Rhythm of the Blues (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

I. Am. Still. Here.  Eric. Is. Still. Gone.  People say Good Morning!, which used to be comforting, but it may be a while before I can verbalize those two words myself.  I was never a morning person, but now it is my enemy; my new wake-up time seems to be 6-6:30 a.m., at which point, after having escaped this tragedy via blessed sleep, I am thrown back into a reality where my son is truly and irrevocably dead.  A living f*cking nightmare.  The horror version of Groundhog Day.  There aren't enough coping mechanisms in the world.  Despite how together I may come across in my Facebook posts (to paraphrase Jimmy Buffett:  "if I didn't [write], I would just go insane"), I am a mess... which, given the circumstances, is to be expected... 🤯

I know that everyone around me is walking on proverbial eggshells, helpless as to how I'm feeling and what I need... when I don't even know myself until something either resonates or jars.  Either one invokes tears... 😭

Last night was the Mary Chapin Carpenter/Shawn Colvin concert (we've had these tickets for months), and we came so close to not going... but we did.  I guess I expected to walk into a vacuum, enjoy the show, and then leave... but, by virtue of being involved with the local folk and acoustic community, of course I encountered many people I knew, and I was like a deer in the headlights.  The music took me out of my head for a while, but I thought of E the whole time.  I cried, but I laughed as well.  

Today found our family + Eric's girlfriend on a two-hour Zoom, mostly to fine-tune details of his Celebration of Life, for which we finally set a date.  So many items to attend to, and they will get done, but Life is like a game of Candyland right now, two steps ahead and then one backward into Molasses Swamp.

So, I just brewed up a huge mug of Tension Tamer Tea (yes, that's a thing), my controlled substance of choice, and I'm about to settle in with a few years worth of texts/e-mails, back and forth between my son and his aunt (my husband's sister), which I had no idea was even happening.  Oh, the sweetness... 💞

SONG:  Rhythm of the Blues by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK:  Little Blue and Little Yellow by Leo Lionni

POEM:  Like a Small Animal by James Crews

I don’t know how the heart goes

cold as an unpicked apple clinging

to the branch, encased in layers

of ice. Yet even the slightest gesture

can warm it, as if some hand were

reaching out to hold the hard skin,

melt off the months of bitterness.

Maybe a friend hugs you longer

than she needs to, just a few more

seconds of pressing you closer until

you want to live inside that gesture,

inhaling her perfume for the rest

of your life. Or a lover makes you

a turkey sandwich one day for lunch 

with buttercrunch lettuce, pickles

and extra mayo, and eating it at work

later, relishing every bite, you feel

that stirring in your chest, like a small

animal coming out of a long sleep, 

blinking its tender eyes awake.

QUOTE:  "Philosopher Alan Watts used to talk about how the whole world is wiggling all the time. Clouds, trees, sky, water, human beings: Everything's constantly shimmying and jiggling and waggling.  One of our problems, Watts said, is that we're "always trying to straighten things out." We feel nagging urges to deny or cover up or eliminate the wiggling. "Be orderly," we command reality. "Be neat and composed and predictable."  But reality never obeys. It's forever doing what it does best: flickering and fluctuating and flowing." ~ from Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology

By Way of Sorrow (Julie Miller)

[In my efforts to segue from Facebook to my blog re: Eric, I am including this post, although of course FB is the outlet for picture-gathering.  Just being a completist, as is my tendency... 🤷]

I'm envisioning a respite from the grief here, a brief vision of happier times, alluded to in a previous post, when I proposed:  "I am counting on everyone to share their pictures/stories/adventures... please?"  

I'll start... 💞

SONG:  By Way of Sorrow by Julie Miller (video is a cover by Cry Cry Cry:  Dar Williams, Richard Shindell, Lucy Kaplansky)

BOOK:  The Joys and Sorrows of Parenting: 26 Essays to Reassure and Console by The School of Life (Author), Bronia Stewart (Photographer), Alain de Botton (Series Editor)

POEM:  On Joy and Sorrow by Kahlil Gibran

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

QUOTE:  "On those days when you miss someone the most, as though your memories are sharp enough to slice through skin and bone, remember how they loved you.  Remember how they loved you and do that, for yourself.  In their name, in their honour.  Love yourself, as they loved you.  They would like that.  On those days when you miss someone the most, love yourself harder." ~ Donna Ashworth

