Broken

3AM wake up, Memories, Spinning - Racing thoughts, the times that will NEVER come I WISH Every New Morning Was Still My Old Sunny Ones !

WHAT IS NORMAL ?

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile because your child is missing from all the important events in your life.
Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything anymore.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving the day your child died, continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the TV on the minute you walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of your "normal."
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your childs's memory and their birthdays and survive these days.
Normal is a heart warming and yet sinking feeling at the sight of something special your child loved.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention your child.
Normal is making sure that others remember your child.
Normal is everyone else eventually going on with their lives.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to your loss, unless they too have lost a child. Nothing compares.
Normal is taking medication now, and trying not to cry all day, because you know your mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing you do cry everyday.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone except someone stricken with grief over the loss of their child.
Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with other grieving parents.
Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did the laundry or if there is any food.
Normal is asking why your child was taken instead of yours.
Normal is learning to lie to everyone you meet and telling them you are fine. You lie because it makes others uncomfortable if you cry. You've learned it's easier to lie to them then to tell them the truth that you still feel empty and lost.
And last of all...
Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal."

The Wheel

Just a normal day, normal daaaay? I wish I had those in life still. Its always a spinning wheel and you never know where its gonna land. Most times you land on a new day of the repeat of numb, disbelief, memory loss, fog, pain and tears. You really never know to what level it will reach and then there are the days it lands on shit storm. Simple vacuuming brought me to my knees. Today the simple chore took me down the hall and into your room. I stepped in took a deep breath and got about 3 swipes in, before I screamed at the top of my lungs. The dogs came running as they do when it happens. Babbling the same words as always and thru the blurred water I Look at all your things. All of your favorite mementos, trophies, Your construction barrel, street sign, all the pictures of so many years of your life. The life I was supposed to teach, preach, protect and save. Apparently I grabbed the non waterproof mascara today because after kneeling at your bed sobbing and pleading for answers that never come, I caught a glimpse in your mirror and I looked worse than Alice Cooper. I finished your carpet as I sobbed and thought to myself, I'll dust another day.

These r the kind of pictures I now think to now document to capture days or moments I have. I write my own book to look back at maybe... someday to read and feel like I WAS/AM strong, stronger than I never feel. To see that my pain and reality were and r real and that in my real world I dont have the  unrealistic wish of you, expecting to walk thru that door anytime.  Still  and forever my heart broken and hurting , but knowing I continue to overcome or get thru even the toughest of days, minutes, seconds when it feels like I should just give in to the pain.

 After settling down I had a large bottle of expired pills to dispose. I drove there.....I sat in my car eyes welled for a good 10-15 min several times saying I'll do it another day. Dreading even looking at the entrance. Again taking a huge deep breath, I wiped whatever was left of my mascara and got out of the car with my head down. I got to the back of the car and there I stared with my breath stopped. I felt as though someone kicked me in the chest full force. Walking up I must of paused what seemed like a hundred times, and as I reached the steps my body felt this pain, my heart was pounding out of my chest and I felt like I couldnt breathe like a plastic bag was surrounding my face. In my mind even though seconds passed,that day, the visions and every word and silent scream every second played over and over. I felt weak and sick to my stomach wanting to just fall, but reality pushed me forward as I knew there would certainly be a confusing scene for those around. With my breath held I entered the doors your dad pretty much had to carry me thru that day, and approached the window. I pretended just like a professional actress, went thru the steps in numbness and it seemed like I held my breath the entire time. I finished, quickly walked, pushed the doors, walked past the dreaded patch of concrete where my body collapsed and lay 3 years, 9 months and 6 days ago. I barely reached the car door frantically fumbling with my keys struggling to get in the car fast enough to repeat and continue where the wheel landed today. Crying uncontrollably with my head in my hands I look up and realized a older couple in their car had been watching me. I started the car, hands shaking, backed up and continued to cry with sporadic inhales and whimpers the whole way home. These , everyday these are the moments the wheel brings. I MISS AND LOVE YOU SO MUCH TREVOR I WISH SO BADLY THERE WAS NO WHEEL. XOXOX MOM

