As we were driving north to view the headstone... I'm really not sure how I felt... an overwhelming sense of numbness seemed to have set in. On one hand I want to go to the cemetery by myself and just do what I need to do...but on the other I want to surround myself with people who can share this stuff with me. Be my support team that surrounds me with love and comfort. Unfortunately that love and comfort is always followed with the typical questions of "how are you doing?" "Are you doing Ok"" and "how are you holding up?" Although these questions are meant to let me know they are there for me and they are genuinely concerned for my well being, but the questions suck because the answers are always the same; what I say out loud is "I'm fine", "I'm doing Ok, thanks", or "I'm getting by, one baby step at a time". All of which are basically true and easier to say then what is screaming through my head... "NO I'M NOT OK...MY SON IS DEAD". How am I supposed to be doing? I really don't know, all I know is that a full year has passed and I am lost. I am in a space I don't know where the walls are, how far they expand or even if the end. But at the same time I feel like I'm at a dead end with no available turns or exits. This existence continues to be my hell.
The headstone is exactly what I wanted it to be, regardless of who does not agree. I found myself needing time alone at the graveside but instead found myself inviting everyone who wanted or needed to be there, to the cemetery at the same time. We had a nice time together talking and releasing the balloons with little messages to let go of this last year. And in some ways I am angry with myself for not taking the moment by myself at the graveside. And in other ways I am glad because I don't think I would have been able to pull myself together to endure the rest of the weekend. I'm not sure where we are going or how we'll get there but this last year is over and done with and therefore some kind of a relief has come over us. It doesn't change the fact that he is gone, it doesn't change the fact we're all still deeply grieving. That no matter how you toss the dice everything is different. There will be no more family gatherings that feel right, no more family dinners with him there. No more family photos that will ever quite look right...
I don't really like doing any of the things our families still want to do, get together, meals, monthly birthday celebrations, because it's a constant reminder that my family is not whole. They have everyone there, their families are whole and complete and mine is broken with one who will always be missing. Broken in ways I can't just put on a band-aid on it and pretend it will be better. I know in ways things will get "better" over time, but it can never be fixed, Austin will always be missing. Not only is it hard to go to these things it's even harder to hold back what I'm feeling, anger, envy and an overwhelming sadness, and pretend to have a good time and act like I am in anyway enjoying myself (and yes I know I don't always do that I can be a moody ass). Yes I know they lost a nephew, cousin or grandson and it's been hard for them too, but he wasn't their son. He wasn't in their stomach for 9 months, they didn't give birth to my beautiful child and they didn't have to bury one of their children because he/she died by suicide. And thank the Lord they haven't...
The headstone is exactly what I wanted it to be, regardless of who does not agree. I found myself needing time alone at the graveside but instead found myself inviting everyone who wanted or needed to be there, to the cemetery at the same time. We had a nice time together talking and releasing the balloons with little messages to let go of this last year. And in some ways I am angry with myself for not taking the moment by myself at the graveside. And in other ways I am glad because I don't think I would have been able to pull myself together to endure the rest of the weekend. I'm not sure where we are going or how we'll get there but this last year is over and done with and therefore some kind of a relief has come over us. It doesn't change the fact that he is gone, it doesn't change the fact we're all still deeply grieving. That no matter how you toss the dice everything is different. There will be no more family gatherings that feel right, no more family dinners with him there. No more family photos that will ever quite look right...
I don't really like doing any of the things our families still want to do, get together, meals, monthly birthday celebrations, because it's a constant reminder that my family is not whole. They have everyone there, their families are whole and complete and mine is broken with one who will always be missing. Broken in ways I can't just put on a band-aid on it and pretend it will be better. I know in ways things will get "better" over time, but it can never be fixed, Austin will always be missing. Not only is it hard to go to these things it's even harder to hold back what I'm feeling, anger, envy and an overwhelming sadness, and pretend to have a good time and act like I am in anyway enjoying myself (and yes I know I don't always do that I can be a moody ass). Yes I know they lost a nephew, cousin or grandson and it's been hard for them too, but he wasn't their son. He wasn't in their stomach for 9 months, they didn't give birth to my beautiful child and they didn't have to bury one of their children because he/she died by suicide. And thank the Lord they haven't...
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