Tunnel View, Yosemite. April 2011.  Yosemite is probably my favorite place to be. There is a spot, off Tioga Rd in the Tuolomne Meadow, right near the river, that is my quiet place where I go in my head when things get to me. It is so beautiful and peaceful. When I die, I want most of my ashes with Tim up near San Gorgonio, maybe some with my Mom and Grandparents in RI, and some near the Tuolomne River in that beautiful spot.

Grief can manifest itself in physical ways, not just emotional. I have never felt the pain I felt when Tim died. I can't describe it, but I hurt. Medical, physical ailments arose as well. Not so much for me as for hubby. I truly believe these issues were brought on by grief. It will mess with your sleep cycle for sure. And we forget to take care of ourselves as we should. I can sit here and tell you to get regular checks by your doctor if you have gone through a traumatic loss. But why? Our brains don't work so well either!

I read an article that I wish I could cite here, but I have been unable to find the article again, so I won't put numbers down here. This study was about the number of car accidents that involved people who were suffering deep grief. I get that. I recall on more than one occasion going someplace, arriving at my destination not remembering any of the trip to said destination! I am not kidding. Scary to think about. Our minds just get so absorbed in our grief, thoughts of our loved one, etc, that we just don't absorb what is happening around us. I recall reading in different grief forums of parents who could not concentrate on a book or even tv show, something they enjoyed before their loss.

My own experience; I got lost in stories, but honestly couldn't tell you if I read anything significant. I slept a lot, hubby lost sleep. And once I got over the initial shock and nausea, I fed my grief. Still feeding it 8 years later.

A notion or 2 about grief

When Tim was little, he loved watching Alice in Wonderland. When he saw the crescent moon one night, he thought it was, as he called it, the Treshire Cat. I tried to take a picture of the one I saw tonight, but my little camera would not do it justice. I took this one in the summer of 2010 while staying at a monastery in Santa Barbara with my sister. Every time I see the Treshire Cat moon, I imagine it is Tim smiling down on us. It gives me a smile every time. Sometimes there is a star near one of the corners, that is one of Tim's dimples!

Grief is different for everyone. Just know that. Men and women are different, and they grieve differently most of the time. That is just a fact. And what is true for one man or woman may not be true for another. Will not be true for another. My husband and I shared this beautiful boy. We made him together. But we also had different relationships with him, each of us. And we grieve his death differently. It affects us differently, and we behave differently. And none of it is wrong. It's just different. One may keep all their grief inside, the other may wail out loud, often. One might sleep a lot, the other might not sleep very well at all. One may want to be alone, another may become more clingy. As long as one person isn't upset because someone else is not grieving as they are, all will be well. Just be patient with them if they are having a bad day, give them more of whatever they need; space, closeness, etc. And if you think someone should be crying more, grieving more, remember, you don't know what is going on in their heart or head. Or the breakdown they might be having when they are alone in the car everyday, or the shower every night.

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross brought us the 5 stages of grief. Unfortunately, it was misused and misunderstood. It was never meant to be a manual for grief. There is no such thing. But, these stages are frequent symptoms of grieving people. Not in any particular order, nor will each person even experience each of the stages. It was several years in fact, before I felt any anger. Not sure I ever really felt denial. Though I certainly said "I can't believe he is dead", I still knew he was.  This goes back to grief being different for everyone.

There is no timeline for grief. There is not a cut off when the pain and crying finally stop. But for most people, especially I think if they have a good support system, there comes a time when you find yourself living again. It might even shock you to realize it. You are laughing, enjoying yourself and being a somewhat "normal" person. And it's ok to live again, laugh again. But it won't happen at any particular time. Don't let people tell you it's time to get over it. Maybe they can't handle the grief, and that's ok, but you have to let it happen. Let the tears happen, let the smiles happen, anytime you feel them. The people who tell you that you need to get over it want it for their sake, not yours. Don't let it get to you.

I think I blabbed enough for tonight, but in the next couple of days I will talk about the physical side of grief, it is not all emotional.

Peace

In Memory

At the middle school where I work a tree recently was taken down. High winds had brought some limbs down, and when the tree people came out, found rot in it, and had to take the whole thing out. This tree was planted in memory of a young girl who was struck and killed by a drunk driver. I learned about her one time when a brother and sister of hers was there to put flowers in and around the tree on her birthday. When I saw the tree was gone, my heart broke for the family. And I know they were devastated. Yesterday the family was there, and a new tree was planted and the plaque re-seated. I was happy to watch the planting. I hope it brought them more peace.

Monday was rainy and very chilly for So Cal, with a raw breeze. Today was about 30 degrees warmer, a slight breeze blowing in the afternoon. It was a beautiful, gorgeous day, perfect weather! Unfortunately,  today I saw very little of the snow that Monday's storm left in our local mountains. On the other hand, Saddleback was lovely this afternoon. It was a good day to be working outside, which is what I am lucky to do!