[Five] Little Birds (with apologies to Bob Marley)

"I'm gonna blow this damn candle out I don't want nobody coming over to my table I've got nothing to talk to anybody about All good dreamers pass this way some day... Only a phase, these dark cafe days..." ~ Joni Mitchell, The Last Time I Saw Richard

First of all, I am/we are beyond thankful for the outpouring of love, support, compassion, empathy as well as sympathy, thoughts, prayers, purple candle intentions, etc. It does indeed take a Village, a Community, a Circle o' Wagons. Like Facebook birthdays, I sincerely want to acknowledge every comment/e-mail/text/phone call, etc., but all I can garner energy for right now is clicking the ubiquitous Heart emoji in gratitude, in hopes of a more personal response in the future:

"i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)" ~ e. e. cummings

I also appreciate so many of you mentioning Eric's girlfriend Duyen (who is not on Facebook) in your condolences and who, after graduating from UM's medical school, is doing her residency at Grady Hospital; they had (jesus, it's so hard getting used to the past tense) been dating for a little over two years, and he was saving up for a ring. We all absolutely love her, and she is so much a part of our family; Duyen has been amazing throughout this ordeal (identifying E's body, calling his bosses, following up with insurance info and other things we need, etc.). She is now in Orlando with her parents through the weekend.

Today was the hardest day, as I woke up at 6 a.m. in full-on bawling/wracking sobs mode. Denial is segueing to anger, but I was reminded that The Five Stages of Grief are non-linear. I cannot begin to imagine Acceptance. Chico, Sarah, Rob, and I have also learned that we grieve differently, and we've had to be more direct and honest with each other, explaining ourselves at times, rather than assuming the others will understand our snappishness, shutting down, stoicism, need for solitude. Unlike Jimmy Buffett's sponge cake, I've been nibbling on oatmeal, ramen soup, and Tylenol (no Xanax yet, although we do have a prescription to fill, just in case), sipping herbal tea and gulping water (crying is dehydrating). Also grateful for the offers/deliveries of food although, despite our overly-full pantry/fridge/freezer, the last thing I want to do now is eat... but I know I have to keep up my strength.

"This heart stops for railway crosses, Train wrecks with too many losses, Broken dreams left dyin' on the rail..." ~ Katy Moffatt

It is a fine line between grief and practicality, and today we needed to make some painful phone calls: the police officer who filed the accident report that night... the Medical Examiner's office as to the procedure for recovering E's body... the towing company re: his car. Still on the list: arrange for Chico and I to drive up to Atlanta first of next week... find a funeral home ASAP to cremate E's body so we can bring his ashes back with us (did you know the ME's office will hold a body for 30 days max?)... go to their apartment to sort through his possessions, although the only thing we even anticipate bringing back is a photo album I made for him maybe 10 years ago because he complained there were no baby/childhood pictures of him, and I had to explain that, by the time the third kid rolls around, who has time to take pictures (remember, this was pre-cell phones), much less arrange them in scrapbooks, right?

I also created a WhatsApp page for Chico, Sarah, Rob, Duyen, and myself... appropriately titled Five Little Birds (with apologies to Bob Marley) because 1) Eric loved reggae music and 2) Duyen had birds, and he had finally made peace with them in the apartment (and they with him... 🦜🦜)

I am working on a Celebration of Life which will serve as a funeral for those in the Christian faith (as we are not religious but we are spiritual), hopefully at the end of October. As soon as I am able to make specific arrangements on the Who/When/Where, I promise to release the information and will ask you to share.

I am also researching organizations that E would approve of for donations in his name rather than flowers (such a waste of money) or cash for us, to help defray expenses (with the remainder to go to an organization TBD). Pay it forward, right? I think I have found something perfect, and I will spend tomorrow morning vetting it. Details to follow for dissemination near and dear, far and wide.

"Ob-la-di, ob-la-da Life goes on, brah La-la, how the life goes on..." ~ The Beatles (duh!)

