me had it not been less than a year after my 4 year old son's death. I'm privy to the distinction between death and tragedy. A tragic event is one that  makes you want to vomit and curl up in a ball and die. It's a scenario that you never allow yourself to imagine because it is outside the realm of humanity. It is an event that goes against nature, against all things that are just and right. Those that experience true tragedy can no longer see the world as a place that it mostly good. Instead it is a place where unthinkable pain and hurt can strike anyone, at any time. It creates a mentality with dark corners that no amount of  positive self talk or affirmations can begin to reach.  

The phrase "grieving process" indicates that one goes through a program and then graduates and is cured of grief. There are stages and eventually resolution/acceptance. I suppose that applies to grieving under normal circumstances. But is there really resolution to a tragedy? Is there ever enough time to make it ok? Is there a bottom to the hurt or anger or pain or sadness?  If you find that person that no longer feels those things, please let me know. So while I appreciate those that attempt to commiserate with me and while I try to find sympathy for those that lose their ability to function in the face of far less...I struggle with the knowledge that tragedy is not meant to be resolved. It is simply a senseless act that leaves an endless cycle of emotions that we have been conditioned to accept as grief.

Grieving a child's death is so much more than missing them...it's the attempt to decide if you want to remain in a life that has done you the greatest injustice. Not only did I lose my child, I lost my ability to put on the rose colored glasses that we all wear at some point. I know a lot of people have crappy lives and manage to forge on despite their circumstances. I guess that would describe me a few years ago. But I was robbed of being able to push aside the crap and look to the future because with a child's death the future is gone. And without the future, what is there to live for? I know, I know, I have other children...I try to not be offended by that because I understand why people say that to me. But the message behind that is to live for my children. Yeah. I did that already. And it didn't work out too well. So I won't negate the loss of one child simply because I have other children. I won't put that pressure on them to fix me, to be enough to keep me going.  Honestly, who wants to live for someone else? Living for anyone else seems futile to me and reeks of cowardice. Do I want my daughter (and sons) to mirror that behavior in their adult lives? No thank you. I'd much rather live for myself and give my children the courage to do the same. 

Living for yourself when you don't know why you should? That sounds like a challenge and I do love a challenge! I restrain myself from snapping the head off of people that post ultra positive facebook memes  about choosing your attitude and not letting circumstances define you and blah, blah, blah. However, I have found that if I concentrate on happiness as a momentary need rather than a lifestyle choice I am happier. If I don't ever expect to be truly happy but instead know that I can be relatively happy from time to time, life is better even only for that day. Let's face it, our circumstances do define us. Our reactions to those circumstances is what make us human. I don't think it's possible to change who I have been shaped to be. I don't think I'll ever be a different or better person than I am right now.  But I hope that I can develop traits that allow me to cope better, to live better, to do better. 

So should I live a rich and full life, the next 30 years will be bearable and purposeful. 

Why I'm Such a Hard Ass

"We are born alone, we live alone, we die alone." I wrote a paper on that statement when I was all of 17 and in my freshman year of college. At the time I concluded that being alone is good for the soul while loneliness is one of the worst conditions a human can endure. Some feel lonely even when surrounded. Feeling lonely while alone...now that sucks.


Chris and I took the kids to a 5k to benefit a local childhood cancer charity this morning. Nobody that was related to us showed up. Nobody that I considered a true friend showed up. Nobody that knew Dodge while he was alive showed up. There are a lot of words to describe how that made me feel. Lonely is definitely one of those words. It's been a terribly painful experience from start to finish. I suppose I am too optimistic in thinking that days like today could be uplifting in some way. If I weren't dealing with real issues (such as my child's death) I would probably be more bothered. I won't lose any sleep over it but it's just a little more salt in a gaping wound. It's another reminder of why I am now alone by choice. I'm done. Begging, asking everyone to care, explaining why, all of it is over. I've said more than my piece and if someone hasn't heard or understood it's because they don't want to.


My son's life mattered to me. It mattered more than a $25 donation. It mattered more than sleeping in on a Sunday. It mattered more than...fill in the blank. I don't expect the rest of the world to care as much as I do. I'm the mother. And as such, I hold all rights to be insulted for the lack of respect that has been shown towards my child, his siblings, my husband and myself. I'm aware of the stigma of death, especially a child's death. I have tried over the past 20 months to see other's perspectives on the subject. Try as I may, I can't understand the way of thinking.


Those that know me well and can recognize my subtle facial expressions often see the daggers I shoot with my eyes when someone tearfully proclaims me as "strong". Nope. Not really. I'm about as weak as they come. I have had the fight beat out of me. So I'm not strong, I'm surviving. The other option is not an option so that's what I choose. Surviving includes carrying on when you don't want to. In my experience, surviving has meant willing myself to remember my son always knowing that the pain outweighs the joy. Surviving has meant unclasping my hands and getting off my knees in the futile hope that someone, somewhere would help me. So I chose to get up. When I did those that were so enthralled by the drama of a sick child and his grief stricken mother were nowhere to be seen.


I can honestly say that I've met some great people since then. It's no judgment on their character but they will remain at an arm's length. I have no more room in my life for hurt. In turn, I am incapable of being a person that can reciprocate all the support that I wanted so desperately at one time. So you see, now it's become my choice. The power in that is liberating.


Despite all the venom that I spewed above, I am still a happy person. I'm cordial and witty and friendly. I'm quite certain that I'm more sympathetic than the average joe. Am I a hard ass? Absolutely. But I am also doubly aware of the insensitivity that created my mindset. So that is my silver lining to this journey that has shredded my soul.

2 years later

I have this great knack for managing to become instantly bored with an idea that only days (or hours, or minutes) ago I was ecstatic about. Add blogging to the list.

Honestly, life took a hard left turn down the shitter since my last entry over 2 years ago. So I blame that. But I really do enjoy writing. I've always thought of it as talking, also one of my favorite pastimes. Except I can edit myself and don't have to deal with the pesky interruptions of others. I also can get "it" out of my system. What is "it"? Depends on the day. I have a private journal that I've kept for quite a while (no one else's eyes will ever see it) along with Dodge's caringbridge site that I updated quite regularly until he passed away.

For those who don't know my son, Dodge, relapsed in January of 2010 with brain and spinal cord cancer. There really is no secondary treatment for the cancer he had. So we tried this, that and the other thing to no avail. He passed away July 22 of 2010. And nearly 20 months later, here I am.

I considered starting a new blog that deals primarily with bereavement, grief, etc.. But I found myself coming back to the core idea of why I started this blog. I want to remember things. Not just about Dodge. Not about the crazy train ride of my own emotions. But I want to remember my life. I often find myself looking in the mirror and wondering who I was 5 years ago, 2 years ago, 1 year ago. I don't remember a lot. And I don't think that it's normal. As far as I'm concerned abnormal is the new normal so I'm ultimately ok with that.

Grief has changed me to my very core. Some of what I've thought and done I'm not very proud of. It's my eternal excuse for why I can't do this or that. A lot of my ambition has gone out the window. The zest for life hasn't quite come back. I'm not sure if and when it will. The bad emotions usually associated with grief (sadness, anger, bitterness) are still there but they have transformed into a part of my personality. That sounds scary but it's the truth. Putting on a happy face and swallowing a happy pill are not real solutions for me. This is who I am now. I'm still sarcastic and zany (at least I think so) but behind that there's an ocean of emotion. That rhymes.

In a nutshell, I'll continue to post here. I'll probably offend some at some point. Sorry. Sometimes, my humor is construed as mean. Sometimes, I truly am mean. But I'm honest. I'm not shy. I *think* I say what a lot of people would like to. So read on!