Out of control

This is Boomer, back when he was a playful kitten. The same cat that gets so tormented by our kitten Misha. Poor, put upon old man. He is 10 years old. Tim wanted a black kitten for Christmas, named Zaboomafoo. What Tim did get for Christmas that year was a kitten collar with a tag that read Zaboomafoo in his stocking.  I think we found Boomer and his sister Ginger in March. Zaboomafoo is his name, but we call him Boomer. His sister died almost a year ago. The collar and tag Boomer never liked wearing is in a box with a few other special items, which had held Tim's ashes. I think of that box (which sits out here in our living/dining area) every time I read The Littlest Angel on Christmas Eve.

I have been in a bit of a funk the past couple of days. No reason that I can pinpoint, it just is. Sometimes I am still on that grief rollercoaster. Ups and downs, and you never know what will set you off. it can be the most innocuous thing. Last spring on the way to church one Sunday I got weepy, I don't recall or know what set it off. It continued the whole day, I remember having a crying spell in the bedroom at one point. That evening as I prepared dinner, Hugh and I had a small drink, plus we had wine with dinner. I did not drink anymore than I usually do on such occasions. I rarely get even tipsy. But I think with the crying I had been doing that day, it just got the better of me somehow. I broke down during dinner, Hugh ended up taking me to the bedroom. I recall wailing even, I was a mess. And I am ashamed. I recall feeling like I was out of control, like I was a messy, sloppy drunk. As I said, I had no more than usual that night (and we really only have drinks on weekends, maybe 1 night a week. I don't know why it hit me so hard, but it was quite a display, and I hate that I lost control like that with the kids around. It was awful. I remember it all, and I had no hangover, so why was I such a mess? I don't know. But I shudder every time I think about it. Hugh was really good to me that night, I am sorry I put him and the kids through that. I went to bed early and slept til alarm. But I know next time I have a slightly weepy day, I won't drink at all. I wish I could forget that night. I feel very ashamed when I think about it.

thoughts on an earlier post

Around this same time last year, a hummingbird nest was discovered in a bougainvillea outside our patio wall. It had 2 eggs in it. In early February, these babies were there. It was so sweet to watch them grow. When I took a picture later as they were outgrowing the nest, one of the babies got startled and flew away. A couple days later the other baby was gone. I wonder where the hummingbirds are nesting this year? I hope I get to see them again.

Going back to an earlier post, where I remarked on a comment in my old journal about "God having His plans" and "wanting another voice for the angel choir":  Maybe God does have his plans, I don't think the death of my son was one of them. I do think that God took Tim home, because he was too badly hurt to stay here. In death he was healed as he could not be in life. And the notion that God needed another voice for the heavenly choir, well, that's just trite bullshit. It sounds nice, and pretty, but when you get down to the nitty-gritty, that is not what it is all about.
Most people(and I was one of them) will say things like this when trying to comfort a grieving person. It doesn't help. One that really ticks off grieving parents is: "He/she is in a better place". Really? What can be better than here, with his family who loves him and needs him? At our advanced age we were spared the "well, at least you can have another baby". I have read on some forums some parents raging about comments like that. It never really bothered me. I guess in someplace in my heart I knew that they were trying to comfort me, and were really just at a loss for what to say. I feel sorry for them. We grieving people have our own pain and sorrow and fear, but so do the people who have to deal with us, especially when the loss is that of a child. People are suddenly faced with the fact that it could be their child and that is scary, and they just don't know what to say. Or do. I get it. And it's ok people.
From my own experience, and the writings of others, here is what I found works best: If you feel you must say something (I know it's hard for some of us to keep our mouths shut!), a simple "I'm sorry" is usually sufficient. "I miss him too" "We love him too". Maybe a memory you have (these are always welcome!). And just sitting in silence is absolutely fine. Just knowing that someone is there can be enough. If you want to do something, it's usually best not to ask, "what can I do?" or "call me if you need anything". People who are  used to doing for themselves usually won't ask, and usually won't call (we learned to, and it was not easy). If you are there, feed or walk animals, do dishes, anything you see that might need doing. Bring groceries, dinner, etc. Check the fridge to see if they need anything. It is all appreciated. Call first, but come over some morning with bagels or donuts. This stuff is still helpful even several weeks after, believe me. Even years down the road, we still want to know that you remember our loved one. We still want to hear you say his name and share a memory.

Christmas Cactus

At Hugh's work, someone brought in some Christmas cactus shoots sometime in September or October I think. They were all potted in small pots. Hugh missed getting one, but on his way home, he found several limp shoots that got left behind in the parking lot. He picks some up and brought them home to plant. They put out some new shoots, and this beautiful bloom showed up in November. It lasted a long time, and I enjoyed its beauty every time I passed our patio.

