Sharing my mourning journey as my family learns to live a new normal after the death of my 19 y.o. son in an auto accident on 10/12/08.

Archive for the ‘birthdays’ Category

A New System

Since Jordan’s celebration on Saturday, I’ve had the eerie, awkward feeling of “now what?” Now what do I do to keep  Jordan close to me? Planning the event and being able to talk so freely with others about Jordan without feeling self-conscious was a relief. A fear that I’ve had since Jordan died is that he would be forgotten. Being with family and friends, receiving cards or calls around Jordan’s birthday was comforting and reassuring.

Intellectually I know that I’m not the only one that misses my son. Still, on days when I sit quietly and others are rightfully back to their daily lives, my mama heart surges and wants the world to know “Jordan was here!” I’ve been having surreal Mama moments over the last few days. I’m feeling myself winding down from the emotional intensity I felt during the beginning of August with the girls’ birthdays and Jordan’s 21st birthday and celebration. I’m also aware that I always feel a wistfulness. I’m starting to realize this wistfulness is a new part of me. I will always miss my son. The intensity of the longing ebbs and flows but it is living inside of me. I’m not going to fight this new system coursing through my body. It is making its place next to my veins, arteries and major life organs. It is a major life system. My knowledge of anatomy didn’t prepare me for the physical changes that grief would bring. I can’t fully describe the physicality of longing but I feel the change within me. I feel it the same way I feel my breath, my heartbeat, and every ache and pain.

I never thought I’d say this, but I’m grateful that I have lupus. It has given me a guide to chronic conditions, and allowed me to accept the chronic nature of certain aspects of grief. I spent the first 15 years of having lupus in denial. Every time I went for long periods without a flare, I deemed myself cured. Then when debilitating fatigue, swollen joints and fevers would return I was always shocked and angry. I spent so much energy fighting my illness which only made it worse. It wasn’t until I decided that I would take care of myself as best I could and live with lupus instead of fighting against it, that I start to live a healthier, whole life.

Grief feels a bit like lupus to me. I can’t pretend that because I’ve had several days (sometimes longer) of feeling functional and hopeful that I’m done with the soul shaking, debilitating parts of grief. My experience to date lets me know otherwise. Grief does not follow a linear path. There are minefields that bring me to my knees no matter how functional and at peace I felt before. If I try to deny that sorrow will return with varying degrees of force, I hurt more than if I allow myself to feel what I’m feeling and know that just like flares from lupus, I’ll get through my flares of grief. I’m wistfully learning to accept my new normal.

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birthdays, chronic illness, grief, loss of child, lupus, motherhood, mourning

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Express Yourself

My daughters Lindsay and Kendall were amazing to watch as they switched back and forth between planning their 11th birthday party and planning the, “Express Yourself ” celebration to honor Jordan for what would be his 21st birthday. They talked one moment of the elaborate sparkly cake they wanted for their sleepover and then the next asked if we could have mint chocolate chip ice cream and Oma’s pound cake at Jordan’s celebration. They wanted all of his favorite foods, songs, and people to be represented. Their energy and enthusiasm was awe-inspiring. I tried to keep up but sometimes as they reminisced about Jordan and the things he loved I looked away. I started to wonder why I decided to have with this event. Getting through Jordan’s birthday on 8.9.10 had been filled with laments. The “Express Yourself” event was five days after his birthday. How was I going to make it to that day without being engulfed in sorrow? The only purpose reminiscing about Jordan seemed to serve for me was that it made me want what I couldn’t have. I wanted Jordan back, so he could tell us too much fuss was being made about his birthday. I wanted to watch him turn 21 and go out with his dad for a beer. “How did we get here?” was ringing in my head.

Two weeks before Jordan’s celebration, I called my sister and told her I was going to cancel it. I felt more sad and apprehensive than any desire to be festive. I felt more like I was planning a memorial service. I couldn’t put my family or myself through that pain again. My sister Julie was the only one I let know of my plan to cancel the event. After I spoke with Julie, I wondered why this year it seemed harder than last to have a celebration of Jordan’s life. As I went to shower I realized the difference between this year and last, my friends. Last year my friends sat around my kitchen table asking me what I wanted the celebration to include, and then they handled the details. They told me I was doing enough by being there.

