Saturday, June 22, 2019

10 Month Update MAJOR changes

It's been just over 10 months since Zuka passed away. Everything in life has changed. Some days I feel like I have lost everything but I still have me.

Pain changes people, changes relationships. My husband and I have chosen to take different paths in life. I wish him nothing but peace and happiness. I truly hope that for him. Healing. Peace. Happiness.

I have enrolled in my final year of college. It's been a while since I have been in school but I am so close to finishing my degree it's crazy not to go back. I have decided to sell nearly everything I own and move out of state. I will be working to finish my BS in mental health and would like to work in trauma and grief counseling.

I am closer to finishing my book but with the changes and the move to release date has been pushed back. I already have my second book in mind but one thing at a time. I took a writing class that I found very helpful in helping to get into writing some of what I am feeling. I have posted some of them on my page recently.

Our daughter is going off to college, so proud of the wonderful strong woman she has become. I admire her strength and determination so much! People often tell me I am strong, she is the strong one and though it will be painful to be away from her for a bit, I know it's her decision to stay here and go to school and I need to respect that. I am always just a phone call or a flight away.

I have been told recently not to share the pain or situations going through my life because some people like to see people in pain and will use that to delight in your unhappiness. I truly feel bad for anyone who could find pleasure in the pain of another. I have no room in my heart and mind for anyone who wishes me ill will. I can't live my life worrying about what other's think of me. I need to care for my own well-being and happiness, no matter what that looks like to anyone else. We all do.

Though there are many endings, there are also many new beginnings. There is the future, chasing my dreams and starting fresh but this time with a little more knowledge. I am a ball of emotions, excited, scared, nervous, heartbroken, hopeful.... Those who think I am so strong I am no less scared than any of you. I didn't choose any of this but I can choose to carry on. I choose to keep living and make the best damn life I can for myself, and for my daughter.

Packing Zuka's things to ship and store has been difficult. Selling items I bought to build our life hurts like hell. Every item has a memory attached, I choose to keep the happy memories and let the painful ones go. Zuka I will carry with me forever, and that's okay, I grow stronger as I continue to carry that weight.

Here is to new beginnings. 
Love, peace, and blessings to all. 

(even that bigheaded one reading this)

I miss you Always Zuka 

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

My immortal

I can tell your story straight-faced like I am repeating back the lines to a movie I watched. People expect me to break down, they expect tears, sometimes I think they hope to see them. I have told the story countless times and each time the words flow out of my mouth, disconnected from my brain or my heart. The story is just a story when I tell it.

I open your laptop, looking for a picture I saved and up pops a video. Your sad eyes stare blankly at the camera as that song plays in the background. It's the song you walked in on me playing when you were about five. You came in my room, rested your head on my shoulder, "what's wrong Mommy?" I assured you I was fine but you responded, "you only listen to this song when you are sad." So amazingly perceptive for five.
Now 18 years old, sad eyes and Evanescence, "my immortal" playing in the background. No tears, I see the sadness in your eyes. There it is, like a punch to the gut it hits me. This isn't a story, this is no movie. You are dead. You will never put your head on my shoulder again. I will never hold you again. Tears flow. The pain engulfs me. Replay, I hear the song again, I see your eyes. I want so much to be with you and I cry out, "I JUST WANT MY SON BACK!" as I curl into the fetal position and smother my face with a pillow and cry.

I begin to wonder if it's okay to give up. Would God understand how much pain I am in? Your sister walks through the doorway to my bedroom. I quickly sit up and wipe my tears. "What's wrong mom?" she asks. "Nothing...." I start to say but decide that she deserves my honesty. "I am missing your brother and overwhelmed by all the changes in my life right now." She hugs me and returns to her room. I know it's not okay to give up.

I can swallow the feelings, ignore the lump in my throat and tell them your story. When I am alone the words rise back up and I choke on them, the grief squeezes at my throat and I can hardly breathe. You are so much more than can be summed up in words. I will never stop writing about you. My Immortal.

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

for a moment....

I'm sitting on the floor in my room. Zuka is dead. My daughter going away to college. For the first time in my life, it will be just me.  I feel the weight of it all pressing down on me. I am immobilized by indecision, overwhelmed. I start picking up papers and books from beside my bed, trying to organize my space in hopes of clearing my mind. Tears flow from my eyes and for a moment I feel defeated.

I lift a book and there it is, a piece of confetti from your gift last Christmas. Laying on the carpet that I have vacuumed so many times since. I place the piece of metallic confetti in my palm and wrap my fingers around it. With a grin on my face, I say aloud, "Thank you Zuka." It doesn't matter if you placed it there or not, the memory alone is enough to bring me peace. For a moment, I am delivered from my grief and I feel that you are with me. For a moment, everything is okay...

If you were here....

If I imagine you speaking to me I can hear you asking if I am okay. You always made sure I was okay, even when you were angry with me, even if you had just hung up the phone on me. You would message me and ask if I was okay and tell me you loved me. I would tell you how your departure left me fragmented and how nothing has made sense since. You hug me, you tell me you're sorry, you flash that Zuka grin and try to make me smile. Here's where you would make a joke, trying to lighten the mood. It probably would be mildly offensive and still, I would chuckle with tears in my eyes.

You would tell me that "This too shall pass" because you lived by that phrase. I wouldn't have the heart to tell you that this, my beautiful son, will never pass. You would tell me to find happiness, to only do what makes me feel carefree. I couldn't tell you that I don't know how to find that anymore but I'm searching. You would curl up close to me, just wanting to be near me, lay your head on my arm. There would be so many feelings you would want to convey, but you wouldn't speak them. There would just be an understanding between us.  You and I never needed words, we were too much alike, more than either of us would have admitted.

You would wipe my tears and remind me that I still had Jamilah. As if that somehow compensated for the Zuka sized hole left in my soul. You never understood how much you were worth, you were everything. I would tell you, You are everything. You would assure me that I will be fine without you, that I will carry on and be happy again. I won't have the heart to tell you that I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life. We will sit in silence the rest of our time together, my arm around you, your head on my shoulder, wishing we could stay like this forever. We can't. You are gone from me and all I can do is close my eyes and imagine.

Tuesday, June 4, 2019

I want to remember, I want to forget

I want to remember your smile, it's so cliche to say it lit up a room. No, your smile provided me peace, as long as you were smiling everything would be okay. I want to remember when I picked you up at school after not having seen you in three years. You had grown taller than me and now had defined muscles and you were no longer that chubby little boy. I held on tight as tears flowed from my eyes, joy, and relief. You pulled back and smiled, "I knew you were going to cry," you said with a smile. 

I want to remember you as my little boy who always wanted to be with his mom. I want to remember the first time I held you. I want to remember your light-heartedness, the times you were carefree and wild. You were my wild child, daring to live life on your own terms. Though as your mother that scared me at times, it also inspired me to be a little more willing to take chances. I want to remember the times you were happy, the pranks you played, your laughter. I want to remember you this way.

I want to forget every tear you ever cried. I want to forget the times when this world broke your tender heart. I want to forget that day, the sound of the gunshot. I want to forget devastation I felt when they told me you didn't survive. I want to forget watching them wheel your covered body out on a stretcher and knowing I would never see you again. I want to forget the indescribable pain.

Some days I want to forget it all. I wonder if amnesia would be easier. With each blissful memory comes the realization that it's over. There will never be another moment that I want to remember, no new memories created. That wouldn't be fair to you. You lived and as painful as it is, I must remember it all. I must honor and appreciate you for who you were and the short time we had together. I must hold you in every little piece of my shattered heart.