Emotions at Periscope Depth

I've realized something about my feelings and emotions regarding Josh's death that has helped me. Maybe it can help you too.

I have always been a reader, but after Josh's death, my thirst for books is unquenchable. I am reading non-stop, but selectively. The book has to mean something to me, as a grieving mom or it has to give me something new to think about regarding Josh. Because of this, I am reading books that I would never pick up otherwise.

For example, I am currently reading three different books on journaling. The unusually long titles of the books say it all.

• The New Diary: How to Use a Journal for Self-Guidance and Expanded Creativity by Tristine Rainer
• Journal to the Self: Twenty-Two Paths to Personal Growth. Open the door to self-understanding by writing, reading and creating a journal of your life by Kathleen Adams
• Creative Journal Writing: The art and heart of reflection by Stephanie Dowrick

As I am discovering, one of the more well-known techniques to try and access the subconscious or unconscious mind is called free-intuitive writing. According to Rainer, the technique is simple. "You relax and try to empty your mind. You don't think about anything. You simply wait for whatever comes into your mind, and you write it just as it comes, without worrying about whether it makes sense. You let your hand do the writing. You record what you hear from the back of your mind. Nothing is irrelevant" (page 47).

Why would anyone want to do this, you say? For me, I want to know and explore my feelings about Josh and his sudden death. I need to look them in the face, deal with them and move on. For some reason, I know that I will have to do this eventually, so I might as well be proactive about it. At least, this is how I feel now. After a couple of exercises, I may want to live by the "ignorance is bliss" philosophy.

This is taken from my journal entry the night that I tried this exercise.

I am looking at my unconscious or subconscious thoughts. To get here, I've had to walk down corridors, through doors, shut them behind me - lower, lower and lower. I am looking at them - all jumbled, crazy, indiscernible, fighting one another to get to the top, noise, I cannot make anything out. I can't understand them. I can't hear them. My conscious mind won't let me listen to them or write them down. I am trying to hear but now it is silent and white - blank. I know they are there but I don't know what I am thinking.

Breathing deeply - what am I thinking? Why can't I hear? I want to hear my inner voice - what are they saying?

Josh - why did you go? Didn't you know how loved you were? Where are you now? How do you feel now? At peace? I hope so! Can you hear me? Can you seem me? See when I cry, weep and wail for you? I long to know that you are okay - why did you leave me? I didn't make you feel loved? Not enough? I am so sorry - I wish I could do it over again - everything from birth on. You were such a happy baby and little boy - even at 8 years old. So loving, innocent and happy - what happened? Where did you go? Why didn't I stop you from leaving? I am so sorry, my poor son - I failed you as a mother - no matter what anyone says. I failed you. My son, my poor, poor son. I wasn't enough for you. I didn't give you enough. I got distracted. I didn't make enough effort with you and now we are both paying for it. You are dead and I am still here. Why did you die? Now gone forever! My heart is broken. At my deepest level, I am so sad - weeping constantly, uncontrollably, non-stop for my poor boy.

(Still from my journal)

I realize from this exercise that what is happening in the depths of my soul and inner being, my subconscious is a constant, uncontrollable weeping for my son. I am not always in touch with this part of myself but it is there. I saw it. I was in it. This is why I can begin crying at any moment. What is going on inside rises - surfaces like a submarine after languishing in the depths of the ocean. "Periscope depth" is when this inner sadness that is perpetual and never ending comes to the surface. Poor me. Poor Josh.

Maybe what distinguishes really emotional people from me is that those inner feelings are almost always at periscope depth. And what distinguishes me from people who show little to no emotion is that my feelings come to periscope depth once in a while. Maybe for them, their feelings are so trapped - beneath layers of dirt, sand or water - buried so deep that they cannot come up.

As I closed my journal, I thought that perhaps I will know when healing has come. However long it takes, at some point in the future, I will take that trip again and see that the perpetual sadness and crying has been replaced. Maybe with acceptance and happy memories of Josh - maybe even joy? I can only hope.

I will end this post with a slide show of the adorable, happy eight-year old Josh.

God Bless

Extra Josh T-shirts

Soon after Josh's passing, our daughter designed a T-shirt in memory of him. We think he would have really liked it. You can see pictures of the shirt recently worn on an "Out of Darkness" walk by our children and friends.

I placed an order a few weeks ago and have some extra shirts in all sizes. Please let me know if you would like me to send one to you. I am just trying to cover the cost which is a total of $16 (includes shipping). Otherwise the shirt is $12. Anything above this will be sent to his fund.

God Bless
jandermom@gmail.com

Faith in the Midst of Tragedy - November 1, 2009

To have a strong faith when life is good and all is going well is not that difficult. The "Thank you, God for this, that and the other" is easy to pray. When times are tough, however, or when an unexplainable tragedy hits home as in what happened to us when our 17-year old son took his life in March, then having faith and trusting God becomes exponentially harder. At least for me.

The age old question surfaces, "Why do bad things happen to good people?" And "why did God allow this to happen? Why didn't He intervene?"

On a previous post, I had shared that to help me with the question of faith, I am working on a cross stitch of the beautiful Footprints vignette. Each stitch is a reminder that I am not walking on this grief journey alone.



In my journal, I wrote the following...

I have been walking this grief journey or through the grief tunnel, one step at a time and have felt alone for no one can do this for me. But I must remember that I am not alone for the Lord is by my side. He has not forsaken me. He has guided me - without my being aware. In the days right after Josh's death, He has directed the creation of the blog. Also, everything came together for the service - a massive undertaking to organize in just two days, under the most horrible circumstances.

I have seen and felt God in all of the ways that people have reached out to us and have felt strengthened by the numerous prayers lifted to the heavens on our behalf. In the midst of all of the bad that is reported in the news daily - the corruption in politics, business and sports, people are good. Have good hearts. Are kind, giving and loving. Willing to share, help, encourage and lift up. We are still getting cards and gifts even though it has been over seven months.

Pre-Josh, I was getting cynical about people - their motives, superficiality and hypocrisy. Then this horrible, tragic event happened to us and rather than feeling shunned or stigmatized, beginning with Josh's friends, we were surrounded by love and fellow grievers. It was the kids first - I will never forget how those young people came over, gave us great big bear hugs and wept unashamedly while looking at the pictures of Josh and writing in his book.

