Tag Archives: bereaved parent

While listening to NPR last week, I heard about a play in Philly called Rabbit Hole.  The play is about a couple struggling to survive after the tragic loss of their 4 year old son who had been killed in a car accident.

Dan and I went to see it last night and had very different reactions to it.  I really liked Becca (the mother).  In many ways, her fictional experience is similar to my own life.  She also said and did some things I wish I could do. But, Rabbit Hole is a play and I’m living in the real world.  I also enjoyed the performance by Howie (the father) and the comic relief (yes, there were moments of laughter) offered by Nat, the mother.

The performances by  Becca’s sister and Jason, the teenager responsible for the car accident, left something to be desired in my opinion.  As it turns out, Becca’s sister is pregnant.  Dan felt she represented the “future” while Jason represented the “past”  and as such, their performances weren’t that important and could be dismissed.

Overall, I found it helpful to attend.

After the play ended, we both felt the need to decompress so we had dinner at a little place not far from the theater.

Before going to the show, I discussed it with my therapist and we agreed I should see it if I was feeling up to it.  My own life still makes me sad and tearful, but I’m glad I went to see Rabbit Hole.

Dan and I attended a remembrance ceremony today hosted by the SIDS Center of New Jersey.  God and prayers were mentioned too many times for me but it was still a beautiful service.  It was very emotional.  At one point, they did a slideshow of our children.  Seeing Alexander’s big brown eyes staring back at me from the large screen at the front of the room was so hard.

We both left the service feeling emotionally drained.  Dan said he hadn’t felt that way since Alexander’s funeral service on December 23, 2008.

I miss Alexander so, so much.

Thanksgiving week is usually one of my favorite weeks of the year because I get to celebrate Thanksgiving (my favorite holiday) and my birthday.  I usually only do something big for my birthday every 5 years and otherwise, I’d just go out for a nice dinner.  However, this year the thought of celebrating my birthday when Alexander didn’t even get to celebrate his second just made me too sad to even want to go out for dinner.  The best gift everyone could give me this year was to let the day pass without mention.

I know I should be thankful for the things I have: good health, cozy home, family and friends who care about me, etc.  I’m missing Alexander and not feeling so thankful.  Instead, I’m feeling angry, sad, and depressed.

As the holiday season kicks into high gear, I wonder how I’ll survive the next few weeks.  All around us people are putting up their Christmas trees and shopping for presents.  I’m just trying to figure out what I’ll do for the first anniversary of Alexander’s passing.  I wish I could avoid Christmas this year but I can’t. It’s everywhere.

Dan and I have decided to seclude ourselves at home during the second half of December.  He’s planning to work on a small renovation project and I’ll probably do some work on my website.

This past Friday, November 20, makes it 11 months since Alexander passing.

On Saturday, we finally completed a task we’ve been postponing for the past 11 months.  We ordered the headstone for our family plot.  We still need to decide what to put on the stone but we’ve got some time since it will take a couple of months for the stone to arrive.  Aside from what to include about Alexander, we also have to decide if we add our names to the headstone now or wait until later.  It will hard enough to see Alexander’s name so I’m not really sure I always want to see mine there as well.  It just doesn’t seem like something one should see while still living.

Things just weren’t supposed to happen this way.

In our continuing quest to try to find answers about Alexander’s loss, we’re going to participate in a second study.  The second study is through the Sudden Death Genomics Laboratory at the Mayo Clinic.  Dr. Ackerman and his staff research several heritable cardiovascular diseases.  The Long QT Syndrome the clinic conducts is one of the studies mentioned in our SUDC binder.  While Alexander’s autopsy report didn’t show anything wrong with his heart, we want to explore every possibility to find answers.

As part of our possible participation, the clinic wants us both to have an EKG done.  I had my done yesterday.  Why is nothing ever simple?  I had another appointment prior to the EKG appointment.  Because the first appointment ran late, I arrived at my doctor’s appointment late. When I arrived at the doc’s office, the receptionist told me I was late so I missed my appointment.  She said I could wait but the next opening wasn’t for another hour.

Yes, I was late, but my visit would have taken 5, 10 minutes top and as I looked around the empty waiting room, I just couldn’t believe she was telling me I had to wait an hour.  Was the office scheduling so tight that it didn’t allow for someone being late.

This just compounded the bad day I was already having so I decided to run errands for an hour rather than wait.  To ensure I didn’t miss another appointment, I arrived 10 minutes early.  At 10 minutes past my appointment time, I wondered if I should go to the desk and tell them since the doctor was late for my appointment, I was leaving.  Just then they call me back.

As I waiting for the doctor to enter the room, I started to tear up thinking about why I was there.  I don’t visit the primary care doc often except for the occasional times I’ve gotten a flu shot or have had need for antibiotics.  As I was explaining to him why I needed the EKG, I broke down and could barely talk through my tears.

The doc said the EKG was fine aside from a small spot that you may see at some times but not others.  I had some problems with increased heart rate in the past but the cardiologist didn’t seem to think it was of concern.  We’ll see if they notice anything at the Mayo Clinic.  Now, I just need to get Dan to get his EKG done so I can complete our file.

Lately, I’m finding with every new person I have to share our story, it feels just as if it happened yesterday with all the same very raw emotions.  The same searing pain through my heart.

I’m missing Alexander so much.

Alexander’s Run Update

Dan has mapped out a potential route and is going to walk it with a couple of friends tomorrow.

I was attending a recruiting session for one of my volunteer organizations last night.  We’re hosting several of these meetings over the next couple of weeks.  At the time, there were four women in the room so we’re all part of the same conversation which eventually turned to children.

Since the other two women had spoken of their children, I knew the prospective new member would ask me the unavoidable question: Do you have any children?  While the others were chatting, I was going back and forth in my mind what I would say.  Sensing the unavoidable questions was about to happen, I got up to refill my glass.  Just as I did, she asked.   In the seconds it took me to turn around, I heard the word “no” tumble from my lips.

I felt like I was betraying Alexander by saying no but I just didn’t have the strength for “the look” that would happen if I told her my story.  I know I shouldn’t feel badly.  In my heart, Alexander is and always will be my child.  However, I’m still struggling with my response today.

How can time be moving forward and standing still at the same time? Today, makes 9 months that I’ve had to live without Alexander.

We were at the home of friends last night.  At one point, Dan and I were the only adults in the living room while the other couples were touring the house and their children were running around.  Dan looked at me and said, “Alexander would be talking now”. He’s right.

When I see 2 year olds, I often wonder what milestones Alexander would be achieving now.  How many words would he know?  How would he be doing with potty training?

Dan is playing in a tennis tournament today.  He played in this same tournament last year and Alexander and I were there to cheer him on. Dan’s team didn’t make it to the finals but we went to the finals and family celebration later in the afternoon.

Alexander was fascinated by a golf cart around the corner from our table and would go running to it every time we looked away from him. We were sitting with another couple and their daughter.  She got quite a workout running to get Alexander every time he got away from us.  He really enjoyed the game they were playing.

It was a happy day and it makes me too sad to attend the event without him.  So, I won’t be going this afternoon.

Our house was taped for a show on HGTV 2 years ago and the episode was aired today.  Alexander was part of the taping.  I didn’t have the strength to watch it today.  I did save to the DVR so hopefully, I’ll be able to watch it sometime in the near future.

I’m feeling sad, lost and out of sorts.  I so wish Alexander was here.

Another SUDC mom posted this and I thought it was a good thing to share.

Following are excerpts from an article by Vicki Windham of the North Platte, Nebraska, Chapter of Compassionate Friends.  I changed a few things to reflect my normal.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Christmas, Alexander’s birthday, Valentine’s Day, Easter, etc.

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how I feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when I realize Alexander is missing from all the important events in my life.

Normal is not sleeping well because a thousand what if’s and why didn’t I’s go through my head constantly.

Normal is turning the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise because the silence is deafening.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is telling the story of Alexander’s passing as if it were an everyday common place activity and then gasping in horror at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become part of our normal.

Normal is coming up with how to honor Alexander’s memory and birthday and survive those days.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother and crying over our children and our new lives.

Normal is being too tired to care if I paid the bills, cleaned house, did laundry, or if there is any food in the house.

Normal is hiding all the things that have become normal for me to feel, so that everyone around me will think that I am “normal”.