Matthew,
I’m staring at the photo of you I selected for this post and for your obituary. It’s one of the few photos that we have of you and it’s how I always remember you.
My sweet red headed baby.
It never gives me any comfort to think of you as an adult spirit. You were my sweet, snuggly little baby and it’s how you stay in my mind.
Oddly, though…I feel the need and absolute desire to talk to you like a grown up today.
You would have been an amazing man, Matthew. Talented. Kind. Gentle. Strong. Much stronger than your mother ever could be. I wish more than anything that I could see you as a happy, fulfilled adult some day.
But it can never be because you died.
It’s been six years today since that horrible day that ripped us all to more pieces then we’ll ever find again.
I feel like I have aged centuries in these six years, Matthew.
There are so many thoughts twisting up my heart and tumbling through my mind this year about you.
I wonder if you knew your brother Aaron before he came to us. Somehow I keep thinking that you must have had a say in just what kind of spirit was going to be sent to our little family. If you knew that our family needed this particular little bundle of sweetness that is your little brother?
Aaron being here is very…complicated.
When I thought about what having a new baby in our family would be like I could easily imagine all the love and joy. I didn’t anticipate how much seeing and having a little one that is so close to your age on this day would hurt and tear at me.
Sometimes when I kiss the bridge of his nose I flash back to what it felt like to kiss yours. When he’s sleeping and I can only see the top of his head and nose I see such strong glimpses of you. It fills me with such joy to see you in some form that is alive and in motion that it takes my breath away much of the time.
While I absolutely love him for the individual that he is, seeing you in him can make me so happy my heart almost bursts.
I wish I could say that it was all good images that I remember. Too often when I snuggle or kiss or nod off rocking him I start in a cold sweat remembering your cold skin, your horrible wounds, the way your little body felt in my arms when your breath left it and you turned cold.
Do you know what that does to someone?
Sometimes I have had to look up to see hell.
If only I could give you my life to give you yours back; to make you breathe, live and grow, I would. I would trade my existence for yours without a moment of hesitation. I would fight tooth and nail and bloody my hands pulling and trying for the mere chance to make it happen. I try to live with my fury and disappointment at the inadequacies of the natural laws of this world that will never allow my to even TRY angers me, like so many other things regarding your loss. I try to put my rage at your loss on the least harmful targets as possible to spare those around me, but it doesn’t always work.
What’s in my head escapes and hurts myself and others. I wish they would go away. There isn’t a far enough, dark enough, safe enough place that I can find to erase those images and there are many times that I have thought they would drive me insane. So insane I thought it would be impossible to survive through your loss many times, Matthew.
I often feel I will never be whole again.
But…
There is Aaron…this little baby.
A second chance.
And while it is still so very hard and I sit here struggling to get out of this very big hole I’m in?
I love him so much.
He has brought so much love and happiness to our family, Matthew. He has made your loss more bearable in so many ways. Your father is a different man since he was born. Your brothers are proud little mother hens that adore and watch out for him. He has saved your mother.
I wonder if you know all these things.
I hope so.
I know that you didn’t want to leave us, I KNOW IT. I don’t blame you for ANY OF THIS.
Never.
EVER.
You are my sweet, sweet boy and you always will be.
I have to think and believe with how much we loved and treasured you that you miss us deeply and wish you were here with us as much as we long to have you back with our family.
No matter how lovely and perfect heaven is supposed to be?
I can’t imagine it being happier than being here with those that loved you so, so much.
Sometimes I feel silly writing these things to you or talking to you in the shower or in those really horrible hours of the morning with the light is blue and cold and lonely.
So many people of faith around me say that you are with me, that you are my guardian angel, that you are proud of me. I’m not sure about that. I want it to be that way. I want you to be around me, guarding me, giving me comfort, being proud of me.
If you are up there or here or wherever and you can see my life and be with me?
I’ve done the best I can, but I am not capable of a lot.
I’ve hurt so many.
I’ve lost so much.
I’m so messed up.
I have set back after setback after setback. I think that I am doing well, that things are better, that I can actually function and be free of this debilitating sorrow that is so tied to you and then BAM!
I’m proved wrong.
I’m in a pretty dark and deep hole right now, Matthew. I wish I could be different for you. For everyone. For myself. I wish I could just be…fixed.
I have so many good and wonderful things about me. Why can’t they just stay center stage and outshine the other all the time?
Why do I keep falling down SO HARD?
So MANY times.
