It is not getting any easier for your mom. It's been 67 days since that fateful morning you quietly slipped away from us. In my heart it feels like yesterday. The wound is still very raw. I try to be realistic that it is over for me as your Mom on this side of heaven, but even the very thought is excrutiating. I have tried to be rational but that exercise alone aches my heart. What should I do? What does God expect of me?
I am still waiting for the "deliverance" promised to those who are faced with sorrow and sadness. Could they be talking about death also? If so what kind of deliverance would mend this brokem bottle - the water is already spilled and the bottle shattered into a million fragments. should I expect another type of deliverance?
I am not doing very well at this grieving thing. I have "seen" suffering in my life but nothing prepared me for this. It tears my heart into shreds and sometimes I wonder how the heart manages to keep on functioning.
Does it sound like I am grieving like those who have no hope? No. I know that I will see you again. It could be tonight, the next minute, or year or decade but right now, I can't see you. I miss you so much, my TeeJayJay.
I have my moments. Some days I am full of faith talk - God is sovereign, God is still God; All things work together for good to them that love God, etc, etc. Other days, no scripture penetrates the dark shield of sorrow. I know the Lord is present even at those times.
A friend of mine said jokingly that I was disturbing you. I seem to be calling you or talking to you most of the day. When I feel overwhelmed, I would scream your name and try to "command" you to come back here. You used to listen to me. I can't remember any occasion that you disobeyed me. But right now, even if you wanted, you could not obey your dear mum.
I love you. I still claim to have five beautiful children but one has gone ahead to heaven. We will join later. So long, Son. I love you.
The autopsy report revealed Concentric Left Ventricular Myocardial Hypertrophy and Reactive Airway Disease. I do not care what the odds of survival is for the incidence of this type of heart condition. I know that my TeeJay was strong and with God's help, would have beaten the odds. He could have so easily fallen on the field while playing soccer but he beat it for days before it took its toll. "Thank you son, for not collapsing on the field." Although I feel bad that it happened in his own room in his parent's house, I am grateful to God that he did not die on the street from gang fight, or from gunshot or from drug overdose or from the hands of a murderer or ...
My anger is in not having a chance to fight for my son. I didn't have a chance to do my best to save my precious child from his heart. He didn't have a chance to save himself either. Tonbara was the last person anyone would have suspected to have a weakness in the heart. He never exhibited any form of weakness. No sign, no warning! He played like he had a lion's heart. This makes it all the more painful. To think that only a chest pain or a decrease in his activity level would have been enough to indicate his heart condition or a respiratory problem and therefore, a timely intervention!
I am not sure how this knowledge from the autopsy report is expected to make me feel but I know I feel almost as I did that day I found his body without his spirit - the fateful December 10, 2002. TeeJayKay, I miss you so much it is almost tangible. It is hard to project into a future without you. But you have no worries now. You are safe in God's hands. That is my only consolation right now. It is now up to those of us still alive to be as faithful so that we will also enter into our rest when the time comes.
If you were given a choice to live on earth with an illness or be in heaven with your Lord and Savior, what would it be? Sincerely? I would too but if I thought of the people I would leave behind, maybe... Your Daddy calls such choices "delicious dilemma". Anyway, that is only a wishful thinking because no one ever gets to choose whether to stay here or leave for our final home. I wish I had been given a warning!!!
03/19/03
All Church Koinonia came and Tonbara was not there for me to take pictures of him and his friends. I looked at the people at the soccer field, the baseball field, the basketball field, and the volleyball field but one face was conspiciously missing. Tonbara. I saw his friends walking and playing around but Tonbara was not among them. My eyes searched the whole picnic area but it was only a silly wishful thinking - Tonbara should be here. Ofcourse Tonbara could not be there because he is now with BIG DADDY and His Savior Jesus Christ.
I miss this child so much. I miss his comedy acts. There was hardly a meal time that Tonbara did not release some new jokes and had us all laughing. I miss his kisses on my cheek and his regular "I Love you Mum". I miss his idiosyncracies. You needed to spend only one day in our house and you would go away with a ton of impressions about Tonbara and his sweet nature. Is it a wonder that little babies were attracted to him - babies who would refuse everyone else except their immediate families would stretch their hands for Tonbara to carry them.
