Dream, Written in the middle of the night.

Wings




They were dark brown with white streaks and amazingly strong and beautiful. They spread out wider and seemed as if they could span an ocean. I thought I was looking at the wings when suddenly it was a strong neck that came into vision and then beautiful black curls. His curls. But they lined the back of the neck and I thought I was supposed to be seeing  something more closely on the neck.  Each time I tried to focus on the back of his neck to see what the words were, the dream faded. The scene then  cut to horses flying wildly in the night. A sky dark with grey and as I watched a black line entered my sight and fought with a white line. I felt the fight and begged the dark not to win. I was then back to the horse, white wings flying so strongly through the clouds. My thoughts were that this was an angel horse, my son's angel horse . I begged God to show me what I needed to see, to get me closer. The dream to me back to his  neck only this time it was simply the hair. Curly thick black hair, hair I would know anywhere, hair I would run my fingers through when Joshua was a baby. I cried, wailed and thanked God. Joshua has his curly hair back. I reveled in the feeling of how angelic he must look with his locks. I thanked God and rested realizing I was not supposed to see more…It was his hair I was supposed to “see” or more so feel.  He must be well. He must be happy now.


Then he began to fade, my body moved slowly away until he became a blur. I shouted to the heavens" please no, how will I come back?". "I cant leave".  A heart filled my vision and was the simple answer.

<3

Written in the middle of the night, unedited because this is exactly the gift I was given.

Christmas without Joshua

Christmas without you

Each year you loved Christmas. “Mommy (you always called me mommy) can we please leave Santa a note and cookies and milk and oh  and carrots for the reindeer”. You would ask in a voice that never changed. Then you would flutter upstairs and try everything you could to fall asleep. Your father and I would place the plate with the cookies and the milk and then take a bite, knowing how each year you were so astonished that Santa actually paused to eat and drink of your snack! . Your “happy thoughts” the ones that made you jump up and down and flap your arms like you might fly away, came often. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing, if one came your face lit up and you could barely contain yourself. Christmas morning was a time for many happy thoughts.



Today as I pulled out the box of Christmas decorations, your memory filled the living room. A wreath shaped cut out with a tiny school picture from 3rd grade, an ornament hand made with cousins, something of course with macaroni stuck to it and many other tokens of your happy childhood will again adorn my tree. I know that it is said that you cant take things with you, but I could never be more thankful for each earthly treasure I have left that your beautiful hands made.



Again just like the past many years, there is a hole in Christmas! A hole in my heart and one person missing at the table. I can only hope that you see me still doing all of these things, no matter how pointless they sometimes feel….so that I can stay close to your memory.



I miss you.



Mom

Three

Such a simple number and yet for me that number has changed my life.



I honestly can’t remember the first time I met them. I know they wont mind me saying that. I am not certain if they were at the funeral or the cemetery when Joshua was buried. Yet somehow I feel like they have been with me since the moment he took his last breath. Their names are Sam, Alyson and Evan. For a long time I did not even remember their names. Each year they would come to the anniversary of Joshua’s death, and wait their turn to sit near him. No matter rain or shine they were there.



Their story is simple. They knew Joshua. There reason for coming year after year is not so simple. His impact on them was life changing.



Now as I sit each year by my son on June 3rd and shed the tears of loss once again, I have also have something to look forward to. The three of them, driving up, coming over and sharing the same stories that I seem to keep forgetting almost as soon as they tell them.



To Alyson, Sam and Evan. Thank you for bringing some light into this very dark place.



Joshua’s Mom <3

Say Hello To Joshua For Me

A few days ago I offered to take my mother in law in from a nursing home to live out her last days with us. The suggestion seemed automatic and almost took me off guard. My husband seemed surprised and a few people were less than tactful about how crazy I was. Needless to say, they have shrunk to acquaintances on my list. The days since she came have been more exhausting that I expected, my torn ACL is making it so bad that I actually have had to crawl up and down the stairs to help her and I began wondering if this was the best place for her. I was not successful at getting her pain under control and her screams were to loud for the kids and neighbors. Last night I was at my wits end and as I fell asleep I was asking God why I did this anyway. I know the usual answers, that it is directly related to what Tom did for me after Joshua, but there has to be more.


This morning I awoke feeling better. The knee is terribly painful, but my spirits were up and I began to really work on being positive and looking for the gifts that were in store for me. They came tonight.

Most of the day was spent peacefully for Claire. I upped the morphine and the patches must be working on her back to give her constant care. I brushed her hair, filed her nails a bit more and she was washed down by a wonderful home health aid. After a few hours of rest I went back downstairs with my Bible and sat on a stool near her. The bible is not something I have touched since Joshua died, however it was to read to her and I surely could do that. "Claire may I read to you from the Bible"?, "I know that you have always loved church and I would like to read to you". She nodded with eyes half open. I went directly to the Psalms, a book of joyous poems, praises and less heavy on the fire and brimstone than I felt she would need.  So I read and from what I have learned, she listened. Then I talked to her about heaven and told her that her mom and dad are waiting to see her and missed her all this time! And that Jesus was waiting with open arms to see her. She began to ask over and over "why are you telling me this"? I sang a round of Jesus love me (you) and then asked Claire if I could pray with her. It brought me back to the days in the nursing home when I knew someone was about to pass and I would pray with them.....It was definitely against the rules.

Dear Lord,

Please take Claire’s pain away and be merciful to her now in her last hours. Ready the wings of angels to take her swiftly into the arms of her Father. Help those of us who love her to let her go and know that she is in a better place without pain. Thank you for showing me favor as you chose me for the honor of taking care of Claire in these last hours. Now please be with us all as we ready ourselves for this journey into the unknown and make Claire certain that it is ok if she allows herself to let go.

Amen

As I spoke the words Amen, I was suddenly surrounded by God. I felt a lightness and intensity. I was unable to catch my breath and I knew I was in the presence of holiness. I could feel nothing but my son. I lifted my eyes up to the heavens and waited as if to see him and to feel the heavens open up and take me. I spoke to Joshua, he spoke to me. He told me how proud of me he was. I told him I was sending him a gift that I took care of, sang to, and loved the best I could as a message to his honor. He got it! He knew. As much as Tom matters, as much as Claire matters, I have to wonder if part of me was hoping that by caring for her, by holding her hand and giving her water, if I wasn't writing to my son a love letter through her. She will be in my home and after that she will be near my son, near my God....and again I will have had a fleeting moment, before I hear "it is not your time" and I am left here. But for now when someone asks me why I am doing this.....It is to be that much closer when the heavens open and the light shines down and her spirit is lifted. Maybe, just maybe I will catch a glimpse into heaven, and maybe just maybe I might see Joshua once again.

Claire Pool was a wonderful woman, who loved horses and church and singing. She loved Tommy with her entire heart and did her very best to care for him with that which she was able. She sat in church all of her life and loved God and He loved her back. Please say a prayer for the Tom this night as he says goodbye to her.

~Blessings

The Joshua Tree

Last night I decided to look on the Chicken Soup For The Soul’s web page to see If there was anything new and if the upcoming books had the book our story is in. Much to my surprise Chicken Soup For The Soul Grieving and Recovery is in book form and as I looked all I could see what this big beautiful tree on the cover. A tree just like the one that has been saving my life, sheltering me and taking care of Joshua since he left me. With that a sure of tears poured out of me as I decided that this tree is also our tree. As I stared at the cover what seemed a moment, but was truly hours. I began to imagine Joshua tucked within these pages, how his memory will rest gently on the shelves of bookcases and at bookstores and how honored he would be to know that mommy did this.



Chicken Soup may have no idea the impact the cover has had on me. As I read through the many years of books they have published I realize just how small Joshua and I are, in the realm of pain and how large we are in the realm of blessings. I doubt they decided that would be the Joshua Tree, but I do know that when I am called to write or do most anything in my life that is not controlled by me, angels always appear later to let me know it was intended. I have received such a gift in being allowed to rest my son on these pages. There is nothing harder for a mother who has lost a child, than to constantly think he might be forgotten. I often find myself testing my memories to make sure I stay sharp and keep all of him.



The book is scheduled for release on Feb 1st. I have to keep forgetting about it in order to let the time pass. I can feel the pages already in my hands. I can taste the tears and I can see myself sitting with him at the cemetery reading it to him and hoping he likes it. Under the Joshua Tree.



~~~Love,

Joshua’s Mommy

Life and Death

After losing Joshua, the phases of grief and gifts have been unexpected and scary. I seem to move through the stages (fear and anger the most) and have also made up a few of my own. I am amazed at how almost 6 years later; his death is affecting me like it occurred yesterday.




Last night as I cuddled up in bed in front of the first fire of the season, I read over many Chicken Soup Books in search of the few that I know my Aunt Jackie has written in. I knew my Great Grandmother and Great Grandfather were in those pages. The realization of how many people I have lost, and how many stories they have taken with them has truly become a passion of mine recently. My grandmother must feel like she is being interviewed each time I am around her. “Grammy what is your favorite color”, “What is one of your favorite sayings”. She smiled and tried to recall. Joshua taught me so much! I fully intend to take the lessons learned.



Blessings

Amanda

NEVER

Have you seen my son? I cannot find him. I looked to the trees where I last knew he was and could not see him there. I climbed to the top and looked to the skies and they were void of a child, my child.




I thought I might retrace his steps the last day I knew of him. The places he went, the people he saw and even the things he had to eat, but many of these places are locked away from me. So I could not find him there.



I did indeed talk to those he loved. There are three I know. They come to see me, and they come to sit while with him. There stories bring me closer, but as quickly as my heart recalls my baby boy, the story ends and I am lost again.



I sit all day long with his body a body that by now must be fading into the ground. We talk. I talk mostly. I supposed maybe he’d like to talk but cant. I rock back and forth like I did all the days of his life and I can almost hear him say “mommy”. He only called me mommy, not mom, not mother. Mommy!



I sing him the songs we sang. But the little noises he used to make as he tried to mimic me are gone in the wind.



I barter with God a God who turned his back on me. I beg him and plead with him for just one more moment with my son. But he never even acknowledges me. I pledge myself to him; I barter and beg with anyone who might help me. Nothing happens.



I write until I cannot write anymore, until the words fall of the edges of the page and until my hands and my heart are to fatigue to continue. I write to him, about him, I write my pain and my joy. I write my devotion.



I cannot find him in anything that might linger and make me feel better. I will never hear him speak or sing again, I will never feel his arms around me again, I will never place my hands in his long curly black hair or hold him again. NEVER. My heart does not accept this and my mind understands it all to well.



NEVER AGAIN.

Who would you be today?

Joshua was born September 6th 1989. In 7 days he would have been 21 years old. I imagine things would be better for him. He might have successfully moved through the more awkward stages of life, healed his wounds by giving others time to make things up to him and start finding his terrific strength. I imagine a girl would love him, I imagine he would have a car (likely his first and so not a great car), maybe he would have settled into one hair style and maybe he would have stopped making such a point of not fitting in. He would have likely begun to own himself, own his thoughts, own his life and I am certain he would still be calling me mommy. He didn’t like cake. Not sure what I would put 21 candles on. In fact he didn’t like sweets very much at all. He would still be a dry comedian in love with puns and making connections that I never would have made. He wouldn’t be any taller than last I saw him. He might have gotten rid of the facial hair and certainly his beard would no longer be red, from the time he and Jamie died it in the bathroom in NH.




I am certain that he would still have a bigger heart than he knew what to do with, but by now he might have learned that it was ok to love to much, care to much, hold on to tight and feel more than most. He might have accepted that he had his mother’s heart and learned how to make it work for him. I can imagine he and Tom still hanging out like they used to and making me both nervous and embarrassed ALL THE TIME. He would be alive to see that I did exactly what he asked me to do and married Tom before he got away!!! He certainly would still be the protective oldest brother, maybe even more so at 21.



Instead he lies in a grave for his 21st birthday. His body trapped in a dark hole where I cannot get to him and hold him and kiss him. Instead I get to imagine him instead of hug and sing to him. Happy Birthday my Joshua, I will make a wish this year for both of us!



Mommy

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Grieving and Recovery

Logo From Chicken Soup Website

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Grieving and Recovery



The past few weeks have been amazingly busy. Lyme Meningitis turns out to be the tragedy of the month. I now understand way more than I wish I did about symptoms, reoccurrence and the politics of the disease with its infighting among doctors. It is nothing less than a scary place to be! Annabelle has decided to turn it around and have lemonade stands to help the cause. Joshua’s death taught us all to turn our pain outward and help others. It feels so good.


In the midst of the Anniversary of Joshua’s Death, his upcoming 21st Birthday and many other things swirling around my life, I hoped to get a story published in Chicken Soups upcoming book on grief and loss. From my research this is no simple task and the more I researched about the odds, the less I thought I had a chance. I am a closet writer, who has very little confidence when it comes to sending out my works. Some days I sat and wrote in tears, some day’s I wrote and screamed at my son for leaving me and other days I simply could not pick up the pen. In looking back I must have looked like Diane Keaton in Something’s Gotta Give. My goal was to continue my sons legacy and tell his story, while letting others know they are not alone. It was daunting, exhausting and gut wrenching. I sent it and emmediatly forgot about it. That was going to be the only way to NOT check my email every day. For years I wrote, and was far to attached and worried about the rejection to send things. How then was I able to send out a work about my son’s death, and not be so attached to it that I would be devastated if it was not chosen. I just don’t know who I managed it.

2 Days ago the email came. It was from Chicken Soup and when my eyes saw “PERMISSION” in the headline I jumped up from my desk and sobbed. My daughters ran to me hugging me and asking me what was wrong. They then went in and checked the email, I simply could not read on. Danielle came back in jumping up and down and saying “they want it” “they want The Joshua Tree, Mommy”. They call me mommy just like Josh did up until he died. I love it. I finally made it back to the email, they want my permission to print and the money I earn for the story will go right back into next years walk for suicide!!!! They also give out 10 free books and I am so excited. Joshua was on this earth for far to short a time, that story will not live on in the pages of a book and help keep him alive.

Last night I fell asleep holding his jacket for a time. Thanking him for watching over me and my dreams. Sometimes the reality strikes me when grief will allow. I cried myself to sleep, loving him and loving his memories.

For all of you on the Life Is A Highway FB page, my family husband and children. This was not possible without you picking me back up and brushing me off with encouragement. The book comes out in Feb of 2011. Pick up a copy and know that within that with my story are your efforts for those you loved and lost.

Thank You
Blessings,
Joshua’s Mom

Thoughts for the future.