I realized why planning “Express Yourself” seemed so hard. Unlike last year’s celebration of Jordan on his birthday, this year I hadn’t let any of my friends in on the planning or the ambivalent feelings I was having. I’d put my own measure on time and decided that I should be able to plan this year on my own. Because it has been almost 2 years since Jordan died I decided that I should be able to handle planning the event. I knew my friends were busy with their own lives and I didn’t want them to feel burdened by my grief. I didn’t even ask my sister for help until late in the planning stages. The word “should,” I’d broken my own rule about grieving. There are no “shoulds.” There are no rules. Grief and mourning don’t follow any linear path to some final point of acceptance and healing. Every day is different.

Just as I was finishing my shower, clear now that it was not the celebration that was causing my sadness, but the isolation I had imposed on myself, Mark told me that my friend Jeanne called and wanted to know if I was free for lunch. Twenty minutes later I met Jeanne and Amy at a nearby Indian restaurant. We hadn’t talked, really talked to each other in months. As we sat and caught up over Indian food I finally told them how my summer has been fraught with sadness and anxiety, something I’ve managed to simply endure. It has been drenched with sadness and anxiety with “good days” being few and far between. Then the questions came:

“Why didn’t you call us?”

“I didn’t know what to say? I was just trying to make it through each day.”

“You can’t suffer in silence. We’re here for you.”

“I know you are. I didn’t know what I needed. I didn’t know what to ask for.”

As we sat and talked I told them how I’d considered cancelling the “Express Yourself” event. Amy gently reminded me of why I wanted to have the celebration. She said, “It is a lovely idea to honor Jordan’s memory by being with friends who love your family and who loved Jordan. Don’t over think it. It will be what it will be.” She and Jeanne went on to tell me that if at any point I got overwhelmed then I could go home, even if I only stayed for 5 minutes.

Once I accepted help and expressed my apprehension and confusion, I was met with such generous spirits. I watched as my apprehension turned to excitement. Amy and Jeanne deemed themselves the food committee and told me they’d have everything ready the night of the celebration. Julie kept in touch with Jordan’s friends and they planned the performances that would occur. I put myself in charge of tablecloths, candles, and of reminding myself when I felt down that celebrating and honoring Jordan was a source of energy and light. I held on to those feelings and looked forward to an evening spent with friends, many of whom I hadn’t congregated with since the memorial service.

On August 14th, friends and family gathered at the “Express Yourself” event. We looked at pictures of Jordan where we couldn’t help but smile. The spread of food was enough to feed an army and included cupcakes lovingly made by Lindsay and Kendall. The music playing in the background was from Jordan’s IPod. Throughout the evening people signed the “Express Yourself” guestbook and made donations to “Jordan’s Fund.” The evening of performances started with listening to “Jordan’s Rap” which I cry every time I hear. Hearing his deep, beautiful voice I imagine what wonderful things he would have done in this world. Julie read a poem written by Lindsay, which talked about the shade in her heart since Jordan’s smile is gone. Merrick and Jordan’s friends performed hip-hop and jazz music. I listened to the words of Jordan’s sister and watched Jordan’s brother captivate the room and I knew Jordan was proud.

Julie sang accompanied on saxophone by Jordan’s friend Lucas, “Look to the Mountain,” a beautiful song she and her husband wrote over 20 years ago upon hearing of the death of one of our dear high school friends David Saidel. She talked of the irony in singing again a song about a wondrous life that ended too soon. Later in the evening, Lucas with his brother Nick on clarinet and friend Jack on bass played, \”All Blue\”“a selection from Miles Davis’s, “Kind of Blue” album. Lucas introduced the piece by saying that it always reminded him of Jordan and him driving around together. He said that Jordan was his only friend that he could listen to jazz with, and they both loved Miles Davis. I took a turn as well, reading in a shaky voice “To Jordan on His 21st Birthday.” It was a good and necessary thing to socialize, laugh and cry with those who love my family and I. All those in attendance had their own sweet, memories of Jordan, which they so eloquently conveyed. I left that evening feeling grateful to be a proud, humbled, still hopeful mother of four.

Collage I made of pictures of Jordan that make me smile. The center picture of Jordan holding the sparkler and singing is my favorite.

