The Dance

I spent 4 hours last night watching a Garth Brooks documentary. I kept telling myself to just record it so I could watch it later but was captivated by his story and his rise to superstardom. One particular segment just took my breath away as the story behind his famous song, The Dance, was chronicled. The song is so very fitting- especially this time of the year when there are so many emotions at war inside of me as the 4 year mark of my son’s passing from suicide is upon us.

The mental countdown has begun. Nights are hell reliving what his last week must have looked like and felt like to him. I took what would be his last picture on the Fourth of July in 2017 as neighborhood fireworks started ramping up and he was going through a pack of sparklers that our neighbors had kindly given us in hopes that he and his sister Caroline would enjoy them. Now the sounds of fireworks and all the festivities that are associated with America’s Birthday just make me sad and hesitant to celebrate. It was Carter’s favorite holiday besides Christmas, so you’d think I would fully embrace it in honor of him, but I can’t bring myself to do that just yet. Maybe in time I will.

Back to Garth and his masterful song, The Dance – as he crooned such poignant lyrics in the documentary last night, my mind went to my sweet boy. That song continues to be heavy on my heart today and will probably be throughout the week. Country music, more so than any genre to me, is all about telling a story and painting a picture in your mind. In addition to southern rock, it is the background music of my childhood and teens since Christian music wasn’t a part of my upbringing. The Dance is one of those songs that simply evokes a lot of emotion for me. I’ve decided to share some of the lyrics in various segments of this blog post today as I process through thoughts and also provide my readers with some updates from the past few months since I have been largely absent from social media.

For a moment all the world was right / How could I have known that you’d ever say goodbye?

That line rings so true. Having Carter in our lives for 12 years and 5 months was sheer joy. While we certainly had our ups and downs as a small family of 4, everything was right. We knew how incredibly lucky and blessed we were. He was such a shining light. Always smiling, genuinely inquisitive and curious, wise beyond his years, incredibly kind and sweet, masterfully artistic, crazily creative, bright as the moon… I could go on and on. To know Carter was to know love. His spirit just drew people in. He loved to draw and write little notes…he would often give those to people and they would come to me later and tell me that the Lord had used him to encourage their hurting hearts. At 4 years old, he was already displaying genuine love and concern for people that would only continue as he got older. Because he was so loving and generous, grownups and children alike enjoyed being around him. He was popular in school, involved in many activities, and was thriving by all measures that we could observe. He seemed sincerely happy and full of life which makes how we lost him that much more devastating. How could we have known?

Holding you, I held everything / For a moment wasn’t I the king?

Some of my most treasured memories with Carter were from when he was a little babe. I returned to work teaching high school Spanish 6 weeks after he was born. Juggling a full-time career while finishing my graduate degree in education and being a mother to 2 children under the age of 2 was a challenge, so summer time was always the highlight of my year. I would count down the days and look forward to those precious months of basking in their sweet goodness without the demands of a schedule to dictate our days. I look back on Carter’s pictures from the summer months of 2005-2007 and want to weep. I can so very easily recall times of rocking him in our living room glider while listening to Norah Jones on our sound system sing songs that would lull him to sleep. I would wrap him in his little blue fleece blanket and just stare at him in an effort to forever stamp his likeness in my memory. He was such a beautiful baby. Big blue eyes full of such wonder, a head full of dark hair, little chunks of fat that made you want to just eat him up with a spoon…that was my sweet Carterbug. How incredibly thankful I was to have such a perfectly healthy little human to nurture and raise. What an honor and privilege! As he got older I would sit in that same glider and read him bedtime stories. His favorites were “Mr. Brown Can Moo” by Dr. Seuss and “Hush Little Baby” where the author used the familiar tune to write a more bucolic song with less materialism. We read stories all the time throughout our days together, and Carter would often back his little booty up to me with a book in hand and state, “I weed (I read).” I was happy to oblige because I knew that reading was the best way to grow his vocabulary and put him on a path for success. He became an avid reader as he grew and was a pretty good little author as well! Those days and nights spent with him in my arms passed by so quickly, but I can truly say that by holding him, I was a king who held everything.

If I’d only known how the king would fall / Hey, who’s to say, you know I might have changed it all.

Sometimes I question whether I should have returned to work after I had Carter. Knowing now that I would only have 12 years with him, it seems like such a shame to have spent precious days with other people’s children in the classroom when I could have been home with my own. However, teaching gave me a sense of purpose and satisfaction, too. It was a calling of mine, and I truly believe that I was a better mother for it. It made me appreciate the time I was at home in the evenings, and I soaked up my summers at home with the children. I helped provide for them. We never could have afforded the vacations or fun outings if I hadn’t worked. Those are memories that will last a lifetime for our family. Plus, my in-laws and grandmother were able to develop bonds with Carter that were truly special as they cared for him while I taught school. Had I been home everyday, their times with him would have been limited. I’m glad he experienced unconditional love from others besides his Daddy and me. I can honestly say that his Nana Renee, Papa Wolf, and Nana Shirley loved him as much as we did. If love could have been enough to save our son, he would still be here, and that is a fact. So, I know that returning to the classroom was the right thing to do at that time in my life and I have to remind myself of that when guilt weighs heavily on me. I might have changed it all, but by doing so, I would have robbed 3 people in particular of the intimate bonds they shared with him.

