Comments for Crumbling Walls

Comment on Grief and Hope at Christmas Time by Karen

Karen — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:54:44 +0000

My heartfelt condolences. I don’t think your son would intentionally ruin Thanksgiving and Christmas. I doubt he gave those things a thought when he made his decision. Just as my son didn’t give his father a thought when he ended his life on his father’s birthday. Our sons were focused inwards at the turmoil they felt and I hope your family will be able to forgive your son and find a way to celebrate those two occasions in the future. It won’t happen this year or next, but given time it will happen if you allow it too, if you make a special effort to make them special again. It will be hard, but it can improve. My family is testament to that. Christmas was a special time of year for us. After Barry’s death, it was difficult and filled with sadness, but I didn’t want to continue in that way and now, although my thoughts are constantly on Barry, I am able to smile and ensure my family (and I) enjoy a family day together. Just give it time.

Comment on Writing My Way to the Future by Karen

Karen — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:42:04 +0000

Thank you, Maree. It’s been several weeks since the decision was made and I’m happy to say that the nightmares have stopped and I’m sleeping much better. It’s difficult to believe that writing about it had such a dramatic effect on me.

I do intend to write more posts. Probably not as frequently as when I first started, but when the need arises. Writing posts for this blog isn’t the same as writing a 100,000 word manuscript. One draws everything from me, the other helps me to see things as they really are.

Comment on Grief and Hope at Christmas Time by Carol

Carol — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 16:53:42 +0000

Our son took his own life last December 6 2008 while our little family waited to see him graduate from college, but he wasn’t there ……… my husband went in his place and made me wait in the car. He found him, I screamed and screamed, and still sometimes do when no one else is home. If you had asked me at 3 pm to write 10,000 things that might happen to our family, THAT would not have been on it. When we came home the next morning, the tree was just up, the stockings were on the kitchen table, “stuff” was ready to be done — we were always “over the top” with decorating, cooking, fun …. just six days before we had a wonderful thanksgiving holiday. as our oldest son has said, his brother has now ruined both thanksgiving and christmas for all of us forever. we are searching for something to do this year – my husband doesn’t want to end up just sitting and staring at each other while our other two sons and their families have holiday. last christmas, we tried just to have dinner at our son’s home, but left in tears …. nothing I read helps me. counsellors are of no use. faith is gone. how do we survive thsi?

Comment on Writing My Way to the Future by maree

maree — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 03:11:54 +0000

Karen,
I was very saddened by your post. Your are obviously in deep pain and while writing is often considered to be cathartic, I feel it can be just the opposite. Experiences as painful as those you are dealing with just seem too overwhelming when put on paper! I can talk to close friends about what happened but feel physically swamped, panicky, when I try to write about it.

You are wisely letting it go. Be assured if you have a change of mind at some future date, when you feel stronger, the story will still be there, indelibly etched in your memory.

I hope you will continue your posts on this site. You have been an inspiration to so many people, with your ability to acticulate your feelings.

Comment on Masques by Karen

Karen — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 21:55:20 +0000

The first time I read your words, they spoke to me. Today, I read it again and they still speak to me. Nothing much has changed since I wrote that post; I could have written it this morning instead of three years ago.

Thank you for writing a poem that gives others a glimpse of what I feel.

Comment on Let Me Scream…Please by Karen

Karen — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 20:47:01 +0000

Thank you, Linda. For understanding. For showing me that I’m not alone. I needed that. For in real life, I am alone in my grief. Sure, I have family and friends and workmates who care about me, and some of them grieve for Barry too (in their own way), but they don’t understand what I’m feeling, what I’m hiding.

So thank you for sharing part of your life with me and helping to make me feel a bit better.

Comment on Masques by Karen Nelson

Karen Nelson — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 04:18:32 +0000

Iwrote the poem you cite here. It was good to see that you related to it. When I write it is not to resolve grief but to hit a resonate chord. Grieving is lonely but sometimes when we can relate to a poem it makes us know we are not alone. My heart goes out to you. Karen Nelson

Comment on Let Me Scream…Please by linda

linda — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 05:32:09 +0000

Hi Karen,

I’ve often wondered when the silent screaming will stop in light of our losing Owen. I am convinced it won’t. There will continue to be times when my car is the only safe place for me because I can drive the country roads, listen to music that reminds me of him, scream, cry, and pull off to the side of the road to dissolve into memories and that interminable place of grief. And, in a few minutes, I will smile, even laugh, at some memory of how great we had it. Then, I will drive toward home, scream and cry, and arrive a little better for having let it out.

I, too, function in the real world on a daily basis, and few know of the black pit that awaits my every move. The black pit of grief is not depression. It is grief. Pure, simple, deeply moving grief.

I’m actually glad you wrote about your current situation – not because you still experience these thoughts and feelings, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but because it gives me hope. Yes, hope. Your ability to openly communicate about how your loss of Barry is still with you, is a confirmation that I am not going crazy (or that I am and it’s okay), and it allows me to feel some comfort in the knowledge that this is it. This is what we get. There’s no “why” in it. There’s just “this is it” and it’s okay. It makes sense.

What would not make sense, is for parents like us to blindly go into the future without having these thoughts and feelings. It would not make sense because it could in some unbelievable way negate our love for our sons, in my estimation anyway. We are allowed every scream, every tear, every dive into the depths of grief because we can’t stop missing them. We can’t stop loving them. We won’t. We shouldn’t.

On those drives into the country, I am often gifted with signs of Owen. I’m sure you see them in regards to Barry. Sometimes (often), it is a raven swooping low in front of my car, sometimes a field of colors unimaginable except for the gift of sight, sometimes, it is a young man walking along the road, tall and lanky like my son with a particular gait that is reminiscent of his posture, his coloring, his clothes, his stance in the presence of nature. And, I am proud when I remember his voice telling me, “Mom, we’re no different than the plants, the animals, the trees. This life is not as precious as you make it.” While I could argue that point, he was right. We’re not so different from our more-than-human neighbors.

I wish you peace, screaming, crying, staring into the sky on a bright afternoon or a dark evening, whatever it takes to bind you to your memories of Barry. In all of it, I thank you and I wish you love.

Linda

Comment on Three Years Later by Karen

Karen — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 00:15:18 +0000

Thank you. You are right, it does help to know you’re not alone in the way you might be feeling or thinking. I’ve found a lot of comfort in that over the years.

I hope you find peace of mind soon.

Comment on Three Years Later by fahim

fahim — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 15:00:22 +0000

Something happened yesterday and I’m at the same situation I was like a year ago. Helpless, hopeless, paranoid and this constant pain, thinking of if my life just going to be this way forever. Problems after problems, no end in sight and I’m never going to have a normal life.

Just to get some emotional help I googled and ended up on your blog. I have to say whatever you put down matches my condition exactly.
It’s sad to say, but its kinda nice to know what you are going through somebody else is also at the same point in their life.

I’m not doing any counselling, but really hope it works out for you. Goodluck

If you ever just want to talk, email me iceberg020@yahoo.com