Merrick and Jordan's friend Billy preparing to perform. Mark is acting as DJ

Preparing to read my letter to Jordan

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birthdays, friends, loss of child, Mother of Four, party planning

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The World Keeps Turning

“Interesting how these days come and go regardless… you are still here and the questions remain.” (Facebook message from my friend Tom who knows loss too well)

I spent time on Jordan’s birthday sitting on the edge of my bed looking through the leather-handled box that holds mementos of him. Through sobs, I looked at some of my favorite pictures of him that I like to keep close so that I can hold them to my heart and then kiss his face. I re-read letters he had written to me as a boy, most of them of the “I’m Sorry” variety. I opened the bag that held his hairbrush, held it to my nose and inhaled trying to have him close by his scent. This was my private time with Jordan. Time to reflect on how big and wide my love and longing for him is. It is so hard to believe that the universe stays in motion when my world is upended.

On Jordan’s birthday my daughter Kendall suddenly asked if the mail would be delivered that day. I quickly answered, “Yes” and returned to loading the dishwasher. A few moments later after listening to her talk with her sister, I figured out why she’d asked the question. It was Jordan’s birthday and she assumed that it was a holiday and mail service would be stopped. The innocence of her question illustrated how all of us that love and miss Jordan were feeling. Why wasn’t there a pause in the Universe? The world should have stopped moving at least for a moment on August 9th because Jordan’s not here and his birthday is, again. As outrageous and illogical as it is, it is still hard to believe that the world keeps going when unbelievable heartache surrounds my family and I and keeps us tethered to sorrow.

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birthdays, grief, loss of child, mourning

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To Jordan On His 21st Birthday

Banner at Jordan's tree dedication, August 2009-his 20th birthday

Dear Jordan,

I woke up around 5:45 this morning because I thought I heard your cellphone alarm. In the distance I heard your signature ringtone of the flute interlude from the “The Boondocks” show. Merrick still loves that show by the way. I watch it with him sometimes but he doesn’t laugh as long or as hard as he did when the two of you watched it together.

When I heard your ringtone I sat up in bed and my first thought was, “I wonder why Jordan’s getting up so early.” That moment was fleeting as I became fully awake and realized I’d only dreamed hearing your phone. Even still, I lay back on my pillow, closed my eyes and smiled remembering all the times you were just down the hall. I couldn’t sleep after dreaming of you being so close but I wouldn’t trade that moment of fuzzy awareness when I thought you were safely home even though I did have to let it go.

Today is your birthday and I’ve been thinking so much in the past week about all the things I imagine you’d be doing with your life. In my mind you’ve told me about your semester abroad in London and your travels in Europe. Right now you would be planning what countries you want to visit in Africa as you prepare for your Senior year in college. Watching your friends mature and settle in on various interests gives me a portal into what things you might be doing now. Kathryn keeps in touch and has been so kind and giving to our family. I see why you liked her so much. She like you is a Political Science major. I can imagine the long talks you two would have about how you planned to change the world. Matt, Billy, Luc, Quinn, Pat and Sam come to visit regularly. They keep us updated on their lives and take special interest in what’s going on with us, especially your siblings. They are amazing young men. Some of them have started a music production company and have “dropped”(I’m learning the lingo) two albums. They have enfolded Merrick into their group and he has done a couple of songs with them. Their love for you shows in the care they give your brother.

I watched that crazy YouTube video, “Charlie Bit Me,” this morning. When I was on my computer it popped up on the Huffington Post site and I couldn’t help but click on it. I laughed as I watched it, remembering when you first showed it to us. I don’t know how many times we watched the video that summer but I do remember all of us taking on British accents as we conversed in the house. The laughter and fun you brought into our home will always linger. Rarely a day passes that your brother and sisters don’t start a sentence with, “Remember when Jordan….” We all miss you. Learning how to live as a family of 5 when in our hearts we are forever 6 is so hard. We keep going fueled in part by our love for each other and the love and sweet memories you gave us.