Our neighborhood provided daily meals for weeks. Friends helped tirelessly in our home - organizing and serving food and helping with the numerous plants and flowers being delivered daily. The friends of our surviving kids came that weekend by plane, car, bus and train. All three of them had a "posse" of friends surrounding them - encouraging, supporting and helping them get through this tragedy. Our own family flew or drove from great distances - leaving their own family vacation and even canceling a long awaited trip to China to come and be with us.

Then the hundreds of people who came to the service; many driving for hours to be with us, give a hug, show their support, and share their stories of Josh. And the thousands who have read his blog. The outpouring of love was and still is overwhelming. People are good - I was losing sight of this.

It feels like the movie "Pay it Forward". After being the recipient of a good deed, you turn around and do good for someone else. Maybe this is what is being done through Josh's blog - as it has appeared to help many people who struggle with the harsh inner feelings that can spiral into dark thoughts.

I hope the blog is helping parents open up the lines of communication with their kids, regardless of age, so that all unresolved issues can be brought out into the open, talked about, dealt with and forgiven. I realize now more than ever, that life is too short to keep from being close to the ones we love.

I hope kids will realize that parents are trying their best but are only human. We have our faults. We cannot read minds. That if there are things that are bothering you or dynamics in the family that hurt you - speak up and say it! If it is too hard to say, write a letter. Be open. Express yourself. If you need help, admit it and get it.

Our son did not do this and I wonder, why didn't he? Pride, fear, embarrassment? Maybe he didn't want to be looked at or thought of differently. Maybe he was afraid of what would happen if he really said what he thought. I don't know, but I wish to God that he had been open. Because he would still be here. What he did is what is often said about suicide: a permanent solution to a temporary problem. As his mother, this is what pains me the most.

I know that I need help. It would be easy to just shut myself off from people - no visits, phone calls, emails or posts on the blog. But this is not God's way. He works through others to provide love, support, guidance and healing. Prayer is a bit difficult these days, but when I think about all of what has been done for us, I can say my own "Thank you" prayer to God.

God Bless

Marathon Ran in Memory of Josh

In life, one never knows how the crossing of paths with various people, will bloom into loving, supportive friendships. This is one of the blessings that I have personally received since news of Josh's death, thanks to the Internet and probably Facebook in particular, went literally around the world.

One dear person, Nadine, sent me pictures of a recently completed marathon in which she ran in memory of Josh. My heart was touched beyond words when I opened up her email, saw the pictures and read her thoughts that are posted here.

After 2 years of falling in love with running, this is the first time that I really ran one of my runs in honor of anyone. The day and night before the run it was pouring in Northern Virginia. That next morning, however, it was such a perfect crisp fall morning. From the night that I was sewing the number 33 on the back of my shirt through the 26.2 miles, I thought of and prayed for Josh and all of you. The funny thing is that I needed Josh just as much. Right around the times I wanted to stop and walk someone would yell out "Go Nadine" or "Go 33". It inspired me to keep going (made it all the way to 24 miles before I had to stop for a short walk), then finished the rest strong. RIP Josh, you are all in my thoughts and prayers.

Like streaks of light that permeate a dark, gray day, so these unforeseen relationships and news of how Josh is being remembered, gives comfort to this grieving mother's heart.

Tree Memorial - October 18, 2009

I love the spring in Virginia. We are far enough north where we experience all four seasons, but not so far as to seriously shorten the golf season (very important to Tim). One of my favorite trees is the dogwood. Wispy, beautiful white flowers adorn this tree in early spring. Every time I see this majestic tree in full bloom, I am in awe. So when asked, "what tree would you like to have planted at the McLean Mustangs football field in memory of Josh?", the answer was easy.

Our son has played football since he was eight years old. Starting out as an "ankle-biter", he had a real affinity for the game. I still remember being amazed at how these fully padded little boys, who could barely sit still for anything else, had the discipline to be motionless before the ball was hiked. Every year, Josh was fortunately to be on teams with excellent coaches who taught him not only the game, but lesson that transcend sports: teamwork, do your best, never give up, how you play is more important than winning or losing, the little things matter, etc.

We were triply blessed to be part of this particular youth league as the kids and their families were all great. Relationships were forged over the tailgates held in the parking lot right after - hosted by grandparents of one of the boys. Josh was never shy about diving right into the food after a hard fought game, along with the other boys.

Because youth football teams are determined by weight, and since Josh was always bigger and heavier for his age, he would invariably have to lose some weight to stay with the same group of boys. I have vivid memories of the poor kid mowing the lawn in 90+ degrees in layers of clothing. Or going to the official weigh in a couple of hours early and running on the track dressed for a blizzard. Or looking at pizza - wishing so much that he could have a piece, while eating salad. Seems a bit cruel for a kid - I thought so too at the time, but he was willing to do these things to stay on the team.

Being at the football field last Sunday, on the 7 month anniversary of Josh's death, for the gathering at the newly planted tree with this group of boys and their parents was so special. It is times like these, when we see once again, that our Josh is so loved and missed by others, that our grieving hearts are encouraged.

We could not have gotten through the past months of shock, loss and pain if it were not for the love, support and prayers from friends in the community - both Josh's and ours. In the midst of it all, we feel so grateful. I will end this post with pictures from our gathering.

Josh's tree planted on the end of the football field.

Boys gathered around....

So many memories on this field.....

Josh - we all love and miss you and will remember you forever.....

God Bless

Out of Darkness - 7 Months Later

Two weeks ago, our children were together in Atlanta and along with some good friends, participated in the "Out of Darkness" walk that is sponsored by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. According to their web site , these walks are taking place all across the country this fall to "raise money for AFSP's vital research and education programs to prevent suicide and save lives, increase national awareness about depression and suicide, and assist survivors of suicide loss."

The statistics reported on their web site are staggering: "In the United States, a person dies by suicide every 16 minutes, claiming more than 32,000 lives each year. It is estimated that an attempt is made every minute; with close to one million people attempting suicide annually."

The title of the walk, "Out of Darkness" is apropos. That fateful night, our Josh entered into a dark place within his mind that he never recovered from. Upon finding him the next morning, cold and stiff, our family was thrust in a darkness of our own. Unwillingly, without consent and any prior warning, having no experience with this type of death, we've had no choice but to walk through this darkness.

At first, you don't see the light at the end - you can only believe it is there. And so you walk - one step at a time in those first few hours and days. Then you walk one day at a time through each month's anniversary. For me, the time seems to have gone so quickly. How can it be seven months already?

