Seven Years Ago

I've been trying to write a blog since December 1. Here's what I have so far:

12/1/22  Seven years ago I was attempting a purge of my house and belongings. I saw a post about organizing today and it took me back to December 2015. Before. Before our world came crashing down. Between. Between the last time and next to last time I would see my son. 

12/15/22

Out of pocket

spill the tea

whenever I

feeling some type of way

toxic

narcissist 

gaslighting

fangirl

level up 2023

deep dive

12/29/22

The holidays have been, shall we say, different. Quiet. Maybe this is the new normal. Christmas Eve deep cleaning my house. Christmas Day Pat and I sitting down to dinner together. It was good, don't get me wrong. 

The kids are off adulting. My mom is shut in with Covid. She won't be around forever, that's just reality. My sister is consumed with her own actuality. 

So forward time marches, through the dreary doldrums of winter. I sound more depressed than I am. I occupied myself in December with sending 50+ Christmas cards, little parties here and there, decorating a bit, and even baking. I enjoyed it. 

I watched a re-cap of 2022 on TV last night. Struck by how many mass shootings this year (Buffalo, Uvalde, Colorado Springs), just awful. Unfortunately, I don't see this slowing down. Also, the people who died, my age, younger, older. Seems like they are all part of my cultural psyche from Sidney Portier to Oliva Newton John to tWitch. 

The month of gratitude

 Grateful for...

1- all the cute Halloween pics of the kids and adults dressed up

2- living in a home I'm comfortable in

3- being given the gift of reading and writing 

4- the music of the 60's and 70's 

5- spending time with relatives from North Dakota, even if they beat WIU!

6- fall weather 

7- a quiet walk in the labyrinth with my brother 

8- some extra time to watch Ted Talks

9- a 73 degree day

10- a regular paycheck

11- my vets Edgar (WWI), Richard (Korea), and Patrick (Army National Guard or Reserves, I can never remember)

12- an opportunity to host my high school friend overnight

13- my mental health, don't take it for granted

14- getting up for Spin this morning, difficult but worth it

15- snow, a sign that winter has begun and will be over 

16- The Compassionate Friends leader who is prepared, on point, compassionate, and brave

17- some special creme for my sore shoulders and neck

18- eggs and toast (I haven't used food yet so it's okay)

19- the ability to swim and walk

20- seeing Cal

21- a slight warm up, family safe in Buffalo, Bills win

22- Eli and Hannah arriving

23- watching my son cook dinner for the fam

24- Bills win

25- a nice long cemetery walk

26- a day spent with Mom and Cal in Blo-No

27- getting a jump on Christmas letters

28- medicine for my heart, to keep me alive a bit longer

29- heat, Dish, food, hot water

30- interesting dreams such as auctioning off my brother's old albums

A-1

 I threw away Adam's bottle of A-1 steak sauce today. It's been waiting almost 7 years for him to come home and rip into a good Ribeye. 

What prompted this decision? We decided our 2nd refrigerator wasn't keeping things cold anymore, and seemed to be running non-stop and with these energy bills...I found the coupon from Ameren offering $50 plus free pick up of your old refrigerator and this was the weekend. I needed to make space for more important items like alcohol mixers, water bottles, and bags of flour in the main frig. 

I have been working on convincing myself these mementos, traces of Adam, are NOT Adam and to let go. It has been working, for the most part. I think 6 1/2 years is a reasonable amount of time to keep an old bottle of steak sauce that only one person ever used. 

We are through OOTD Walk season, and into my dread season. It honestly doesn't feel as ominous at this moment in time. There's enough going on to keep me busy, and my relationship with Adam has stabilized and feels strong. I ask for his guidance and oversight to help me with difficult situations. So far, he has not led me astray. 

I am adding this little gift that I received last weekend from a friend of Adam's named Matt W. He moved to Arizona less than a year before Adam passed, and has come back for Adam's memorial service and at least two of the Out of the Darkness Walks. His partner photoshopped this pic and had it printed on canvas, and he was kind enough to give it to me. I felt we got to talk more this past weekend and I have to say I am impressed with the friends Adam made in Springfield. To be showing up 7 years later to remember and honor Adam is something I do not take for granted. We had a delightful meal at a new restaurant in Springfield this year, and I heard a whole new batch of legendary Tut stories. It helps me every year to spend time with this bunch in Springfield. 