After Carter’s death in 2017, I continued to teach for a year and then had Carlen in 2019 followed by Carsen in 2020. Leaving the classroom and becoming a stay-at-home mom was a clear choice and one that I had peace about making. The past 2 years have been rich with healing. Those babies have brought such joy while Caroline has been at school and Joseph has been at work. Mornings especially have been good for me, which is hilarious because I have never, ever been a morning person. Now I fix myself a cup of coffee (well, more like a cup of milk with a heavy dose of creamer and a dab of coffee to make it a light tan) and look forward to my days. I’m usually the first person that the babies see. I hug them, get them ready for their day, feed them breakfast, and soak them in. Make no mistake, it is pure chaos, but it has been crazy beautiful. I’m so thankful for the light and laughter that is part of our home once again. We aren’t drowning in sadness every single day. Giggles and baby squeals echo from the walls of our home which have been a healing balm for our grieving hearts.

While staying home, I have had a part-time job at a local restaurant for a couple of years to help make ends meet. I will always be grateful for it, but it has never brought satisfaction by any means. I wasn’t happy there in my role as a manager because I wasn’t able to do what I was hired to do as a result of it being a family-run business. I decided one night after butting heads yet again with one of the family members there that I only get one shot at this life, and I’m dang sure not going to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results if I’m not content. They say that’s the definition of insanity, so I decided that it was high time for me to make choices that were right (obviously while being led by the Holy Spirit) for myself and for my family. I’m giddy, absolutely giddy to report that within a week of stepping away from the restaurant, I had a perfect opportunity land at my feet to return to the classroom. I eagerly accepted an offer just one day after my initial interview and am looking forward to having the best of both worlds.

I’ll be teaching Spanish part-time at a charter school 8 minutes from my house-just two classes a day from around 9:30ish until a little after 1 PM. I still get to have my morning time with the babies before leaving for school. I won’t be rushed. I’ll get to teach smaller classes than what I am used to while delivering content that I truly enjoy. I am confident in my abilities as a foreign language teacher and derive immense satisfaction from doing what I believe is my purpose. My in-laws will be keeping the little ones for me while I teach, but I’ll be home in time to get them down for naps and also to pick up Caroline from high school in the afternoons. My evenings and weekends are finally free after two years of the restaurant industry and I’m so happy about it that I could burst. My husband is as well. It has been hard for him to watch the kids while I’ve been working Thurs-Sat. nights from 4-10. Now we can enjoy family time together. Best part about this whole gig is that the school is passionate about mental health and suicide prevention. One student there tragically ended his life a few years ago, and shortly thereafter his parents strongly advocated for the implementation of a program called “Hope Squad.” I will be assisting with that program. Can you believe that this school is one of only two that offers it in our county and that I am actually being paid extra for helping with it? No doubt I’ll get to share Carter’s story and help students who may be struggling. No greater joy can come from a tragedy like what we have endured than for me to be placed in a position like this where I can help shine light in the darkness.

And now I’m glad I didn’t know / The way it all would end, the way it all would go.

If I could have done anything to have saved my son from his pain and heartache, I would have done it. Without hesitation, I would have lain my life down to save his. Whatever the cost, I would have paid it. That’s a mother’s love, and it never goes away. I love him as much today as I ever have. His life and very heartbeat were a part of me. I carried him inside of me for 9 months and then walked with him in life for 12 years- sometimes in the front setting an example for him to follow and sometimes from behind as I gently nudged and gave encouragement for him to move forward. If I had known how it all would end, I would not have been able to enjoy the journey with him. Fear would have taken root and deprived me of so many blessings. So I’m glad I didn’t know.

Our lives are better left to chance / I could have missed the pain / But I‘d have had to miss the dance.

We aren’t promised a pain-free life. We live in a fallen world where we must live with the consequences of our actions and of others’. The sovereignty of God doesn’t save us from actions that are hurtful. Christians have spent a lot of time trying to figure out why God allows bad things to happen. If we’re not careful, we’ll get bitter and angry when tragedies strike and blame Him. What I have come to accept is that God didn’t end Carter’s life. While He could have sent a legion of angels to sweep in and prevent his death, He didn’t. He could have awoken me in the middle of the night and His Holy Spirit could have prompted me to check on Carter upstairs, but I slept soundly. I could have risen hours before waking that morning upon hearing sounds from upstairs and discover what he was planning to do, but I was oblivious. I could have gotten to him earlier and performed CPR in an effort to breathe life back into his body but it was too late None of those things happened. Carter made the choice to end his life, and God allowed it to happen knowing that it would cause tremendous heartache and pain for so many. However, the awesome thing about my Savior is that He doesn’t leave us to bear the pain alone. He’s right here with me, in every moment, good and bad. He’s with me as I sob into my pillow when sorrow overwhelms my spirit. He’s with me when I feel like I can’t bear the pain another minute…His Holy Spirit comforts me. He’s the God of all comfort. I can accept that comfort or I can reject it and turn to other things. I have to make the choice every day which path to take. It’s a daily choice.

