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