It’s exhausting to keep going through. For me and everyone that touches my life. It’s too much sometimes. I wish I could look at this like someone I want to get away from and distance myself from it.
I don’t have that luxury.
I get to stay right here. Front and center. Yippee.
And I feel like a failure.
Over and over and over again people tell me that you are here, with me and that you will give me comfort when I feel you.
But I don’t.
I don’t feel you here with me.
What kind of horrible mother says that?
Doesn’t feel their child’s spirit around them?
So I try.
I pretend.
I hope, and wish and try to FORCE IT TO BE SO.
But I just…don’t.
It has tortured me for a very long time.
A longtime friend that knows me inside and out lost their father at a young age and I confided this horrible guilty secret to them quite some time ago. They told me that it took years and years before they could take comfort and feel their dad around them. They were just too hurt and in pain to do so before then.
Just like they knew it would, it comforted me and gave me hope that one day I might.
That it would help combat how I feel all the time.
I hurt for you. I ache for you all the time.
I cry and sob and RAGE that you didn’t get more time here. That you didn’t make it to four months like your brother did. That you will never have a first day of school, a first kiss, fall in love or give me a beautiful redheaded grand daughter to make up for the fact that your father is the only single chromosome male IN EXISTENCE.
Not one single day goes by where there isn’t at least a twinge of pain in my heart for you and it shows.
The fall out from your death is so big and ugly I wonder if I will ever stop feeling the effects of it. I have been asked again and again and again if it gets easier.
Sometimes I am actually truthful in my answer.
No.
No, it doesn’t.
It never, ever gets easier…I just get better at dealing with it.
Until I don’t.
And the process starts all over again.
I know this has been a hard day. A difficult letter. One I hope you understand.
Even if I am not through enough of my hurt and pain to feel you here with me yet?
If you’re really here?
Please don’t leave me.
Please.
To get through life without you I will need you by me every second of the way until I see you again.
Until I do?
I think about you.
I miss you.
I love you.
ALWAYS,
Your mama.
I’m sending you the best, strongest hugs, and keeping you in my thoughts sweet Loralee.
<3
Oh Loralee,
This was so touching. I have to tell you that I read several blogs of people dealing with grief and have always thought you “handled” it so well. Well, I believe that even more, now. Some of these last few posts have been so raw. Thank you for making the decision to be so vulnerable with us, your readers. I cannot imagine the courage it took. You have done such an amazing job fighting through the hard situations in your life. Your story is so inspiring to me. I hope you won’t be offended or feel belittled if I, a complete stranger, tell you how proud I am of you.
As informative, eloquent, and well written as your “white house” post was and as funny as so many of your posts are, these last few posts have made me feel like I was getting to know the REAL you. I. Love. That. I hope these posts helped you more than they hurt you. Praying for you today.
Sarah Denley
I have nothing profound to say, but I continue to keep you, Matthew and your loving family close to my heart. I wish you peace through this unjustifiable situation you have been dealt.
Sending tons of hugs your way Loralee.
Thank you so much for writing this, Loralee. It’s so validating. I have felt so many of these things, but I’ve been afraid to say them outloud.
I felt my daughter so close to me right after she died, but as time passed… I don’t know. I often wonder if it’s the guilt getting in the way. I don’t feel worthy to be her mother, and I don’t feel I’ve honored her enough since her death. I have fallen so much, and I’m afraid she’s looking down on me, disappointed in some way.
And the whole “adult spirit” thing? Yeah, I get that. And I feel the same way. She will always be my baby.
I know tons of people have probably told you this alreay, but you will get to raise him again. You will get to see him as that little baby, and cuddle him and be his mamma. That may not help you now, or even years to come, but some day you will take comfort in knowing that you did not loose him forever, just for this life. Sorry if that was a little religious. I have a hard time with death, and this has helped me take it in stride many times.
Thinking about you and your family today. Good luck.
i am so sorry you have to go through this. no one should ever have to feel that kind of pain.
i lost my dad many years ago. i have never had that feeling of him being with me. yet, it is something i long to feel. hopefully, one day, soon, you and i will both feel the presence and comfort of our loved ones. but we always have the memories to hold on to.
i think we will all hold our lil ones a little tighter and longer today and think of your precious matthew!
If I were with you I’d be hugging you so hard. Love to you and your family today and always.
I have read this, and your other recent posts and they have amazed me. That you are enduring all of this and writing about it is a testament to the strength that you have, regardless if you feel that way or not. I truly hope that this is cathartic in some small way – that writing through these events and issues helps?