Today, August 9, 2010 I’m struck by how much I anticipated seeing you turn 21. Your birth date is 8.9.89 and today, 8.9.10, I can imagine you proclaiming in your deep voice how incredible you are because of the way the numbers aligned for you. I realize that all of your milestone birthdays have been milestones for me as well given you’re my oldest child. You taught me what “5” looked like, what to expect with a teenager and the thrills that come with 16 and 18. Even though 19 was the last birthday we shared with you on this earth, what a milestone it has become. I want you to know how much you are loved and missed. We will celebrate today, this day, because it gave us you. Happy birthday Jordan

Love,

Mama

Jordan celebrating his 19th birthday with his siblings

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birthdays, grief, Jordan, loss of child, motherhood

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8.9.10

Tomorrow’s date is 8-9-10. It is Jordan’s 21st birthday. I’m home today wondering how I’ll make it through tomorrow without crumpling and breaking. Today I keep agonizing over why I didn’t plan differently and have my family away for this weekend and tomorrow. Somehow the distraction of a different place seems like it would be a balm to ease us into honoring Jordan and celebrating his life. It may be “smoke and mirrors” to assume that a change of venue would mean hurting less. Right now it’s a chance I wished I’d taken. Today my mood has been one of longing and sorrow. Grief has me wishing I could transcend time, move to August 10th and keep August 9th as a day touched only by joy and celebration.

Last year was our first August without Jordan. We approached his birthday last year with trepidation and confusion. We knew we would ache for him and wondered how we would manage to celebrate his day. The day came and so did the realization that celebrating his life was vital to keeping his memory alive. This year feels harder knowing that last year was the beginning of our “August 9th’s” without Jordan. Tomorrow is a hallmark birthday, one of the final milestones of youth. It is a day that I looked forward to toasting with my son not in memoriam to him.

Tomorrow will come, as has every day since October 12th, 2008.  I hope and pray that intertwined with my sadness will be enough love to see me through. I miss my boy. I want Jordan back. I want him to come home. I want to sing “Happy Birthday” to Jordan and watch him proclaim himself officially a man. My heart is so heavy right now. The thought that tomorrow, especially tomorrow can come without Jordan on this earth makes my throat ache with tears.

Today I cry for all the things he doesn’t get to do or be. Would he have been the political pundit, expertly using what he’d learned as a Political Science Major? Or would he have followed his love for music, especially hip hop and jazz and became a record producer? When would he have married? Would he have travelled the globe having adventures and friends all around the world? Those are the things I wonder about and on good days dream about. I’m trying to let tomorrow,8.9.10, take care of itself without my worry and sorrow guiding its outcome. It will always be a special day because twenty one years ago, it gave me my firstborn. Jordan came into this world and gave me the gift of motherhood.

A special moment with my firstborn

Jordan at his 1st birthday party, laughing at his Dad whose trying to get him to blow out candle.

Jordan and I when we dropped him off at college his Freshman year.

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birthdays, grief, Jordan, loss of child, mourning

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Birthday Girls

My girls are 11. Their birthday was August 2nd. In many ways they are typical pre-teens. I’ve learned because of them that “Tiger Beat” magazine is still in production. They are eager for their soccer season to start and have a list of the movies they want to see. Beyond the typical tween realm is the grief and sorrow that lurks in their eyes and the worries they carry. They fear phones ringing late at night and the hallway outside their bedroom being too dark when they are trying to sleep. With help they are learning to manage their fears. Their dad and I love them, hold them and listen to them when their sorrow and worry grow too big for them to carry.

With everything they carry there is the additional component of one of my daughter’s being sick for the last few weeks. After repeated visits to the doctor, medication and lab tests, our family physician has determined that my daughter needs to see a specialist. Mark and I are feeling the anxiety of being in the limbo state where there are so many, “What if?” questions swirling that take us down a frightening path. Despite our worry we made sure that the party our daughters planned(Party Planning) happened. Mark went with the girls to pick up their specially designed cake at Bleeding Heart Bakery(Bleeding Heart Bakery). The girls prepared with such zeal, tying balloons on the front porch, hanging purple and pink streamers in the doorway, cleaning off the volleyball so they could play in the backyard and peering into all the grocery bags to make sure I got the right kind of potato chips, and licorice. The girl’s “Rockin’ 11” sleepover party was two days before their birthday and judging by the screaming, giggling, singing and dancing the party was a huge success. It was so good to see both of them relax a bit and embrace the fun and silliness a party with their friends had to offer.

