11 months

They say that death waits for no man. I’d like to add that neither does grief. It just slams right into you, snatches what breath you manage to suck in away, and leaves you stranded to cope as best you can on a timeline that doesn’t come with a pause button. Even if I could mange to invent one- figure out a way to insert a little button with two vertical lines on this timeline of life, it’s not allowed. Time marches on.

Even though it seemed like the whole world essentially came to a devastating halt 11 months ago today, it actually kept on turning, AND IT STILL DOES, which I resent and hate most of the time. There isn’t a pause button that I can push to say, “Hold on a second- I just need time for this to sink in, I need time for my heart to catch on to what my mind already knows, I need time to feel all these things that I keep having to bury down deep just to function.”

The demands of life just won’t allow it. Working full-time, managing a household, trying to be emotionally present for my daughter, and making myself available to receive hope found in sermons at least 3 times a week, etc. leaves me spinning in a world already gone topsy turvy, gasping for breath.

I desperately need for the world and all its demands to just STOP so that I can BE. I want so badly to be able to do nothing and be nothing for just a little while so that I can somehow come to terms with the fact that it has almost been a year without my boy. But no, I can’t do that, because the moment I quit trying to keep up with life, the more discombobulated everything becomes and my life gets more chaotic and even messier than it already is…leaving me feeling overwhelmed and stressed.

But wait a sec, you may be thinking, what about yesterday’s post? In that one, it seemed like you had gotten so much help and were doing so well and high on the mountaintop. Well, yes, that is true. And I DID get help. But today is a new day, and yesterday wasn’t today. Today marks 11 months when my son drew his last breath and I couldn’t save him. So many reminders, so much heartache. I’m still so SAD and I miss him so much.

Just putting away Joseph’s clean socks the other night left me reeling bc as I was about to close the drawer I glanced up and noticed the preserved flowers from Carter’s funeral in a glass dome sitting on top of our dresser. Seeing the etching that stated, “In Loving Memory of our Sweet Boy Carter” was so surreal. I just stared at it blankly thinking that this can’t possibly be happening. Here I was putting away friggin’ SOCKS and it was like a stranger was standing there looking at those words. Surely it wasn’t ME standing there! That wasn’t MY Carter!!! Maybe if I just stared at those words long enough they would somehow penetrate into the depths of my soul, helping me come to terms with what I can’t seem to accept. Maybe reading those words over and over and over until they settled in would get me one step closer to facing this bitter, absurd, reality because it still just doesn’t seem possible that I am here and he isn’t. That I lost my baby to suicide. My kind, good-as-gold, loved-beyond-measure, smart, tender-hearted, popular, well-adjusted, and oh-so-sweet treasure of a son couldn’t possibly have done that.

But I didn’t stop and stare at those white words etched into glass to even attempt to let them sink in. Nope. It was easier to just keep doing the friggin’ laundry, so that was that. And by doing so, I managed to get through another day and night.

Carter, I love you. Sure do wish I could have had your socks to match and your underwear and Tshirts to fold the other night. I’m sorry for all the times I got frustrated trying to match socks- how stupid was I?!?! Thank you for coming to visit me in a dream while I napped…I sure did need that, buddy. I love you so much and wake up from those dreams feeling blessed to have seen you, even for just a little while.

Having you visit me in dreams, seeing blue butterflies, and having such a strong support system from friends and church family are what’s carrying me through these long days. Just wanted you to know that Mama’s hanging on- barely some days but we are all trying.

I did a thing, buddy. I made a blog and posted the first entry yesterday. I felt led to share what the Lord did in my heart during Jubilee, and I’m so glad that the blog is up now. No excuses now to keep my feelings to myself or not post on FB bc I fear that the status is too long or that people are sick of hearing from me. A blog is a place to write to my heart’s content, and if people don’t want to read it, they don’t have to visit it…but I think many WILL read it, and I plan to keep being open and real and honest with my feelings- ALL of them. The good, bad, and ugly. I’m looking forward to sharing all about you with the world and letting them see how incredible you are. You and me, buddy- we’re going to get this message out there that suicide is not the answer and that there’s hope. I promise you that your story isn’t over. New chapters are coming in the book of Carter and they’re going to be amazing!

Are you proud of me? You had more sense with technology in your pinky than I have in my whole body- I hope that the blog is used to point others to Jesus all while reminding people that they are not alone in whatever situation they’re facing- whether it’s depression, grief, physical maladies, financial difficulties, heartbreak, etc. I want to show them that with God, ALL things are possible and that He is a very present help in the very worst of our circumstances. That’s what I want more than anything else.

You know what else? You’re STILL my very best boy. The absolute BEST. You’re like the white cheddar to my popcorn, the mocha to my latte, the tomato to my biscuit, the sugar to my grits, and the sprinkles to my cupcake. You’re like all the fun and the simple joy that bubble wrap brings to our daily mail. In other words, you just make everything better simply by being YOU.

I love you, my darling boy, my sweet Carterbug. I miss you so very, very much. I long for you more than ever and want you to know that always and FOREVER my precious baby you’ll be. Sending you a ton of butterfly and Eskimo kisses, a boop poke in the arm, and the biggest bear hug I can give you to Heaven today. Can’t wait for the glad reunion day. We’re one day closer, sweet Carter. One day closer.

Love, Mama