I began this website in the fall of 2003, as I approached the first anniversary of my son Joshua’s death. It is now 2006, but still I remember. (and 2007, & 2008)
    I was thinking back on that first year after I had lost my son. Moms like us know that the first year is the most difficult time of all. I can still remember that timel so clearly. If you are in your first year of grieving, you may recognize some of the things I went through. 
      I really do think we go a little crazy for a while. I know I did.  I remember doing this one bizarre thing - every time I'd go somewhere in my car, I'd find myself looking around for Josh.  Do
all mothers do this in the beginning? Even though you know they are not there, not anywhere, you'll catch a glimpse of someone walking down the street, or playing in a yard, or riding a bike, that LOOKS JUST LIKE THEM! Your heart stops, and then, like a punch in the chest, you realize it CAN'T be them.

One fo the hardest things in that first year was the approach of that first anniversary of my son's death.

     Time moved strangely back then. As "the date" approached, the days began
flying by, faster and faster. What was it about that one-year mark that filled me with such dread? I didn't know, but  I remember feeling cornered by a mounting panic that was gaining on me with each passing day.  
     I had stopped sleeping, and would lie awake until dawn. Looking back, I suppose I was trying to draw-out the days; make them longer any way I could, even if it meant foregoing sleep. I was stalling, not wanting to reach that 365th day because I believed that when Jan. 18th arrived, I'd be doomed to live those awful moments
all over again.  In fact, I was certain of it because the closer it came, the more the memories came bubbling to the surface.
     The cold, bleak January days ticked away…362...363...364.
     Day 365.…
     It finally arrived and never had I approached anything with more dread. January 18th, the date that split my life in two, and
marked everything in it… Where there had once been the continuity of life, now there were only the things that came before Josh’s death, and the things that came after.
     I looked at photos, cried, lit candles, called my best friend, and a hundred other small things to get through the day. The point is, the day came and
I got through it. So will you. You don't think you will, but you do....somehow.

     Josh's death had roused one more emotion in me, one that I kept secret from everyone.  Why? Because it's something we aren't
supposed to feel.
     I was mad at God.
Furious at God.
    Alone in the house, I would walk in circles and RAGE at God. What kind of underhanded madness had he pulled on us? What crime had my sweet, good-hearted son ever committed to deserve this? The world was full of criminals and murderers that would get to live to a ripe old age! Why not take one of them???  Why
my son that never hurt a soul? It made no sense.
     I felt like God had let me down. My faith had been a huge part of my life, and I really  believed what they taught from the pulpit. Now I felt more like I'd
bought it all, hook, line, and sinker. The preacher said be sure to pray for your kids every day, and God promises to keep them safe. Be good and generous to others in need,  and he will keep your family under his protection. And just Look! My son is dead and It had all been a load of manure!
    
     Mad at God? You bet I was, and feeling like some gullible fool that had spent an hour with a smooth-talking salesman, handing over their life’s savings for some “vacation land in Florida”. I felt like
how could I have been so stupid? How could God have swindled me in this way? We had a deal. I did my part…but God backed out on his end! Bailed out when it came time to pay up.
     I was a miserable soul indeed. Here I found myself, feeling like God had skipped town leaving me standing like a fool -- over my child’s grave. It was the lonliest feeling in the world, and a terrible time in my life.
    
      Having no one to tell these things to, I thought I was coming apart at the seams. I distinctly recall not caring (only for a short time), if I lived or died. In fact, being completely honest, there may have been a part of me that secretly
hoped for death. I carried thoughts of suicide around with me like a secret talisman in my pocket. It gave me some measure of peace just knowing it was there, in case the weight of it all become too much to bear.

     You see, it was the
‘unknown’. The unknown was driving me crazy.
     I couldn’t endure the thought of my son “out there somewhere” all alone. After your child dies, all you know for certain is
that they have vanished. Oh, people told me all sorts of things--- he's ‘gone to heaven’, or 'to a better place’, or a ‘peaceful place’… you know, those catchy little phrases meant to magically heal your pain…but…in the end I just ended up feeling the same sort of panic I used to when he was little and I couldn‘t find him.

     You know, that heart-stopping feeling when you look down and realize they’ve wandered away from you in a department store…except now, the department store has no boundaries, no walls to keep them contained until you can run through the aisles and find them. No, my son had wandered off into a place that
transcends dimensions and planes of existence…a place without boundaries stretching for eternity in every direction. To imagine my son in such a strange, vast place without me was maddening. At least, it was for me, at that point in time.

     I know not everyone goes through this, and many parents thankfully find peace of mind quickly (at least in this
one regard, comforted by the certainty of heaven) but some of us end up not sure of anything any more, and might go through a phase where we actually considered following our children into this next place.
     
The reasons a parent might go through this crisis are varied and personal. The important thing for you to realize is that it is a crisis…but one that ultimately passes.
     Thankfully, most parents soon give up their suicide ‘talisman’ ..(that awful survivors guilt and their secret wish for death). Like any emotional mountain we must climb, you eventually reach the peak and  find that you are descending down the other side, thankful to be unscathed. I know the saying is kind of old and corny, but it really is true,  time does begin to heal all things.

     Over time I saw that much of what I had been feeling was guilt, for being alive when my son was not.  I suppose it's inescapable.Having your child die before you is out of the natural order of things. A square peg will never fit into a round hole, no matter how much you bang on it. Having to bury your child will never make a bit of sense either, but still--it was a reality.
      I drove myself crazy looking for the
reason this thing had happened.  I finally had to give up and admit that sometimes, things just don’t make any sense at all... but they happen just the same.

Moms. I know you dont believe me now, but this journey does get easier. I swear to you, it will. Just hold on, and don't be afraid to lean on others when you need to. 
In Looking Back.................
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