On my girls’ actual birthday the excitement from their party had started to wane. My daughter tried to find energy so she could exuberantly participate in the activities planned for the day but it was too much. Half of her birthday was spent in bed because she wasn’t feeling up to going bowling or out to dinner as we’d planned. Mark and I shared concerned looks, too afraid to voice our fears. I called our doctor again telling her that my daughter was getting worse not better. I hoped that after she talked to the specialist that day, we could get an appointment as soon as possible. As one daughter lie in bed the other hovered nearby with an ambivalent mix of concern and frustration. It was her birthday too and amidst her worry was her desire to celebrate-but only if she could do it with her twin.

This summer is our second without my son Jordan and the first with my son Merrick away for so long. He’s been at a 6-week pre-college program since the end of June. My daughters wept when they realized that Merrick wouldn’t be here for their birthday. They each said to me, “Neither of my brothers is here for my birthday.” I held them close reminding them that we would do video “Ichat” with Merrick and all sing “Happy Birthday” to them together. I told them too, “Jordan will always love you, just like you’ll always love him. You’ll feel him on your birthday.”

Our house has been quiet this summer with Merrick away and Mark frequently travelling. The girls have kept to themselves, preferring to play together or do activities with me rather than hang out with their friends. I pushed a few times suggesting that they call and invite friends over. They would half-heartedly agree on occasions but spent most days riding bikes, watching TV and to my delight reading to each other. Sleep still does not come easy in our house and there are many nights that I walk past their room and hear the sounds of them talking, or see the shine coming from their book lights as they take turns reading to each other. I’m so glad they are so close and have each other as sisters and friends.

As the days have continued with my daughter not feeling better, there is a storm of worry brewing inside me. I’m doing my best to keep it at bay. In the midst of excitedly anticipating the return of my son Merrick from his 6 weeks away this summer and planning for the celebration with family and friends to honor Jordan on what would/should be his 21st birthday, I’m gathering lab results and making sure I have my insurance card so that I can take my daughter to see the specialist recommended by our family physician. My daughter’s appointment is today and she is more ready than worried. She tells me, “I need to know how to feel better.” She’s been sick now for 3 weeks and her symptoms are not abating. We need answers. We need our daughter to be okay. Waiting is the most difficult part. Our family physician tells us not to worry and to wait until we have more information. It has taken energy reserves I didn’t know I had to tell myself, “She’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay,” as I wrapped their gifts and took pictures of them on their birthday.” My sister eases my fears about my daughter, reminding me how she and I have learned to live with lupus. She tells me with authority and conviction, “We’re warriors. No matter what happens, we’ll help her through.”

Category:

birthdays, celebrations, grief

Party Planning

I’m planning two parties right now, a sleepover for my daughters and a gathering for family and friends to honor my son Jordan. The paradox is not lost on me. My twin daughters’ birthday is exactly a week before Jordan’s birthday. My girls will turn 11 on August 2nd. Jordan would be 21 on August 9th. Sometimes I have to shake my head to clear my thoughts enough to do such parallel planning. I want my daughters birthday to be special and silly and fun just as 11-year old girls are. I’m putting extra care into their party because this year their attention has been more focused on their brother’s birthday rather than their own.

My daughter Lindsay was the first to ask about Jordan’s birthday. “Are we having a party again this year for Jordan’s birthday?” The thought had been running through my mind for weeks, but I wasn’t sure if I had the emotional energy to make it happen. Watching my family as August 9th approaches I realize we are all feeling Jordan’s absence even stronger than usual. We need to have a party for Jordan to soothe our hearts and make the equivalent of a shouting of his name from the rooftop. We need the world to know, “Jordan was here.” 08-09-10 is the birthday Jordan couldn’t wait to celebrate. Not just because of the freedom and status that being 21 brought but also because of the magical flow of numbers: 8,9,10. This flow of numbers as magical as his birth date, 8-9-89.