The rest of the journal:

March 29, 2004

Tim was born on May 10th, 1988.  We had tried for a few years to get pregnant, at least two, anyway. I was doing the temperature thing and tracking everything, and every once in awhile, I would be a few to several days late, and get so excited, then get a test taken, only to have it come back negative, and start my cycle within a day or two. It was sad and depressing. Tim was conceived on August 15, 1987. I know the date, because the pregnancy kind of snuck up on me. Hugh was scheduled to go to MA on business, and was leaving a couple days early to visit with our friends up there. But I determined from my calendar that he was leaving too early. So we took care of things before he left, and I remember that day well. He had a schedule for the shuttle that left from a nearby hotel, so I didn't have to drive him all the way to DC. We were living in Fredericksburg, VA at the time. Well, he was used to leaving on a weekday, and this was a Saturday, and the schedule was different. So on a hot, sticky summer day in Virginia, I had to drive him to DC, his flight was leaving National Airport, now called Ronald Reagan Airport. I was stuck in beach traffic heading back, with no A/C in the car, and figuring I was going to be late to work, and fuming! I was late, but not too much. Some time the next month, I realized I was about 10 days late, and went and had a test. I was going crazy when they finally called and told me it was positive! I screamed in the poor nurse's ear! I couldn't wait, and called Hugh at work. He was not surprised. Then I called my Mom at work. I was so excited.

I recall so much about my pregnancy, Tim's birth, and his younger years, milestones. More than I remember about Dennis. I think it is just the newness of it all, it remains very sharp in the memory, even a poor memory like mine. I recall the first time I heard his heartbeat, I cried. What an incredible miracle. I had an ultrasound early on, and there was some concern about the placenta lying across the cervix. At that point it was not a problem, only if it did not move by the time I was at term. We opted to be surprised about the sex of the baby. I remember the first time I thought I felt anything, it felt like butterflies in my stomach. It was on Thanksgiving, we were at Steve's wife's family's house outside of Virginia Beach. Poor Hugh never felt either baby move, or saw it. Every time I would take his hand and put it on my belly, the baby would stop, or it would be so subtle that he did not feel it. But I sure felt it. And I recall lying on my stomach on the floor at home reading the paper. It was still early on, but far enough along that Tim let me know I could no lie on my stomach any longer. Not while he was in there!

I had very little morning sickness, and it was not relegated to just morning. Anytime I had gone too long without eating. In fact, I recall being at work and thinking that I was feeling kind of nauseous, maybe if I ate an early lunch, I would feel better. This was before I knew I was pregnant. Some smells would make me sick, like the smell of gasoline at a gas pump. If I ate too much, I got ill too.

Hugh had started a new job shortly after I got pregnant. So he was not as available to take time off to go to appointments with me, and one time he did, I was so caught up in things, I forgot to ask if he could come back and hear the heartbeat. I was so sick over that, I felt awful about it, very guilty.

I had a healthy pregnancy, no problems. We bought a townhouse and moved in February of 1988, in Manassas, VA. So I had to get  a new Dr. My first Dr thought at first I might be carrying twins, because my uterus seemed larger than it should be for as far along as I was. I remember the fright I got when he asked if there was a history of twins in my family! Yikes, twins?? There were some instances of it in Hugh's father's family, but not mine! But it was only 1. Another ultrasound at the new Dr, in February revealed that the placenta had moved, and was no longer a problem. Hugh was there for that one, I am glad. He had to show us in sections, because Tim was so big in there, and he was trying to be careful not to show us what the sex was. He asked a few times if we were sure we didn't want to know, because he said it was very apparent what it was. I figured that could mean anything, not necessarily that it was a boy. It could have been equally obvious that it was a girl.

I was due on May 8th, which was Mother's Day. After seeing me on Thursday, the Dr said that if I had not gone into labor, he was going to induce on Tuesday, May 10th. I have a small pelvic opening, small all around, and he didn't want the baby getting any bigger. Because of how big I was, he thought I was going to have a 10 pound baby! He had never seen me not pregnant, so he could not compare anything.

March 29, 2004 part 2

Just a few different things to say here, I will finish up with the birth and stuff at another time.

The past few days have been hard. Well, really, since last Monday. It was the 22nd of March, and it was a Monday. Three  months to the day that  Tim died. That was hard. Then Tuesday night five boys in the troop made Eagle. That was awfully hard too, though I tried to remain happy for the boys. I know I will never pin an Eagle medal on Tim's uniform. That hurt so so much. He had worked hard to get to Life Scout, and I was so proud of him for getting that far, with some coaxing, and yes, some nagging. I know he would have made it, though Hugh was not so sure, and he(Hugh) was ok with that too.

And lately, even the memories that are happy make me sad. I have been feeling so down for a week now. I am sure I will come out of it, but I just feel very depressed, and uninspired.

I have at least started walking. Last Wednesday I walked 2 miles, over 4 on Thursday, and about 1 ½  on Friday. Today I walked about 2 miles, plus whatever I do at work. It was too hot to walk to work today, I did my walking in the morning. It was supposed to hit 90 today. It didn't feel that hot, but it was pretty warm.

On Sunday in church, we were saying The Lord's Prayer, and I was thinking of Tim, and my Grandfather, whom I used to kneel beside and say my prayers with when I was a little girl. I got emotional, and my voice caught during the prayer. I felt a pressure against my arm, and I figured Dennis heard my voice, knew I was having problems, and leaned over to give me some emotional support. Well, I looked down to kiss his head as it leaned against my arm, but it was not there, he was kneeling more upright, and I was kind of back against the pew to give my knees a break. It was not him, so I have to figure it was Tim. That was nice, but even that can not pull me out of this funk I am currently in.

