I’m not a writer by any means.  I don’t even keep a journal. In recent weeks though, I’ve found myself writing lengthy posts , texts , and emails about my experience. Experience.  It makes it sound so normal, and in a way , it is.  I experienced the death of someone close to me.  In that, I’m not alone, I know that.  People die everyday , it’s a natural thing.  None of us were meant to be here forever.  The difference between me and a lot of other people , is that I lost my child.  My only child.  I know I’m not the first , or last mother to experience this.  What most people don’t know, and what I’ve been scared to admit for years, is that a part of me has known this day was coming.  I knew I would live to see my child die.  I did everything I could think of to keep this from happening, yet it still did. You see, my son was quite sick. Not the kind of sick you can always see, or recognize.  My son suffered from mental illness.   Even at this point in time, it’s still very difficult to talk about with people who haven’t experienced it first hand.  He was one of the most generous , caring, thoughtful, kind, and truly genuine people I’ve ever known.  If you were lucky,  you knew that part of him.  He was also manipulative and cruel.  That wasn’t really him, that was his illness.  He was extremely intelligent , and had a very unique way of looking at almost everything.  Sometimes it was difficult having a conversation with him because you’d feel so lost.  Where did he come up with some of these ideas?  He was also in constant pain.  He was struggling everyday , just to get through to the next.  I always hoped he’d get the help I thought he needed.  Help I hoped was out there.  We had many , many conversations about what I thought would help, and he’d argue that it wouldn’t.  His moods were on a cycle.  Every few months his mood would get extremely dark.  We’d talk about how hopeless he felt, and the fact that he didn’t want to do ‘this’ anymore. By ‘this’ , he meant ‘live’.  It broke my heart every time I heard that from him.  Several weeks before his death, we were having one of these conversations, and I said something I’d never said to him before.  I told him, while I can’t help him die , and I don’t want him too, more than anything else, I don’t want  him to suffer anymore.  I told him that if he’s only here because I want him to be, that’s selfish on my part.  ‘I don’t want you to stay here just because of me’ I said, as tears ran down my face.  It was the hardest thing I ever did……or so I thought at the time. Two weeks later I waited outside his friends house while paramedics were working on him.  They tried to bring him back for about an hour.  When I saw the paramedic come out of the house  I knew what he was going to tell me.  I’m very sorry, we did everything we could, he’s dead.  Dead. I was going to call him tomorrow, I’d been giving him some space.  I have questions, but the answers won’t change anything.  I have thoughts of things I could’ve done differently, but that won’t change anything either.  I’m trying tonfocus mainly on the things that he told me over and over again through the years.  ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ , ‘ I don’t want to die alone’, ‘ I don’t want it to hurt’.  I hurt, but it’s ok, it’s because I loved you more than anyone.  You weren’t alone, you were surrounded by friends.  I hope and pray that you didn’t feel anything or were even aware of what was happening.  I know you’re at peace now.  The struggles, the pain, the torment, they’re gone for you, and for that I’m grateful.  That helps me get through each day.  I also know you’re with me, I can feel you in little things I see or do.  Last night was the first time since you died that you appeared in a dream.  It was your beautiful smiling face, just a flash of it, in the middle of a dream.  Thank you for stopping by to say hello.  I love you around the world a million times, turkey noodle.

6 thoughts on “I’ll never be the same , and that’s ok

  1. Dawn…lovely, my dear. It is brave to share so openly, and so soon after Jordan left. But this is how you will get through. You can help others to know that mental illness is ugly and beautiful at the same time. It gave your son a unique perspective on the world, and he was able to see what others couldn’t. That was the gift Jordan’s illness gave. The rest, the cruelty and manipulation that you so perfectly identify as his illness, well, those were the things that the illness stole from him…things got ugly because the illness so often steals beauty. He could be manipulative because the illness so often steals cooperation and self-worth. But you…you saw Jordan’s illness for what it was…an illness. Thank you for seeing that. Thank you for realizing that the illness isn’t the person. Love you.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. My friend, you are so brave. I want you to know that you’ve always been one of the bravest ladies I know, since childhood in fact. This is one giant step toward finding that new normal, and I’m terribly saddened that you are fighting to fund this new place to live in. Please know that you have an army, a whole army of mothers to help you stand when you need it darlin!
    As a mother of a child similar to yours, I know many of your daily battles. I cannot pretend to know your final battle. It’s heartbreaking I know. There will one day be some sort of balance again in your heart, off kilter for sure, but as you stated, he is at peace and we all know that he knew you loved him beyond words. I feel it and I know in my heart he did as well


    1. Dawn, this is so beautiful and heartfelt. I think I always knew it would be this way, too. I tried to deny it, I kept hoping that something would change to make Jordan want to stay here. It hurts more than anything I have ever felt to lose him, but I realize that he couldn’t live in this world, and had to move on. I love you Dawn, and grieve not only for losing my Grandchild Jordan, but for my daughter losing her only child. Thank you for posting your thoughts. I hope it helps you in your pain. I hope you will post more along the way. 💜💜💜

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Thank you so much for your kindness and support. I do have an army, I know that. I’m sorry that you’re going through similar struggles. I know how hard it can be, and how helpless you can feel. If you ever want to talk , I’m here….always. Love you 💗


  3. You are a very brave woman.I have lost many this way family and friends..I will never understand.I do believe it’s their way to be free . They are at peace💕💙


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