This was taken at the Colonade fountain on the campus of UIS.

Depression

 Depression is an ugly beast, a young sage once said. For me, depression is taking off my pajamas in the morning and thinking, "I can't wait to go back to bed tonight." It is also going to bed at 6:30 or 7:30 in the evening, instead of walking or exercising as I might when there is more daylight after work. 

I started this post over the weekend, but am feeling better now that some recent stress has passed. A fellow AFSP volunteer and I presented Talk Saves Lives last night and it went really well. There were only 3 people that attended, but that allowed for more discussion and back and forth sharing. It was also nice because we haven't presented for nearly 3 years, due to Covid and my inertia in making those connections and efforts. We got some good ideas for reaching more people with this presentation so that is pretty exciting. My goal since last July when I attended the long term survivors summit was to present a TSL at least 3 times this year and help coordinate a Youth Mental Health First Aid course for area high school coaches and athletic directors. They have a big impact on youth and I'm not sure they are all informed on current mental health issues and how to best handle today's youth. I truly believe today's youth have different needs than some coaches are used accommodating. The old school methods are still out there, and I would hate for them to find out too late that this isn't working by losing a student athlete to suicide. 

I found out last night through presenting this updated talk, that the number of suicides in 2020 dropped from 2021, and suicide dropped to the 12th cause of death from #10 the previous year. Numbers for 2021 are not out yet, but I hope this trend continues. That said, rates of depression and anxiety are increasing, so we must be vigilant. 

That's my soapbox for this morning. 

Another Walk out of Dark

 

Walking in the light. Walking for Adam. Walking for awareness and prevention of suicide. Walking to remind people they are important, and we want them here. 

The weekend was a little different, but I felt satisfied that we are reaching people with this little event. My favorite part was seeing the small groups linger after the walk and talk. Our group did this and it was a moment stretching out in a satisfying way. 

Miraculously everything gets put away and cleaned up by volunteers- friends, family, Sigma Pi guys, Sigma Lambda Gamma girls, rando's with good hearts. I walk around the building pulling on all the doors. It's time to go home. 

This year we painted rocks. Our Vick family is nicknamed "the Rocks" after a story was told years ago, so long I don't remember the story. Humph, that's funny. 

If you see some of these around town, remember, you are special. There is good in the world. I love the one that says "Self-Compassion." It's one of my favorite therapy tools. 

Showing Up

 I am showing up for myself, and Adam is showing up for me. This weekend I spent with Cal in Sunny St. Pete. Our first sign was while we were driving around an ultra-rich neighborhood looking at mansions. Cal decided to put his 4,000 songs on shuffle, and first up was "Imagine," the Jack Johnson version. The song I used in Adam's memorial video. Cal said he didn't even know he had this song. I said, Yeah, Adam is telling us he likes this neighborhood, and I do feel he was into this kind of opulence.

The second sign was later that evening. We were watching sunset on Sunset Beach on Sunday. The clouds were stunning all throughout the sky, but the clouds directly in front of the setting sun looked like a dragon to me. Adam was born in 1988, year of the Dragon, while my parents were living in China. They brought back many dragon trinkets and were overjoyed that Adam, their first grandchild, was born in the luckiest year. I have only seen a dragon cloud one other time, and I think they are pretty amazing. Thank you for showing up for us, Adam. 

What Made Maddy Run

 Published in 2017, What Made Maddy Run chronicles with painstaking detail the life of student-athlete Madison Holleran who died in 2014 by suicide. Maddy was a gifted athlete and academic who started her freshman year at her dream school, Ivy league University of Pennsylvania. The author, Kate Fagan, was granted full access to Maddy’s phone, computer, friends, and family in hopes of bringing understanding and change to a topic which was once taboo to speak about, suicide.

The author herself was an elite college athlete and is not afraid to draw parallels between her thoughts and feelings, and Maddy’s. She brings in enough research and findings to legitimize her points about social media, the pressure on young athletes, and “destructive perfectionism,” without simplifying the multitude of factors that come to together in what some call “a perfect storm,” that can result in someone taking their own life.

This book is a painful, devastating read, but important for those of us who seek answers about the causes and hence the prevention of suicide. It doesn’t conclude with easy answers, but suggestions about how to talk to others about their pain and our own. It is honest, it is brutal, and it is important.

