This is one of the only pictures of the FOUR of us. It was taken on the beach in Connecticut about six weeks after Weston died. I am wearing a necklace with Weston's ashes in it. Caroline is holding the necklace and pointing it to the camera. Be still my heart.
Today was good and bad. Two of Caroline's cousins were spending the week with my in-laws, and my mother-in-law called last night to invite Caroline over for the day. With no daycare anymore, no preschool, no living sibling, and grieving parents, she probably gets a little lonely. So I had an unexpected day to myself.
This NEVER happens. I thought to myself, what should I do with my day? First, I thought I could go get a massage, go shopping, maybe sit in a coffee shop and read for a few hours. Eight months ago, a day like that would have sounded like heaven on earth.
But that didn't appeal to me. Then I thought about everything that NEEDS to get done: the house is dirty, and medical bills need to be negotiated and paid.
Well, slaving away at home sure didn't appeal to me either. While I was wondering about how to spend my day, my grandma called. She said they had a gift for me and asked me if I wanted to come over and pick it up. Well, that sounded perfect. I figured I would do that and just play the rest of the day by ear.
So, I went to see my grandparents. They are both 85 and blessed with excellent health. And Weston Max is named for my grandpa, Max. We have always been very close, but now we have something else in common: we all know what it is like to lose a child.
My grandparents lost their only son, my mom's brother, in a car accident when he was eighteen years old. He died before I was born, so I obviously never got to meet him. His first name was Max. He died on July 26, 1972. Weston died on July 28, 2012: forty years and two days later.
Brad (his middle name, by which he was known) has always been a part of the family. His pictures are all over my grandparents' house, and they talk about him regularly. My grandparents were at a fundraiser recently, and a man came up to my grandma and introduced himself as one of Brad's good childhood friends. He told her about the mischief they used to stir up. My grandparents were surprised, and so pleased, that this man recognized her over forty years later.
My grandparents are loving, passionate, and generous people. I obviously didn't know them before their loss, but they have full, rich lives. It gives me hope. I can ask them anything about how they dealt with their grief in the early days and can observe their perspective on their loss, forty years later.
I ended up staying for over three hours, and they even fed me lunch. My family is amazing. Have I said that? Next, I went to Macy's and bought some boots. That whole excursion lasted about thirty minutes. I needed the boots but couldn't wait to get out of there.
Then I found myself heading to the hospital. I am not strong enough these days to go up to the NICU, so I just went to the lobby. I was hoping that being there would make me feel close to Weston, and it did help a little. I had one of my grief books and a novel with me, so I finished the grief book (A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis) and started the novel. But first I wrote a long private message to a friend struggling with a big loss of her own.
So, the books. My attention span is gone. Reading is truly one of the great pleasures of my life, and...nothing. I tried to start a Pulitzer Prize novel and found my mind wandering within the first page. I love C.S. Lewis and loved the first half of A Grief Observed, which he wrote after losing his wife to cancer just four years into their marriage, but got really restless in the second half. I was relieved to be done with it.
I had a support group meeting tonight. I LIVE for these meetings now. With my dominant emotion being anger at this moment, I shed fewer tears at the meeting tonight. The facilitator said something that really stuck with me: she would not go back to being her pre-loss self. One does not understand or experience true joy until experiencing true loss. This is so true.
But, it is a choice. You do not just magically become a better person after suffering such devastation. I am too paralyzed to make any such choices right now, but I have never seen so many beautiful people in one place as I encounter at these meetings and at the grief conference. So, again, there is hope.
I am staying up really, really late these days: now I consider midnight an early bedtime. It's the only time of day I can be completely quiet and alone with my thoughts. It is when I miss Weston the most.
In terms of feeling Weston with me, today was a little better. I read a blog post of someone who recently suffered a big loss that really spoke to me. And another friend, who also suffered a loss of a family member just a few days ago, texted me to say that she saw three rainbows today. Desperate to keep the connection going, I wore Weston's sweater (the one he died on and that I refuse to wash) to the support group meeting. Hearing encouragement from my fellow bereaved parents was a good ending.
There is no doubt that I am a changed person. Faced with the unexpected gift of a free day to myself, self-indulgence, which, I readily admit, every mom-every woman!-deserves and needs from time to time, was not appealing (I know, I know-except for the boots purchase). And, who cares that the carpet needs vacuuming? So I spent the day with family and sitting in a hospital, trying to be close to my son. I spent the evening with other broken people like myself who inspire me. And, it was the perfect day. Except I was really missing that sweet three-year-old face after an entire day without her. And I was missing the other equally sweet face that I have not seen for 11 weeks and 5 days and that I will never see again.
I hope I don't sound self-righteous. Although losing one's child forces profound change, shifting priorities, and newfound clarity in the surviving parents' lives, simply to survive, I do not wish this particular opportunity for personal growth on ANYONE. How I wish there was a different way to achieve personal growth.
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