After the walk in Boston for suicide prevention there was a little let down for me. I had built up so much excitement and felt like I was doing something for my son again. I am now having a hard time figuring out which direction to head. Foundations, charities, speaking, writing, grief counselor training and working with the schools in my area ALL seem like great ideas. I am also working on a book although I have little confidence in my writing. Often I like to wait until I find the direction that I am lead to be in. It is a test in patience, but for the most part is usually spot on. My passion is for teens, struggling with the difficulties of depression and the new hormones that are confusing there bodies. I made business cards for the FaceBook page in order to try to get fans and awareness and I have submitted 2 stories to Chicken Soup and yet I feel empty. What is my purpose? I can do anything I put my mind to, but which direction would honor Joshua the most? I am trying to honor my confusion, but I am lost as to where to put my time and energy. Also something in the back of my mind says “Amanda what if you have a purpose, what if you start a foundation, does this mean it was part of the plan and that you are fulfilling Joshua’s death”, that thought makes me stop in my tracks. I refuse continue this work and keep his memory alive if it serves the purpose for his death.

Another personal struggle that rages inside of me and makes life awful, is finding people petty. It is a problem for many of us who have lost someone to suicide. I understand that logically you can not give everyone your prospective! However going out into the world and listening to people be complain, gripe and otherwise not realize how good they have it, bothers me immensely. I have found myself unable to not confront people treating there children badly! It’s not so much that we judge, it’s more that we wish. We wish for one last moment with our loved one or child. We regret each time they were yelled at or not listened to, we would give anything to wrap our arms around them, and so you who scream and swear at your children, you who do not listen to them or try to understand them, you who do not cuddle them or hug them or look into there eyes, YOU ARE ASSUMING YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE THEM TO MISTREAT! And I would be more than happy to take them off your hands.

For the past week I have been in hospitals all over the state with my daughter Annabelle and her newly found Lyme disease. I am exhausted from all that this life has in store and I am wondering when I might just get a break from heartbreak. I have loved God since I was little and writing letters to him, and yet he and the many churches set out to follow him seem to be nothing like the sweet things I learned as a child. I hope to understand better and find my way back someday.

If you are reading this blog and are not a fan of the LIFE IS A HIGHWAY page, please consider hitting the like button to the right of the entries. It is the best way I know to raise awareness.

Blessings,
Amanda

OUT OF THE DARKNESS WALK IN BOSTON

Out Of The Darkness,


The day of the walk, I was spinning in my tracks. I found myself staring blankly into space, when the list of things needed doing was immense. The shirt needed to have our team name and my son’s name on the shirt. I took one-step forward and 2 steps back. Everything was so important I was almost frozen. The luminary bag had to be made, and again my hand almost could not do it. I felt useless with nerves. I went onto facebook and then got a wonderful email response from Carissa’s mom, which reminded me that I am not doing this! Let it go.


I wrote out the shirt with Joshua’s name, and Stu and Scott. I wrote our team name. My husband helped me make an amazing luminary bag and I eventually started moving forward. Turned out I did not have to look far for angels last night, the men I drove in with were almost all I needed. God truly uses those he wants. Tom and John have had hard lives, full of pain and turmoil. They are a bit rough around the edges, but truly I could not have asked for anyone better. Oh how they would laugh to be called angels.

We parked in the garage and walked into the city hall plaza area. At first I was let down at how few people there seemed to be. I think I thought the entire world would be there. I registered with ease and was directed over to the other informational tents. I got my map of the route, saw the tent for next years walk and then made my way over to one of the hardest parts.


THE BEADS
The table was laid out with colored beads, orange, blue, green, and white. The beads, I knew I would wear were white. It was the only color I knew what meant. As I walked up the to girl handing out the beads, she asked what color I needed. I said, “lost a child” and she picked up a set of the white and said “This is the color I hate handing out the most”. I nodded, and walked away with the beads in hand. As I turned to walk away, I looked at the beads and quietly talked to my son as I placed them on my neck. “ How could you do this to me”, “are you watching right now”. The button on my shirt with his picture gave a target for my pain. I looked right into his beautiful place and told him how upset at him I was. After they were on, I remember walking through the crowd looking for other colors. A lady past wearing green and so I knew she was struggling with taking her life. A family came up wearing ………… and they had lost a parent. It was wonderfully painful way at wearing your heart on your sleeve, and certainly helped to not have to ask each person. I found myself watching and saying silent prayers for each different pain represented by those beads. I hoped and prayed I would not see anyone wearing white like myself.. As I moved over to the staging area and sat on the stairs, I could not help but notice a team of peope sobbing. I could only tell that they had new pain. That this was so fresh. It must have been aunts and uncles and friends, but the one person I could not take my eyes off of was the one I was certain would be mom. I tried to see if she wore white beads, but at the time I was not at the right angel. She didn’t sob, she kept her sunglasses on and sitting next to her took me back to the first few months of Joshua. Although you could not see the lump in her throat, I could feel it. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was, but I remembered the words people would say to me in those days and how they fell on deaf ears. The heart is not even close to ready to receive condolences or even suggestions of getting better. In fact during that time it finds them repulsive as it lingers in the last place your heart was with your child, and does not want to leave. Can’t leave, and would feel guilty to leave. She was me. Behind her glasses her eyes were closed, as if choking pain the excruciating pain. I could not help but stare. Then finally she turned towards me and a single strand of white bead joined us forever.


Tom and John are my hero’s. I am not certain they will ever understand how much they affected my life! They were there every time we needed something, riding there bikes all around Boston. Water bottles, Ice for my knee and even pumpkin seeds for Jen. Each time I saw them I became so excited, and sometimes they just were off their bikes cheering for us at a random corner or pointing out the route. Do they even understand that they were commissioned by God to look after me? Someday when they meet HIM, I can’t wait for HIM to tell them that they were doing His bidding. That they were loving the most love, caring the most care and selfless in a way that can only come from GOD. I am so not worthy. Joshua must have been so proud of these two guys. I bet he never knew that his mom would love an angel. OR did he? Joshua loved Tom so much; maybe he knew something I did not. In the last days of this death Joshua was so worried that I would stay with Tom. Look what he left me.

John, began the Life Is A Highway page with me. He might not know it, but it was he that inspired my excitement as it began to work and touch total strangers. Suddenly this wonderful man kept uplifting me and making comments and participating. I was shocked to be able to reach someone for who did not know Joshua or me. I never had a very clear understanding of how this facebook page would work or even if, and he made it work. My goal was 30 people and with his initial help it reached 100 in no time, as he suggesting the page to friends. He lit a fire that was pivotal in this journey for me. I remember one day, telling Tom “There is this amazingly loving man on my facebook page and I don’t know him” "His picture is creepy but he seems great". We sat down that night to look him up and it turned out, he was my best friend from high school’s husband! He was sent to me, this I know. From the moment I saw him, I loved him like a big brother. He used the facebook page to care for me and help me be strong enough to walk! MY angels are all around.

Danielle and Annabelle were a bless-ed surprise. Suddenly as we walked past the common I saw two little girls beaming with pride for their mommy. My heart broke open. I did not have to look for them, because I walked straight into them. That was the part I loved the best.

This past few months I struggled to figure out what Joshua’s Life Is A Highway page would be about. The idea of a scholarship or foundation has run around our minds. Would it just end? How would I keep it going? What would I fill its pages with? Last night when I saw the walk in 2011 I knew. Paula asked where she could put her money and I said “into next year” and she got all excited about fundraisers and such. So Life Is A Highway Team for Joshua Amaral will walk again!!!!!!!!!!!! I can only hope we are all present just the way we were last night. I loved last night.

To those who walked with us, thank you from the deepest place in my heart. Jen you add such laughter to every experience, Tiffany you have a great motivated spirit, Mom well what can I say, you are my partner in this eternal struggle, Alicia and Paula your came in right when we needed you….Tom and John, nothing I could say could touch what I feel for the both of you. You are true heroes, and even better is the fact that you will not hear anything of it.


This walk was a practice run; the Facebook page is in its earliest stages. Next year will be bigger, better and more efficient and put together I imagine. We have a year to raise the funds and prepare for NY and so we will build on what we put together in 3 months and honor Joshua again every year.

This blog has not been edited. I decided to just put it up as is.

Blessings,
Amanda

Eternal Interference

I am sitting at Barnes and Noble in Burlington, hoping to do some serious research and reading about suicide and the loss of children. My goal for the day was to see what was out for books such as the one I am working on. The bookstore is incredibly busy and I was very lucky to get a table by the window. A few minutes after Dan picked up the girls, I wandered off to get the stack of books to peruse. I was so excited to find Chicken Soup for the Grieving Soul and thought I would save that for last. After a moment of beginning to read, coffee in hand muffin near bye and surrounded by books an older woman came over and asked if she could borrow the chair at my table. I said “certainly” that my daughters were gone. To my surprise she then sat down with me at my table. At that moment I felt God let out a little chuckle, both for my lack of social skills and willingness to come out of my box and certainly for the cozy little plan I had. As planned I started to go over book after book with titles such as “The Worst Loss”, “I was not ready to say goodbye” and all of these were manageable as they were research more than gut wrenching. I continued to make certain I put the Chicken Soup book at the bottom of the pile. Until I was ready.

When I finally hit the bottom of my pile I took a deep breath and dug in for a welcome moment of heart break. The words for each story of grief were so accepted into my heart. Mothers, fathers grandmothers,grandfathers loss and love. So many spoke my words, did the things I do. They have put hand over heart, let body grieve as it needed, practiced breathing, held onto life, ached silently at dinner parties, teachers conferences, knew loss like sometimes I thought I only knew it. Suicide...Suicide happens to others. Suddenly I came to a story called “A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS” about Adam a son who died at age 15. My throat begun to dry and a lump appeared. I suddenly realized that these stories were taking a toll on me and I began to contemplate how to keep my composure in the bookstore. As I looked up to give myself a break from the pain, I found myself staring up at the woman sharing my table, holding a blue book up to hear face and slowly pulling it back and forth contorting it and her eyes. I watched for a moment and quickly surmised the title of the book to be....”OPTICAL ILLUSIONS” and before I could stop it, that lump in my throat turned from utter gut wrenching torture to a laugh out loud that was noticed all around the cafe. A laugh I quickly tried to make look like it was from something I'd just read.

A few moments later I began again. This time opening the book right up to a story called “Legacy of Love'. I began to read of a young boy named Jarod ending his life and a quilt his mother began to make out of his clothing. So many times I have tried to figure out how to use Joshua's clothes and items now that he is gone. It reminded me of the guitar pic I wear around my neck. The more I read the more my body began to grieve for this mother, and odly seperate myself and my story and think only of her loss. That must be true empathy. I did not read it through my eyes, but through hers somehow. Again a lump formed in my throat. This time I felt a great force behind it and tried to stop the sobs before I lost all composer. Suddenly out of the blue, another older lady walked past my table, stopped and looked down at me. She spoke right to me and said “ I am going to sell my left leg on the black market” and without looking up at the time or even realizing that she just broke me from once again almost bursting into tears I replied “ oh yeah, how much do you think you could get for it”??? To which she said “25 cents” and we both laughed and laughed.

After that I got up and moved a bit away from the table and called my mom to tell her the odd day I was having at the Bookstore and how each person arrives at a moment when I need it the most. We joked, maybe I should stop reading this book, or maybe I should move tables or move the chair that continues to be occupied at my table?? As I finished the call I turned back to check that my things were all still where I'd left them and noticed a middle aged gentlemen of Indian decent occupying the chair. I chuckled, hung up and went over to sit and see what it was he had in store for me. Do I pick up the book again? Or do I just sit here? I then laughed at myself again. I think he might of sensed my anxiousness because he abruptly left! The book still sits in my lap and I contemplate picking it up again. Just a second ago a young girl just approached and asked if she could borrow my chair? I immediately said of course and wondered for a moment if she would as well lend me the gift of easing my pain as I delved so much into peoples pains of loss? Instead of sitting with me though, she picked up the chair and walked off. The end for my open chair day at Barnes And Noble.

Joshua has been gone for five years after taking his life. What he left for me in his stead was an eternal presence that I daily am accompanied by Angles who make the suffering, suffering I am so willing to do, just a little easier. As much as my body grieves, as much as my tears never end, as much as some-days I cant get out of bed, and often have to force myself to breath, I would not trade this journey. It was meant for me.

Blessings,
Amanda,.....Joshua's Mommy

To My Husband

To My Husband,

Joshua left us in 2005, you had 3 amazing years with him and I honor you. I remember so many times when you and he horrified me, excited me and truly made me wonder what in the world you were both thinking? As my memory comes back more and more, I am flooding by pictures of you and he and the times you had together. Here are some of my memories. Thank you loving him so much.

Embarrassment is the word that comes to mind when you, he and I were out! I think it’s why I stopped accompanying the two of you places. The grocery store, movie store, restaurants all places where you two would be such boys. How much fun you had tossing groceries and NOT having them land in your carriages. Now how I wish for such days. I doubt embarrassment would be the word. Oh how I wish I embraced the crazy times.


As I sit here in my kitchen and write, I am not far from the picture frames that you encouraged Joshua to build with you. They are so beautiful, with carved grapes. I will never forget how proud he was to make them and how gracious you were with him. So many people now have a frame.

The hat I don’t truly recall. I don’t remember when he started wearing it. I only know that he was with you in Rockport at your apartment and spotted it. A hat that your grandfather wore so many years ago, and that my son happily took and made his own. What must you have been thinking when he never, ever, took it off again?

The dirt bike story, as of course you thought he needed to be ruffed up a bit is one of my favorites. Looking back, it was not a great idea. The bike had too much power for someone his age,  and the location was also not great for a first time. I will never forget how banged up he got, and how the both of you looked when you can back. He with a sheepish grin as he showed off his bruises and yanked off his work boots and you wondering how I would react to see Joshua so bruised.


Wolfboro was hard. It was so far away. My apartment in NY seemed like the ends of the earth from him. I remember one night looking out of the window into the cul de sac and seeing your white bronco pull up and Joshua get out of the drivers seat. I laughed until I cried. How old was he? 14 maybe. How far did he drive? I wondered.  And then the next morning when he asked for coffee, the tiny spot of coffee we placed into the sugar bowl. Such a laugh.


And then we went from silly to having all the lights turned out. Joshua was gone. On top of losing him you lost me to hospitals, medications that made me sleep for days on end and  loneliness. Why did you stay? Why did you care for me? How did you do it? When the day came in 2007 when I "woke up" from the coma I had been living in for tow years. It was you I saw. You who had bathed me, fed me, loved me, took me for drives, took me to the cemetery. You who loved me back to life and kept Joshua alive between us.  I never knew I had met my guardian angel...



Thank you so much! I owe you my life.
Happy Birthday My Amazing Husband and Friend.
Your Wife,
Amanda

$1,000 Reached...I can walk!

Joshua’s 5th Anniversary came and went. It was harder this year! Annabelle witnessed many breakdowns on my way to Lanesville. Again he was not there. Many blessings were found on this day. The first being a wonderful hand made sign on the Joshua Tree. What a sweet person Phil is to have done that. It added so much to the day. Then came the 3. They have come faithfully since his death and they went to school with Joshua. They grieve him truly. This year as Annabelle and I stood on the path she looked over and asked who these 3 people are? I said “they were Joshua’s friends in school and come each year and sit with me and talk”. Her reply was touching, difficult and wonderful all at the same time. She pondered a few minutes, seemingly hoping it was going to be ok if she said what she had to say and then her little voice said “ they do not look Joshua’ age”. My heart grew still and silent as I saw this scene through her eyes and I looked down at her and said “Annabelle, Joshua has stopped aging and they have not”. She quickly understood and we simply continued to gaze at them. My mother came and sat a while, Annabelle and I played Joshua’s favorite card game (phase 10) and simply spent time with him. It was a wonderfully, wickedly horribly awesome day.

Today I reached my goal for the walk. A thousand dollars seemed so far off! 800 fans on the Facebook page also seemed impossible. As I logged into my page I saw the meter rise up to the thousand-dollar mark and little stars like fireworks burst from the top and made a crackle noise. My heart leapt for Joy and then sank with dread! I thought huh? What are you getting all excited for? You just raised money in honor of your dead son. It was hard. This has been difficult; the financial aspect has overshadowed the purpose of the walk for me. It has also even overshadowed his death a bit. I honestly wanted to stop raising funds half way through. I did not want to get tied up in this. Luckily when I came back from my visit to NY after the anniversary of his death, I was filled with a new vigor for all it would take to walk. I should expect an E-ticket in the mail soon.

As I gave pause to the Facebook page and what It could be after the walk, I was excited to remember a conversation with Alison at Joshua’s grave. She suggested thinking bigger. That the walk and the page is only the beginning of a foundation. I realized how passionate I am about Teens and schools and how they handle teens depression and suicide. I would like to grow this into a foundation that can help schools. The walk is just the beginning of a life of service for my son. How to go about doing this, how to apply for a nonprofit status and all the work it would take, is not at all in my knowledge bank. I could certainly use a mentor. But I know if I wait and wish for one, they will come.

Blessings!

The Attic

This Thursday it will be five years. Five years since Joshua took his life alone in an Attic in Wolfeboro NH. There are many places in my mind I do not allow myself to go. They are blocked to the process. Today his lasts are on my mind. His last written note, last comments on the computer, his last meal, last hug, the last time someone told him the loved him. And those led me to his last moments. It is my nature to explore every detail of anything I want to know more about. When I was feeling better I went back to the hospital where he died, I got the police report and read a gut wrenching story of a police office trying to get my son down from where he hung and as of yet I have never had the chance to go to the place he took his last breath. For some reason I can faintly see it in my head, but after struggling for years to connect with this scene, I might have made it up in my mind. I know there are stairs and a landing, but that is from the stories I have heard about how the grandmother found him. Today as I look through the guest book at all the people who came to the service, I am astonished at all I do not remember or know. I so badly want to spend time in that attic, to see where he died. I spend days at the cemetery because that is the last place I saw him, just once I would like to see the place where he drew his last breath.

What I think of this is that, this is about Joshua, about making peace with his death. This is not about people. Not about hurt feelings, not about drama and anger. It might have been once. This is about Joshua. About honoring him. I have taken all the steps I can, and this final piece has always eluded me. When do I get a chance to see this place? To touch this beam, to know my son in all the ways he was hurting. When do I get to kneel and feel his presence? The only way I know how to be a mother to my son, is to understand every aspect of his death and to take it on as much as I can.

What I know is that I do not know everything. There are questions surrounding his last day, surrounding his death. The more people run away the more I know, there will be things in the future that I will find out. This scares me beyond belief. For now though, I feel that God is giving me all I need in the time he has for me.


So for now, this year being his fifth, I am more aware of all the things I could not face and I am more aware of the things I do not have, did not see and need to still do. There are so many things left out there of Joshua’s for me to see. Oh my heart bleeds for this boy and to hold and understand everything he touched!

Frustration!
Amanda

5th Year Approaches

I am almost not able to write this today. I am in such pain that I can't find the words. Have you ever been in so much pain that you can't move and have no words and the tears just flow like water? I am not able to be helped by anyone’s words and I am feeling more and more isolated. June 3rd 2010 will be my 5th year of waiting for nightmare to be over and my son to be home with me. For some reason the years do not get easier, as I thought they might. They just change from the shock like I had been in a car accident, to a looming, gut wrenching pain that begins to worsen in May and follows me through June. My body does it in waves with actual physical pain and my soul and heart then take turns. I am tormented. Each day or night I am stuck on a different moment. Sometimes the hospital where he lay dead, sometimes the funeral home where I had to battle people for my last moments with him. Sometimes the baby memories of him, sometimes I just sit and play the movie of his life from start to finish. Just when I think I must have run out of tears, there are more to come. As I am in the midst of this journey. As people around me go about their day to day business, they have no idea that my heart is twisting, aching and longing. I try so hard to keep my face on, but so often I just cant. Those I trust understand! Those who don't understand judge me. I am almost used to it.

This year I am preparing to take my seat at my son’s grave once again. Every year is different and always blessed. Some years it just rains and rains and when it does, I thank God that he understands that the sun should not shine that day. It never ceases to amaze or delight me, that some of Joshua's truest friends come on that day as well and they kindly sit and tell stories and honor my son. I can understand why he loved them so. This year a friend has made a sign for the Joshua Tree that watches over Joshua. I can't wait to have it at this sacred place.

Although the walk is coming up soon, I have decided to allow myself to focus on June 3rd instead. I think it was to much to try to do both. I will resume my fundraising after I get myself past this day. Many who have lost someone to suicide would understand that each day we are still on this earth and have not left to find the child we lost, is a success. As a mother I am torn every moment between my children who are alive and thriving and the one I desperately long to hold again.

Love,
Amanda

The Joshua Tree

THE JOSHUA TREE

The days after he passed were filled with a grey haze, which now I am thankful for. Although I have never looked into what shock actually is, I have come to know that it is mercy and grace for those of us who believe in a higher power. Psychologically it is protecting the body, mind and heart from more than it can take in all at once. It was in this state that I ended up at the Seaside Cemetery in Lanesville Ma. The first thing I noticed and felt was that even though I was in a cemetery, this place was beautiful. You could sit and look out at the ocean and almost feel the sea mist in each breeze. The second thing I recall was mounds of dirt piled over 8 feet tall in the corners of the cemetery, a reminder of where I actually was and that the dirt was extra from the holes dug from those passed. Next in my memory I was with my mom and dad and a tall man with a clip board. A clip board full of burial plots marked out so that he could identify which one we choose. There was no question in my mind where I wanted him. It was chosen before I even stepped foot in this sacred place. The tree stood as tall or taller than any other, it had a large trunk and seemed to be an break for the harsh winds, rain and winters. If I was going to bury my son, leave him here at night with nobody to watch over him, than he will be under the tree. It was an emmediate response on my part. No other place would do. I made up my mind. Upon telling the man that this was to be the spot to bury my fifteen year old son, he said in a kind way “this spot has not been plotted as of yet and is not a purchasable part of the cemetery” i.e that the cemetery does not go out that far. I don’t recall hearing much of that, and simply said it again. I think I might have said it 3 or 4 times. At the time my being did not know why he needed to be there, and no logic took me to that place. It was like nothing physically or emotionally was moving and yet there was a strength not my own to make certain I stayed this boys protector. My mom and dad seemed astonished that I had the ability whatsoever to insist up on this place. After much contemplation and a phone call, the man came back and said I could have this space for my son. The space under the tree. A tree that each time I come to see him I say hello to and Thank and each time I leave, I commission to again shelter him while I am gone. Shell Silverstein has a book called the giving tree and although I do not take nearly as much from Joshua’s tree, I understand how much life, love and protection one tree can give.


A few days ago I went to the cemetery to rake, clear and clean the cemetery after a harsh winter, and greeted the tree like an old friend. As I cleared I realized that I live much further from this place and wanted a small piece of the tree to take back with me. Somehow without hurting the tree. After going over the trunk looking and looking for a piece of bark that would not disturb the tree, I saw a piece sticking out of the ground as if it grew up next to the tree. I pulled it from the ground and took it home. It feels closer now. As I reviewed the photos from that day I realized I had an amazing picture to share on my facebook fans page. I said “This is the Joshua Tree”….I have heard that name from a U2 album and I wonder what It means. The answers back took my breath away. This tree that I have always called The Joshua Tree has deep Biblical meaning. It is believed to have been named for that because it reminded the pilgrims of Joshua’s outstretched hands calling for God and the promise land.

From a week mother wandering through a cemetery to a burial plot to a tree, Joshua’s death is leading me through a journey that I could never have anticipated or planned. It is an honor to understand that I was being led and that someday, this day I would understand more and more about the decisions I was not humanly able to make for my son. I have to believe that some of our life is mapped out, some parts of our journey are certain and that we need to just be still, not understand everything clearly. Some of the more powerful and profound decisions I have ever made were made for me and simply fell from my lips as if I were a mere pen, paint brush or tool to work towards a far better place, with more meaning, than I myself could ever have accomplished.

I know that is when there was but one set of footprints in the sand, I am certain then I was carried.

Blessings….

The Cemetery

Thank you so much to those who read this blog. The emails and comments from so many have made the effort rewarding and it is an honor to share Joshua with you.

Each year my body begins a journey before I am aware of its occurrence. When I finally realize it, it is to late to back out. I think this journey begins in March as the warm weather begins to set in and body starts the process of grieving before my heart again begins it fully. Usually mid March I start feeling run down, headaches and a constant feeling like I forgot something. That same nagging feeling when you pack for a vacation and just can’t figure out what it is. Did I truly forget him? No never, but possibly the distractions of winter are enough to cause the pain to fade from the front of my mind. For many March is an excited time of watching the flowers start to bud, the birds come back and make nests and people walking around happy and cheerful. This was always the case for me until the birth of spring, turned to the death of spring.

It is now the end of April and what my body has been suffering, my heart and soul and mind have begun to understand. The weeping is almost uncontrollable at times, the soft warm breezes on my face or the grass under my feet, only take me to the cemetery in my mind. I now stand half way through this doorway, looking forward and knowing that the mercy of the body to help the mind got me here. There is no going back, it is almost time to face June 3rd for the 5th year. I now have to continue moving forward because I am to far to run back.

Yesterday I embraced the upcoming anniversary and knew that I needed to go and take some time with Josh at the cemetery. The tree greeted me as always! A tree I fought hard for him to be under. This was the first time I took on the responsibility of the raking and the clipping and removing old flowers and replacing the hat. I now understand why I never have. With each dandelion I clipped off the bed of grass on my son I almost screamed, with each brush of dirt of his stone I could feel it taunting me being all that lay between me and my son. It was physically impossible, and reminded me of the very hard task I have of the physical and tactile aspect of death.

As I spend the next month with my body and soul and heart becoming one to grieve, I am astonished again how the body can actually give birth and then feel as if by some awful torment actually have to take this birth back. The cruelest thing I have ever known.

~Blessings.

Disney World

Annabelle is 11 and it has always been her dream to get to Disney. For the past many years she has continued to collect spare change and call it Disney money. If she stops adding to the jar for a while, she emmediatly starts back up when she sees a book about Disney or a commercial. As most of you know I have committed to walk the overnight in Boston and one requirement is $1,000 dollars. Although daunting, this amount is non negotiable to walk and my family is doing all they can to help. My facebook page, blog and website have all been geared to raise the funds. One day Annabelle's Disney Jar became a covered in beautiful paper and designed and said "Joshua's Money Jar". Annabelle put her hopes and dreams on hold to give to my walk and help support those who are hurting. She adored her brother, and I assume feels like she can do something for him this way. Annabelle has made 2 donations from tooth fairy money to spare change...More so she stopped thinking about herself and her trip to Disney. As a mother I keep going back and forth with this, proud that she would be so selfless at such a young age and kicking myself that her money could actually be going to Disney. She is almost past the age of wonder......Guilt.

Times are so tough , even raising money for suicide is hard right now because people are so strapped. But God has shown me blessings around every corner and each time I hear change drop into her jar upstairs in her bedroom, I thank God for small Angels disguised as children.

There are Angels Among Us.
Amanda

Wrist Bands

Cost $60 For Wristbands.....
Response from people who want one....
PRICELESS


In a cabinet next to my bed are my many priceless items left behind by my son. The hardest and best for me to keep was his jacket from Hot Topic. It was a long black trench coat with red outline and zippers all over. I remember buying it for him, I remember the day he stood in the living room and slipped it on and it was perfect. I remember him NEVER taking it off. It would have likely been a phase if he had lived long enough. Some days I stretch it out on my bed and others I take it out and hold onto it, trying to smell what might be left of his scent. The bands in the above picture match it exactly. Also in this cabinet is a journal, a deck of phase 10 cards that he carried with him everywhere. A t-shirt that says "you laught at me because I am different, I laugh at you because you are all the same". I always taught the kids to march to a different drum and Joshua did that with pride. I wish I had felt so proud of him instead of afraid of how different he was! People are often afraid of what they do not understand. Now I embrace this.

Last night I put the picture of the wrist bands up on my FB page, Life Is A Highway and the response was shocking. Why would anyone want one of these? Why would anyone read this blog? Why has anyone entered into this journey with me. I have found that empathy is a quality that more people have than I understood and also that many do not have an ounce of it. Do these people understand at all what gifts they give me through caring and honoring my sons memory? That a simple "I would like a bracelet" is a small shiny gift for me that warms my heart and makes me feel like his mother again? The beauty of it is NO! The past month since I started this blog, started this walk and started fundraising for this cause, has been like my very own advent calender before Christmas! Each day I wake up with the excitement of a child to see who and what is in store for me. I peel back the paper and look inside. It is almost NEVER what I would have expected. For one who is never suprised...that in itself is a gift.

How to get these bands to people is another question!...I would buy thousands and send them to everyone if I could.

Blessings,
Amanda

Not By Might Nor By Power But By The Spirit

This is going to be very personal, and yet ties in so deeply with what I am learning these past few months. Have you ever struggled with something and the more you struggled the more it did not work, and when you released your grasp it all fell into order? My personality is as such! I like to get things done, more than I allow them to work in their time and way. I have a huge NOW factor that gyps me from the beauty of how things COULD HAVE TURNED OUT. I am instant gratification personified. All my life I have heard, maybe you need to wait? Things are always instant or immediate. Ok now having said that, here's how this applies.

For the first 2 years after Joshua I was numb and in shock. Shock is an amazing gift. It allows the body to go into a non-information state and lets you deal with it incrementally as you are able. Mine was 2 years. In those years I read books on grief and began to build my mind and body back up. There was much work being done over that time, as I sat in a little apartment in Rockport facing a wall. Suddenly one day (in my fashion) I was done. I don't remember it, but Tom tells me it scared him because of how sudden it was. I stood up, made a plan and moved forward stronger (I thought) than I ever was. In fact now that I look back, I think I was being pushed by an amazing amount of anger. If there was nothing I could not accomplish before in my life, there was certainly nothing then. I took back the house management, took back full custody of the girls and thought...wow I am doing this and it's great! Hmmmm I am thinking I missed a stage in there.

About a month ago I found it. It was hidden in this walk! The stage or stages I skipped. My mind set was, hmmm I will do this walk for my son to honor him. I am passionate about this subject; I can be his mom again. Wow was I infinitely closed minded to the journey I was stepping into. It wasn’t I who was going to do anything and certainly I have learned that each thing I have tried to do myself IS NOT WORKING. Each person I contact, each event I try to MAKE happen is simply NOT. And then when I focus back on my pain and the gifts I am receiving it falls back into place. I am in the struggle of a lifetime for the proverbial let go and let GOD. The fine line of when to act and when to wait. The roadblocks have been prevalent each time I try to force this, and those moved by the spirit have reminded me to wait. They find me, not I them!

This is not about walking, it's not about fundraising (although it is). It's about me and the steps I skipped. It's about feeling my son, grieving my son! It's about finally moving from the anger to the pain I skipped. I recently watched an Oprah show where Rosie o'Donnell was talking about something that happened in her life and she said "If I was stronger, I would have cried".

Here's to my new found "weakness"! Each of you who have reached out and contacted me because you felt led or like you were in this by the Spirit...Thank You. To each of you I have contacted because I felt you should be in this journey....and it was not the case, I apologize!

~Amanda

Out Of The Darkness Walk 2010

Walk Details For Those Walking:

The walk is in Boston and although Out of The Darkness keeps the route information until we arrive, they do give out check points for those of your friends and family who want to be supportive and hand out water and encourage you. This was a bummer to me, as I was going to map out the walk route and the Starbucks route at the same time :). I suspect that the ceremonies will be held on the common, but that is a guess. My husband Tom is going to drive the car into Boston and bring his bike so that he can be at all the rest stops to encourage. He said he will have a backpack of my favorite drinks. :) Love Him

The donations! Walkers Please understand that the $1,000 dollars is solid. The only way to get around it, if you have less than that amount is to put yourself on a 30-60 day payment plan after you walk. They are serious about that pledge. I have heard many people mention that they think it is a "suggested" amount. That is not correct. Please make certain you are clear about working hard to get that amount, otherwise donate to someone who is walking. Often times a person will get a few donations, not walk and they could have helped someone walk.

There is a Facebook Page on the side of my blog. For those of you who are not Fans, please consider fanning that page. It is called Life is a Highway and has a great fan base with walkers, grievers and friends! I try to put updates for all. There is also a Spring pocketbook fundraiser on the donate tab on that page. Theresa(the consultant) has donated ALL of her proceeds to this cause.

Currently I would like to thank the Lunenburg Ledger the Life Is Good company and The Rabbit Hill Inn for the support and donations. More to come on that! Yes I contacted Starbucks :)

That's the business for now. I have been told that many people read this blog, Please consider "following" it is simple, with a very easy sign up.

Blessing and Many Thanks!
Amanda


They knock me down
And back up again
You're in my blood
I'm not a lonely man
There's no load I can't hold
The road's so rough this I know
I'll be there when the light comes in
Just tell 'em we're survivors

Fundraising and what it is NOT about!

This will be short. So many times in my life I would have sat down and wrote a check for the thousand dollar entrance fee for the walk and be done. These days it's simply not that easy and I could not be more happy about it! What would I have missed out on had I had that money easily, or even decided to just put it in and not worry about it? Well I would have missed out on the road I was supposed to take. The road paved with people I was supposed to get to know. The road full of stories I was supposed to hear. The amazing amount of prospective and grace I was supposed to get. The feeling like no matter what, I am in the right place at the very right time. So tonight I am thankful for NOT having the money.....How's that for backwards :)

Nite All,
Amanda

Dear One

Can you see us Dear One
As we light up the night
As we meet as survivors
To help others fight.


Can you see us Dear One
As we struggle to bear
The most painful memories
To show that we care.

Do you see me, your mother
As I struggle to be
The one who still holds you
And rocks you to sleep

With each mile...each candle
Each pat on the back
They'll be sadness in knowing
This won't bring you back

But know one thing my Dear One
Know one thing for sure
I will help find what ailed you
I will help find a cure

So see me my Dear One
As I walk with your name
Written boldy on my back
I will ne'er be the same

See all our faces
Watch each step that we take
As our feet beet the ground
And our hearts bend and break.




* To my son Joshua....may our luminaries light up the skies of heaven on this June evening.

Written By Amanda Pool

My Birthday Present from God

I hold the night Joshua was born and the night he died so intensely close that I am sure I will be consumed by it and yet I am not. Instead it changes me, each and every day I see God in new ways drawing me away from the indifference of this world and into the intimacy of the eternal place. Josh was born on my birthday. Imagine that! My first grandchild born on my birthday. A birthday present from God. One of the most joyful and happiest days of my life. Who would have ever believed that this same child would be the reason for the most profoundly sad day of my life as well. A mere fifteen years later. Even now the darkest place in my being embraces a flicker of light called Joy as I remember so fondly our relationship and the wonderful years we had together. He is still a gift from God and I honor this pain and feel humbled to carry it forth for a reason that may yet to be seen.

I love you Josh. Love, Mimi

Thoughts

The Facebook page has 200 or more fans now. I count that as a major accomplishment and each time I see a new fan I get excited and hope that my son is proud of me. It is great to be able to see something I created, grow. I am certain that my self doubt as a mother has taken much of that pride away and left me with so much doubt that anything I affect might die. I have disected and tried very hard to make certain my parenting skills are the best they can be. I think that is just my nature to have to fix, and to DO something. What is a tragedy like losing a child, without lessons learned. In so many ways the silver linings are all around us, but I would rather have my son back home in his bed. I am uncertain of the amount needed to be raised. It has been several weeks and I am not really doing wonderful on the thousand. I have seen so many people concered with raising that much. I have many great ideas I will share, and we can see if they succeed or fail. I NEED to walk this for my son. It is the first real hope I have had in a while.

Yesterday I got my package in the mail from Out of The Darkness. I was so excited to find that they included a T-shirt. I am also excited that it is huge and I can wear it as a night shirt afterwards and remember the walk! I have been extremely emotional the past few days as I think the walk is re-opening some wounds that may not have healed. Yesterday I saw the line on the back of the t-shirt and thought, wow my son is reduced to a line on a shirt. Today I looked at the line and wondered how I could ever write Josh's name neatly enough on that line. You only get one chance in permanent marker. Then later yesterday I recieved an inbox of a very touching story (one of so many lately) from a wonderful girl I knew growing up and to top it all off, I checked this blog while I was in the bookstore and saw a follower. My heart lept. There is something about writing and someone reading what you write that can not be equaled. When I saw who my fan was, thinking maybe the person might have accidentally fanned....I found out it was my best friend and husband Tom. So needless to say I was in the bookstore weeping. This journey is changing my life, one person at a time. Joshua would be so honored.

Tonight a wonderful man emailed the FaceBook "life is a highway" page and told me all about his efforts in working out. It happened to be at the very moment I was indulging myself in a cookie and feeling awful about it. After I read how great he was doing , I felt an emmediate lift and realized I have to get back on track with my work outs....I have been having way to many allowances of cookies lately. If you are reading this, Thank You for the motivation. I hope to see you on the path.

Lastly one other thing that has deeply touched me, and more in my imagination and a bit of video are the luminary bags they give out to write someone's name on. I saw a video of a previous walk where those lighted candle bags lined the streets. I sobbed. I am not posotive how I will keep from crying the entire walk, especially walking along paved footpaths lined with candles for the deceased.

As those who have felt death tear at the very heart that beats within, they also know that they are able to walk the weary trail of life between today and eternity. It is a place where you look at those around you and you almost don't understand them anymore, where the speed of things seems to have picked up faster than anyone moves, just incase you miss something or lose someone else. You listen to interactions between parents and children or husbands and wives and you say to yourself or even them if you are like me"oh you should be so much kinder, they may not always be here". It is a blessing and a curse to keep a foot firmly in both places when each call to you. Those who knew you, do not know you any longer! There is no way to explain this. God bless all of you walking around trying to keep your attention focused on those you live with, while your very heart longs to be with the one you lost. I commend you for this.

Blessings,
Amanda

FOREST FOR THE TREES

Ahhhh how amazing every situation can be when it is flipped over, turned upside down and looked at with a little bit of PROSPECTIVE. Funny how unlike the movie Ratatouille, I couldnt just walk in and sit down and order it! This had to come, as any journey, gradually.

I thought this was about the overnight walk, turns out that was just the beginning. The opening for each donation or email or person who heard to send me a heart breaking story about someone who shot himself, hung himself, overdosed and above all died of broken hearts. I thought this was about Josh, or even about myself. I thought I knew the direction I was headed, but I bet I don't. If someone kills themself every 16 minutes than I may very well be sitting her at this keyboard crying as I am now for each of them. I signed on to walk, but what seems to be occuring is a re-birth of Joshua's death from a place where I can actually heal and feel and see.

To all of you who have written I am humbled that you would share a moment of your pain with me! I am not worthy and I contemplate with each story, what do with the precous gift. Please know that you are changing my life and my journey and ultimately giving Joshua's life and death an easier place for me to heal from and release. Some people use balloons or butterflies, but it seems that I get to use your stories! Keep contacting me and we can put all of them together and make a huge difference.

Yours Truly,
One Suicide Survior To Another

OUT OF THE DARKNESS

There is nothing like being a Mom. Joshua called me Mommy up until the day he abruptly left this earth. Until then I was his mom. On June 3rd 2005 and the days after I was left with an awful helpless feeling. Sure I could go and pluck weeds around his stone in Lanesville, I could buy flowers and hope that these things would be enough to help with the feeling that I was not taking care of him anymore. They were not. How do you stop being a mom? How do you stop the physical actions of being a mom? My heart not only longs for him to come home, but it longs to wash his face, comb his hair and help him with his homework. I remember desperately begging the man at the cemetery to let Josh be under a large tree so that someone could take care of him in my stead. That tree leans over him to this day.


About a week ago, The Overnight Walk for Boston suddenly came on the radio. An 18 mile walk overnight in Boston Massachusetts to prevent and understand suicide. My heart began to race and I pulled the car over to write down the web site and details. This was the long awaited answer to my question of “what can I do for him”. Not only can I feel like a mom to Josh again for Just 2 days, but I can also help others and be around amazing ,strong people who have also known this heart ache. I felt almost elated. I am a do-er. I can work out, raise funds, plan a bake sale and be a mommy! Thank God for the smallest of gifts.

So to Joshua who suffered much! I plan to do my best to honor him and raise as much money as I can to help others fight, this, which plagues the heart, and mind almost relentlessly and along side me will be my mother! An amazing woman who raised Joshua right along side me and who lost a part of herself with him.

Please take a moment to look at the links below and find it in your heart to support this walk…..


God Bless and More to come as our team grows!

Rose and Amanda


http://www.theovernight.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=extranet.teampage&teamid=T1002875

Scroll to the bottom of the page and you will see our team members and be able to donate. No amount is to small and it does not cost to donate.

Joshua

Every moment of every day my heart cries out for him, my son! Joshua was my first born and my first real understanding of what it meant to be selfless. I was sixteen when I had him and yet it seem that bonding with a baby and caring for him were as natural to me as speaking. As he grew it became more and more apparent that he would not have the heart for this world. Not fit in, not understand the cruelty of those around him and certainly his fashion of deep love, strong commitment and taking the pain of others on, would not be welcomed or understood. He was simply to caring for this life. Looking back I did not help. I feel it was my heart and how close he and I were that made him so fragile. It might be possible that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but for me it is paved with regret. It is a dark place, a missed phone call on an evening when he was going to take his life or time not spent. These are all the trappings of the darkness.

On the evening of June 3rd Joshua hung himself at a home in Wolfboro NH  I was not the one to find him. I was not the one to call 911, I was not the one who had the chance to scramble and struggle to get him down, to make him breathe again, to go in the ambulance...I was in fact hours away at a home in Gloucester on the ground screaming and what seemed like a million miles from my son. The drive to Wolfboro was torture. A phrase kept running through my head "wither so ever thou goest"...I found out later that that is a Bible verse Joshua 1:9.

The hospital was full of crying people. I think I was in a numb shock and certainly not processing what was about to happen or what I would see. My family each went in to say there good-byes separately and then it was my turn. I know some families have chosen not to go in, some have decided it best not to let the last sight of your child be bruised and broken. That however was not me. I knew I had to, I knew it would be regretted always and I needed to say good-bye. If I could not make myself turn the knob and go in, then the only idea I had was to go in backwards. To get myself to his body, but not face this. I turned around, pushed against the door with my back and entered into a place that was so quiet, so eerie and so void of my sons energy. My face was now on the door as I backed into the room and reached my hands out behind me, waiting for the moment they reached where he lay. One step, another step and then another until my hands behind me felt a warm blanket and a foot. My baby boys foot. There I was suddenly holding death in my hands and waiting for him to say something. He did not. Finally after a time I turned around. There was my son, gone. His beautiful black hair, his tiny beard on his chin that he was trying to grow and the eyes that I wanted to look at me, closed. The blanket was pulled up high on his neck so I could not see the marks from the strangulation, but I am a mom and so I pulled the blanket down and ran my fingers over those lines and flashed to the attic and the struggle for breath and the reality of what he has just done.

So many knew my son. The outpouring of love from Wolfboro to Gloucester made his memorial service standing room....I never knew how many lives he touched until that day.