Kate Fagan will be speaking at Bridgeway’s Discover Wellness Summit, a free event at Carl Sandburg College September 23, 2022. Registration can be found at https://www.eventbrite.com/e/discover-wellness-summit-2022-tickets-328123695807.

The Macomb/McDonough County Out of the Darkness Walk will take place October 1, 2022 at Macomb City Hall, register at www.afsp.org/macombil. Immediate assistance if you are experiencing suicidal thoughts is available by calling or texting 988.

These are my people

 

I feel like I just came back from another planet. Planet Cleveland, where 200+ survivors of suicide loss gathered. Where people get me. Where no one rushes over to stop the tears, where I don't feel like a freak if I start crying when I witness a moving story. And there were many, many. Where we took time for ourselves to experience all our emotions, collectively and individually. Grief, big huge grief, guilt, anger, radiance, happiness, joy, and every other feeling you can feel. I can't even say how meaningful this weekend was to me. 

I felt the loving arms of AFSP around me. Every detail was so carefully planned, every speaker was amazing and had a connection to suicide themselves and were open and honest about it. Where the organizer, a man mind you, openly cried on stage when he was thanked at the end of weekend, and DIDN'T APOLOGIZE FOR IT. I don't know his personal story, but he knows we don't have to apologize for breaking down (I'm slowly learning this, too). 

Wow, there was a quiet room with coloring pages and water where anyone could go and take a moment. There was music, laughter, dance, art, sharing, friends, new and old; they all felt like old, dear friends. There was no judgment whatsoever. You might think, what a depressing group. Well, let me tell you, this was not a group of downer people. These were long term survivors who are learning and growing in this journey. They are inspiring, open, caring, funny, effervescent, parents, siblings, partners, friends and family members. They are doing amazing things in their communities across the nation. They travelled hours and hours to get here. This was important work. 

I felt proud to be associated with American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Good about raising funds for an organization where they focus on programs and research, support and advocacy, and are slim on staff numbers, but the staff  they do have have huge hearts. They are accessible. I met the top leaders, people who have emailed me, and I felt like I already knew. It's pretty incredible. I felt appreciated and held in a warm hug for days, a hug that goes on in this fight I have taken up, to reduce suicide, so less people have to join this club. 

You're why I do this. You matter. Your life mattered.

Adam, 1988, water color by Chuck Melvin

Memorial Day

 Memorial Day has rather special meaning for me. My sister got married this weekend in 1990. I didn't quite know it at the time but my first marriage was breaking apart. In 1999, I had my last alcoholic beverage, May 31. I say it that way because I inadvertently ate a piece of liqueur candy in 2008 in Denmark, took a swig of an alcoholic beverage in Malta in 2017 that was labeled like a fruit drink, and intentionally, on the two year anniversary of my dad's death (February 19) took a sip of Cal's fancy drink, and a sip of Pat's Old Fashioned. It was a stand-in for my dad's favored Manhattan. I have to say, whatever Cal had was delicious but the Old Fashioned was terrible. I never liked the taste of whiskey. But I digress.

In 2013 I visited Adam in Springfield, after having breakfast with a friend. I know this because Facebook reminded me. My own memories are that we were planning to have a cook-out at Adam's apartment and he was going to introduce me to some friends. We were going to go shopping together for all the fixings. As it turned out a big storm came through Springfield, knocking down trees and soaking everything so we went out to dinner at the Chesapeake instead. Just the two of us. Less than 3 years later, he was gone. Now I visit him at Oakwood Cemetery. 

May 27, 2013 was special because Adam was opening to the idea of sharing the world he built in Springfield with me. I eventually ended up meeting his friends through the Out of the Darkness Walks in Springfield. 

Memorial Day weekend would be a time for family gatherings, the Vicks, the Deneckes, whomever could make it. It still is, with one big piece missing. There's some melancholy today, obviously, but I go on. 

Gun Violence

 

I think I made myself clear on Facebook that arming teachers is not the answer. Not mentioned as argument was that teachers are humans and susceptible to a bad day, a bad student (misbehaving), and eventually one would take the life of a student in their care, before they would ever be called to take out an active shooter.

Armed security guards at every school is not the answer. Robb Elementary had one. Didn't stop the shooter. Who wants our children greeted by an AK47 every morning, even if he/she is the "good guy" with a gun. 