Black Balloon Day

Yesterday was yet another reminder why my life is still while the world around me goes on, like mine used to. Picking up your urn to hold on my lap while I talk to you, or what's left of my baby seems so extremely heavy. Although compared to my heart it is definately lighter. People commented to remind me that you wont be forgotten. I know that is true for some, but WHY is it so often only when I let my feelings of total devastation out or vent with full diarrhea of the mouth that your name is mentioned. How many times is your name really said or mentioned outside of comments? My fear has trickled in Trev, nobody comments on your Facebook except for maaaaybe a handful of people. Your name has become silent and not mentioned to me unless mentioned by me first. As your dad says...."Dawn we can't expect others to grieve Trev for the rest of their lives. It is our burden, our job to suffer the rest of our days with this gaping open wound. People move on and we are not given that opportunity that luxury of true, carefree happiness. Living to still try to nurture your little brother is what we have. We are so extremely proud of who he has become, we know his job is secure and we are by his side for whatever he may need, but it's the unknowns that give me the extra guilt. Why cant we have our lives back, why cant he argue with you, why cant you make fun of him cause I KNOW he would take any amount of irritation just to have you back. There are so many uncertainties in my life, so much fear, so much guilt past, present, future. I'm not the mother he should have, I'm not the mother I wish I could return to, I dont want to be this person, but it's easier said than being able to do. I am falling asleep because of course I didnt sleep worth a shit so naptime.

 I love u Trev xo

Why and when, when, when will it stop

I've been scared to share the true raw, the true misery in fear of people taking things the wrong way, that people will be mad, that I will be hated, looked down on like I'm a bad person for who I've become or not understanding the true impact or damage and what I'm filled with.
But I sit by myself alone this morning in self pity and true misery diarrhea of the brain and mouth.
I have shared my story my feelings. I have been raw for people but never honestly raw. I want to be better,

