Two Months

 Today marks two months since receiving the phone call that shattered my heart. I am wondering if how I am feeling, both emotionally and physical, is normal. I do not know what I am supposed to feel like or what I should be doing or not doing, For instance, why can't I sleep again? I couldn't sleep when it first happened and then I began to sleep better as I got a handle on my anxiety and now I am really struggling to sleep again - even with the help of medication that typically zonks me out. I miss sleep. It is NOT overrated.

My body continues to show signs of the stress it is carrying. Today is day four of a headache that just won't quit. It has varied in intensity and sometimes it makes me nauseous. The GI symptoms continue - no need to elaborate there. My guess is that these things are due to my anxiety sky-rocketing again. Maybe it's because we are drawing so near to Christmas. Maybe that has nothing to do it. I really don't know.

I took a couple days off work because, well, because. The expectations I feel (real or imagined) are weighing heavily on me. I keep finding evidence of mistakes - stupid ones. It's kind of like my mind won't settle. I try to zero in on the task at hand and some little thing derails me. Things like noticing that the product will be shipping from Chicago. Chicago. The city I thought would hold awesome memories of time spent together with Brendan. Instead, it's the city I traveled to to pick up my son's cremains. I'll try to redirect my thoughts and then I see the signature line on the email I just received from a vendor saying the point of contact I can reach out to is Brenden. Spelled different than my Brendan, but the impact is the same - the quick stabbing pain that takes my breath away for a second and causes my heart rate to start galloping - again.

Then there's my closet. There's this dress hanging on the right side that my husband got for me last year for Christmas. I affectionately refer to it as my "slutty" dress. :-) Jim bought it for me because he was proud of me for losing all this weight. It's a form-fitting red dress with dainty small gold chains for straps. I would NEVER buy myself this type of thing, but Jim bought it for me and when the kids saw it they all joined together and pressured me in to trying it on for them. Of course, I wasn't at my weight loss goal yet so I didn't like the fit, but it was one of those gifts that was also a goal. You know - encouragement to keep sticking to the plan so I could hopefully one day fit into that little thing without causing the seams to split open. Brendan was so excited for me. He told me I needed to have more confidence. He told me he knew I could do it, that I was looking good and becoming healthier and that he couldn't wait for me to be able to wear that dress out. He said that we should plan a trip to Hawaii because that would be the perfect place to wear that dress. I used to try it on every couple of months to see how I was progressing. It is still hanging there with the tags on it. It mostly just makes me sad now when I see it. I don't know if I will ever have an occasion to wear it or if I even want to now. I also feel bad that I feel this way because it was so incredibly sweet of Jim to get it for me. It's just another example of how every single area of my life was touched by Brendan and not even my closet is exempt. 

Brendan would go thrift store shopping with me and help me pick out some stuff. I was always leaning toward bigger and baggier and he'd tell me to try on something I thought was way too small for me. He saw me differently than I saw myself. He made me feel good about myself. He would come over to me sometimes and lay his head on my shoulder. It made me feel loved and blessed. I read in a text message in his phone where a friend was telling him that she was going to cut her mom out of her life and Brendan had replied that he can't imagine ever cutting his mom out of his life. Ironically, he did just that. I know he didn't do it to hurt me...but, wow, it really, really hurts.

Back to the closet. My closet is now filled with a lot of Brendan's clothes. Sometimes I just touch them and remember a time when I saw him wearing that shirt. I try to think about where we were and what we were doing. I'm desperately trying to hold on to those memories. I wear the ring with his fingerprint etched into it every day. Sometimes I give it a kiss. It is a very poor substitute for being able to touch his hand but it is very, very special to me nonetheless. It's physical proof that he did exist. I just love having a part of him with me all the time. 

When Brendan would go out to eat with us he would almost always order the hot beef sandwich with mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn. He loved it. He really was a meat and potato guy at heart. When I see a restaurant post their daily special on Facebook and see it's the hot beef sandwich with mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn I sometimes smile and I sometimes cry. I didn't realize there would be a time in my life that roast beef would evoke such a strong emotional response in me. 

Brendan's love for mashed potatoes goes back a long way. When he was pretty tiny - not even two years old - we would get him mashed potatoes on his plate from a local buffet and if the potatoes weren't real he would spit them out. He was kind of a potato snob, I guess. He used to take containers of my mashed potatoes home with him following Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner. As a side note, I finally have all those containers back - when we unpacked his stuff from his apartment there they were...all those glass Pyrex type containers he told me he didn't have. :-)  I KNEW he did! I wish I could lovingly tell him, "I told you so!" I wish I could fix some creamy, buttery potatoes for him this weekend. He should be here. He really should. 

I keep asking myself the unanswerable questions. All the 'whys'.  I want my mind to stop doing that. There are no answers that will satisfy me. The bottom line is that any answer that doesn't result in Brendan being back here with those of us who love him will never be good enough. 

One of my favorite Christmas movies is It's A Wonderful Life. I haven't been able to bring myself to watch it yet. I wish there would have been a Clarence in Brendan's life the day he made the decision to end his. But, just like how George Bailey's character learned that life really is worth living, I will make it my mission to let others know how valuable and irreplaceable they are. I don't think people have any idea at all how huge the void is they leave behind in the lives of so many. The void is vast and feels inescapable. But it's the little things I am finding that pull me back from the vortex trying to suck me in. It's things like seeing the colors in the sunrise and sunset. A hug from a friend. A passage in a devotional book. A song. Seeing the compassion and the love in the eyes of another. The kind eyes of a gentle dog, the warm glow of a candle, the cardinal perched on the window. It's the feeling of warmth spreading inside me when I drink the hot tea that was prepared in the tea kettle that was my son's. It's the strong, familiar hug from my husband. The giggle of my grandson and the gentle weight of my granddaughter as she sleeps peacefully in my arms. These things let me know that I am living and not just existing - I do have the capacity to feel something other than sadness and pain. And for that I am grateful.