A drop of love in an ocean of misery

A compassionate thought from a friend is like a drop of love in an ocean of misery. It is nice, but it changes nothing. But I suppose we need freshwater to sustain ourselves.

Lately missing Lev has become more real, where I miss the actual physical being and presence, and not just the thought of him. This hurts in a whole new way that can really take me down. On the other hand, I decided yesterday that I needed to seek these thoughts and feelings while the memories were fresh, and the more I can connect with them, the better.

I was thinking this morning how happy I am that Lev got to hear my band's new album before he died. When we were in Canada I managed to download the tracks via my iPhone, and then we listened to them in the campground through the car stereo, cranked up as loudly as we could get away with. It was a sweet moment, with Lev weighing in on each song, sometimes with praise, sometimes with scorn. We managed to kill the car battery doing it, but even Jaal thought it was worth it. I am glad that modern technology let me share the music. If Lev had not heard the album, it would be harder for to listen to.

A world without Lev is a much colder place. The thought of never hearing his voice again is so chilling it can take my breath away. There was a part of me that was utterly devoted to him and dependent on him for a deep satisfaction with life. Now that he is gone, what will happen? Can I ever hope to close this hole in my soul? Will I forever be broken? Can I change my life to find fulfillment elsewhere? I know I will never be the same for the rest of my life, which is a hard reality to accept.

I dreamt I hugged Lev

I dreamt I hugged Lev. Rebecca had just picked him up from somewhere. I was thinking it had been a while since I had seen him, and it felt so good to hug him. I woke up moments later, sadly realizing that the distance between myself and my last hug with Lev would grow longer and longer.

The memories of Lev will fade. I realize now that I must spend the time to think about him, to cry about him, while the memories are fresh. Later this won't be possible. It is obviously painful, but the thought of missing this opportunity, if you want to call it that, is more painful.

Lev is not coming back

Adam told me it was "good to have me back". I suppose I have crossed some threshold, both internal and socially, where I can function more or less like a human being. On the other hand, while crossing the street last night, Ethan caught me longingly looking at the headlights of a car, as I wondered what it would feel like to be hit by it. So while part of me gets better, other parts get worse. The whole that is "me" struggles to make itself coherent.

I realize now that no matter how much I laugh, cry, think, talk, agonize and despond, Lev is not coming back. That one simple fact can take my breath away, as I keep realizing it for the first time.

I was thinking about the time the band was playing by the poolside, and Adam's plastic chair broke in the middle of the song. I was astounded to recall that Lev was there, probably laughing his ass off. I can feel my brain trying to edit him out, and I hate it. There are two ways I can go: hold him close to my heart and live with the pain, or let him fade and feel better. That latter feels so wrong and lazy and decadent. I don't know if it is really a choice or not, but I have to do what I can to make sure I keep him in the light, whatever the hell that means.

The first day of school

The first day of school. All is ready with schedules, class placements, tables, desks, recess duties, textbooks. Put on your new clothes and get going for a new year. But how can I enter a new school year without Lev, when he doesn't have the chance. It seems so unfair to me, to Tony, to Jaal, to Lev.

I think that Jaal's counselor was right, that it's our ability to support each other, the three of us, that lets us deal with this as well as we have. But how can anyone deal with the death of a child well? I miss him so much and don't want to get ready for school without him.

Today I will take Jaal with me to sell agendas at school. I just don't want to go alone. I always went to school with Lev, almost every school day for the last ten years.

I wasn't ready for this. Tony said he would get up with me in the mornings, which might help. But maybe being sad and crying in the mornings is okay. I went to bed at eleven, and woke up at four thirty, finally getting up at six and deciding to do yoga. Now it's time to get ready. Off I go. Life keeps chugging along.

The enormity of the loss

My mind struggles to comprehend the enormity of the loss. How can one so close to my heart, so much a part of who I am just be gone? So quickly and definitively.