SONG: [Five] Little Birds (with apologies to Bob Marley)

BOOK: The 5 Stages of Grief: A Comprehensive and Insightful Guide to The Grief and Loss Process and Dealing With It by Behnay Books 

POEM: Meeting Your Death by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer Because there are no clear instructions, I follow what rises up in me to do. I fall deeper into love with you. I look at old pictures. I don’t look at old pictures. I talk about you. I say nothing. I walk. I sit. I lie in the grass and let the earth hold me. I lie on the sidewalk, dissolve into sky. I cry. I don’t cry. I ask the world to help me stay open. I ask again, please, let me feel it all. I fall deeper in love with the people still living. I fall deeper in love with the world that is left— this world with its spring and its war and its mornings, this world with its fruits that ripen and rot and reseed, this world that insists we keep our eyes wide, this world that opens when our eyes are closed. Because there are no clear instructions, I learn to turn toward the love that is here, though sometimes what is here is what’s not. There are infinite ways to do this right. That is the only way. 

QUOTE: “We write to heighten our own awareness of life. We write to lure and enchant and console others. We write to serenade our lovers. We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection. We write, like Proust, to render all of it eternal, and to persuade ourselves that it is eternal. We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it. We write to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely... When I don’t write, I feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in prison. I feel I lose my fire and my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave, and I call it breathing.” ~ Anais Nin

It's Quiet Uptown (from Hamilton)

[ Two weeks ago, my dear and long-time college friend Dimitrius called me a Compulsive Communicator; now I have not only self-identified but embraced the term, wondered if there is a support group, and joked that I will add it to my business card... 🤣

Since the tragedy of Eric's death (was that really only Tuesday?!?), I have been withholding of myself in Real Life and oversharing on Facebook, but Friday I will roll it all over to my semi-defunct-but-soon-to-be-revived blog which you can check periodically... or not.  Again, No Hard Feelings (see what I did there?).  Well, you will... 🤷‍♀️ ]

No easy way to say this.  Our son Eric was killed in a car accident last night.  His girlfriend Duyen called from Atlanta (where he moved in with her mid-March) to tell us.

We have informed both Sarah and Rob,  and we've reached out to my sister Mari and brother Brad, as well as Chico's family.  The ripple effect widened to extended family and friends and now, Facebook protocol/etiquette be d*mned, here we are.  I haven't really thought much beyond that.  We have circled the wagons, and everyone is gathered at Sarah's tonight (even Colin... and Holly, Rob's dog), coming to grips with the enormity of it all.  So many questions, as well as decisions to be made.

Chico and I are so grateful we had a meaningful, albeit short, visit with E (just two weeks ago, actually).  It's already a lesson in perspective.  It's still not real but, as I sip my mug of hot tea, it becomes painfully more so... as it will over the next hours, days, weeks, months.  How do people in this situation manage to sleep?  To eat?  This is all just so upside-down.  Parents are not supposed to outlive their children.  My brain and my heart are exploding... 🤯

"There are moments that the words don't reach

There is suffering too terrible to name

You hold your child as tight as you can

And push away the unimaginable..."

~ It's Quiet Uptown, from Hamilton

Absolutely no doubt in my mind that you are all there in love and support for us... and I promise we will need you; however, there is just no way I can speak with anyone in the foreseeable future.  Thank you in advance for your patience and understanding.

I don't know who I am without my youngest, my stubborn Leo child, my Eric... 😭

P.S.  More in the next few days; I am counting on everyone to share their pictures/stories/adventures then... please?


SONG:  It's Quiet Uptown, from Hamilton

BOOK:  Shattered: Surviving the Loss of a Child by Gary Roe

POEM:  by Susan Frybort

I hear the wind

carrying the voices

of a thousand

prayers my way—

drifting through 

the night, 

weaving through 

the leaves, 

talking in languages

I never heard before, 

coming from souls 

I may never meet. 

There are words

spoken long ago,

finally landing 

in the places 

they are meant 

to be. 

There are whispers

soaked with 

a mother’s tears

circling the earth 

like a blanketing

cloud. 

And the songs

streaming through

the silent air 

are from the fathers

of days gone by. 

I hear the wind

carrying ten

thousand 

prayers your way—

slipping past 

the veil, 

breaking through

the vault, 

soaring across 

the sky, 

reaching lands 

you may never see. 

Open your door, 

look up to the stars,

and listen to your 

ancestors speak.

QUOTE:  "Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it." ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery