NEW YEAR'S DAY 2012 AND I'M STUCK

Written January 1, 2012

Today is January 1, 2012. A day when we are suppose to look forward to the new year and resolve to overcome things that we perceive as obstacles to our becoming better or healthier or stronger individuals. I don't do that anymore. I don't challenge myself to become a better or healthier or stronger person. Heaven knows I should but I can't. I can't because I am stuck and I can't figure out how to change that.

I read online a list of statements that are out, obsolete, and not acceptable for the year 2012. One of the things on that list was "the new normal". Whoever made that decision absolutely had never suffered a loss as deep as the ones we have suffered. We truly understand the impact of what "the new normal" means. For us this is not just a cliche to toss about. IT IS OUR LIVES. Our new lives. A life that we can neither understand nor know exactly how to adjust to or figure out.

And it's not just us that have loss someone that we love so dearly. The "new normal" can be getting up early and beginning a job search; or trying to figure out how you're going to feed your hungry children; or where you'll find shelter for the night. The world of so many people has been turned upside down and many are finding it difficult, if not possible, to right it again.

I remember a time back in approximately 1972. Stephanie and Bobby were just three and four and we lived in an apartment complex in the suburbs of Seattle. With my own children being so young, I spent a lot of time outside with them and therefore became well acquainted with the other children living in the same complex. That year, right after Christmas, I had taken Steph and Bobby to the playground. Two little brothers were there playing and I ask what they had gotten for Christmas. They replied "we got a pencil". Their answer stabbed me right in the heart. After all I had just spent so much time picking out and wrapping gifts for my own two little ones; making sure their Christmas was merry and bright.

When playtime was over and it was time for lunch, the brothers, Stephanie, Bobby, and I walked home together. During our walk they innocently told me that Daddy had left and taken all of Mommy's money and there was no food at their house and Mommy cried all the time. My heart was breaking for them and their mom - whom I didn't know. I said that we'd stop and ask her if the boys could come to our house and have lunch with Stephanie and Bobby. I had thought that if she seemed receptive I'd off handedly ask if she'd like to join us - not wanting to embarrass her or to let her know what the boys had told me.

When we got to their apartment, the boys threw open the door and rushed in. Standing there in the doorway waiting for them to get their mother, I could see that the apartment was almost totally bare. There most definitely was no Christmas tree. The mom came to the door with her two little boys in tow. I extended the invitation. She immediately said "no" and shut the door.

At the time, being young myself, I didn't fully understand how difficult and how painful it can be to accept help - no matter how small. It is so much easier to give than to receive. Putting one's pride aside is hard, hard, hard. And as the saying goes we sometime "cut off our nose to spite our face". The door being closed in my face taught me two very important things. The first is this, never judge someone or be angry or hurt if your gesture of help is rejected. Usually we don't know what that person's mental or emotional mindset is. The second thing is: be a gracious receiver and don't be afraid to ask if you're in need - something I still struggle with and a lesson I'm still learning.

The point of this little story is that any time circumstances drastically change life as we once knew it, we begin living "a new normal". This term may be new for some but the reality of it has been around forever. Probably since Cain slew Abel.

So today has been spent in reflecting back. I can't look forward. Some may not understand that but unfortunately a lot of us will. I am stuck. Perhaps it's because the second anniversary of Christian's death is quickly approaching - January 18th - and the memories are pouring in -- and the guilt. I left him on January 6th and went to visit my mother out of state. I knew he was in trouble and I left anyway. But all of that is explained in my January 16 - 22, 2011, blogs. I don't have the strength to try and explain it again No words will ever make it better anyway. Nothing will. I can only say that leaving him did not mean that I didn't care or that I didn't love him. No one could have loved him more.

I can only wonder if I had had a crystal ball and could have seen into the future, what would I have done differently? Was there anything I could have done or said to change the course of events? Or was it all out of my hands and in the Hands of God? If I had stayed home, could I have stopped him? A conversation I've had with myself a thousand times over the past two years.

The only conclusion I have reached is that the weather can be predicted, the economy can be predicted, world events can be predicted - with some degree of accuracy. Down through the ages Prophets, mystics, and seers have made predictions. And I do believe that we can receive personal revelations to aid us in our personal lives. It has been my life experience, however, that relationships and people cannot be predicted. We can hope but there is no guarantee. There is no guarantee because there are too many variables. Free will and those unforeseeable circumstances can change things in an instant. At any give moment POW! life hits you across the head with a dose of reality.

Today I have thought about why I still can't talk on the telephone. A couple of wonderful, wonderful friends I have met online have sent me their telephone numbers and ask me to call if I wanted to talk. I've never called. Not because I didn't want to but because I can't. The telephone brings back too many painful memories of the telephone calls I received and made on the day Christian took his life. Every time the phone rings, I am back in that place. Except when my Mom calls. I can talk forever to my Mom. For me she represents everything that is good in life.

On January 6th she will be 88 and that scares me. That is one of the reasons I went to visit her in 2010 - to celebrate her birthday. I can't do that anymore either. In fact any time I go to visit her and I'm standing alone in her kitchen, I remember being in that kitchen talking on her phone when I was told Christian had shot himself and a later phone call telling me he had died. For some reason I was barefoot. I hadn't noticed before but as soon as I heard those words I remember suddenly thinking that the tiles were so cold under my feet.

That morning will remain forever vivid; and replays over and over in my head. I know every single survivor has their own set of vivid memories that they relive over and over again. Some far, far worst than my own.

The thought of starting another year without my fun loving boy is hard today. Impossible today. My mind is bouncing around like a rubber ball ricocheting off the walls and ceiling. It just won't be still. It is stuck in years past and in a house built long ago.