Last week I wrote about how I was "in denial", but I think it's just too much to comprehend. I read in the book The Worst Loss that parents have two versions of their child, the one that is the real child, the one with the body that stands in front of you, and then the ongoing dialog with your child that you have as a parent. The dialog is the one that lets me know at the moment that Jaal slept over at Joe's house, but he might be home in half an hour for breakfast. It is the one that knows he is going to college in a few weeks, thinks about if he has everything he needs, hopes one day that he will grow up, follow his dreams, get married, have children (I told him he needs to have double now, but he wasn't so keen on that idea). That is the other parent, the one that is proud of your kids when they have done nothing in particular, the one that looks at the calendar and thinks of all the nice things they will be doing, that puts their clothes in the laundry because you know they will be wearing them soon.

It is that side of the mom of Lev that I am not able to let go of and that causes me the most grief. I know he is gone. I saw him die, I put him in the cremation chamber and watched my mom push the button. Yet a part of me keeps waiting and hoping. As I write, I glance up at the door, thinking maybe I am wrong, maybe I am crazy, in a coma, dreaming, hallucinating - maybe I will wake up to a life that has Lev's body and soul still in it instead of this "sub life" as Tony calls it. I want to buy his favorite foods at the store, I think about when he is coming down for breakfast, I remember to save some berries for him, my mind always goes to thoughts of Lev, second nature, before the jolt of reality comes back to remind me that I actually won't be doing those things.

Why us? We see so many people with their children, sometimes yelling at them, sometimes overweight and unhealthy, eating crap, but they still go on. Why Lev? He was strong. On our trip to Canada he was saying how great he felt, how healthy, how good. Just two days prior. He was making plans to see Zay and his cousins, to go to French camp, to keep on enjoying his life. He deserved that. He has been cheated of his future.

I fear the calendar. I fear looking at it, and I fear the future. I fear the future without Lev. How can we just continue with life without him? The days, weeks, and months pass with an emptiness. It has been over seven weeks, yet it seems like it happened just last week, with life in a fog. Every day, I am so thankful when it is over. I welcome sleep and the passing of the day. I know with time the hurt will feel less urgent. I know that although we will forever feel this new depth of sadness that we had never imagined before, we will also be able to laugh and enjoy things. I know it is possible, because I have read that it happens to other parents. They find a way to add joy back into their lives along with the grief. "Learning to live with the loss." I know it will happen, but not soon enough. If we just make it through the days, eventually we will arrive at a new normal. So, we make it through the days.

There will be a time when it will be enough, just Tony, Jaal, and me, we will be three and we will be enough. That time is not now. Now we are still four minus one. The empty chair, the gap in our circle. But there will be a time when we can be happy with just three. I have faith that it will come in time. I do. Yet, somehow that doesn't help with the now. The now wakes up every day unmotivated to do anything. Yet, doing things feels good. I could just lay outside in the grass with Snowy for hours, yet something always gets me up. Work has been good that way. It gets me up and going. And, I am able to do it, and I am good at it. My staff is relieved that I am back, and supportive of the journey. It is difficult, all consuming, with so many demands at once, but with so many demands, the missing of Lev sits further at the back of my mind for a few hours. And, I guess that it a kind of temporary relief to keep me sane.

School starts in a few days, on Wednesday. Friday we had our first full day with staff. I was able to be there all day, although I delegated most of the day to teachers. We are moving forward with a good vision and collaboration. We spent an hour brainstorming our belief statements, why are we here? what do we believe in? how do we think we will get better? why do we need to get better? That kind of work makes me want to continue with my job. I think I really am helping to transform the school and make it better for all kids, even if our scores still suck and we are in Step 2 of not meeting AYP. Next year, when the bar increased to 85% of kids meeting standard I'm sure we'll go into Step 3. But, I know we are getting better and it makes me feel good.

How I can jump between school issues and Lev still amazes me. I am disgusted with myself for being able to go on. It seems trivial and stupid when there is a loss looming so big on the other side of my brain. It would make more sense to be dysfunctional, to pull my hair out, to break windows, to sleep all day, to walk forever. Those things would make sense to me. Being able to go to work and welcome new kids to our school with a smile, making sure they have a backpack and know where the bathrooms are, that seems incredible to me, fake and pathetic.

Friday it took me a couple hours after I got home to come off the adrenaline of the day and sit and have a good cry. Other days I'll cry on the way to and from school. I can't predict it yet. I don't know what it will be like when school starts. I'm glad I'll be half days in September. Even though the afternoons will be easy, it will be a relief to be able to go home mid day. And, see Jaal more and be with Tony.