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I called the coroner's office in the city where Josh was living to try to find out what had happened. At first the police didn't seem to have any record of my son and I began to think someone was playing a cruel and heartless prank. Then the coroner called me back and it became reality. I'm so thankful that I had the presence of mind to put the call on the speaker phone so that David could hear what was said, because to this day, I really don't remember much of the conversation except when he told me how very sorry he was to give me the bad news.
David would not let me drive the 45 miles back to my house that night - he's
a very wise man (well, he married me didn't he?) The next morning, I was numb. I knew I had
to go home and deal with it. I don't remember the drive home, but I made it
there somehow.
I had to make so many difficult decisions the next few days, I don't know how
I would have managed without the many friends and family that surrounded me
and "insulated" me from the outside world. Some of the decisions
were not very popular, but I did what I had to do to get through the trauma
and keep my sanity. I had Josh cremated, no calling hours at a Funeral home, I
did NOT want to see him without life coursing through him and I've never regretted
that decision for a moment. We had a memorial service at my house, on a
beautiful May day. It was touching to
see how many people came to share their memories of Josh.
After the memorial, I went to David's house and started putting in flower
beds - all over the place! I would work outside, digging, planting, building
stone walls, exhausting myself so that I could sleep a little. Then I had to
go back to work.
At that time I was a technician for the phone company, and was out in a truck
all day, dealing with the public. There were many times that a song would
come on the radio and I would have to pull off the road and just sit and cry
until I got it all out. Then I'd be OK for awhile. At one point I actually
broke down at a customer's house, but God works in mysterious ways. This lady
had an experience with suicide herself and was able to comfort me in a way
that I will always be grateful for. She suggested I start writing a journal
and that was so very helpful to me. It allowed me to "talk" about
my feelings without burdening those around me who were trying to work through
their own grief.
I have never felt the anger so typical of some stages of grief. I think this
was because David had enough anger for us both. He is still furious at Josh
for what he put us through, but I just can't seem to find it in me to be mad.
I'm just so very sorry that he didn't come to me with his problems and wish
with all my heart that he had.
By the first anniversary of Josh's death, I was living with David. We had an Anniversary Memorial service with
the family. The new flower beds were in full bloom. We scattered some of Josh's ashes with the
flowers, prayed, cried, and shared memories of Josh. That was the hardest
anniversary to get through.
After the first year or two, I had moments of grief, instead of hours. I could function day to day, but still
would cry if I talked about Josh so I would avoid talking about him. My heart was starting to heal, but there
was still such a void. I began to read about life after death, trying to find
comfort that he was still with me. Early one foggy morning, on my way to
work, a truck came right in my path. I had a choice - hit him head on or hit
the ditch. I chose the ditch. I
remember looking out the window to the left and seeing only grass - knowing I
was going to flip over. Then I heard Josh's voice. He said "Don't worry
Mom, I'll help you." The next thing I knew I was back on the road. I was
shaking, and got out of my car and walked around it. There was not a scratch
on it! I continued to work and when I got there found that I had 2 flat tires
on the front of my car. From that moment on I KNEW that Josh was with me and
my healing truly began.
Now, eight years later, I am to the point that I want to share my
recovery with others, to give hope that our lost ones are in a better place,
that they still love us so very much, that we can not only survive, but
become better somehow in tribute to the ones we've lost. I still miss my son
terribly, and I still cry for losing him, but I know in my heart I will be
with him again and that gives me the faith to continue sharing the gift that
Josh gave me - understanding and compassion.
May all of you reading this find peace in your hearts, and know that your
loss was only in this plane of existence - you will be with them again. The
love never dies. It lives on in our
hearts and actions.
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