Banner hung at our house to welcome guests to 2009 celebration of Jordan's life

Last year I was compelled to have a gathering for Jordan’s friends in honor of his birthday. It was the first birthday we’d celebrated since his death. I worried about Jordan’s friends and wanted those friends who couldn’t attend the memorial service and even those who had, to have a place with our family knowing they were with others who loved and missed Jordan. The party was beautiful. Jordan’s friend Luc who plays the sax with the same talent and passion as any jazz great brought his band to our home and performed. Another friend Matt made a video of silly moments from their elementary and high school years and we watched and laughed together. I watched with gratitude as bridges between Jordan’s high school friends and college friends were crossed as they met and shared their own Jordan stories for the first time. It was almost perfect. I mingled with the kids and my friends in attendance until the moment when it was all too much. There came a point when all I could think was, “How could we have a party for Jordan without Jordan?”

“I miss my boy. I want him to come home.”

I made my way to my bedroom, quietly closed the door and lay on my bed and sobbed. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and my sister Julie peeked her head in. Seeing my face she simply asked, “Is it okay if I stay in here with you?” I nodded yes and she lay down beside me and touched my shoulder. I cried and wailed and called Jordan’s name and she cried with me. I thought back to Jordan’s first birthday and the party we held. The party Julie and I planned together. Julie and I joked back then that we could go into the party planning business.

It is now weeks from Jordan’s birthday. Twenty years later Julie and I are planning a party for Jordan again. Jordan’s 17- year old brother has repeatedly said to me, “I want it to be huge.” He misses his brother and best friend so much and needs to see the love and longing for Jordan reflected back to us so we don’t feel so alone in missing and honoring him.

As August approaches my daughters’ excitement for their birthday is rising. The night of their party my husband and I will listen to the karaoke singing, glee filled laughter and whispering that sleepovers bring. We’ll hand out goodie bags as the guests leave and look at our daughters for signs of hazy contentment that comes from sleep-deprived fun. Then, on August 14th we’ll have an “Open Mic Night,” as suggested by Lindsay. Friends and family will gather to express themselves through poetry, song, dance, storytelling, however they see fit. We’ll pass the hat for “Jordan’s fund” and provide scholarships for college students. Great effort is going into both parties. Generosity and love is bestowed upon my children.

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birthdays, friends, grief, loss of child, party planning

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Celebrations

Celebrations

Brothers that were buddies from the start

On October 20th, 2008 I wrote the following in my journal:

Jordan’s gone. The pain is everywhere and there’s no place to put it.

It’s Merrick’s birthday. I got up, got the kids off to school and stumbled back to bed. Mark held me as I slept and he stared.

Later, I got up and curled my hair, put on make-up and changed my clothes. I made sure to put on a necklace, earrings and a bracelet, the things Merrick has seen me in before. The things I wear when I want to feel like I look good.

My heart is so heavy and aching with missing Jordan; I also have joy and this wonderful gift whose name is Merrick. Today is his day and he will be celebrated.

Those are the words written in my journal 8 days after Jordan died. Within 8 days were the death of one child and the birthday of another. I was saturated with pain and sorrow and my son’s 16th birthday was here. He was upon one of the “big” birthdays, the one that puts you on the threshold of independence and starts the pull from adolescence into young adulthood.

Since the age of 5, Merrick claimed the month of October as his own. The first day of October he would come downstairs and in a loud voice announce, “It’s Oc-toh-berrr” just like one of the World Wrestling Federation announcers. It was his signature call that we all awaited. Then every day until his birthday he would count down and ask me the same question, “Hey Mom, you know my birthday is in 19 days?” Then the next day the same question as the countdown continued until finally his birthday arrived. My response everyday to the countdown question was the same, “Yes Merrick I know your birthday is in 19,18,17… days. I was there for the actual birth.” Last year like clockwork came the “It’s Oc-toh-berrr” call. He was so excited at finally being 16. He talked about getting his learner’s permit and then his license. He told me he knew he’d have to run errands and pick up his sisters “Just like Jordan.” He was so excited that he was about to be 16.

I asked him if he wanted to do something special with his friends for his birthday. He gave me an exasperated look and explained that girls got together for birthdays and had “little parties” but that’s not what guys did in his generation. He told me, “let’s just do what we always do.” Our family tradition for the kids’ birthdays was to go to Cheesecake Factory for dinner, order cheesecake to go, and came home to sing “Happy Birthday” and open presents. I told Merrick, “then we’ll do our regular routine”.

