After a while, you learn the subtle difference,



Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,


And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning,


And company doesn’t mean security,


And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts,


And presents aren’t promises,


And you begin to accept you defeats,


With your head up and your eyes open,


With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,


And you learn to build all your roads on today,


Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,


And futures have a way of falling down mid-flight,


After a while, you learn,


That even the sunshine burns if you get too much,


So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,


Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers,


And you learn that you really can endure…


That you really are strong,


And that you really do have worth,


And you learn and learn…






With every goodbye you learn.






~Veronica A Shoffstall

Give Me an A

I arrived as usual to the place he is resting in peace. Instead of kneeling and kissing the beautiful likeness etched on his stone, I stopped and sat on the cool black granite bench that marks this tiny place my heart calls home. The bench’s coolness reminded me that September was here and soon I would not be able to sit and enjoy the sunshine, as winter moves in. This day was different. Not only were my actions different but also something felt lacking, missing even. I looked around the plot taking a mental note of all the items that have been placed here since 2005. One bowler hat, needing to be replaced after a summers worth of weather, check. Several vases, one filled with red roses trimmed with vibrant orange, check. A mother tree proudly wearing a sign around it’s trunk entitled The Joshua Tree, check. A large shell left here by my sister so that Joshua could be reminded of the ocean, check. Many tiny knick-knacks by people, who loved this boy almost as much as I, check. A tiny bird housed hand painted by a wonderful girl who struggles with the thoughts of taking her own life, a precious soul, check. 22 tiny glass beads, one for every year of his life, check. It all seemed the same and yet it wasn’t. I felt almost empty, but peaceful as well.




“Joshua”, I said, “Do you know why I do not talk to you?” There was no answer. I continued, “Because if I talk to you, that that means I believe you are in heaven and if I believe you are in heaven than I believe there is a God”. I almost did not know what I was saying but I continued. “And if I believe there is a God, than I have had my heart broken by the heavenly father I adored since I was a child”. Here I was of course telling Joshua why I don’t talk to him, whilst talking to him. It got quiet again. The breeze now felt different, real. The wind on my face felt like mercy and it was vibrant. The birds squawking no longer bothered me. The grass looked greener, the ocean looked more blue. “Leave it now”. “It’s time to move”. “It’s time to leave it”. Over and over I heard. I had no idea what I was leaving, but I knew I had to stand and I knew I had to walk away without it.



I stood from the bench, leaned over to kiss Joshua’s stone and slowly walked away. In an instance it left me. I felt light headed. Free. Sad and scared as if I left something behind that I had carried with me constantly. The letter A made a vivid image in my mind and I looked back as my sanctuary was further behind me, hoping to see what it was. I walked as this A continued to place itself in my mind and upon arriving at the car I realized that finally, finally in all these years I had just felt acceptance. ACCEPTANCE. It was like walking into the light after carrying around so much anger. It was like knowing he is ok. It was also like losing an arm. The guilt was frightening as I tried to allow myself the peace that tried to come with it.



Sometimes things that hurt us, are what we need and when we no longer need them they are very hard to detach from. I have felt this before in relationships with people that were unhealthy for me. I never expected to feel it this day. In the car on the way home I told Joshua over and over that I was not leaving him and that I was not ok with what he did. I also told him I cannot continue to fight against it, when it is done and he is gone.



Like every one of the stages, each has been precisely as described. Denial, Anger, Bargaining , Depression and yes Acceptance. They take time. They weave in and out of each other; they are not easy or kind. They can ravage your mind and body. They are a war and yet they are intended for a great purpose. They will enlighten you if you let them. They will draw you closer to life and death if you allow. They take time. They are pure and often not well defined as the creep into each other. They need to be. Acceptance will not be the end; it will just be a new beginning. It is the only stage I had never felt before.



Thank You Joshua.



Mommy Loves You. <3

Happy 22nd Birthday

I woke up this day 22 years ago in horrible pain. I was only sixteen and had no idea what was really happening to my body. I made my way out of bed at 4:30 am and rested by belly against the back of our horrendous orange lounge chair. I then called to your father who was getting ready for work that it was time to go to the hospital and have our baby. You. You and I had already spent so much time getting to know each other. I sang to you, rocked you to sleep in my belly every night and counted each day until you came. You were already my son. My body LOVED being pregnant. Even though it was only the body of a little girl.



Your birth was not easy. You took much longer to arrive than either you or I expected. You were born with a collapsed lung and they rushed you off before I could hold you. All I saw were two black feet passing by my face. Nobody explained anything to me. You weren’t breathing. The next morning I climbed from my bed, drugged from pain killers and made my way down the hall to see my mother sitting proudly in a rocking chair holding you. You were born on her birthday. Her birthday present. I stood. Thinking that of all the people to be sitting there, it would be her. She was simply an extension of my love for you. From that day on she and I would raise you together. You were so loved. Each year more than the one before it. You were happy! Do you remember?



Today it is raining and feels like a cool September day. Only the lump in my throat challenges the pain in my chest. I am alone, though many try to help and sooth me. As much as I gave birth to you on September 6 1989, you were taken back through my body on June 3rd 2005. Both of these leave me physically broken and emotionally unable to cope with every day things in life.



I miss you. I miss you with all my heart and all my soul. There seems to be no end to the things you never got to do and to the things I never got to say to you. I am so sorry for your pain and that you could not find another way out. I would give anything to have you come home.



Happy Birthday To You

Happy Birthday To you

Happy Birthday Dear Joshua

Happy Birthday To You……



Love Mommy

47 Nottingham Rd. Raymond NH.

Remember Happy?




This summer has been another “season” for hurdles Joshua’s death has left behind. One of the biggest was Pawtuckaway State Park in Nottingham NH. Our family went every year when he was little and I had not been back since Joshua’s death. To top that hurdle off, an even greater one awaited me in order to get to Pawtuckaway. You see on the way is a house. A sweet beautiful house, set back behind a pond aptly named Hop Frog Pond. That house is where Joshua spent his best years. It is in Raymond NH.



As I took exit number 5 off 101 it all came crashing back to me. The familiar gas station, the Wal mart distribution center, the road with the McDonald’s and the meat market I used to get everything for the family bbq’s. “I’ll have a double cheeseburger and a coke” sounded into my head in Joshua’s voice. Ouch this was going to be harder than I thought. Hannaford was still up on the hill. It was my weekly grocery shop in the days when I resided here. Could I do it? I walked through the grocery store sobbing so I guess the answer was no. Pushing the carriage with Joshua no longer riding the front. Passing the bakery and no longer grabbing him a cookie. Each of his favorite foods, the book section. Nothing. People stared as I passed sobbing like a child. I finally made it to the parking lot exhausted, throwing things into the car for camping and left my purse. All in all OUCH.



The house was next. I slowed down as I got onto Nottingham Rd. Oh how I loved this large beautiful house. It was my pride and joy. I had 4 kids a dog and pristine white rugs always. The daffodils were my favorite; they covered the beautifully landscaped front lawn that I took such care to garden. Even topiary bushes were not to much for this novice. I was in love. As I got to the top of the hill, the house sat just the same. Maybe a tad more yellow than the salmon color it was. I gasped for breath sitting on the side of the road, sobbing and wishing I could go in. The mailbox read 47. I could see Joshua’s bedroom from road. I imagined him in his bed with the fan on his face reading Harry Potter. I imagined us all inside. I hummed a few bars of “The House That Made Me” and imagined knocking on the door to ask if I might come in and sit a while in his room. “Mommy” my teenage daughter sitting next to me having equally as hard a time said “I will buy this for you someday I promise”, “I will get this house back for you”. Thank you I whispered. "I know you will". I remembered burying Prince in the woods in the back yard thinking we would stay here forever. I never thought I would have to burry my son as well. He would have like to be buried near his companian Bella.



Next onto the rolling hills of Nottingham and the state park. From the parking lot, to the campsites to the water spickets it was all the same. We set up the tent and I forced myself to stop having the pictures race through my head of Joshua climbing between the trees as if he were Spiderman. I had to keep slapping myself to make certain this family, now, these kids, my husband had a good time camping.



Joshua you would be so proud of me.

~Joshua’s Mom

Our Deepest Gratitude

The only people with whom you should try to get even are those who have helped you. ~John E. Southard

On behalf of the friends and family of Joshua Amaral, Steve Woodard and Peter Matt Burns we would like to thank all the amazing companies that donated to help in the fight against bullying, depression and suicide. We were nothing short of amazed at the support and donations we received from the generous companies we contacted. Thank you also to Jalapenos for making our fundraising night fun and memorable and for all those who came. Each one of you made it possible for us to walk in the Out Of The Darkness Walk and with help from The American Foundation of Suicide Prevention, we all saved lives. The following companies honored our journey:


Vermont Teddy Bear,

Alchemy Restaurant,

Meineke,

Linden Tree Inn,

Dogeared Jewelry,

The Lobster Pool,

Seaward Inn Rockport,

Avanti Hair Salon,

Friendly’s,

The Causeway Restaurant,

Cape Ann Marina,

The Farm Restaurant,

Gracie Cakes in Salem,

Plum Cove Grind,

The Landing Restaurant Marblehead,

Bertucci's,

Cape Ann Whale Watch,

Divine Day Spa,

Groupon,

Hannaford Supermarkets,

Nor' East Cleaners,

Sunbanque,

Pilot House Restaurant,

Harbor Light Inn Marblehead,

Cash donation from Annabelle Harling,

Dog Bar Restaurant,

Latitude 43,

Yankee Smokehouse,

Espresso Restaurant,

The Westin Hotel in Boston,

The Westin Hotel in Times Square Ny

Cash Donations from Freedom Market, Freedom N.H

Cake Pops by Jackie Burns




A special thank you to the amazing staff at Grill 23 and The Lenox Hotel in Boston for not only donating but for making life a much better place. Also to our friends and family on Life Is A Highway on Facebook and to everyone who donated and bought a calendar.



Each of you made a difference!



Warmest Thanks!

Team Life Is A Highway

~Joshua’s Mom

LETTER FROM SCHOOL AFTER I SPOKE :)

The above letter is from the wonderful principal at North Middlesex Regional School District. The day she is reffering to was one of the hardest in my life. I had to both be professional about my story and yet show my pain and my heart. Many teachers came with open hearts that day. It was just another moment where I felt like I might still be Joshua's Mom...

Two Beautiful Boys who took the same path.....

I was on the fence about the walk this year. It’s all the way in NY. My torn ACL is as bad as ever and people are hurting so it’s hard to ask for money. I just said to myself that I will wait and if I get a push I will begin the fundraising and planning. Suddenly OUT OF THE BLUE, some super ladies (my sister Jessica and Alicia and Paula Burns) gave me that push. It was last week and we were all sitting around having a birthday party for my niece when Alicia said “so what’s happening for the walk?”, “what are we doing?”. I was completely surprised. I did not figure anyone would be excited and I did not want to go alone. Then Jessica pipes in “I could ask my boss at the Pilot House if we could do a car wash”, I then got excited. And Paula added, “ I could get a fried dough truck”. The three of them took my breath away. “How about a bake sale out front of Walgreens?"….Alicia asked.  Frankly I was a little in disbelief. Of course these wonderful people wanted to do this. Alicia’s brother, Paula’s son Peter Matt took his life on the same day as my son Joshua, only 5 years before. They miss him. They live his life for him. They honor him. Jessica lost her nephew (my Josh). I just came home from a few days in Maine to find that these girls have been working out the details. Again shocked! Jessica acquired a Fundraising night at Jalapeno’s in Gloucester (10% to the AFSP). And we are waiting on the Car Wash to be ok’d at the Pilot House(Monday May 9th)  and Alicia is working on the bake sale.

**** This just in (lol) Christine Davis from Freedom Nh has just been added to our team, yes indeed people this is the push I needed. <3




The American Foundation For Suicide Prevention works in all the area’s of suicide needed to help us get this under control. Incase you did not notice it is only getting worse by the day. They put funds towards schools, research, and depression and alot money for grants that go directly to community help. I am more than honored to help more people stay on this earth instead of end their lives in tragedy and have many more families lost to this illness. This year the 18mile overnight walk through the darkness to the dawn is in NY. I am counting the days until we pack up the car and drive the many miles to walk together with the rest of the angels who know my pain.



<3 Joshua’s Mom



If you are interested in donating please follow the link! Even $5 helps more than you could imagine. Hmmm I wonder how to get a million people to donate $5 :)

https://theovernight.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=donate.start&destination=P&eventID=500&participantID=1106

Death Wish

A few months before Joshua died, he sent me a list of directives. I have not shared this with anyone. I am guilt ridden at the fact that he was telling me he was leaving me and I did not see it. It was about each person he cared about or loathed. First he told me what he was doing or how he handled these people and then what I should do in the future. At the time I just thought he was growing up and being protective of me. I did not know he was guiding me after he was gone. I should have seen it when he insisted I marry Tom. He would not take no for an answer and frankly at the time I had no thoughts of being that serious…ever. Turns out Josh was also working on Tom in this same fashion. We had no idea he was leaving me in the arms of someone he respected. How stupid was I not to see this. “Promise me mom” he said. “Right now”. “He adores you, he makes you happy and he loves you more than anyone has”. I promised him because I wanted him to stop badgering me. A few short months later Josh was dead. I slipped into an emotional coma and that same person Joshua asked me to marry, was taking care of me as I lay in bed for 2 years. Saving my life. He fed me, be bathed me, he moved me closer to the cemetery and to Rockport so Danielle and Annabelle could see me” He saved my life. Joshua was right. The first thing I did was marry him. Now Joshua lives in us and it was the best decision I ever made.




“Get the girls” was the next thing he was insistent upon. After I left my second husband (yeah I’m a treasure) my daughters were taken from me violently. Many don’t know this but Joshua was the reason they were taken from me. You see in a court a nasty step-father who has been privy to a young childs pain can then go in and accuse him of being a danger to his sisters all the while knowing he was lying. It is called an ex parte. They were then removed from my home on those grounds. Joshua knew I was dying inside without them, but he did not know the details. He never found this out. It would have killed him inside. After his death I did exactly as he suggested. I kept my friends close and my enemies closer and in 2008 I got full custody of my two girls. Other people were interviewed in that process that Joshua mentioned to me.  I read over the interviews and realized just how dead on he was...That story has yet to be finished.





As I look back on the past few years I can see how each request of Joshua’s before he left has played out in my life. I am not able to post that message, as it would hurt many people and create what it is I am trying to remove from my life. As I succeed in doing what he suggests it has become clear how smart he was. How much he cared for me and how many things he was doing to care for me after he was gone. Recently I have been told a million times that I seem different. I have been looked at and people have tried to figure me out. Why they ask? The fact that they even ask makes no sense. The answer is Joshua. What he wanted for me and how far away from many people he asked me to get or how close he wanted me to be. How he knew who was good for me and who wasn’t.



I have one person left that Joshua adored more than life. She was his sweetest best friend, his partner in crime and truly the love of his heart. His sister. He told me what to do to keep close to her and it is not working. We are both in so much pain and filled with guilt that we are like oil and water when we are near each other. He said “mommy you are both so strong willed, one of you had to give in”. “Take care of her”. “Hug her more. Love her She needs you.” I am trying buddy. I am trying.

Bullying

Dealing with the loss of a child is a slow process. It has helped me  in recent years to let grief lead  the way and guide me in the directions I could handle at any given time. There were always aspects I was not ready for. The visualization of what Joshua went through as he gasped for his last breath, the physical aspects of death and burial, and even the people who contributed to his demise and my anger. I must admit the last one has been avoided by me like the plague. With all of this rage, I never really wanted to have anyone to direct it towards. It has now become an inevitable part of my moving forward.




As many of you now know, Massachusetts is in the midst of a bullying push. The Phoebe Prince hanging in South Hadley catapulted Bullying to the very front of our lives and gave it the emphasis it needed to have something done. Late though it is, it is certainly now opening up this topic in schools and with teachers everywhere. A week ago I got a phone call from the principal of our local high school looking to have Joshua’s story told as part of the teacher training and also for some object lessons on what is and what is not bullying. And there it was. A very, very difficult piece of this puzzle for me to face. The school is not simply interested in suicide, but suicide specific to torment. Many of Joshua’s friends have shared with me the torment he suffered in Wolfeboro at the hands of cruel people and I of course know much about the years before that. The term that hit Joshua the hardest was “FAGGIT”. That word hurts just to say it. I have now spent this past week pouring over messages from Josh on the computer, journals and going through all of the emails from his friends. It is the hardest reality yet to face. I did not protect Joshua from nasty people, nasty insults and nasty games.



Suicide is not pretty. Bullying is downright ugly and has many forms. I hope to be an inspiration to the teachers at North Middlesex Regional High School and provide them with empathy and knowledge. Joshua did not always want to kill himself. He was pushed. My goal is that no student suffers the same pushing!



Joshua’s Mom



P.S If you are reading this and you are a bully or a bystander please note, you are no longer protected and if caught you will be punished, now more seriously than ever. If you are an adult that bullies, please stop right away and seek help. You are likely raising a bully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.