I always knew that Tonbara was special. There was something about him that, on retrospect, was like someone hurrying to cram in as much living into a short period of time. I used to tease him to slow down; that he had a whole life ahead of him. However, in other aspects, he never was in a hurry. His policy for most things that would be of future benefits was "easy". He was very selective - absolutely loving some, being indifferent about some others, and half-heartedly doing others. He played video games with same urgency he reserved for the things he loved to do.
Well, I guess I now have a clearer perspective on his personality. He caught me many times just looking at him and insisted on knowing why. I would tell him that I was trying to imagine how he would be as a grown man, a husband, a father, etc. He would smile one of his shy smiles and say I was a "wierd" mom. It was our thing - mom and her son. Oh the memory of those times!
It's been only three months and 10 days since that bleak day. It still feels like yesterday. I still refer to the week before Tonbara's exit as "last week". To me it is a landmark - before Tonbara's exit and after Tonbara's exit. I cannot yet return to what life was like before all of these events. I love all my children. Each of them covers a part of the circle and I wonder what would now cover Tonbara's portion. The vacuum he created leaves a gaping hole.
I remember what I said to Timi "last week" when she asked me why I loved children so much. She said that one would think that with five children of my own I would not love other children so much. I told her that I had enough love for 10 more children. Tonbara was there too as I told them again how grateful I was for each and every one of them. They had come after years of praying and longing for the fruit of the womb. I still have enough love for 10 or more children plus ONE.
Adieu, my son. If the Lord doesn't tarry, we'd see you soon. If He tarries, it is going to be awhile for us but for you, only a few seconds. I love you.
03/31/2003
A very insightful Mother has this posted on her son's site
What Is Normal?
Following a loss, well-meaning friends & family members have often said, "I wish that he/she would act normal again. It's been so long since we've had any fun together. I can't wait until the old person returns. Unfortunately, what most people don't understand is that life will never, ever again be the same for the parents who have lost a child.
The fact is that the parents often realize early on, "I forget how to feel normal! I don't even know what normal is anymore!" When a child dies, no matter what the surrounding circumstances, life as was once known, is turned upside down for a while. Nothing makes much sense. The things that kept life so busy before the death of the child don't matter anymore.
Who cares if the laundry is clean? Who worries about keeping the garage neat? Why bother to think about buying groceries? Food has lost its taste, & there is no energy to cook a meal. For a long time following the death of a child, life seems void & meaningless. Friends & family members find this part of grief particularly disturbing. Others are ready to move forward in life, taking on the mundane routines of living once again. For the parent, though, life will never be viewed quite the same again.
Normal takes on a new meaning to parents who have had a child die. Things such a fine china, fancy furniture, & collectible knick-knacks don't mean anything. It is of no interest to discuss the make & model of the car you are driving. What matters is finding some way to help you get through this time of acceptance & healing. There is no set of rules for normal living following the loss of a child. Some people would prefer there to be a book of rules. It would make life a lot easier for everyone to have special grief guidelines to follow. Instead, we must learn to accept as normal whatever anyone chooses as his/her way of working through the particular grief of the day.
We must each remember that grief is individual, & grief will touch every person just a little bit differently. Tears. Anger. Frustration. Excessive talking. No talking. Working longer hours. All are normal ways to work through the tremendously difficult emotional swings of child loss. A parent will often think that he/she will never again resume normal living. In a sense, that is correct. I will never again be the same because losing a child changes the way a parent views life. Grief never leaves. It becomes more gentle, but it never completely goes away.
All of this is not to say that life will never be joyful again. Joy will return, but probably in different ways than you experienced joy before the death of your child. Priorities in life will change. Small things will carry great meaning. A flower will take on the look of a miracle. The blue sky will give a feeling of renewed hope & inspiration. Somewhere deep down inside you will know that your new "normal" is a more simplistic, more abundant way of viewing life.
If you are feeling like you have forgotten what normal is since your child died, you are not alone. Every parent who has experienced child loss goes through a time of questioning. Following the questioning, though,is a renewed sense of self & a new perspective of life. Grief never leaves, & you'll never feel like your old normal self again. But, you will feel hope & joy as you continue on in your journey of healing from the deep,life-changing grief of child loss.
Written by Clara Hinton - Founder of silentgrief.com