Celebrations

Jordan helping Merrick celebrate his 13th birthday

Our regular routine, even saying those words is difficult now, but planning for Merrick’s birthday is probably the last time I said or felt anything that was like “our regular routine.” October 12th, 2008 the day Jordan died has taken the words “regular routine” from our vocabulary -at least for now. There may come a day when those words feel right to say again. We celebrated Merrick’s birthday last year, all of us with such heavy hearts. Merrick did his best to be cheerful but there are pictures from that night that make me cry every time I look at them. Pictures of Merrick with a faraway look, lost in thought, clearly not thinking about celebrating. Every time I look at a certain picture I wonder if Merrick is thinking what I was thinking, “Jordan would/should be calling right now.”

Celebrations

Merrick lost in thought as we sing "Happy Birthday" to him on his 16th birthday.

Merrick hearing his brother’s voice wishing him a happy birthday was missing from the day. That birthday call was part of the regular routine since Jordan had been away at college.

Right after Jordan died Merrick and I talked and he expressed his sadness, but also his belief that Jordan’s spirit would be with him always. He admitted to me however, that he was relieved that Jordan didn’t die on his birthday. He said to me, “I don’t think I could take it if that had happened. This is already too hard.” Even though Jordan didn’t die on Merrick’s birthday it has changed October for all of us, but especially my son who lost his only brother and his claim on the month of October.

This year as the first day of October came; I waited but knew there would be no cry of, “It’s Oc-toh-berr”. Merrick no longer claimed October. Merrick was so subdued and didn’t mention his birthday at all for the first week of the month. One day as he and I sat at the kitchen table eating lunch, he said to me, “Mom, there are two good things happening in October.” I asked him, “What are they?” His reply was about a new video game and a new movie coming out that month. I looked at him across the table and then gently said to him, “And your birthday.” He looked at me and said quietly, “Oh yeah, that too.”

How I ached for my boy. He needed so much gentleness and care. The 8 days that separated his birthday from the loss of his brother weren’t lived in real time. They were more like one extended day that should never have been. I didn’t push any false cheer on Merrick. I knew the result of that would be him forcing himself to act happy to make his family feel at ease. I had to let him feel whatever he needed to feel as his birthday approached. It hurt seeing how changed he was from years past. Merrick had gone from treating his birthday as a national holiday to seeming wary and just trying to make it through the day. It was one of those moments as a parent when you stand helplessly by watching the pain of your child and know that it is a burden you cannot fix. There is no way to take away the pain.

As Merrick’s birthday approached, Mark told me what gift he planned to get for Merrick. He was planning on buying him the Sony Playstation 3, even though we couldn’t really afford to right now. Mark’s only care was trying in some way to see a glimpse of excitement and joy in Merrick’s eyes. Any talk of money and budgets from me were futile. Mark was determined that whether it worked or not he was going to surprise Merrick with a gift he knew he wasn’t expecting at all. He wanted to see a glimpse of joy amidst the quiet pain haunting our son’s face.

A few days before his birthday I asked Merrick what gifts he wanted since he hadn’t asked for anything.  Merrick told me that he needed a couple of sweatshirts and a new wallet. He needed a  wallet because his had been stolen from his gym locker a week before. Most of the contents of the wallet had been found in an empty classroom including his school ID and learner’s permit, but he was most upset that “Jordan’s mantle” was gone. The mantle Merrick referred to was a piece of cloth that had been cut from a larger cloth our Pastor used during the tree dedication ceremony we had for “Jordan’s tree”.

Celebrations

Friends cutting cloth from "Jordan's mantle"

The tree was donated by my daughters’ Girl Scout Troop and planted in Jordan’s honor at the field overlooking the elementary school all four of our children attended. Our pastor explained that the cloth represented a way for all of us to honor Jordan’s memory by carrying forth Jordan’s work, loves, interests and personality. The pastor placed the mantle cloth on a branch of the tree and urged everyone to cut off a piece and keep it with them and decide what aspect of Jordan’s personality and life they wished to emulate and keep alive. He talked of Jordan’s sense of adventure, his social activism, love of family, love of reading and learning new things, and his loyalty as a friend. The mantle cloth represented all of these attributes and Merrick as did everyone at the ceremony cut a piece for himself. He told me that he kept the cloth in his wallet. He was most upset that when the contents of his wallet were found, the mantle cloth was not among them. I assured Merrick that we still had the larger piece of cloth and that he would be able to cut another piece.