Most people don't know there are more suicides per day, year, month than homicides. Over 50% of those are by firearm. I know because my son died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Reasonable gun laws would not have prevented his death. He didn't use an assault rifle, he didn't have a criminal record, and he didn't have a diagnosed mental illness, which by the way, 26% of the population has in any given year. It certainly doesn't mean they are dangerous or should have their guns taken away necessarily. If we start taking guns away for vague mental health reasons, some people won't seek mental health treatment. 

Can I just stick up for the educators and mental health workers for a minute? How many active shooters told their teacher or counselor they were going to shoot up a school, Walmart or Tops that day? Very few, if any, who did actually did it. Many more said it, that didn't.  I know that for a fact, because they are usually evaluated. There are judgment calls all the time, and you can't lock people up forever or without cause. Do we need more access to services? Yes, absolutely. It's way too hard to get help in this country. And way too easy to get guns. 

This morning while swimming, I heard a "pop." I don't know if it was my ear or what, but I cringed and thought of a bullet. Then I thought of all the kids who lived through mass shootings and will forever be terrified when they hear the "pop" of a firecracker or other benign source.

Are there rational solutions? Look at other countries. There are plenty of places safer than the U.S. of  A. I don't have the answers, but we need to do better. Clearly, I am not a fan of guns, and I hope I don't have to move to another country to feel at peace. Or maybe I do. 

Ox Yoke

 Last weekend when I was in Cedar Rapids, I decided to make a pilgrimage on my way home. I went West on I-80 instead of staying South on 218. I drove an extra 25 miles to visit the McDonald's we used to drop Adam off at to meet his dad or grandparents. 

All the way to Cedar Rapids the day before, I tossed memories around of driving Adam back and forth on this same route. The last time was in 2013. He had begun driving himself to Nebraska some years before, but this year he had taken our manual transmission Corolla, and the transmission went out just East of Des Moines. He had gotten the car towed and a hotel room for the night, and I drove up to get him the next day. I was on summer break from my school position. He was a little shook up from handling this adult problem, and no, I don't remember much about the ride home. I hope it was pleasant and that we had some nice mother-son time together. I'm thinking that was the time Eli, Cal, and I drove Adam back to Springfield, went to the White Oaks Mall, and walked down an embankment to eat lunch at Chipotle, my first time eating there. It took about a week for the mechanic at the Schoolhouse Garage (I'll never forget it) to fix the car, so Pat and I drove back the next weekend and picked it up. 

I digress.

When I got to the McDonald's at the Williamsburg exit, I remembered the grim feeling of sending him off to a life I wasn't part of, if only for a weekend or a week at a time. I broke down pulling into the parking lot, and walked in tear-streaked. I looked around the dining room for the memory of waiting with my little guy. It was unusually un-busy that day, while I remember it being an absolute zoo whenever we would go there. I used the restroom and left. 

Next I drove back East on 80 and pulled into the Amana Colonies exit, even though no restaurants were listed on the highway sign. Alas, the old Ox Yoke restaurant with it's fake Tudor styling, was closed, run-down, depressingly dilapidated. The Ox Yoke was the first meeting place where would we sit down and have a cup of terrible coffee and maybe something to eat: pie or a Reuben sandwich. Try to find something cheap to buy the kids from the tacky gift shop to shut them up. I snapped a few photos as I stared at old building. Guess I would not have my snack I was looking forward to. 

It felt good and right to take this journey honoring my first born. Was I sad? Yes. Was it worth it? Yes, the least I could do to bring Adam closer and let him know I am still thinking of him and remembering the gift that he was. 

P.S. After I went back to sleep after writing the above, I dreamed Adam came home. In the flesh. So real. He had a plausible explanation for why he disappeared, but didn't explain how he faked his death. I was so excited for his brothers and cousin to be surprised, but they kind of acted like he was never gone. He said he was clear now, had his "shit together" and was getting a good job. He was heavier and sweeter and it was the best feeling. It felt like, "Thank god you're finally here." 

BLOOM

 

Is this not the cutest flyer ever created? The Park District helped design this beautiful announcement of an upcoming class I am teaching for them. Am I nervous? Yes. Excited? Yes. Nervcited is how I like to think of how I feel when something is coming up that gives me butterflies. I did a trial run of this workshop last summer with friends, so I'm pretty sure I can pull it off. I offer the tools, the participants do the work to make changes in their lives. A little like coaching. A little like counseling. 