I hate who I have become. My inner self is so self conscious and I dread going out with even my closet friends. I've tried Therapy and it didnt do anything to help me. Maybe it was too soon. I felt like this younger woman although nice I was resentful because she has both her children that she was going thru her professional motions that shes been schooled on, not knowing the first f- ing thing about what I am feeling, thinking and how I just want to die because I'm completely devastated. I hold so much in because I dont want my husband to worry more about my fragile emotional state. Or how my younger 23 year old son who is 11.5 mo younger than his dead brother is feeling or thinking that he never shares or shows. I know that they werent the same kind of people but he NEVER initiates I love yous, when I hug him it's as though he doesnt even like it or really reciprocate. Trevor used to be soooo loving to me, say I LOVE YOU MOM, HAVE THAT ENDEARING LOOK, GENUINELY MAKE ME FEEL LOVED. Sometimes I can go out and fake it great that I want to b there. Then theres times like last night where we r out with friends, who support me, but there r also people I dont know. I'm reserved in my state of complete fog, I cant fake I'm having a good time and I dont mingle. I think about how I just dont want to be there and I feel guilty because I feel like I'm stealing the time my husband can have. It doesnt help that nobody makes an effort to mingle with me either and I feel invisible and alone. Maybe it's because they think I need my space or they notice and dont want to set off the tornado of what could be a breakdown although I've not ever totally melted down or what they would know is a full breakdown, then I feel guilt because I expect them to try to save me from drowning. I used to be fun. Bubbly, outgoing and know how to live life free and completely and truly happy. I dont tell my husband how often I think to myself how better off I feel they would be if they didnt have to worry about me how I wouldnt feel like I'm sucking the life out of him and my son by living this new hated person I am. In the same thoughts I think I could never do it because my husband is amazing and I would hate to think of how he would be alone cause he would not start over, that I am told constantly that I am his everything and how it's better or worse that there is nobody else he would want to be with. How he would not continue our plan to move to the Caribbean in 8.5 years when he retirers. I want that life too, feeling it would help me, but it's so far in the future I have to suffer more till then. And maybe I'm living in a fantasy world and I'll continue my miserable existence for what seems like eternity. I recently retired from my own licensed child care buisness because of so many health issues and I'm just so exausted from pain, surgeries and let's mix in all the lovely new emotional issues anxiety, darkness, a broken heart, the complete guilt of not being able to see my son started doing drugs, that I didnt save him and how I feel like my younger son resents the person I am now, ontop of already being bipolar and predepressed. I would NEVER wish this pain on anybody, but I feel I'm becoming more bitter and angry. Why my son when others are given chance after chance and 4,5,10 lives, a neverending jealously that other parents have their kids that are Trevor's friends and people in my life can enjoy their lives. Everyone's life keeps evolving and my life seems to stand totally still as everything around me circles is the happy world. Trevor died June 29th of 2015 at 20 years old of a overdose at a home of a person I didnt know. He just never came home and I thought nothing out of it till his girlfriend came to our house cause he never showed for work. How she and my younger son left to see where he could be. How I NEVER even for a second thought he could be in a morgue laying cold and lifeless. How No I never received a call or personal notification that there was anything wrong and after almost 7 hours later I had to finally contact the police office thinking maybe he was in a car accident or arrested, for could be what I didnt know and still how even when I contacted the police station and they just told me I should come and even pulling into the parking lot seeing his girlfriend on the front steps crying it still NEVER dawned on me that he was dead until we reached those steps and she said TREVOR IS GONE!!!! Like arrested? And then my younger son walked out of the door looking like the life had been sucked from his being and he confirmed with words. Like in the movies my life was shattered I collapsed to the concrete, life went black, screaming so loud I couldnt hear myself, people staring at me cause I was beyond controllable. I am still in disbelief that there were over 2000 people who were at his funeral how there was a 1.5 he wait to get to us. How we took up 2 rooms full seats with standing room packed, like a amusement part twisted lines. I greeted EVERY person and for every young person asked them to never do this to their parents, how those parts are hazed because I was drugged on one of the 2 very things that killed him. The only CLEAR AS DAY MEMORY I HAVE IS MY HUSBAND DRAGGING ME, MAKING ME LEAVE MY BABYS BODY. HOW I FOUGHT TO TURN MY WHOLE BODY AND TUG AWAY, WITH MY HUSBAND HOLDING ME TIGHT AS I PLEADED TO LET ME STAY AND GUIDING THE BODY THAT COULD COLLAPSE ALL OVER AGAIN. INSTEAD OF JUST MY HEAD STRAINED NEVER TAKING MY EYES OFF OF MY SON LEAVING HIM ALL ALONE , HIS FACE BLOTCHY FROM PEOPLE RUBBING HIS FACE, KISSING HIM AND THE SERVICE GOING ALMOST AN HOUR AFTER OUR ENDING TIME, LOOKING AT HIS FACE FOR THE LAST TIME TILL I ROUNDED THE DOOR AND HE WAS OUT OF SIGHT. Then to go to the funeral home crematorium to watch his casket being rolled into the huge burning vault, knowing I was burning my baby, but knowing if I buried him he wouldnt physically be with me every day. I want so badly and still sometimes feel like this could be a dream and hes gonna come thru the door with his big brown eyes, smile and hug me. I WANT WITH EVERY OUNCE OF MY BEING TO NOT LIVE EVERYDAY IN THIS EXISTENCE I HATE LIVING IN. I DONT BEGRUDGE THOSE WHO BELIEVE IN THEIR OWN GOD OR HIGHER BEING. IN MY WORLD THERE IS NO HIGHER BEING TO HELP ME, THERE IS NO BETTER PLACE, HIS TIME HERE WAS NOT DONE, THERE IS NO PURPOSE ANYWHERE FOR HIM TO HELP, WHAT HIGHER BEING WHO IS SUPPOSED TO LOVE ALL STEAL MY BABY, RIP HIM FROM MY LIFE IN AN INSTANT. NO IN MY LIFE IS A OVERCAST OF DARKNESS AND MISERY. I WANT OUT, IM TIRED OF THE PAIN, BUT I STAY TO KEEP MY HUSBAND AND SON FROM MORE PAIN. WHY, WHY WHY? ITS NEVER ANSWERED. WHEN, WHEN WILL IT END?????

1 WISH

If I could, I would only have 1 Christmas wish , just 1 that is all I would need.... It is all I want to be able to have. I know it is not possible and I HATE IT , to this day even though I know its real there is still a disbelief to this whole new life I have.   Everyday is torture but the holidays are so extremely hard. I think about your famous Santa hat that you wore EVERY Christmas. I see your smile and hear your laugh, I just wish I could hug and kiss you, smell your scent that has slowly disappeared from all your room. I smell your things desperately searching for the slightest of your scent and when I don't find it I am crushed to the ends of the earth. Today Dad and I went to brunch as we do every Sunday. We drive down chase to get to KK and every time we drive past the 1st funeral home you were at my stomach feel like its being hit with a huge sledge hammer over and over and then I feel like I'm going to throw up. That is the funeral home we went to,We sat in a room in a total haze and picked flowers walked thru a room with caskets, picked a signature book, cards and had to write a obituary. A obituary Trevor something I should of never had to do. It is where we first were able to see you.

After the planning we were asked R U READY????? R U READY they ask, Yes, No..... No I want to  make sure its real. Its a mistake it has to be...… we were lead to the double doors that the director opened slowly and with much hesitation I moved forward with my head down. Reaching the threshold lifting my head slightly and looking to the left I saw you laying there. Immediately everything went numb. IT WAS YOU! HOW COULD THIS BE TRUE? I froze, started shaking and screamed your name, Noooo, Why? With every all sight and sound that memory is etched and tortures me everyday.

I know my only wish in this whole life will never come true and it hurts hurts so terribly. 

I miss you which saying it doesn't even touch the surface of how much.

I love you Trevor Love you so much

<3 Momma

HATE

This week is filled with that lingering anguish and is a ferociously angry week. 

Within The Things I have become to HATE

I HATE- That I don’t get to see your smile with my eyes instead of the memory that is clouded by missing you. 

I HATE- That your laugh is within the those ear piercing screams in my head.

I HATE- That your room is empty and it’s impossible to keep the smell of you from disappearing

I HATE- That I cannot hug and kiss you with your genuine return

I HATE- That there have been literally times I hate to admit I tossed around in my head that I seriously just want to end it all.

I HATE- That I am sobbing inside between every thought, chore, excitement, second , motion, happy smile, proudness, and What seems to be a strength or braveness others see

I HATE- That I feel like I’m letting my living child down, how horrible of a mother I feel like, How He should get everything I have and Even though I know what I should be strong and able to know his thoughts for him to be able to share with me, to take away the pain he carries. 

I HATE- That I can’t hold it together in my alone times, that I can’t enjoy my busy times of hobby or just not doing anything

I HATE- That therapy has not helped me, that People say try again, being involved in mom groups is just me reading about their misery and talking about how devastated we are and about how we will never just be good and get over it.

I HATE- The I should therapy directed to think of happy things to block out the visions of me collapsing on the concrete being told you were gone, seeing you laying in a gurney that they tried to make nicer by covering you with a quilt. Feeling your cold hard body, seeing a blood spot from the embalming machine, feeling the part of your skull that was super glued back together when stroking your hair, your body in a casket people kissing you, barely remembering that last night but The LAST MOMENTS WITH YOU AND HAVING TO BE FORCED TO LEAVE YOU THERE

I HATE- That Closing my eyes at night wishing for this to be just a nightmare and opening them knowing a day like yesterday is greeting me

I HATE- That I can’t , Don’t know how to get the old me back, that it has disappeared. I hate the person I’ve become, the things in my mind, the grief I feel. 

I HATE- That I can’t make others understand what they think I should have or want from me or think will help is like a completely deaf person hearing. 

I HATE- that I am physically and mentally exhausted and I just would like it all to work and want to be the old me. 

I HATE- That people feel sorry for me, and Seeing Trevor not be part of what his friends are doing, that his friends are moving on, that he is dissolved from anything that he and was supposed to been doing. 

I HATE- That IM SORRY BUT DO IT ANYWAY that IM pitiful, that I lay here in my dark bedroom saturating my pillow with tears, sharing my misery to the world, but to maybe hope to turn someone around

I HATE- That he was stolen from me, that those who knew of any problem or information (except one person who told me truths after the fact) who sometimes I’m furious with but GRATEFUL if that can be in the same- didn’t come to me, that he was able to hide it, How I WAS BLIND, How I didn’t see something, that I am  and feel guilty, How I thought he knew he could come to me with ANYTHING , That he didn’t, think I would of done ANYTHING IN MY POWER, GIVE MY LIFE to Help him, That he was and me and his Dad and Brother we’re cheated for ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING

THAT I COULD NOT SAVE HIM

Thank u in advance for caring enough to read all the way thru and supporting me even if it doesn’t seem like I care or appreciate

The moment our child died is now, yesterday, tomorrow, forever. It is the past, the present, and the future. It was not just one finite horrific moment in time that happened last whenever. It is not just the moment, the hour, the second, the millisecond our life became permanently divided into before and after.

You might say, “But she died last year!” Or 10 years ago, or five. No. No, she didn’t.

Our child dies all over again every morning we wake up.

And again every moment they are (yet again) missing.

And again every moment in between.

And again every breath we take.

Our child dies again every moment they are not here with us– for the rest of our lives." - Angela Miller