How am I feeling now - seven months later? The only word that comes to mind is "resigned". Resigned to the fact that Josh is gone - and nothing I do or say can bring him back to me. He will never be coming through our front door again, to drop his backpack and sports bag on the floor, flop onto a living room couch and take a quick nap with the dogs. We'll never hear the quick race down the stairs in the morning and slam of the door as he scurries to get to school on time. There will be an empty seat at the Thanksgiving table. We won't see his "Santa list" on our fridge door. He will not be part of our annual Christmas photo. He won't be around to celebrate his 18th birthday next January.

Resigned that unless I was a mind reader, there was no way to know that Josh was thinking of suicide as he gave no indication to us or anyone close to him. So I cannot blame myself anymore.

Resigned that I will never know the answer to the question, "why". Through the books that I am reading and some email correspondence from readers of this blog, I have a better understanding of a suicidal mind. But even if I knew exactly why Josh did this, I probably wouldn't understand anyway, because to me, there was nothing in his life - even expulsion from Fairfax County Public Schools - that would be a reason for death.

Resigned that we have to continue with our lives - in spite of his absence. And that it is his memory that will live on in our hearts.

I suppose resignation is good. Perhaps it the precursor to acceptance.

I will end this post with pictures taken at the Atlanta "Out of Darkness" walk. There is one coming up in our area. The Fairfax NOVA walk is this Saturday, October 24th. Unfortunately, Tim and I will be out of town and cannot participate. If there are some that do, in Josh's name, please take some photos and email them to me: jandermom@gmail.com.

Photos of Josh placed on a table with pictures of other loved ones.

A quilt called "Faces of Suicide"

Participants made necklaces out of different color beads which has the following symbols:
Lost a child - white
Lost a sister or brother - orange
lost some other relative or friend - purple
Support the cause - blue
Lost a spouse or partner - red
Lost a parent - gold
Struggles personally - green

Lauren, Gillian and Tyler wearing their "Josh" T-shirts and necklaces. Gillian wore a white bead for us.

Tyler and Emily's dogs, Tom and Huck, walked in memory of their favorite uncle Josh.

The "Josh Anderson Team" was well represented.

Josh - we love and miss you.

God Bless

Give Sorrow Words

Yesterday was our 26th wedding anniversary. Tim and I found each other in college, fell in love, got married and had our first child eighteen months later. After seven years, our fourth, Josh was born. Having four children while just turning thirty and thirty-one ourselves is quite a challenge. With the support of our faith, family and friends, however, we managed to navigate the bumpy waters of raising a large family.

As time passed and the children grew, while celebrating our 10th, 15th, 20th and 25th anniversaries over a romantic dinner, one of us would always remark how lucky we felt. Lucky that we found one another; lucky to have four beautiful, bright, talented children. When others gave us positive comments about our family, we simply said, "We have not done anything to deserve this - we feel so blessed."

No more. Unbelievably, we are now part of a small minority of parents who have had to bury their child due to the violence of self-murder. Our lives do not feel very blessed right now. We are not so lucky anymore. In fact, we are extremely unlucky - to have someone commit suicide anywhere in the family tree, in any generation, is profound. To have it happen in your own nuclear family - within your four walls, in the sanctity of your own home is incomprehensible.

One minute, we were normal parents - dealing with all of the joys, challenges and issues that face anyone who is raising kids. The next minute - in a millisecond, in the time it takes to register a thought, take a breath, blink an eye - we were no longer a normal family. What happens to other people, other parents, other families has just happened to us.

In an instant, our entire world - life as we knew it - was gone. Changed forever. Irrevocably altered. Turned upside-down. Shattered. Devastated. Disintegrated. Blown up. Thrown out-of-whack. Discombobulated. There aren't enough words in the English language to describe the effect of suicide on those of us left behind.

The old "normal" is gone and there is no going back. Josh's loss and the mode of his death will forever be a part of our family. Henceforth, his absence will be felt at every family gathering, every holiday, every milestone event such as a graduation, wedding or birth.

And now, a "new" normal needs to be found. I suppose this is all part of the grief journey - to "right the ship", so to speak, so that life can go on - without the physical presence of our Josh. As a result, different words have found their way in my journal: recalibration, rebalance, reinvent, reintegrate and reboot.

Because of my analytical nature, my journey involves processing everything in my head: asking the unanswerable questions, coming up with every possible answer and thinking through each one ad nauseam - it is exhausting, but necessary. For me to get through this pain. To get to the other side.

For I do see light at the end of the tunnel.

During the week, my mind is taken up by work; things are busy as there is more than enough to do in an eight-hour period. I think this is good as it gives my thoughts a break. So on the weekend I visit Josh's grave, read, think, and cry. And plan what I will write on the blog. It is difficult, but critical. Just as air, food and water are necessary for survival, so facing the pain, sorrow and grief in my writing, head on, through this blog, is essential for healing.

Week by painful week, I feel the light getting closer - moving towards recalibration & rebalance. The new normal. I am reluctant to say peace, because how could I ever be at peace with Josh's death? Acceptance - yes. Peace - no.

I see this movement in the letters I write to Josh and will end this post with what I wrote yesterday....

Dear Josh,
I am sitting in the car by your grave site because it is raining outside. I am kicking myself for not coming yesterday when it was sunny and warm. I am starting to let myself understand what was going through your mind that night and perhaps earlier. The dark place or tunnel in which you found yourself: maybe overwhelmed and exhausted with life, and perhaps even contemplating getting help, but in the end, the thought of reaching out was unappealing. Perhaps your future seemed more like a dream than a reality and in general, your life felt out of control. And this was the only way you could be in total control.

Is this how you felt?

In a book that I am reading, the author recounts a very scary 12-hour period when she had a loaded gun on her bed with every intention of ending her life. She says that in that whole time, not once did she think about her family, her kids, her therapist - nothing but her pain. Everyone important to her was outside of her mind and not even a factor.

Was this true with you?

You would not hurt a flea - you had such a tender heart. I have to believe that you would never intentionally want to cause me this much pain. But the reality, son, is that it has. When my mind goes to the place where your death is before me, I have a physical reaction. I feel the blood rushing to my head, my mouth grimaces in pain, my eyebrows furrow, my entire face tightens and the tears flow unchecked - all within a couple of seconds.

This can happen anytime - while talking on the phone with someone who doesn't know and before getting off she asks a very innocent question, "How are your kids doing?" While driving in the car, doing yard work, taking a shower, listening to a song. Anytime, anyplace, with anyone. I cannot control these emotions. So although you did not mean to hurt me, it has - so deeply, so profoundly that I am forever changed.