I took a bold step and asked the park district if they would be interested in having me teach this class for them. What was there to lose? They said yes. That's what I've been working on: being bold. Or at least more bold. 

Now we have to see if 4-10 people will sign up. I could meet an entirely new group of locals. That would be pretty cool. 

Gobsmacked

Just when I'm noticing I haven't cried in awhile, or been caught off guard with some random occurrence that sets off an emotional cascade, it happens.

Friday night on the way out of a restaurant, I ran into a couple of bereaved parents. We briefly talked about attending a child loss support group on Tuesday. Our sons were friends at different points growing up. Their son died after Adam, and when I visited them after their loss, they reminded me of things I had forgotten: the boys wrestling together, going to church camp, and attending the post-graduation river cruise. When I saw the dad outside I got really choked up and teary-eyed. 

I was with someone who keeps their emotions tightly buttoned up (until they are not). They rarely speak of Adam or his death, so I don't bring it up. After I introduced them to each other, and we were in the car on the way home, they asked what I was doing on Tuesday evening. I said I was attending Compassionate Friends for parents who have lost a child. They replied something like, "Oh." 

I have wondered to myself recently why I don't talk to this person about Adam. They were as close to Adam as most anyone, and I know they just don't know what to say. I tell myself I don't start the conversation because I don't want to wind up taking care of their emotions. But maybe I am just being stubborn and selfish. 

Suicide is Preventable

 Here is a potentially triggering sentence. It was mentioned a few times at a volunteer training for American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. It was noted, this is not say every suicide can be prevented, or to make anyone feel guilty or responsible who has experienced suicide loss. 

Suicide is preventable the way child abuse is preventable. No one has to die by suicide or be abused as a child for the world to go on. In fact, it would be a better place, I think we all can agree. Some diseases are preventable with proper lifestyle habits. If we didn't believe all of this, we wouldn't try to improve our mental health, learn better parenting skills or exercise and eat our fruits and vegetables. There are people lucky enough (I don't know any) to master this trifecta. 

I can get on board with this suicide is preventable idea, knowing that it will strike some as a judgment. My mission is to be a light in the dark tunnel of suicidality. Let's de-mystify this word, reach out with kindness, and put positivity out there. Think before you speak, write, or post and help others to know they are special and valued. 

Me at 59

 Meditation and sleep produce such wild thoughts for me. This morning during meditation, my mind said, "If you could switch places with Adam right now, would you?" The resounding answer, especially after thinking it through is, Yes, absolutely. 

I'm 59. I often think if my time was up, I would feel good about what I did, who I was on earth. I lived hard at times, I experienced joy and sorrow on the deepest level. I did many, many things I wanted to, and have been blessed exponentially. I gave it all I had. So yes, to give Adam another chance to live his life, especially with the clarity I believe he would have now, is a no-brainer. I wish I could plop him right back down to earth, at 33 years old and ready to give it another go. The past six years would have been hard on him in this life, but wisdom comes with age. He could do all the things he dreamed of. He would know all the things that happened after he was gone, how much love and respect there was for him. How he helped people he didn't realize. What a diverse array of friends he had and how unique he was. He could build on  this. It's exciting to think about. I'd like to write this up as a short story or novel. 

My belief about our soul is that once it leaves earth, it is unburdened of all the entrapments of our physicality, our emotional injuries, our burdens and foibles. We are pure awareness, and it's totally freeing. This pure, softer, gentler Adam would do amazing things. I am thankful for my ability to imagine such wonderful images. 

Legendary Richard

 How we used to give my father, the legendary Luddite, such a hard time about his computer woes. He swore every time, "Hal" was purposely vexing him. 

I bought my first new computer in God knows how many years: 12, 16? My most recent one was Legendary Richard's old laptop. I struggled with its slowness and finding my files in the cloud, until it finally refused to do simple things like check boxes. Do you know how many boxes you have to check or fill out on a daily basis? Deleting an email, filling out a registration form, ordering from Amazon- all require box checking. And did you know a computer eventually won't do this anymore? Neither did I.

Before that, I used Adam's gaming computer from 2016 to 2021. I had it repaired a couple of times, and the last time it died I just gave up. I decided rather impulsively yesterday was the day I had to have a new desktop. Yes, I like, no make that love, a full size screen and keyboard. People who use their phones for everything, I just don't understand. 

Back to Richard. I feel you, Dad. I can't access my paid Microsoft office suite, I hate Edge, all this verification crap Google and everyone else puts you through is for the birds. Setting up a new computer is supposed to be easy. Eventually I will get it together. I'm trying to have patience and not complain out loud. 

And why do they put the USB ports on the back of the computer? Maybe no one uses these anymore. Me and Richard, we have issues. Where are those floppy discs? What does it matter? We are lucky my mom has given up trying to learn anything new. She just asks us if she needs something computer related. But dad never gave up trying to use his computer. It was his connection to the outside world, as his body and his world shrank ever smaller. 

Sundays

 Isn't early morning time just the best? My pounding head gets me out of bed pretty often. 

We had an amazing trip after all. Perfect 80 degree days. Only one skanky motel, and it made for a good story. Cal was a wonderful host and gave us all the attention we needed. Our main hotel was nice; heated pool which made for a lot of relaxation. Two days at the beach. Mild sunburns only. 

May I just brag on Eli a minute? He was obsessed with Harry Potter as a kid, started reading the books in 2nd grade and eagerly awaited the release of each  one. He was obsessed with the movies, and I'm sure as he grew up, the music, too. What a thrill to fast forward 20 years later and he is professionally playing parts of the John Williams score from the HP movies. The conductor had edited movie clips to play on a large screen above the orchestra that matched the pieces. It was so cool. They sounded so great. I was telling everyone around me my son was in the symphony, and so was Pat. I felt the only thing missing was having Adam there, too. But then I decided he was. The five of us in this grand concert hall listening to our brother/son play his heart out. Funny, the three of us were seated separately, having gotten our first "comp" tickets in a sold out hall. So it gave me more time to reflect and soak up the moment. 

After the concert, we went to dinner and the four of us chattered and interrupted one another, but I don't think anyone minded. There was so much to talk about. Then Eli was off to Tallahassee and we drove back to St. Pete. The two hours flew by as we had meaningful conversation with Cal. The day could not have been any better. 

Adventure

It's interesting to me how brains work. Mine anyway. I've been dealing with First World problems and not only getting frustrated, but anxious and unhappy. 

You see, the snow cancelled our flight to Florida (waa wa wa ). Maybe I should have been able to re-book an earlier flight?, which a. I don't think there was one and b. I was convinced if I did the storm would have come early. Wonderfully my agent, thank god I gave up trying to do this myself, got us re-booked in time to see Boy/Man 28 play in a professional symphony on Sunday. I had hotels to cancel and re-book, plans to adjust, and double the drive time to the airport, each way. And oh, yeah, we're flying in 2.5 hours away from where we are going. Then I decide to worry that I booked skanky motels and we'll get bed bugs. 

Then suddenly last night while reading, my brain got happy and excited. It literally flipped on. Then it was gone again, and I started perseverating on problems. Then I consciously wanted to get my happy back, and I told myself, "You're going on an Adventure." It's different than you planned, but damn girl, you are one lucky SOB. 

This I call "walking the walk." In my line of work I suggest all the time that changing your thoughts can change your emotions. Don't read this as 'you can change your thoughts and emotions all the time.' I have many other internal dialogues and methods for overcoming unwanted states of mind, but this one happened to work in this situation. I think I had to have a little time, too, to readjust what I thought was going to happen and accept the new circumstances. Maybe this happens in the 2nd and 3rd World as well. 

Pieces

 Everyone who ever knew or met Adam has a piece of him. This occurred to me walking on the Y track today when I encountered a retired janitor from the high school, who interacted with every single kid who set foot in MHS. What a good heart. I can tell by Facebook posts he treats and supports every kid equally, whether they had money, nice clothes, or different color skin than he. He has a piece of Adam but he didn't share. I get it, it's hard to talk to someone about their dead child (among other things, it makes you think 'what if I lost my child?' 'what if I cry', and yes, I've been on the other side, pre-2/2/16), and honestly, today I would have burst into tears if he did; just thinking what he "could" say had me tearing up. People can't stand it when a grieving parent cries; they absolutely don't know what to do. Unless they've been there, too.