That was the end of my journal. Now I guess I will have to come up with some new thoughts. More another day!

The girls own a lot of books, and the tiny bookcases in their room were outgrown. So I bought this kit today at Target and put it together. Kind of huge for their room, but it will hold both of their books probably. The shelves are not in yet, obviously. The back is cheap cardboard crap, but once shelves and books are in it won't be noticed. I enjoy being able to do things like this. I know anybody can follow instructions (well, actually, according to Dennis, they get people in all the time who can't put their stuff together), but I still feel a satisfied sense of accomplishment. I put together a small bookcase once, and a large computer desk. That's right; I am woman, hear me roar! (when I am not whimpering)

So, more journal:

January 31,2004

Thank God, January is over. Only 11 more months of this year to endure. We got a check today from the hotel where we stayed, to replace the Game Boy and games, but they have not done anything to convince us to stay there again. And I will inform them of that at some point.

Side by side I see them kneel

My Grandfather and my son

Saying their prayers

As Grandpa and I have done

"Our Father, Who art in Heaven"

As they bow at the Good Lord's

I hear their voices speak as one

The Timmer and Grandpa Sweet

written 12/27/03 by Annette

I wrote the above while in the car on the way to The Producers. I left it for awhile, thinking there might be more to it, but that is all that came, so it is enough.

I miss you, Tim.

February 10, 2004

It is hard for me to sit and write the following, but I know I have to. On December 9, Tim had what was to be the first of 2 part ear surgery to restore hearing to his right ear. The hearing was very bad, bones in middle ear badly damaged from chronic ear infections as a baby. The surgeon cleared out the disease, like a cyst in there, and found all 3 bones fused together. He separated them, and found one of the bones just was not moving at all. The plan was, sometime in the summer of 2004, go back in, and replace that bone with a prosthetic. The surgery went well. However, sometime during the week before the surgery, it may have been the day before, I was nervous and edgy. It was after all surgery, and things can go wrong. People have died during surgery. And I can have a very over active imagination sometimes, it takes me places that just aren't good. I found myself imagining something happening to Tim, how I would feel (agonized). There were some pretty horrible thoughts. {Thoughts that I actually deleted from my journal as I copied and pasted here, I just could not face them again.} Maybe I was in bed, fell asleep and dreamed some of it. That is what I would like to think, rather than my imagination came up with such  scenarios. It pains me so much that Tim is gone, and that he might have been in pain before he died. I certainly never made either of my kids sick or kept them sick. I hated it when they were sick. But still, that imagination scenario I had makes me ill. Did I bring something on, because God saw what was in my thoughts? And that leads me to wonder, was it my fault, did this awful thing happen to my son because of my many sins? That seems extreme, because then the child is being punished for my sins, but only God knows his ways. I hate these thoughts, but I can't always suppress them. All I can do is ask God to forgive me, for Tim to forgive me. {I have moved past this, thank God. I feel pretty certain Tim did not die for my sins (that was Christ"s job}

Tomorrow, Hugh and I are meeting Renee Brandt, the girl who hit Tim. Her mother is unable to be there(if it were my kid, I would be there, even though she is 18 and an adult), but we are still meeting her. It will be hard, but a good thing. We have our grief recovery(yeah right) in the evening, then my sister, Karen, and her son Pat, arrive at 10:30pm.

 

March 12, 2004

I keep thinking of things I want to write here, during the day as I go about my business, or at night as I am going to sleep, but I have been avoiding sitting down here and writing anything. The past few weeks, I have been hiding in books.

The scholarship is all set up, and what a wonderful tribute to our Tim. The web site to go with it is beautiful! What an incredible person Ed Leard is. We had a lovely dinner at their house a couple of weeks ago, enjoyed meeting his wife, and Alex, and Danielle, their 2 year old. Dennis had fun with Alex, said he is "cool" and "awesome". {We have recently dissolved the foundation. It was just too much for our small, busy "committee" to run it the way it needed to be run. I am sorry for this, but am finding other ways to honor Tim}

Simonson Photography kindly called In January and offered us the original of his last school photo, I thought that was so kind. I took it to DigiPhoto, the place he recommended and got some wallets, 5x7 and 3x5 made. I picked them up, and ordered an 8x10 at that time. I got them home and was not happy with the color, so I brought them back with the original so they could match it. He also said he would redo the 8x10, it's color was a bit off too. He said they were all paid for, and I said that I had not paid for the 8x10. He said it was paid for by Jessica. She works there part time, and is in the Madrigals at Aliso Niguel. I thought that was so sweet. I was so overwhelmed by her kindness that I started crying there in the store.

More journal

This is Tim. He was a handsome young man, and generally happy. He had a gentle and compassionate soul, and a fiery temper at times. I love Tim.

January 13, 2004S

Timisms: gaugy(gaw-gee) was hungry, va-va was bunny... we would make kind of a sucking noise with our front teeth over our lips, and Tim came up with va-va from that. He had a frog he got from the fair once, he called it Um-Green. Penglins= penguins, callapitter=catipillar, pine-noodles=pine-needles, pine-corns=pine-cones, by your hind you=behind you. I lalu FACE! We never knew what this meant: oooor, the botnot pickle! When he got the chicken pox, he called them chicken honks.

January 27, 2004

More Timisms came to my mind last week, but I did not write them down, and have forgotten now, but they will come again. Some days are so dry, some days the tears don't stop. My hardest times come when I think of the accident itself, and I wish I had been there with him. I know I could not have done anything, but I still wish it. And I would not change it at all, but I have a hard time dealing with the memories of him in the hospital. I am thinking of calling the hospital and seeing if they were able to use any of his organs, I would like to know that. (Interesting to note here on Jan 18, 2012: I know they could not use any of his organs because he had too many blood transfusions. We talked to someone about this at the hospital that night. I know that I was very forgetful and scatterbrained in the months that followed, this is proof of that. Apparently when I was writing the journal I did not remember that at all. Grief and trauma will take a toll on your mind, I know this.) Though I don't recall if anything got signed, and I think you might have to sign papers for things like that.

I was listening to Mark & Brian this morning, and thinking how much he loved that show. I wish he could have gone to one of the Christmas shows like he wanted to. I have not stopped eating, but am going to try walking more, and go easier on the eating. I had been doing so well, and I know I need to take care of myself. Hugh is finally sleeping better most nights, and his stomach upsets have calmed down some.

We went away to Palm Springs this weekend. It was nice to get away. We wanted to go to the summit of Mt. San Jacinto, but by the time we got there, there was snow. When we made plans a couple weeks ago, there was no snow. There is a log book up there to put you name in, Hugh wanted to put Tim's name in it. We did do some hiking, slogging through snow. The trails had been slightly cleared, by rangers tromping through them on snowshoes or skis I guess, but the further we went, the less easy it was. We probably hiked a little over 4 miles that day. It was a nice tram ride to the top too. I got a bit leaky once as we sat in the cafeteria enjoying hot drinks and our lunch, and thinking that Tim should have been occupying that empty chair. While we were at the top, the Game Boy Advance Dennis had brought was stolen from our room. It had been Tim's bought for his birthday last year. Plus 2 games, one was Tim's for this past Christmas, on Dennis's. I still need to call the hotel owner. We filed a police report.

Speaking of police reports, the deputy who was by to ask some questions, and said he would call us every week, has not called yet. I really hate when people say they will do something and do not follow through. And I have not heard back from the counselor at San Clemente High about meeting with Renee and her parents. I called about a yearbook from the high school, left a message, nobody has called me back. I sent a nasty letter yesterday reaming the lady who does the life stories for the Orange County Register, who never had the decency to call me back when I left 2 messages.

Last week, the cards stopped coming in the mail. Almost a month to the day that Tim died, the last card came. That was kind of hard, I looked forward everyday to hearing some words of comfort from someone new. We have gotten another few cards that have been hand delivered. Life goes on.

Oh my God, it is so hard, and this year stretching out before us is so long. I wonder some days how I will get through the days, how we will get through them. AA's creed, One Day At A Time, works well, often it is one moment, literally. Why did he have to die? Why my Tim? I would have been happy if he had to have a spleen removed, or something. Or even if he ended up in a wheelchair. I would gladly have him here with us. But I guess, though maybe God didn't have a plan for him, perhaps he took him because what laid before him was too much. He had already been through a lot in his short life, and the road was never easy for him. But he embraced it fully, and enjoyed life. Perhaps God saw what was in his future if he had survived, and thought it best to bring him home. He is certainly better there than in a vegetative state. But what nasty hand of fate turned this accident into this result? Being hit by a car going 25, or even 35 miles an hour is certainly survivable. What quirk was there, that instead of being hurt by the car, he landed on his head hard enough to do all that damage? I will never know the answers, I am sure, but will always have these questions.

A black and yellow butterfly has been on the walkway outside the past two mornings when I left for work. As I walk by and disturb it, it flits around me a bit before settling back down again in the sun. I like to think that it is Tim, coming to say Hi to me, and it makes me smile.

I spoke to a man named Ed Leard today. I have spoken with him before. His son rode the bus with Tim last year, and they became friends. His son, Alex, has a form of autism, which makes him at times socially awkward, and unacceptable to others. But Tim befriended him, and that meant a lot to Alex and his Dad. Ed is starting up a perpetual scholarship in Tim's name, the Tim Jackes Voice of an Angel music scholarship. It will be for graduating seniors who are going to continue in music education in college. What an unbelievable man this is. I cry every time I talk with him, and he cries too, for our loss for a boy he never met, for the kindness Tim showed his son. Once he has everything in place, he wants to take us out to lunch. God Bless this man. One of those every day angels.

Another day, more journal

This is Misha. She is 9 months old. Misha likes to chase jingly balls, wads of paper, etc. She likes to rearrange ornaments on Christmas trees. When you are in a comfy seat in the living room, she likes to be on your lap. While on your lap, she likes to stretch her front legs up your chest, and occasionally reach out a paw to touch your mouth or chin. She sometimes talks in her sleep. Her favorite past time is tormenting Boomer, our 10 year old, and well established cat. Poor old man.

And now, more from that journal from so long ago:

January 5, 2004

Well, we all went back to work and school today. I might not have, was not sure if I was ready, but Hugh was ready, and Dennis was going back to school, I did not want to be here alone. Yesterday I wrote out 24 thank you cards, still have lots more to go, need to buy some more. Hugh wrote out some for work, and brought extras to work with him. I took Tim's books to the high school today. I was doing ok as I walked into the office, then the student aid behind the desk asked if she could help me, and I told her I had brought my son's books, and I broke down. I left, after leaving the books on the desk, then went back because I had a couple of cards I wanted to leave. The lady behind the desk gave me a big hug, then sat me down while she went in to talk to Dr. Charles Salter, the principal(he delayed the vacation he was supposed to leave for, to come to Tim's service). As I was sitting there, I saw Tim's guidance counselor, Mary McKenna go by, and she smiled and said hi. That kind of surprised me, until I had a message from her later saying she had not known about Tim when she saw me. She is a very nice lady, and I could tell she felt badly. I went back and sat with Dr. Salter for awhile, and we talked a bit, and I got calmed down enough to leave.

Work I knew would be hard the first day, I think maybe the first week, because I did not see all the teachers that know me, or knew Tim, so there will be more hugs, and sadness to work through. But today was a beautiful day, the sky was the most brilliant blue, and I stood by myself for awhile at the back of the school, where I knew I would not be disturbed, and felt the breeze, and looked up into a sky, I now realize, as blue as Tim's eyes. And I was just now, as I typed this, reminded of 2 lines from a poem Tim had to do in the 3rd grade, titled I Am. "I feel the wind touch my face. I touch the sky when I am dreaming." And I know now, that when I felt some moment of peace there, as I prayed to God, and thanked Him for carrying us, that Tim and God were with me. It was a small, beautiful moment in a dismal time, and it gave me hope for a tiny bit. I don't understand why Tim was taken from us at such a young age, and so violently, but God has his reasons, I have to believe that, or I would be totally lost (note to self on 1/17/2012: revisit this "belief" in a later blog. I have some stuff to say about that, and the next line as well). Someone told me today the one thought I had, that God needed another sweet voice for the choir of angels. I will hold onto that thought as much as I can. Only God knows the real answers, and Tim, now. Maybe in time something from this will become clear to us, and maybe not until we have died, and hopefully join Tim in heaven. My sister Carol told me the other day, "Won't Mom be surprised when she gets to heaven and finds Tim already there?" And while it was sad in a way, it made me smile too, to know Tim will be there to greet her, along with her parents, my grandparents.

 

January 6, 2004S

It's little things that strike hard when we least expect it. A few days ago, Hugh was dividing up some hamburger meat for the freezer, and realized we didn't need as much in a package anymore. I bought milk a couple of days ago, 2 gallons like we usually get, and as I see very little has been poured out of the first gallon, I wonder if I bought too much, Dennis is the only one who drinks it.

January 8, 2004

I can go days in a row without crying, then I think something, or see something, and I break down.. Today was a rough day, and it was nothing I saw, or heard, or thought of. I just miss Tim so much, and it feels like my heart was ripped out at times. I had some tears in a store I was in, and had a meltdown at work today. I was shaky to begin with, then someone asked me how I was, and I lost it. I cried on her shoulder for awhile, then went into the ladies room, and sobbed. KG, the AP, came and got me and brought me into her office. Oh God, it hurt so much. But I didn't want to go home, and be alone with my sadness. I figured if I could make it through lunch, something to occupy my mind a bit, I could hang in there. And I got it together, splashed my face with some cold water, and managed to last the day, and even have some laughs. I wish Tim was here annoying me in some way. I love him so much, we all do. I smile when I think of how happy he was to be taller than me, finally. He was 5', 1 ½". But it seems so hard to believe that the vibrant, vibrating body that was his is now in a box about 6" deep, and maybe 6" wide. I know that is not him in there, not the spirit of him, but it was the package that beautiful spirit was in, and now it is just ashes, and it's all we have, that and memories. And we are supposed to somehow get by with just that.

 

January 11, 2004

I mourn my mother. She is still alive, living in Connecticut with my brother Dave. Her mind is not what is used to be. On Thursday I wanted so badly to call her and get the love and support that I knew she would have for me. But my Mom is not there anymore. Not the person she used to be. If she was, she would be out here with us, just as heartbroken, but helping us through it. I knew someday I would experience this. I recall Mom being sad about her mother being gone, she had died in 1981(the year I met my wonderful husband), and how she wished she had been there for Mom to call on when she was going through her own trying times. I am feeling the same regrets, though my mother is still alive. I did call her today, just to hear her voice. And even though the conversation wandered, and I was not always sure of what she was talking about, it was nice to hear her voice, and pretend for awhile that it was my Mom. She asked about the boys, though she can't call them by names, which she does not remember. I told her they were fine. She asked me if everything was ok, she said I sounded a bit down. I nearly lost it then. I told her I was just tired, with the bronchitis I have.

This pain is more physical than I could possibly have imagined. Who knew a broken heart could have such a physical hurt? I always thought it was all emotional. Everyone back East is glad we have so many people taking such good care of us out here, since they can't be here. And we do have an amazing network of people looking out for us. Our coworkers, Cub Scout families(have not been in Cub Scouts for 2 years) and Boy Scout families. We get 3 meals a week from Cub Scout families, and we can't turn them down, it is such a blessing. These people don't know what else to do, so we welcome the meals gratefully. We gave a lot of our time to Cub Scouts, especially Hugh, though we don't see it that way. We were doing it for our kids, and we had more kids than we imagined! And they say what goes around comes around, as my brother Dave told me tonight, and I guess that is so. Thank God for these wonderful people, what a blessing. Kim Johnson brought over bagels, muffins and cream cheese, and sat and had coffee and breakfast with us, and her kids, Charlie and Katie. It was nice, there were tears and laughter, and she has such a big heart. A lovely, lovely woman. And my friends from my old school call me all the time to check on me. God Bless them all. We received the death certificate yesterday. And a Deputy came over last night to ask some questions about Tim, mostly medical. In the autopsy, which this man was there for, they found the cotton in his ear from his ear surgery. It was packing, and he was supposed to start ear drops on the 30th of Dec to start dissolving the packing material. It could have been a factor. He was very nice, said he did not want to disturb us earlier, but they needed to get going on the investigation, and that he would call us weekly to let us know what was going on

I have put on some weight since this happened. I had lost 35 pounds from May to September, since I started Atkins and walking, and more since September, but have not been good lately. I didn't eat for nearly 3 days afterward, or not very much, and since then, I have been non stop eating. And since people are bringing meals 3 nights a week, I don't want to ask that they work it out for my diet, so I will start trying to walk more again, and  just try and be good the other times.

More from the journal

This was taken when I took my doggie out this morning. The sky was so pretty, with the sun trying to peak through the threatening clouds (it was just starting to sprinkle when I got home). I noticed for the first time that the hillside near home is greening up again. Most of the year, it is a dried up brown. Pretty in it's own, stark way. But when Fall and Winter bring rain here to So Cal, the brown hills turn a beautiful green. And in the spring, they become bright yellow with blooming mustard!
I think I will keep posting my journal from 8 years ago (like other times I started a journal, I didn't get far with it). Then I will move on to other things.

January 3,

On Saturday, since Santa Claus had given us tickets to see the play, The Producers, we took Nathan with us. It was at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood, starring Jason Alexander and Martin Short. Tim really loved the movie, with Gene Wilder and Zero Mostel, he would have been cracking up with the play. I am sure he was enjoying it with us, I could almost hear his laugh. While we were gone, pretending things were normal for awhile, Steve and Carol were busy cleaning the house, taking care of library books, and other things that needed doing. What a wonderful help that was. They were still cleaning when we got home, and shortly after we got there, Wanda Hamilton from the troop showed up with ham and scalloped potatoes, all nice and warm for our dinner. It was delicious. Carol did her sewing that night, Rosemary had kindly brought over a sewing machine for her to use. Some of the stuff she did by hand, because we did not have the right colored thread. From Christmas Day on, I think, Hugh was working on a eulogy. It was such a hard thing for him to do, and he wrote such a beautiful one.

On Sunday, December 28, we had a memorial service for Tim at St. Matthew's. A woman from the church named Donna took care of all the food for after the service. My friends from Bernice Ayer, Jane Tunzi, Jamie Hammock, and Nancy Kline, came by at about noon to pick up flowers, and memories for a table, and they went up there and set it up. They did a really nice job with the pictures, trophies, etc. The service was scheduled for 2pm, and it was Feast of the Holy Innocents Day.

We all left here at 1, Steve drove, while Hugh, Dennis and I sat in the back with Tim. There were already lots of people there when we got there, things were set up. We brought Tim into the church and put him on the table they had there, with an acorn his favorite aunt Carol had brought for him from Central Park. Then we went into the hall for awhile, we were quite early. I know lots of people came up to me, but I can't recall who. Tim's troop was lined against either side of the church when we got there. Tom Flannery, Tim's choral director, was there to sing some songs. He sang Dona Nobis Pacem with other members of the choir, and at the end he sang Go Rest High On That Mountain, and Softly, Tenderly. He did an awesome job. My brother Steve sang my favorite, Amazing Grace. He too, did an awesome job. Tim's youth group leader, Lisa, also did a couple of beautiful pieces. Fr. Scarlett had selected some nice pieces to be read, and did a very nice ...I don't know what you call it, maybe sermon in a regular service, but it was appropriate and very well said. Hugh presented the eulogy(or eugoogaly) eloquently and beautifully. There was laughter and tears. At the end, John Lodwick, Scoutmaster for Troop 774, came forward to say a few words, he was funny, and sweet, and heartbroken. After that, he had SPL Danny Lopez retire the flags the troop has been using since they were formed, the US flag, and troop flag, and they were presented to Hugh. Hugh and I left the church with Tim, and I was overwhelmed by all the people I could see through my tears. They had brought in extra chairs, and there were people in the hall as well. The boys in the troop stayed at their posts until everyone was out of the church. Hugh and I stood by Tim, to accept peoples condolences, etc. There was our old Cub Scout Pack, another Troop that boys from our Pack went into. Teachers of Tim's from grade school, teachers and principals from Bernice Ayer Middle School, where I used to work, Niguel Hills Middle School, where Tim went, Dennis goes, and I work now, and from Aliso Niguel High School, plus some campus supervisors from Tim's school. The principal there, Dr. Salter, put his vacation on hold a day to attend. People I worked with, or work with, people Hugh works with. I think there must have been close to 200 people.(I learned on Sunday at church that it was likely over 200, about 220 or so) It was overwhelming, the people who cared about Tim, or us, so many wonderful people. There was plenty of food, Carol made sure I got some coffee and food, I had not eaten any lunch, was not sure that I could. But I managed to get some food down there. I am not sure what time we left. Christy DeBarge, her husband?, and Iris Lopez followed us with trays of food, and all the flowers and stuff. We nibbled at night. Iris Lopez is putting together a memory book for us, and a box for the flags.

We have received money from all over to help cover our costs, and are putting it to good use. We still have Tim's bike accident bill to pay, so we can get that taken care of. It looks like we reached our deductible, because it does not look like we have anything to pay for Tim's ear surgery.

Steve left on Tuesday the 30th. Carol left New Year's Eve, at 9 pm. With both of them gone, things have really hit home. Our family is just the 3 of us now. Dennis and I stayed up New Year's Eve, and made a small fuss with some confetti poppers at midnight. I had an awful dream that night. I don't know what we were doing, and that is not as important as the fact that Tim was not with us, it was just Hugh, and Dennis, and me. And in my dream, it seemed normal, and I didn't wonder about Tim at all. That hurt so much.

On New Year's Day, we did our usual thing: taking down the Christmas decorations. All the lights outside, which Tim did a lot of work on, and the tree. I was glad to get rid of it all on one hand, and sorrier than I have ever been to see it come down. I would have liked to leave the lights Tim put out up forever, but that is not practical

Things got put back together, the antique sewing machine is back out in the livingroom, with my Grandmother's rocking chair, and a new floor lamp, with table and magazine rack.

 Among all the flowers we got, we received 3 peace lilies. One of those is on the sewing machine, one on the speaker that sits on the sewing machine, and one on the hearth. The one on the hearth has buds and a bloom, I forget where that one came from

I took all the flowers out today, tied them up and hung them outside for now, it's a dry breezy day. There were so many flowers and plants, and they were all beautiful. Dave and Cathlene sent roses, 15 white ones and 1 red one. Steve and Carol picked out a nice mix, it is still in fairly good shape, I just pulled out the dying flowers, and put it back inside, it's full of colors, and beautiful, Tim would have loved it. It was from the whole family. I plan to take all the flowers, minus the stems, and when we take Tim to where ever we take him, I will take the dried flowers with us

Yesterday we went out, we were all in need of some new clothing, jeans mostly, so we did a little shopping. It was rainy yesterday, today is dry, breezy and kind of cool. When Dennis is ready, we will go get Charlotte and bring her over here for a few hours, if she is up to it. She was devastated over the news of Tim, and mentioned she could not imagine what it must be like to lose a child, that had never happened to her. We all, Dennis included, kept our mouths shut. Hugh's brother Malcolm died in 1981, after a hang-gliding accident. She does not remember that, thank goodness. She keeps dwelling on the death of her husband, Arthur. He died 3 years ago, and she is convinced that either it just happened, or she was just informed of it. We keep gently reminding her that she was with him when he died, she was well aware of it, and that she blocked it out of her mind because it was so painful. Just lately, she has been saying, "did you know that Norm had died?". Norm is Hugh's other brother, and he is still very much alive, we think she is transferring his name where Dad's should be. I keep hoping she will forget about Tim, and we can just tell her he is with a  friend. We decided to not have her at the service, everyone thinks it was the right decision. It just would have been too much. She would not even stay on Christmas day because she was too upset. My mother, Elva, lives with my brother Dave now. She can not take care of herself, so Cathlene stays home and tends to her. I think it will not be long before both of our Moms are in full care homes. Dave decided it was best not to tell Mom, and I agree. Though I could use some of her comfort now, she is not the same person she was, and it would have just made things worse, whether she understood who had died or not. (1/16/12: the following summer, I had a change of heart, and I thought she should know. And I had to tell her. And I feel that was the right thing to do)

Dennis has been awesome, though we worry about him. He has been right there to comfort us when we were crying, or visibly upset, and he has cried a few times himself. I imagine some day this might hit him really hard. Or maybe not. Tim was always the one to break down when a pet died, Dennis was always very matter of fact about it, though he loves and has an affinity with animals. He wants to remove the top bunk of the beds, and has not expressed an interest in many of Tim's things, though he will take all the toys, I am sure. He only wants a couple articles of clothing. We'll see what else he wants to keep.