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