Carter was a Christian. He made great choices in his life and experienced many good things as a result, but the enemy got a stronghold in his mind for a brief period of time and Carter wasn’t able to withstand the storm. He wasn’t weak and he wasn’t a failure. He was simply a child who was suffering unbearable mental torment and agony and doing all that he could to pretend everything was OK. Now we are left behind to bear some of that hurt, and it’s crushing in its intensity. The weight of it is impossibly heavy at times, but just like we wouldn’t have missed the dance with Carter for anything in the world even knowing the pain that would accompany it, the same applies to our other children and the future of our days together. We don’t know what the future holds, and it’s not for us to try and figure it all out. Our lives are better left to chance. We simply must take each day that we are given and live the dance to its fullest with those whom we love.

That is how we have decided to honor our son’s memory as the anniversary of his passing arrives each July. We are intentional about our actions to leave our house for a few days and let it rest while we go to another state and try and make fun memories together just like we did with our boy. This year we are returning to TN and staying at a waterpark called Wilderness at the Smokies. Carter absolutely had a ball each time we came with him, and we believe that Carlen will enjoy being able to run around and have giant buckets of water come down over her head, splash in the pools, and zip down the water slides. Caroline is bringing a friend, so I know they’ll have fun scouting out boys and being typical goofy 14-year-old girls. Carter always enjoyed a nice meal, so this Saturday which is the actual date of his passing, we have reservations at a restaurant named The Local Goat which has rave reviews. We’ve already previewed the menu online and are excited to try new dishes. Our plan for each year during this time has been to stay busy, spread kindness in his honor and memory, and do our best to keep pressing forward.

Part of teacher prep for me recently included taking a required personality assessment called Clifton Strengths issued by Gallup. Of 34 core strengths, my top 5 were determined to be Achiever, Harmony, Responsibility, Consistency, and Discipline. Four of those fall under the Executer umbrella which essentially means I’m a goal-setting doer and planner who maintains highs expectations and pays close attention to detail. I thrive in structured environments where organization and routines are evident. I had a revelation pertaining to my grief journey these past 4 years while reading the reports of my core strengths that came in my inbox this week from Gallup. I never fully realized how these aspects of my personality have helped me cope through the death of my son. While I have certainly had moments and days where I’ve done nothing but sit, sleep, and cry through my pain, that has not been my typical modus operandi. I’ve often wondered why that is- how am I able to function at a high level when I’ve had mothers come to me and make statements like, “If I ever lost my child, they’d just have to bury me, too” and “I don’t know how you’re able to do it.” I know of people who have sunk down into deep depths of despair and turned to drugs (prescription ones can be just as detrimental as street ones) or alcohol to get through their days. Hey, I’m not judging them at all or pointing fingers or trying to put myself on a pedestal. I’m just saying that for me, those things haven’t happened because I’ve consistently set goals for the days, weeks, and months and for the most part have been able to accomplish them in the midst of sorrow.

What I realized this week is that my Maker is so involved and detailed that not only did He shape my physical attributes and design each of my features to be uniquely and wonderfully made, but He also shaped my personality attributes and gave me these strengths that have been scientifically identified in order to cope with this tragedy. I’m just in awe of Him and how He loves me that much to ensure that I am equipped for such a time as this. Every trial and heartache leading up to Carter’s death strengthened me and provided armor that I would need to fight this battle I now face. I won’t give up. I won’t back down in defeat. My son’s legacy depends on me being his voice, and come hell or high water, that’s what I will be for him.

Dear Carter,

I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be. With infinite love and kisses to heaven, I send you wishes for peace and rest until we meet again, son. We are so thankful for you and the times spent together. We are taking Carlen to Wilderness this week for the first time and know that Caroline will be flooded with memories of happy times spent there with you. Please continue to send us some signs that all is well and that you’re there with us in some way. I don’t know how all of that works, buddy, but I know there are times when I feel your presence so strongly, and I know it’s not all in my head. Thank you for the dance, my sweet boy. What I wouldn’t give for just ONE MORE DAY to feel your arms around me once again and to be able to plant soft kisses on your precious face full of freckles. We love and miss you, Carterbug, forever and always. Rest easy, my sweet, sweet boy.

Boop!

Mama