The day of Merrick’s birthday arrived and with the help of his sisters who had excitement to spare Merrick began to look forward to the celebration we would have after school. I tried to glean and soak up the excitement and energy my daughters were feeling but it wasn’t enough. The reality that my family was starting year two without Jordan to participate in our celebrations weakened me and made me weary. I struggled for most of the day trying not to concentrate on how many celebrations we’d have to have without Jordan. Last year shock had acted as a buffer to the pain of losing Jordan. This year, the first anniversary of Jordan’s death, reinforced that my boy can’t and won’t be coming home. Imagining having to muster the energy and excitement for all the holidays to come overpowered me. “How could we every truly celebrate again when someone, our Jordan, was missing from the table?”  “Would any holiday, or vacation ever feel right?”  “Could our family make new memories without Jordan that felt joyful and not tinged with sadness?”  Those were the thoughts swirling through my head on my son’s birthday. I was so anguished and upset with myself that I was having so much trouble preparing my mind and our home for Merrick’s birthday.

I spent most of the day in bed, crying off and on and so tired. I tried to figure out how I was going to get the things done, and get myself in the right state of mind to be present for my family and especially my son. The list of errands I needed to run to make Merrick’s day special was on a reel in my head: pick up balloons, get cards and gift bags, and have everything out to welcome Merrick home. The list of things was minimal but my weariness made it feel close to impossible to accomplish these simple tasks.

Then it happened, the part of me that never lets me fall too deep into despair took hold. There came the point during the day, when my sorrow and fatigue started to feel like wallowing and self-pity. I knew I had to shake the depression and take care of my child. I reminded myself as I have times before, “I am the mother of four.” October 20th was my beloved, amazing son’s birthday, he would be celebrated and it would include all the traditions he had come to expect. Despite Merrick’s hesitation and the strangeness all of us felt at celebrating a family event without Jordan, we had to, and we needed to. As parents it was Mark’s and my responsibility to help Merrick reclaim his birthday in a way that showed our joy at celebrating him and the day he was born.

Merrick changed our routine a bit and asked that we order dinner “in” since his birthday was on a school night. When he came home from school, his chair was festooned with balloons as is our tradition and after dinner we sang “Happy Birthday” and took pictures as he blew out his candles and opened his presents. He opened the presents and cards from his grandparents and his aunt and uncle, the gag gifts his sisters bought for him, to make him laugh, and the presents from Mark and I. He liked the clothes I’d chosen for him, and then I handed him a gift bag that was just from me. He opened it and saw that it was a wallet, exactly like the one that had been stolen from his gym locker. I told him to open it and he saw that I had put a dollar inside. I explained that his “Oma”, my mother, had always taught me that you never give a person a wallet without money inside. I then told him to look into one of the folds. He opened one of the folds and pulled out the piece of “Jordan’s mantle” that I had tucked inside. Merrick looked at me tearing up and said simply, but with so much gratitude, which is his way, “Thanks Mom.”

Celebrations

Merrick and I after he opened his gifts.

Then it was on to the final gift. Mark had spent the afternoon setting up the Playstation 3. He had wrapped one of the controllers as Merrick’s clue to the “big” gift. Merrick opened the package and very quickly put two and two together. All he could say was, “Wow, I never expected to get this. This is awesome. Thank you. Thank you.” The look on his face erased any worries I had about our budget. Excitement and joy crossed the eyes of my son who has been weighted down with so much loneliness and sorrow. No matter the cost, that gift was worth every penny. We all went upstairs so Merrick could check out his new system. For the next couple of hours he and Mark were upstairs tinkering and making sure that it worked perfectly. After I came downstairs I heard Mark and Merrick laughing and talking and knew that Mark had done right by our son.

Celebrations

Merrick checking out his new gift

That night as is his nightly routine, when he was about to go to bed, Merrick came into my bedroom to hug me and say goodnight. Before he left to go to bed he looked at me and said, “This turned out to be a good birthday.” I looked at him and said, “That’s what we wanted for you. I’m glad.” With everyday my family is relearning a new normal and celebrations are no exception. We keep going.

Category:

birthdays, brothers, celebrations, grief, loss of child, Mother of Four, mourning

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