Comment

Comment by Christina Nichols on May 1, 2009 at 6:48am

I am not sure about where you life, but in California there are grandparent rights, and court is an option. If I were in your shoes I would be in court so fast. It is abuse and the judge will see that it is. So far that has not happened to me yet, but I do forsee that it may come to that, so I have started a legal fund savings account and will continue to put money into it for my legal fees should it come to that. I hope that it doesn't, but one never knows.

Comment by Celtix1234 on April 30, 2009 at 11:13pm

That's a difficult situation that is happening more and more with all of the broken families. It is just wrong for someone to keep you from your family - it really is emotional abuse. Can you go to court?

Comment by Celtix1234 on March 28, 2009 at 10:40am

I was hoping she would be very understanding, after all, your grandson is your biggest link to your son. Maybe after he gets a little older, she'll be more willing to let you have him longer.

I had been having a lot of those "life's purpose" thoughts before my daughter became pregnant. Really, I'm a humanistic misanthrope. I have no hope for humanity, but I don't wish any harm. Like you, I thought about getting rid of a bunch of stuff, getting into a smaller house, and becoming a hermit of sorts. But during the pregnancy, I started having a glimmer of hope, and I thought that we should keep our house, because it has a lot of room for a baby. And I thought how we could home school him, so he doesn't get brainwashed and indoctrinated and full of hate, like most of the world. And I thought about all the fun we'd have watching him grow. There is just such hope wrapped up in a baby. Now I'm back to the life's purpose questions again. And I'm feeling even MORE misanthropic.

Comment by Christina Nichols on March 28, 2009 at 1:43am

Well unfortunately . . . his widowed wife is different. Socially somewhat lacking. I get to see the baby on her terms about once every 10 days and only for a hour or so. It sucks.

I do have a wonderful husband. 25 years we have stuck it out through alot, now we are just part of eachother. I am lucky. I try to count my blessings as much as I can. Sometimes it is hard.

Today for some reason, I am struggling with the "what is lifes purpose?" I don't believe I really know that answer and the question seems to be very important to me all of a sudden. I look around at all I have, and I just feel like the janitor, housekeeper to all these items. I don't want to do that. I am starting to think I want to sell my home (in this crappy market), and move into something simpiler, and just start enjoying what time I do have left on this earth and stop worring about money, and cleaning, and working too much. It all seems like a waist, if I am not enjoying it, or having some fun, what is the point?

Bizzzzzzare, the places a mind can go.

Comment by Celtix1234 on March 27, 2009 at 8:56pm

Yeah, losing a child is the worst pain in the world, I'm sure. I can't even imagine. I'm glad you have other children to keep you grounded, because if I were in your position, I'd be having suicidal thoughts, too. I hope you have a good relationship with your husband - that will help, too.

Are you on good terms with his ex-wife? It would really suck if she started playing games with you over visitation.

Comment by Christina Nichols on March 26, 2009 at 6:41pm

Yes, he was married for 2 years, and spent 1.5 years in Iraq. So it was a short marriage, resulting in my grandson (only grandchild), that will be 2 on the 2nd of April.

Yea, loosing my mother was hard, and it sucked not having her there for the important things in my life, but nothing compared to loosing my son. I can't even accept that it is real. It was an open casket, but he looked nothing like himself at all. So it still seems unreal. Sometimes I am ok, and other times, I just want to goto sleep and never wake up, I just want to be done with the pain I feel. However, I have 2 other kids, and I would never cause them the kind of pain I am feeling, so even though I wander there sometimes and I have the feelings, I am way to rational to do anything like that, no matter how tempting.

I am back to working now, and that helps alot. If I keep my mind on other things, it helps me not focus on the things I can not change.

There I go again running on and on . . .

Comment by Celtix1234 on March 26, 2009 at 5:48pm

You're right - the medication is helping her, but he's toughing it out. Why can't some guys just admit that they need help?? But then again, I'm a lot like a guy when it comes to things like that, so I guess I can't really talk.

26 years just isn't enough for any mother. That has got to be one of the cruelest things in life - to lose a child. And did I read where you lost your mother when you were a child? So did I (I was 12). So you'll not only be going through all those events where you wish your mother could have been there, but all those events when your son should've been there. I really feel for you. Was he married?

Comment by Christina Nichols on March 26, 2009 at 2:15pm

Path? I like it so much better.

I know what your talking about, but part of it is that she is on meds and he isn't. That is the case with my husband and I. I am on meds and he isn't. The meds make a bigger difference then one would understand. I know, 2 days off and I was spiraling down into severe grief. My husband is toughing it out, no meds.

I have not had any dreams of my son yet. I am afriad to. A friend of mine lost her son 16 years ago, and she said once she started dreaming of her son, she did not want to get out of bed, she wanted to sleep all the time, so that she could be with her son. I think that would happen to me too. So I guess I am afraid to dream of my son. I had 26 years with him, but I am selfish, I want more.

Comment by Celtix1234 on March 25, 2009 at 1:05pm

They did a great job on the tattoo - it really catches the sensitivity and pride in your son's eyes. You're right: "process" seems so...institutional or something. Like the process of getting someone registered for a library card. It's more like a path you travel down. At first, you're in a dark, scary forest, then maybe you're traversing your way over sharp rocks, then maybe you're walking through a field. And then you're back over the rocks. And if you're grieving with someone, they may already be walking in a field, while you're still making your way through the forest, which makes it really difficult to communicate. That's what I'm telling my daughter. She's starting to want to go out, and her fiance (I call him my son-in-law) still wants to stay at home. I know that tragedies like this can make or break a relationship, so I'm keeping an eye on them. She got on anti-depressants, which seems to have really helped. He probably SHOULD get some, but I don't know if he will. His mother told me that from a very young age, he just wanted to be a father. He'll make such a good dad. They tried to get some counseling, but it's like $200 for the first visit, and they have hospital bills to pay now. I wish I could afford to pay for it for them. I know I could probably use some counseling myself. In some ways, I wish I hadn't watch the actual birth. The memory is very distressing for me. But then I wanted/needed to be there for my daughter. When the memory pops up, I quickly push it away, but a part of me wonders if I should just sit with it and fully accept it. I'm good at pushing unpleasant memories away, but I think they affect you in other ways. That's probably why I'm quite the sleepwalker.

A few weeks after the death, I had a crazy dream. I dreamt that I was working in a doctor's office, and somebody delivered a package. It was like a strangely formed white plastic suitcase with all sort of monitors on it. We opened it up, and there was a big plastic bubble with a baby in it. The whole thing was basically an artificial womb, and you could actually see the baby's umbilical cord attached to the wall of the bubble. Since I was new there, they had to fill me in on the details. Another girl in the office had offered her eggs to an alien, who wanted to take them back to his planet. This baby was the product of that. Anyway, we soon realize that one of the monitors is a countdown to birth, and it's just about to zero. So we open the bubble up, and get the perfect baby boy out. It is just assumed that the baby is going to be my daughter's, so I call her up with the good news and she drives over. We put the baby in the car seat and drive away. The end.

I'll bet you have a lot of dreams about your son, too. Hopefully they are good ones.

Comment by Christina Nichols on March 25, 2009 at 10:44am

I find this poem comforting:

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

I believe that those that leave us, never die, if we keep them in our hearts, on our minds and in our memories . . .

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