Faith is a complex thing isn’t it? To some people it seems to come so readily – they just have it and live it and are comforted by it. For some of us – it takes a little work – but we try.
I have no words of comfort for you Loralee – don’t we all wish we could take some of your pain away? I am however working at my own faith, and growing stronger in it day by day – I will promise that I will pray. You will truly be in my prayers each day – huge hugs to you and your family – and your beautiful sweet baby, Matthew.
Wow. I don’t have anything new to say from any of the other readers, just thank you.
Lots and lots of Thank You for sharing, for being, for writing, for persevering…
I’m very, very sorry for your loss.
Love you, friend.
You’re in my thoughts, love.
I lurk, I don’t comment even though I should comment if only to tell you what an amazing writer you are. Amazing.
But today I de-lurk to tell you that whatever you’re feeling is fine. Ok. No problem at all.
You get to decide. Always
Thank you for this.
You write about Matthew – and your feelings – so beautifully, Loralee! I wish that you could hurt less. “To get through life without you I will need you by me every second of the way until I see you again.” That line just stopped me cold, and I had to reread it a couple of times. Sending you peaceful thoughts . . .
Thinking of you on this most difficult day. Your writing is beautiful and heartbreaking and through it your amazing strength is ever present. As is your love for your children. Keeping you and your family in my thoughts and prayers.
I’ve got nothing but tears.
Love and hugs, Loralee. Love and hugs.
My God, I had no idea I could cry so hard. I love you Lor. While Mathew may not be here, he’s still so fucking lucky to have you as a mom.
dear, sweet loralee. no one deserves to feel the kind of pain that you do right now & have been carrying for 6 years. please don’t feel badly for not feeling matthew’s beautiful spirit. just as faith is different for everyone, so is something so profound as the loss of a child. you will grieve differently than others. know that your way isn’t the wrong way.
I believe we will all be together again someday, and when we do, it will be as if we have only been apart an instant.
I don’t have the words to comfort you or make you feel better about your loss but wanted to let you know you, Matthew and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. Unfortunately, you never get over a loss like this, you just learn how to deal with it a little better over time.
After the person that I loved more than anyone else died I didn’t feel her presence around me for years, but I do now! It isn’t a measure of your love, or a reward for your suffering, I think it is a presence that is there the whole time that one day you finally do start to feel. You are right that it doesn’t get better (how could it!!) but over time you do get better at dealing with it. My prayers are with you, your family and with little Mathew.
I hope your pain eases soon, and that you will feel your angel there with you.
what terrible terrible hurt you are feeling Loralee. I can only hope that writing this eased the pain for even just a moment. how can there be a right or perfect way experience grief and death when there is no such way to live? whether one believes in God or Jesus Christ or not, it is indisputable that we human beings are imperfect by nature. have you heard of punctuated equilibrium? it’s the idea in statistics/science that the “average” reading never actually exists, instead there is a continuous shift between high and low that averages out to a medium or “normal” value. I’m struggling with depression for the fourth time and it’s never I been this hard to get better; sometimes I am amazed that I feel so close to good, and then I have a setback back to square 2 or 3. I’m 37 and this has been going on since I was 19, I’m starting to think that punctuated equilibrium is going to be my normal. Just a thought. I am going to look for this beautiful poem that my friend read at her daughter’s service.
I don’t have words, just lots of love and hugs for you…all of you.
There is nothing I can say, but I need to say something… You are an amazing Mother, and your children are lucky to have the love you give them. We all stumble, we all make mistakes. It’s okay. Just know that this day, this month, always there are people out here rooting for you, thinking of you, and keeping you wrapped in virtual hugs.
hugs Loralee. It took me a bit to work through my own issues to read this. I am so sorry Matthew isnt with you. My heart hurts for you.
I don’t think you have to feel him, and maybe I’m not entirely sure you’re supposed to. What you are supposed to do, maybe, is just honor him. And i’m pretty sure you’re doing that with flying colors, sister.
All my love, to all of you.
Yes, yes, yes. Easier to deal with. But not any less painful.
Love you, babe.
When you are ready emotionally to acknowledge his precense it will be there. He is ALWAYS there and to them it is but a blink of an eye. Dying is hardest on the living.
Take heart my dear for you have so many that love you and need you.
Blessings
Leann
Though I tend to agree with your post, I sometimes want to say, “As they use to say spick and span new..”.