And it is more than hurt, Josh. If you had died by illness, accident or even murder, a part of me would've have died too. I think any mother who loses a child prematurely, whether in the womb, a baby, child, teen or adult would feel this. But when I found you dead - by your own hand - there was a whole other part of my heart and soul that died. I can't describe it - there is a deeper pain knowing that you were suffering so much in your mind - for how long, I do not know and that death was your only option. How can I ever stop feeling as your mother, connected to you in the womb and who gave birth to you seventeen years ago, that I should have known? I should've have done something more?

In my mind, I know that it is unrealistic to think that I should be a mind reader. You didn't want anyone to know so no one did. But I can't help wishing that you had opened up and shared your heart and pain with me or someone who could help you. Because if you had done this, maybe you would be here now. Maybe we would be a lot closer as I came to understand your inner turmoil.

I would've have done anything to help you - to save you. There is nothing that would be too much. I don't say this flippantly - I would give you anything: a kidney, my liver, my blood, my life. Without a doubt. Without question. I would trade places with you if I could. You were only seventeen; I am almost fifty. My life for yours - absolutely.

But this is not to be. I suppose a saving grace is that your story is saving others. It is making people think more - especially those who struggle with the dark thoughts. My prayer is that what is on your blog will prevent their own demise. But I would take it all back to have you here with me - my baby boy.

I am moving forward - slowly. Doing things and finding interest in things that I stopped after you died - like watching Food Network, Numbers, and House. I am cross stitching the "Footprints" pattern and it is helping me. I have been watching the baseball playoff games with Dad although the Red Sox are not doing well - one game from begin eliminated. When watching, I cheer with enthusiasm.

William Shakespeare said, "Give sorrow words". I guess this is what I am doing - in my journal, in my letters to you, in your blog.

You are free from your pain and suffering. But when yours ended, mine began. I know you didn't mean for this to happen but it has. I forgive you - I hope you can forgive me.

I love you son.
Rest in peace.

Mom xxxooo

"Why?" by Rascal Flatts

I received an email last week from Josh's counselor at school. She is a big country music fan and heard a song from Rascal Flatts on the radio called "Why?". It moved her so much that she had to pull the car over while listening. With one click of a button, I could download the song as a gift from her and listen to it as well. Her caveat - when I was ready.

The email sat in my Inbox for several days and a few days ago, I listened to it. There is something about music - the melody, tone, lyrics that can capture feelings and emotions like nothing else. I began crying while listening to the first sentence; it is as if he is singing about our Josh.

You must have been in a place so dark, you couldn’t feel the light.
Reaching for you through that stormy cloud.
Now here we are gathered in our little home town.
This can’t be the way you meant to draw a crowd.

(Chorus)

Oh why, that’s what I keep asking,
Was there anything I could have said or done.
Oh I had no clue you were masking,
A troubled soul
God only knows what went wrong and why you’d leave the stage in the middle of a song.

Now in my mind I’ll keep you frozen as a 17 year old,
Rounding third to score the winning run.
You always played with passion no matter what the game,
When you took the stage you shined just like the sun.

(Chorus)

Now the oak trees a swaying in the early autumn breeze,
The golden sun is shining on my face.
Tangled thoughts I hear the mocking bird sing
This old world really ain’t that bad a place.

Oh I there’s no comprehending and who am I to try judge or explain
But I do have one burning question,
Who told you life wasn’t worth the fight?
They were wrong…..
They lied…..
Now you’re gone and we cry
It’s just not like you to walk away in the middle of a song.
Your beautiful song.
Your absolutely beautiful song.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

When I visit Josh, it is always my intention to sit at his grave site with my journal and write. The past two weeks, however, I was unable to do so because of a burial that was taking place very close to where Josh lay and the weather. But yesterday, it was beautiful. Sunny, warm, a little breeze and quiet. I wrote this in my journal.

Already October! It is scary to me how quickly the time is flying by - it will be October 18th (7 months anniversary) before I know it, then Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, then Josh's 18th birthday (January 16th) and then the one year anniversary of his death (March 18, 2010).

I want time to stand still. Or better yet, I want it to go backwards - all the way to March 6 when Josh was deciding whether or not he should drive off school grounds at lunch with a friend to smoke pot. In my fantasy, he thinks, "No, this is not right and I can't risk getting caught again".

Then time can fly forward - through lacrosse season, end of school, summer, taking senior pictures, August football practices up to the South Lakes game Friday night and their win against McLean. They are enjoying a 4-1 record and who knows, with Josh at linebacker, maybe they would not have lost the one game by 4 points.

Everything we have gone through the past 6+ months would be erased and I would not be sitting here on a beautiful Saturday afternoon crying while writing by Josh's grave site, after putting a dream catcher and a rainbow decoration for the song that we all associate with him in his tree, and rose petals all over his grave. These all came from my friend and her kids, who are as close to us as family. Photos are below.

No, we'd be talking about taking the SAT's one more time, college choices, football games and his plays in them, the Red Sox making the playoffs, etc. etc. There is more that dies when a child dies - a part of a mother's heart and soul dies too. And all of the hopes and dreams for the future of that child are gone too.

When I think of Josh now, it is no longer the overwhelming grief, although this is still felt intermittently - it is just sadness and emptiness. A void. Space. Empty like his room which now has only a dresser and desk. Because Josh was our youngest, we are empty-nesters, but 1.5 years too early. Our home feels empty, without his quiet presence.

It is easier to keep the house clean, do the laundry and I am spending less at the grocery store. We don't have to wake up in the wee hours of the morning to make sure he is up to get to school on time. I was looking forward to these things at the right time. But not like this - not when our son took his life just two months after turning 17 years old and thrust an empty house on us with such sadness.

When I think of the dates looming in the future, it is so overwhelming. In order to cope, I take one day at a time. For what choice do I have? We have three other children who need me. But I have thought that if and when it is my time to go - that will be okay. I don't fear death - how can I when it would be a way to be reunited with my Josh?

Josh - I love and miss you so much. Be at peace, my dear boy and one day, we will be together again.

Love,
Mom

Is Hindsight 20/20?

These days, thoughts swirl non-stop in my head. Josh's death has changed me so fundamentally that everything I take in - be it a book, newspaper or magazine article, TV show, movie, song or conversation - is filtered through the same questions, "Why did Josh take his life? What did I do wrong? What I could have done to prevent it? What did I miss?" It is like wearing "I need to understand Josh's death" sunglasses, which colors everything I see.

