Weekends

I am making baked beans, one of Jason’s favorites, for dinner tonight on this summer Saturday. It took me a long, long time even to be able to cook, bake or buy things that Jason really loved. Orange rolls for breakfast. Cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning. The Christmas before Jason died, he had asked me to teach him how to make cinnamon rolls. It was something he wanted us to do together. He loved baking.

He loved to bake chocolate chip cookies. Sometimes when friends would come over, they would bake cookies together. I always tried to keep everything on hand that he would need. I can still picture him in the kitchen, mixing up cookies, pouring chocolate chips into the dough.

Weekends were so full of doing things with the kids. I’d mix up some pancakes on Saturday morning or bake some orange rolls. Weekends were busy, full. Now they seem so empty.

Missing my boy this weekend…and every day…

~Becky

© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney

 

 

The struggle is real

This deep, dark, hidden lake of grief inside of me

fills up with gathered tears until they no longer be contained

and they flow over the dam and and down my face

 

I turn up the music on the radio in my car, loud

in an effort to drown out the sadness and regret

that has taken up residence in my soul on this day

 

I struggle to hide behind a mask of self-preservation, grief hidden

unseen by people who have little understanding and even less tolerance

of she who continues to grieve or continues to hurt beyond unrealistic timetables

 

The struggle is real and does not end on this side of heaven

for those misunderstood and judged by those who think they know better

by those who want grief to stay hidden, to be more palatable by swallowing some cliche

 

My heart is heavy today for things that might have been

things that should be, things that will never be

things that I wish with all my heart I could change

 

I miss you with all my heart today and every day

my precious boy, my sunshine, my hugger, my encourager

Jason David Carney, July 30, 1982 – March 3, 2002

 

© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney

The NOT-Newly Bereaved

I have been trying since the fifteenth anniversary of Jason’s death to figure out how to put into words what it’s like to be this far along on this endless journey of grief…and yet still hurt so much. How one song can take me back to a time before Jason died. How one sight or sound can transport me to a time before Jason died…or to the night he died. We become experts at wearing masks, so we aren’t judged for not getting over the death of our child or not “moving on” by now. The author of this blog has put into words what I have been trying to figure out how to say.

~Becky

Bereaved Parents

Earlier this evening, a gal asked some questions for a group discussion she will be taking part of this week. It stopped me in my tracks momentarily because, quite honestly, I’ve never been asked such questions. Those of us that have traveled this journey for some years are ‘expected’ to have ‘gotten over it’ by now. In the world of psychology, if your grief has continued on past one or two years, they consider it ‘compounded’ or ‘dysfunctional’ grief. They speak of things in which they have no true knowledge.

Nope. It’s plain and simple grief…and all grief is complicated.

We do move forward on this journey and it does change over time, as most things do. However, IT STILL HURTS! No one outside of grief groups asks me about my son. Or, if it’s the first time they learn that I have a son that died, they ask how…

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Poignant Days

There are days when I feel your absence so acutely,

Days that remind me of what was,

Days that remind me of what could have been,

Days that remind me of what I wish with all my heart had been.

This is one of these days, and I miss you so much.

I love you, Jason.

 

© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney

International Bereaved Mother’s Day

From https://thelifeididntchoose.com:

18268565_697026167165887_4661629661358390851_nInternational Bereaved Mother’s Day is observed the Sunday before Mother’s Day in the United States. May 7, 2017.

I didn’t even know such a day existed until I was a mom that needed it.

For those of us who have children in heaven, setting aside a day to acknowledge that unique mother/child relationship is helpful.

Traditional Mother’s Day is meant to be a time of celebration. A day when children send cards or flowers or give gifts to honor their mom and let her know that years spent pouring into their lives are appreciated.

Lots of church pews and restaurant tables are filled with family as children come home to be with mom.

But our child can’t come home.

That makes Mother’s Day complicated for me.

It means that while I am thrilled to spend it with the children who can make it home, there is always a tinge of sadness to the celebration. And I hate that. Because they deserve a whole-hearted mother.

So I’m thankful this other day exists. Thankful for a day when I can think about and speak about and embrace the child that won’t be with me next weekend.

Because our child is STILL our children. They’re still very much a part of our hearts. And I need to be able to speak that aloud for others to hear.

Some mamas will be drawing or painting hearts on their hands and writing their missing child’s name inside as a beautiful outward testimony to an inward reality. Every day we carry our missing child in our hearts.

international bereaved mothers heart brave and courageous

So if you know a bereaved mother, give her a hug today.

Make time and give space for her to share.

And then listen, love and lift her up.

 

https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/05/06/international-bereaved-mothers-day/

Edit:

PLEASE NOTE: I have changed the above citation to give credit to the original author of this post. When I first wrote this post, I had originally given credit to the Facebook https://www.facebook.com/GrievingMothers.org/, which is where I first read it. The Facebook page did not cite the original author, which was not the right thing to do. Melanie at https://thelifeididntchoose.com contacted me when she saw my post to let me know this had been plagiarized from her original post. She is the original author. I always try to give credit to the author of a writing or photograph, because I understand how hard it is and how personal it is to write about the death of a child. My apologies to Melanie and to those who read this blog.

~Becky

© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney