The end of another school is days away. Mike has today with his students, a day of meaningless meetings tomorrow, and on Thursday a teacher work day where he will pack up his classroom and check out for 2 1/2 months of "time off". Anyone who has taught knows that teachers do not get the summer completely off. There is lesson planning for the next year, trainings, Honey-Do lists to complete :) and they have to report back to work a week before school actually starts.
Last summer was our first without Andrew. We thought we would be more miserable than we were. Surprisingly we were not laying around crying all the time. Those times did happen, but for the most part we learned to find a new summer normal. We planted our garden, played in our swimming pool, did some yard and home improvement, saw a few plays, took a trip to the camp Andrew worked at, and went camping by ourselves. We are sure Andrew was laughing at us trying to set up the tent. Three tries later we got it up!
This summer shows promise of being a good one. We have tickets to a couple of plays, plans to attend a concert with some friends, activities at church, I have a job lined up for six weeks with the prospect of a job during the school year. We are planning some more home/yard improvements.
In the middle of our summer plans is the ache that never goes away though. Even when fun things happen, we still miss our son and always will. Summer is fun. But not at much fun without our boy.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Monday, June 11, 2012
The Dream
Since Andrew died I've had very few dreams about him. I had one a few nights ago and realized that it would be a good idea to keep a record of them somehow so I don't forget.
In this particular dream many children who had died were allowed to come back for about an hour or so. They were gathered in a large room that looked like the cafeteria of the college my husband and I attended when I was newly pregnant with Andrew.
Andrew was there wearing one of his ringer tee shirts and looking like he always did. I don't remember a lot of what we said but I do remember asking him what Heaven was like and if my dad was there. He said it was great and that my dad was there but he didn't spend much time with him. Most of the time together I was hugging Andrew and ruffling his hair like I used to do.
At one point I asked him why he got himself out of the straps when he was in the back of the pickup. He said he hadn't wanted to unstrap himself but he knew that he was supposed to. He didn't want to leave us but he knew that it was his time.
I woke up sometime later but still felt that I had indeed been visited by my boy.
We miss you and love you Andrew! Now go hang out with your grandpa Wes.
In this particular dream many children who had died were allowed to come back for about an hour or so. They were gathered in a large room that looked like the cafeteria of the college my husband and I attended when I was newly pregnant with Andrew.
Andrew was there wearing one of his ringer tee shirts and looking like he always did. I don't remember a lot of what we said but I do remember asking him what Heaven was like and if my dad was there. He said it was great and that my dad was there but he didn't spend much time with him. Most of the time together I was hugging Andrew and ruffling his hair like I used to do.
At one point I asked him why he got himself out of the straps when he was in the back of the pickup. He said he hadn't wanted to unstrap himself but he knew that he was supposed to. He didn't want to leave us but he knew that it was his time.
I woke up sometime later but still felt that I had indeed been visited by my boy.
We miss you and love you Andrew! Now go hang out with your grandpa Wes.
Friday, February 10, 2012
The hole
People have told me they have no idea what it feels like to lose a child. The best way to describe how it feels is like this.
Imagine that you have had a hole cut in the middle of your body. You are still moving, breathing, and functioning in a way that looks normal, you are just doing it with a huge hole in your chest.
Now imagine that you are the only one who sees and feels that hole. Others know you have the hole but they can't see or feel it. In their own ways they might try to help you fill the hole. Some of their ideas are good ones that do help you patch the hole. Nothing ever completely fills the hole though.
Imagine after time goes by that a few places in the hole are patched up, but the hole is still there. At any time a bump or a jar can bring the pain back and you feel like you are back to the beginning.
After all this time some people understand that the hole will always be there and it won't ever be completely filled. Those are the ones you feel comfortable with. They are the ones who support you when the hole feels like it's growing. They get you.
There are others who figure that by now if you have learned to function with the hole that it's time for you to be over it. It makes them uncomfortable for you to still be hurting. They have all sorts of ideas of what you can and need to do to get over it.
The hole is there. It will always be there. There are some days when you are aware of the hole but it doesn't dominate your whole life. Other days are different. Those days the hole is the only thing you can think about and you wonder if you will ever be "normal" again.
That's what it feels like.
Imagine that you have had a hole cut in the middle of your body. You are still moving, breathing, and functioning in a way that looks normal, you are just doing it with a huge hole in your chest.
Now imagine that you are the only one who sees and feels that hole. Others know you have the hole but they can't see or feel it. In their own ways they might try to help you fill the hole. Some of their ideas are good ones that do help you patch the hole. Nothing ever completely fills the hole though.
Imagine after time goes by that a few places in the hole are patched up, but the hole is still there. At any time a bump or a jar can bring the pain back and you feel like you are back to the beginning.
After all this time some people understand that the hole will always be there and it won't ever be completely filled. Those are the ones you feel comfortable with. They are the ones who support you when the hole feels like it's growing. They get you.
There are others who figure that by now if you have learned to function with the hole that it's time for you to be over it. It makes them uncomfortable for you to still be hurting. They have all sorts of ideas of what you can and need to do to get over it.
The hole is there. It will always be there. There are some days when you are aware of the hole but it doesn't dominate your whole life. Other days are different. Those days the hole is the only thing you can think about and you wonder if you will ever be "normal" again.
That's what it feels like.
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