I have just finished reading a very interesting book, The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. It has raised a lot of questions that I will attempt to articulate on this post - with what success, I am not sure.

I am also making progress on the mammoth project to scan all my negatives. I have just finished with 1999, when Josh turned 7 years old and it occurs to me that it will probably get harder and harder to look at pictures of each subsequent year, almost like a countdown to the year of his death - an event that I cannot stop from happening.

Looking at myself in the pictures is strange - I am completely oblivious to the impending doom, the tidal wave of grief and despair that will come in ten short years, the "suicide quake" that will upend our world. I am an unsuspecting victim - we all are - including Josh. He did not know that through a series of bad decisions on his part and getting caught and disciplined according to our school board's Zero Tolerance policy, that he would be facing circumstances beyond his ability to cope. No, in 1999, he was a happy, go-lucky seven-year old kid who was still excited about school, the baby of the family - spoiled by all. Even then, his smile could light up a room. The Christmas photo that year made a close friend cry when she opened up the envelope and saw Josh's beaming smile literally jump out of the picture.

If I only knew what tragedy would be coming, what would I do differently? Josh was such an easy, compliant kid at this age, very laid back and low maintenance. I remember our three older children needing more of my time, attention and energy. This saying was true in our large family, "The squeaky wheel gets the grease" and Josh did not squeak.

I started to notice his behavior changing, especially with school, around the end of 5th grade. He was not motivated, turned in assignments late or not at all and had a "laisse-faire" attitude about everything. Being a responsible student was not an issue with our older three kids, so this was new for us. Despite everything we tried, keeping on task with school work became an on-going problem. At one point, he was interested in home schooling. This was not something that I saw as a viable option but now I think, would he still be alive if I had done this?

"Would have, could have, should have" - these thoughts drive me nuts as I can write a list of these - if only I had known.

In Niffenegger's book, the main character is able to travel through time, forward and backward. He knows things that are going to happen and yet when he travels back to the time of that event, and attempts to force a different outcome, always without success, he eventually realizes that even knowledge is not enough to change what is meant to be.

Thus the title of this post. To me, "Hindsight is 20/20" has always meant that if I knew then what I know now, I could change the course of events by thinking or behaving differently. Like Josh's death - if I had done all of the "would have, could have and should have's", he would still be alive. But is this really true?

My mother has quoted an old Korean saying when discussing how some things for some people are inevitable. "If someone is meant to drown, they can do so in two inches of water". Meaning that even if they knew they were supposed to die by drowning and did everything they could to avoid water, it would happen anyway. The converse would be true too. If someone is not meant to drown, even if there were multiple opportunities for this to occur, it would not happen.

When I was very young, my parents tell me that I almost died. Apparently, I got sick and dehydrated which resulted in a very high fever and was rushed to the hospital. My vessels were so small that any attempt to give me life saving fluids through an IV were thwarted. As a last resort, they put one above my ankle (I still have the scar). My parents left one night to take care of my younger sister and get some rest. They were called back in the middle of the night because the doctors did not think I would make it.

I guess my survival was called a miracle as I made it against all odds. I think back to this event and ask God, "Why did you spare me? I was a small, insignificant child, so close to the line. All of the medical professionals thought I would die. Why didn't I?" And I invariably come to the same conclusion; for whatever reason, it was not my time.

And so I think about Josh. Why did our son die when another high school junior, who recounted his story in a recently read book, Aftershock, survived a three-way suicide attempt of slitting his wrists, jumping off a bridge onto interstate highway traffic? When he woke up in the hospital, he was furious that he was still alive. Since then, he has been trying to understand God's purpose as he has also survived the many life-threatening injuries as a result of his suicide attempt. Clearly, it was not his time.

Was it Josh's time? Despite anything Tim or I could have done, was it his time to go? My mother says that "Josh is an angel. He was here for a purpose. He is saving others". This is sometimes hard to hear because I would take it all back to have him with us

I cannot deny from what has been shared, that Josh's story is saving others. And for this I should be very grateful as it is an answer to prayer - that his death would not be in vain. In comparison to someone who dies and no one is moved, nothing changes, everything goes on as if that person never existed. How sad. How tragic. At least this cannot be said about our Josh as the impact of his life/death is being felt literally around the world. Amazing. He would be amazed.

So based on what I see and witness, was this meant to be? That he came to earth for a specific purpose? And are we seeing this purpose unfold?

• The spotlight shining on serious teen issues?
  
• Highlighting the stress and anxiety that some of our young people find too much to bear?
• Will kids be more open with their feelings and get the help they need?
  
• Will some make better decisions regarding drug/alcohol use?
  
• Will parents work harder to keep the communication lines open with their teens?
• Will parents make different decisions with their kids based on knowing Josh's story?
  
• Will something get done with the unconstitutional way our kids are treated via Zero Tolerance policies?
  
• Will someone, somewhere make a significant difference in this world, in part, because of the convictions developed through Josh's death?
  

I don't know, but I can only hope.

And so I end this post with pictures of the happy, seven-year old Josh.
Rest in peace, my son.
We love and miss you so very much.

God Bless

Pictures From Six Month Fundraiser

Tim and I are so grateful for the continual outpouring of love and support from all of Josh's friends and their families. It has meant so much that others remember us in particular, on the 18th of each month. These "anniversary" dates are so hard and I've come to see that in order not to spiral down into the depths of despair, we need to be with others.

Last Friday was the 6 month anniversary and since high school footballs games were played on Thursday, kids were able to come to the fundraiser, held monthly at the Buffalo Wings Factory. We took over the restaurant as so many people came. It is evident that our Josh is still loved and remembered. Our hearts were so encouraged.

We received some very special gifts that night. Tim is staying involved by filming the Langley games. The boys gave him a photo with their signatures. I received a plaque with the Lord's Prayer that will be placed by the dogwood tree we have planted in our front yard - in memory of our son.


I don't yet have the total amount raised, but when I do, I'll post it on the blog.

To end, here is a slide show of pictures taken at the restaurant.

September 18, 2009 - Six Months Later

I have been dreading this day. Six months since our beloved son decided to leave us. Why? This question still haunts me. I rack my brains to find some clue, action, word or deed that would have alerted us to Josh contemplating suicide, much less going through with it. I can't come up with anything and it drives me crazy.

I ask God, "Why did this happen? Why did you allow our dear boy to take his life? Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you give my mother's intuition a nudge?" Surely I would've acted on it. I would've have asked the hard questions. I would've forced myself into his world to make him see this was not a viable option. Now it is too late. I am too late.

God is silent. He wants me to trust Him which is hard. But I am trying. I picked up this cross stitch pattern that I plan to work on while on my grief journey. It is a story that has been around for a long time but maybe there are some who have not seen it in a while or have never read it.

Footprints
One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord. Scenes from his life flashed across the sky and he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonging to him and one belonging to the Lord.

When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he recalled that at the lowest and saddest times of his life there was only one set of footprints. Dismayed, he asked, "Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. Why at the troublesome times in my life. the times that I needed you the most, would you leave me?"

The Lord replied, "My precious child, I love you and would never, never leave you. During your times of trials and suffering when you saw only one set of footprints...
That was when I carried you."

I have read this several times in my life and it has given me comfort. But there was always a part of me that knew that I had never known real suffering. Now I know. So it is at this time, when a part of my heart feels like it has died, that I have to ask myself, "Do I really believe?"

So part of my grief journey involves the testing of my faith. Is it possible to come through this "fire" with a faith that is stronger and more genuine than ever? I hope so because I know that being at peace with Josh's decision/death will have to involve trusting God. With Josh. With me. With our family. Believing that good can come out of this horrible, unspeakable tragedy. Believing the story above.

There is a bestseller that will soon be out as a movie. I read the book, The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold quite a while ago but as with many other things, I have a whole different perspective now. Anyone who sees the back of the book will know that this is a story about a 14-year old girl who was murdered and in heaven, is able to watch what happens on earth - with her friends, her killer, her grieving family. She sees her father writing in his journal and as I read this I wonder, "does Josh see what I write? Does he see this blog? Does he see how much he was truly loved?" I can only hope. And so I end this post with a letter to him.

Dear Josh,
I am sitting by your grave site. It is a cool, cloudy day. The mowers have come through so I've had to clear the grass clippings from your stone. Since it is cooler now, hopefully the fresh carnations that I've placed in your vase will last for a while. There is a little breeze so I hear your chimes. There are seven now in "your" tree. I am the only one here so it is quiet and peaceful.

It has been six months since you decided to leave us. I still do not understand why but know I need to accept your decision. As a mother, it is so hard. I can't help feeling like I failed you. If only you could have told me what you were really feeling inside. I would have done anything to help you. And not just me - your dad, siblings and friends too.

In your short life, you've had such an impact. I've been re-reading the comments on the blog about you. All of your friends say the same thing - that you were one of the kindest and nicest kids - who would never say anything bad about anyone else. You brought a smile to all who knew you. You made people laugh. Quieter than most, but when you spoke, people took note. Smart. A great team player. Being a surprise baby, you were always special to us. But I didn't realize, until hearing from your friends after you were gone, how special you were to them.

My son, there is nothing that I can do now except to try and accept what has happened and move on. I'll tell you, it is not easy. Sometimes I have a busy day at work and almost forget what has happened. Then I remember and it hits me like a punch in the stomach - to where I can bowl over in pain. I guess this is to be expected from a mother who has lost her baby. I know you didn't mean to cause this much sorrow and grief. I only hope that you are at peace and know how much you are loved and missed by your dad and I. You were a surprise gift given to us over 17 years ago and we cherish every moment that you were a part of our lives.

PS - I read in the paper of a 15-year old boy who threw himself in front of a train in Maryland. This is now the 6th boy between the ages of 15 - 22 that I've heard who has killed himself. I don't know the circumstances of this poor boy but some of the others, I do. They were like you, from families who loved them dearly. What did we do wrong? What is happening in our society where young men are choosing not to live? I don't know the answer, but it is scary.

PPS - You are buried in such a beautiful place - like a park. So Grandpa and Grandma have bought plots not far from where you are. So when their time comes, you can keep each other company. Also, when we got a grid map of the place where you are buried, Grandma was the first to notice that you are in section #33! We looked at each other in disbelief. It still amazes me when I think about it. Maybe Dad and I will buy plots so that we can one day be all together.

Rest in peace, beloved son. Be our guardian angel.
Love you with all of my heart,
Mom

Would anyone else like to write a letter to him? Please feel free as a comment to this post.

God Bless

"Suicidequake" - September 11, 2009

I am probably no different than any of you. When I see the date, September 11th, I am transported to that horrible day when our country was attacked in a most vicious and unmerciful way. I remember exactly where I was when the unthinkable had occurred and the numbness at the realization of how many innocent and brave lives were lost.

There was absolutely no warning for those whose loved ones died on this day. They kissed their spouses, children and friends good-bye as they boarded planes or went to work. Little did they know that within moments, their lives would be changed forever.

I have a greater understanding of what these survivors must have felt as my world has been been changed forever too, but in a different way - by suicide.

In their book called Aftershock: Help, Hope and Healing in the Wake of Suicide by David Cox and Candy Arrington, suicide is likened to an earthquake. I find it an appropriate analogy as while earthquakes might give off some warning signals, they are often so unexpected that no one is prepared for the utter devastation and chaos that occurs. Cox begins the book with his own experience - his father took his life when he was 9 years old. He was the last family member to see his dad alive.

On July 17, 1967, an earthquake rocked my world. Felt by relatively few people, it devastated those in its epicenter and brought chaos to our lives. Although not a dynamic force of nature, the event shook my universe, crumbled my stable foundation, and sent shockwaves far into the future. It was suicide.

I can relate to the author's description of the overwhelming devastation that the immediate family suffers as the "epicenter" of the "suicidequake". And just as an earthquake can be felt for miles around, so the effects of Josh's suicide have radiated far beyond our family.

Next Friday will be six months since he has been gone. It is hard to believe almost half a year or two seasons has passed. On the one hand, it seems like yesterday and I am still raw with grief. On the other hand, as I think back to everything that has occurred, I feel detached, as though I see snapshots of someone else's life, their tragedy, their loss, their heartache and sorrow.

Maybe it is my mind and heart's way of protecting myself for if I could feel the brunt of Josh's death, even 6 months later, I don't think I could handle it. The pain would be too much for this poor mother's soul to bear. When I do recognize that it has happened to me, I feel sorry for myself - which is a new feeling. But how can I not? I am living every mother's worst nightmare and the horrible thing is that I can't wake up. It won't go away. Josh really did take his life - for reasons I still cannot fathom, but need to accept.

Sometimes, I wish I could move faster through this "grief journey" and get to the other side which I hear is acceptance and peace. This seems so far away to me - a distant shore that I am struggling to reach. I am realizing from my reading that I must be patient and while I don't want to be stuck or frozen in grief, I shouldn't rush it either.

The secondary effects of an earthquake are often greater than the actual event: fires from broken gas mains, flooding from ruptured water lines, theft and looting in unprotected areas, and panic and fear as aftershocks continue. In a matter of minutes, everything that is stable and firm is destroyed. Once familiar surroundings, now devastated, are oddly unrecognizable.

Just as earthquake survivors must sift through the debris of their homes and lives, so suicide survivors must deal with the emotional and practical fallout that remains. Life becomes unstable and uncertain. It is possible to rebuild your life following suicide, but it involves hard, painstaking work (83).

I guess this is where we are at. Slowly picking through the debris, trying to get our lives back in order and learning how to live with the vacancy and loss felt from Josh's passing every minute of every day.

Thanks so much to all who continue to keep us in your thoughts and prayers. I am not ashamed to say that we still need them.

God Bless.

Pictures of Josh: 5 - 6 years old

I've successfully scanned in two more years of negatives to my computer. What a monumental project this has become! Good thing I will not be hosting Thanksgiving as my dining room is now "Memorial Central".

This blog is a memorial too. In Louise DeSalvo's book, Writing As A Way of Healing, there is a section called, "Writing A Loved One's Dying". How apropos. A memoir is referenced, Heaven's Coast, written by Mark Doty about his lover's death from AIDS.

Making a record of Wally's life and death was a way for Doty to remember him, to hold onto him. Remembering, he says, "is the work of the living." It is what the living must do for the dead. Recalling faces and they way they look in all moods and weathers. Anecdotes that they tell and tell and tell again. Incidents that signify the shared life in all its variety - its ecstatic and banal moments. "Gestures, tics, nuances, those particular human attributes that distinguish us as individuals." Doty believes it is his duty to capture the singularity of Wally, to erect a monument of words to his partner. But Heaven's Coast is a testament, too, to Doty's love for Wally and to his loss and grief (188).

I can relate completely and this is how I feel about the blog. It is a web monument - being erected by each post, comment, photo, shared story and art work - in honor and memory of our Josh. It is also a testament to the love felt for him by family, friends and those who have never met him. This was articulated in a recent comment from a friend whom I have not seen for years, and who, because of what she has seen in this blog, cries not only for me but for him.

This blog is also a record of the tragic circumstances surrounding his death and a call for parents to question the effectiveness of the Zero Tolerance policy in many of our school systems.

It is reminder that the minds of our young people can be quite fragile. That sometimes, they are not as strong, competent and emotionally mature as they appear to be and need more support and protection than we may think.

It is with these thoughts in mind that I end this post with a slideshow of when Josh was five and six years old. Missing front teeth, Little League baseball, first day of kindergarten, Halloween, first (and only) trip to Disney, summer visiting both sets of grandparents in Oregon and on Cape Cod, Christmas.




Josh - we love you so much.
Rest in peace, our dear boy.

God Bless

Writing to Heal - August 30, 2009

Strangely enough, the thesaurus has become my friend. Helpful as I journal through my days, striving to put into words the depths of my feelings and emotions - struggling to come to terms with Josh's passing. It is so hard and painful yet I push through as I believe it is better for me to face the grief head-on, rather than to avoid or suppress it, as tempting as this may be.

In her book, "Writing As A Way of Healing", Louise DeSalvo summarizes ten years of scientific research recorded by James W. Pennebaker while at Southern Methodist University. Here are two quotes that keep me motivated.

Many researchers have observed that survivors of childhood sexual abuse and other trauma (like rape) or the suicide or accidental deaths of people close to them, if they do not discuss these events, tend to develop more major illnesses than people who do express their feelings (24).

Writing that describes traumatic or distressing events in detail and how we felt about these events then and feel about them now is the only kind of writing about trauma that clinically has been associated with improved health. Simply writing about innocuous subjects (like what we did throughout the day) or simply writing about traumatic events or venting our feelings about trauma without linking the two does not result in significant health or emotional benefits (25).

There is now a thick, black line that is permanantly placed in time. Before Josh Died and After Josh Died. Everything in my life is relegated to these two time periods. Because he is gone, nothing will ever be the same. And it happened without warning or suspicion. Without any time to prepare myself. One moment, I am feverishly working to get ready for a client meeting, thinking that Josh is upstairs sleeping; the next, I am all alone and holding my dead son in my arms - screaming his name over and over again.

I write to help me navigate this new grief journey. I write because according to DeSalvo, "after a loved one dies, our lives are temporarily in serious jeopardy" (189) and that "we are living in the midst of the disintegration of everything that has marked our lives as normal and meaningful" (195).

Disintegration - this is an accurate description of what has happened on March 18, 2009. My thesaurus gives me other words and I nod my head "yes" to all: break apart, fall apart, shatter, explode, blow up, collapse, perish, bust.

From my reading, I understand that my writing is a quest for several things: to try and understand why Josh took his life, which I know is a futile exercise, but I cannot stop asking; to acknowledge the irrevocable changes to my world and to find some order and meaning in the chaos after his passing.

And so, I find myself in DeSalvo's words:

People who write about their loved one's deaths are paradoxically engaged in a search for the meaning of their loved one's lives. They want to make a record; they want to describe their loss and their grief. But they want to discover, too, an overarching meaning for this death so that it will not have been for naught.

This seems especially necessary if the death was a violent one, if it was a suicide or an accident, or if it was the death of a child. For these deaths greatly threaten our sense of order. They shake the foundations of our belief in a meaningful, beneficent universe; they make us question whether any actions we undertake have meaning" (191).

One of the earliest exercises in her book asks the reader to think about a metaphor for writing. For her, writing is a "fixer"; a means by which she can work through problems and find healing or like a compass, giving her a "fix" on her life - where she is, where she has been and where she is going. For another author, writing is like a "very sturdy ladder out of the pit" (8). For me, writing has become a life preserver. I will end this post with what I wrote in my journal about this metaphor.

Writing is now my lifeline - my life preserver. Without it, I would drown in all of my feelings, sorrow and guilt. Where could it all go except inward to eat away at my soul? Instead of drowning, I am holding onto this life preserver - bobbing up and down in my grief, but not going under. The writing on the blog forces me to think about how I am feeling, organize it and write so that it makes sense to myself and others.

