Thursday, November 17, 2005


So it took me 6 months 6 days to have a complete break with reality. I've been through the longest spring, summer, and autumn of my life. And I handled it. Then today, on the drive home, I started to cry as I thought about Alex under all the snow. "Cry" doesn't even really come close to describing it. It was more like hysterical sobbing of the sort I thought I left behind. I KNOW he's not there and not cold. But I literally couldn't breathe with the thought of him alone in the cold without someone to hold him close.

Steve and I commented once that it was always difficult to leave him behind. We left him behind at the hospital. Then again at the Funeral Home. We leave him at the cemetery time and time again. It seems we're always leaving him. But it wasn't until the snow fell today that it felt like it finally broke me.

The fact is, Alex left us...not the other way around. And it's all so final when there's snow sitting on top of his grave. I imagine him in his coffin, surrounded by his blanket and his stuffed dog. But I know his skin is was cold the day I left him at the must be frozen by now. My poor sweet little boy.

When is this going to get better? When am I going to stop having new and exciting nightmare images to fixate on?


msfitzita said...

(((((HUGS)))) Catherine. I don't know what to say because I know that there are no words that can possibly make this better. Have you considered talking to someone? No one will ever be able to take away your sorrow completely, but maybe someone with experience can give you some coping mechanisms so you can deal with it in a way that gives you more power over it. It breaks my heart to see you hurting as much as you are. Being happy is sometimes next to impossible, but happiness is out there and maybe someone can help you find out how to reach it.

Something that keeps me going is knowing that my son wouldn't want me to spend the rest of my life just going through the motions, never being happy again - not really living. I won't ever be happy like I was, but I know there's happiness to be had out there - I've felt it. It's good. It's very, very good.

I hope this doesn't sound condescending. I most certainly don't have all the answers. I don't have any answers, just suggestions - things that have worked for me.

I don't ever expect to feel the kind of happiness I once knew, and to hope for that would be setting myself up for failure, but I do know I don't want to miss out on the joys of all the beautiful things I still have in my life, and I know my baby wouldn't want that either.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you.

A thousand ((((((((HUGS)))))))

¡P! said...

Well, Kathy... I can send you a picture of me wearing nothing but socks and a smile.

There. That should be good enough for a new nightmare.

Catherine said...

OH.MY.GOD! My eyes, my eyes, my eyes...!

rofl...thanks for the laugh...even if I'm a bit disturbed by the image. :o)

Julie said...

Oh sweetie, I remember coming home after the funeral, and laying in bed that night absolutely SOBBING that my poor sweet baby boy was cold. It's just not right. God how I wish it was all so different. (((((((hugs)))))