I have gotten many valuable pieces of Adam from different people and damn, am I grateful. Those mean more to me than any "I'm sorry" ever will. Sorry, not sorry; I do appreciate the sorrys, but I hunger for the stories and bits and pieces, even if they are unflattering. 

The last thing I want is a false story, made up to make me feel better. Sometimes I sniff those out, but I can never be sure. People are so multi-faceted that maybe some impressions that don't ring true, are true. The hardest to believe are things like "he loved you so much," "he talked about you," and "he really looked forward to seeing you." Maybe those are true, but him saying that to someone else?? Hard to picture. I'm just being honest. 

And so I wait for the next nugget to drop. I'd like to ask, but don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable. I'll let you know what I hear, and you can decide if it's true or not. 

2-2-22

 It's hard to even put words to today. I just gut it out. I thought I would post Adam's memorial video but I couldn't find it. All these things don't really matter, if I have them, if I don't. 

Walking the line of remembrance, public acknowledgement and not wanting to appear as attention seeking. 

It's a big snow day (for Illinois). Adam loved being outside and playing in the snow in Western New York and Macomb. All the kids would bundle up and meet outside with sleds and shovels and start making snow forts or dragging each other around on the sleds. On special days, it's off to the sledding hill (Pat, you're the best!). I hope all the kids get to do that today. Scratch cookies and hot chocolate afterwards. A perfect day. 

Novel Corona Virus

 Novel: new, a book. Corona: a beer. Virus: mutant cells attacking my body, something that happens to computers. I don't know where I got it or when I got it. I was pretty shocked to see the results about 5 p.m. Sunday. I tested that morning after feeling achy and coughing when I woke up. I didn't want to go to work without knowing. 

Remember at the beginning of the pandemic when quarantine was 14 days if you were anywhere near it? I couldn't, and still can't imagine being locked in a room that long. With being triple vaxxed, I just heard this term Saturday, I only have to stay in my room and be waited on for 5 days. I'm not allowed back to work for 10 days. That's 1/19. I was hoping I could return Monday. The days are going faster than I expected. I have a few little tasks I can do with Pat out of the house most of the day. I fixed a salad, watched TV, and did some laundry. This blog and some financial tasks are still on my "to do." 

I am reading old newspapers, a novel "The Alice Network" (a little WWI and post-WWII drama), and napping. A lot of napping. When I'm sick in bed it makes me think of Adam's last days. If this is a bit of what he felt like, and he had no hope of it ending, I get it. I wish he would have thought of other alternatives, or been able to ask for help. I could have gone to Springfield and helped him get help. I could have paid out of pocket. We could be living a different life right now. I've just learned of two fresh suicides, young men. I'm so, so sorry that we aren't doing a better job helping people cope. I don't want to only be on the back end, supporting survivors. Even if I feel I'm terrible at it, I am going to try to reach more people in 2022 with educational programs and opportunities for people to see that's it's okay to talk to someone. When I do this work it feels scary, and good. When I doubt myself, I say, "Somebody's got to do it." 

We are coming up on that day, six years ago. Yes, the cold, stark January leads me to thoughts of February 2, 2016. We thought everything was going along fine, and then it was not. I will have to settle for knowing maybe I can help someone else. 

Out of the Darkness Walks

 My brief reprieve from chairing our local OOTD Walk is over. It's January and time to start planning for Walk 2022. It will be our seventh year.

My purpose today is to put into words what this walk means to me. The obvious is that it is my (our) one time during the year for us survivors of suicide loss to pay public tribute to those we have lost to suicide. We can see each other and others can see us, and maybe remember to be a little kinder, a little more vigilant with those we worry about. Perhaps someone will be driving by and having suicidal thoughts and see the signs: You Are Not Alone, Stop Suicide, and reconsider their plans. Yes, this did happen at least once that we know of. There may be another survivor driving by who has never talked about their loss, and decides to look us up and attend next year. It's not so scary. 

Personally, this is my gift to Adam, the least I can do to bring about awareness and change in our little spot in the world. I have been given in return the greatest gift to come out of his horrible loss. Friendships and support deeper than I could have imagined. You see, you understand, you fervently hope this doesn't happen to you. Whatever the connection, it feeds my soul and keeps me going in honor of the boy-man who made me a Mommie. This one's for you, Nuke!