No Matter What I Do He Is Still Gone

At the end of the day when everthing is quiet, I climb into bed with a hole in my heart that I can't fill. This past month after authoring one of my stories about Joshua, being in the local paper and having my blog featured in Chicken Soup's newsletter. I am still a broken, bleeding open wound. Nothing seems to ease the pain whatsoever. No accomplishement could ever be great enough to ease the pain of death. If anything there are but moments that I am ok, in an ocean of grief.




One of the last times I saw Joshua he was sitting in a chair to my right. We were watching a movie with Will Smith about robots and Joshua was seeing how long he could dip his chocolate chip cookie in milk, just before it would dissapate into the milk. I was laughing and saying “no that's to long”...He would do it longer. It never broke apart and always made it to his mouth. I fell off to sleep after the movie ended and later called to him in his room, “light's out” and he softly said “I'm already asleep mommy”. He never stopped calling me mommy!



Some days I simply can't even get one foot in front of the other and some days I charge ahead with purpose. Really no matter what, I can not bring him home.



~Joshua's Mom

Every Day Pain

Sometimes it’s as if my heart waits quietly to reconnect with my son. Each smell, taste and sound becomes a possibility for a memory I’d forgotten. Joshua was born to me at 16. His life chronicled in a fascinating way by journaling. His first steps, his first words, his first bike and even his first love light up the pages of my notebooks. As I had a glass of wine and peered into one of these books I saw “JOSHY LOVES MOMMY” written in scribbled crayon over the while lines. He was 4 and proud to be able to write. My heart burned to remember him with his little fingers flipping through this book and leaving this note for me. He had no idea it would be the keepsake of a broken heart.





A few weeks ago Annabelle and I stood in front of the TV to set up a Wii game of Jeopardy. She, knowing how to do all this, fidgeted with the paddle and came to the place where the characters were created. I stood in awe in the middle of the living room when I saw a character on the screen with the name Josh. It even looked like Josh. What is this I asked Annabelle? “Oh that’s Josh” she said proudly without looking up from her search. “Josh?” I asked in a gentle voice. “YUP, he is my character on here” she said as if that was normal every day stuff. I voiced a quiet “oh” and we played Jeopardy. Often I read stories about people using online characters to be and do things they normally could not. On this day I played Jeopardy with my son.



Annabelle wanted to have shirts with thumbholes like Josh. The idea bothered me because I hated how Joshua tried to keep himself so covered up. He hated his body, his legs and arms and began to disappear by covering himself with long hair, long, coats and long sleeves. It is times like these that I have to remember that Annabelle is not Josh and that she tries so hard to connect with him. As I folded the laundry yesterday her brand new bright green shirt with the thumbholes made it’s way into my hands and as I reached my hand into the sleeve to pull it right side out, my thumb slipped into the hole. Moments past and I was frozen. I simply stood there feeling my son all around me. I put myself in his shoes, remembered his arms and hands and the last time I felt him in my arms and teased him about his choice of clothing.



Each day life brings Josh back to me. So I live with my heart wide open!



~Joshua’s Mom

Grief does not take a vacation!!

This past week I went to California to visit my sister Jen and see her precious new baby girl Ruby. I was excited on so many levels. It took my mind off the dreary winter, the piles of snow banks around and of course the pain that still lingers from not having Joshua around for Christmas or to see 2011. Maybe for one week I was going to leave my grief behind in Massachusetts. No such luck. As I stepped off the plane and exited the airport into the beautiful 68-degree temps I took a deep breath, it seemed innocent enough. Suddenly with that very breath of sunshine and warm air, I heard and felt my grief arise from the depths of my soul. Confusion seemed to be the order of the day. “Is it spring?” it asked. “Is it time to get ready for June?” It asked. Could it really be April already? And there I stood, bags in hand hoping to have the best vacation of my life and my grief suddenly decided it needed to understand what was going on. I felt dazed and unhappy and tried like hell to explain to myself. No it is not spring I thought almost out loud. It is not time to get ready for the sixth anniversary of Joshua’s death. I never once thought of the possobility that these warm temperatures would cause my emotional clock to think it was April and begin to prepare for June. It was like telling a child who woke up to early on Christmas morning to go back to bed. How do you tell a gut wrenching heart pain that you have a few more months.????


Thankfully the week flew bye.  Babies and diapers and sight seeing kept me very busy.  I made certain to take some time each day either on a walk or a bike ride to honor my grief. With each flower I picked or each blade of grass I stepped upon, it would come rushing back and again ask “Do you need me?”, “Is it time?” and I would softly again say no not yet. It was the first time it didn’t rush in, but asked me if it was needed. I found myself remarkably aware that we were for the first time acting as a team.  This my true friend.


I am home now. Home to the mile high snow banks, frigid temps and snuggling up by the fireplace.  California was beautiful, but this is where I belong. Although I know grief is not far from me, for the moment she has taken her place in the distance and waits for a the real April to come....<3



~Joshua’s Mom

*** Photo taken in California by my sister Jessica Lusk. <3