This life preserver is tethered to something bigger - a boat that maybe represents normalcy or happiness (can my life ever be "normal" again? I don't think so). Can I ever say that I will be happy (can't even imagine it right now). So here I am, hanging onto this life preserver - writing - not ready or able to get into the boat. It has been a natural thing to do - even though I've never had to write for my life until now.

Without my life preserver (writing), I would have drown. It has saved me. Could I even hope that my life preserver has provided a life preserver for others?

Please let me know.

God Bless

Remembering Josh - T shirts, Chimes and Monthly Fundraiser

What helps me these days as I try to cope with the indescribable pain and sorrow associated with losing our Josh? Simple - it is the knowledge that he is being remembered by all of you. This means more to me than you can know. My spirits have been lifted by recent examples such as these....

• When I hear a story, memory or dream about our son.
• When I hear that a football teammate is not only wearing Josh's number this season (33), but has also put his initials (JA) on new football gloves.
• When plans are moving forward to plant a tree on the McLean Youth football field, in memory of Josh, who played since he was eight years old. I still love the name of this age group - "Ankle Biters".
  
• When I hear that some of his closest friends have his pictures in their homes or in their rooms.
  
• When I hear that you still visit the blog and it helps you in your own "grief journey".
• When you tell me that knowing the circumstances around Josh's tragic death has caused you to think about your family and perhaps make some changes that may save your children, or at least, strengthen the relationship.
  
• When you say that now, over five months later, you still think about and miss our Josh.

The title of this post and the following pictures are other ways that encourage me. Our daughter, Gillian, designed a T-shirt soon after Josh's passing. I have provided the link, in case you would like to order shirts, as some of his football teammates have recently done. Whenever I see someone wearing this shirt, my heart catches. It is a reminder of our loss, but also a way to commemorate his brief but beautiful life.

http://www.customink.com/designs/rememberj/12758413-2583889/retrieve

A couple of new wind chimes were recently placed on "Josh's tree" - close to his grave site. We appreciate these gifts - bought specifically for him by his friends.



On the 18th of each month, there is a fundraiser at the Buffalo Wings Factory in Reston. As the day approaches, it is a painful reminder of another month without Josh. September 18th will be six months or half a year since he died. It is amazing and sometimes frightening how quickly the time passes. It definitely helps to be with others on these anniversary days. I appreciate those who came out in August. Below are some photos from that night.




We appreciate the continued love and support from our family and friends. Speaking for Tim and each of our surviving children, we could not handle this loss without you.

God Bless.

My Dream - August 24, 2009

I've only had two dreams about Josh since he died. The first occurred a couple of months afterwards, and was so strange that I didn't bother writing it down nor have thought much about it since. The second dream was four night ago - right before I woke up, so I remembered all of it. It was like a movie, going from one scene to the next.

First scene: Tim, the girls and I were at home, but not our current home nor one we've ever lived in, but it felt like home - you know how dreams are. We had white shag carpet and just like what happened in real life a few months ago, our washing machine overflowed. Walking into the hallway, I saw water everywhere and starting yelling for help to clean up.

Next scene: I was taking something into the garage (s0 we could pull up the carpet) and I saw Josh putting something down. I was shocked and said, "Josh, is that you?!?" We locked eyes and he gave me his infamous smirk. He looked good - tall, healthy and strong. I couldn't believe my eyes and thought I was seeing a mirage.

Next scene: He was standing right in front of me and I was poking him with whatever I had in my hand - not sure what it was, maybe a pencil. The poking was hitting something solid! I asked him to give me a hug. He obliged me but I could tell that he felt awkward. I didn't care and said, "Hug me tighter!" which he did, and it felt like so good. I asked Tim if he could see Josh, but he could not.

Next scene: We were standing in front of a nail that was sticking out of the wall. I had a key ring with several keys that I did not recognize. He wanted me to put the keys on the nail in a specific order. It seemed very important that I do so exactly as he said.

Then I woke up.

Being a bit groggy, it didn't really register what just happened. As my mind started remembering the dream, I quickly got my journal and wrote everything down. I felt pretty happy to have a dream about him since I have wondered why he wasn't in them more frequently. Also, he looked good , which was a relief. Once recorded, I attempted to decipher what it meant but didn't get very far, so I left it for later.

After re-reading my dream yesterday, I spent some time thinking and writing about what it could mean. Maybe Josh is telling me that he wants to help. To not forget about him when things are happening in our lives. He wants to still be involved.

Keys open things. Maybe I am thinking too much of him in the past and that my heart needs to be opened so that he can live with me in the present. That I should leave behind the thoughts of what was - with all of its regrets, guilt and questions - and rather, live for now, with him always by my side.

Gillian wrote this and shared it with Tim and I a couple of days before my dream. Maybe he is telling me that what she is saying is true.

"...Another resolution of mine is keeping in touch with my brother. Wherever he is, I want him to know that he is a part of my everyday, my present and my future, not just my past. I want to keep him alive in my life and I want to stop thinking about him in the past tense. It's hard for me to just imagine having these conversations with him so I am (finally) using the journal that my mom gave me to write to him, not about him. I tell him how I felt when he left, I tell him what I'm feeling now, I share memories I have with him and I tell him that I am determined not to forget. I tell him that I love him and miss him. That he will always, always have a place in my heart."

I love what she wrote and along with this dream, I have something new to think about. A way to navigate this "grief journey".

God Bless.

Sadder Than Ever, Five Months Later - August 18, 2009

Is it even possible? To feel more pain, anguish and sorrow than when our dear seventeen year old boy died five months ago? I would have thought “no”, but unfortunately, it is so. The ache has intensified and the grief has not abated; it is still overwhelming in its force.

Why? Maybe it is because our two girls will be leaving home soon - one to start a new job in Atlanta, and one to go back to college. Maybe I fear Josh’s absence, overlooked while the girls are home, will be more than I can bear.

Maybe it is because football practice has begun and I fantasize what should be. Josh coming home, hot and sweaty, taking a refreshing dip in the pool and passing out on the couch. I can close my eyes, visualize him and in doing so, my heart breaks even more.

Maybe it is because the days in August are quickly passing followed by a new school year. Josh should be a senior – big man on campus. Leader on the football team. Enjoying the present, while looking to the future. But it will not be.

With this example, it has dawned on me that Josh experiences loss as well – and this knowledge adds to my grief. We saw the new Harry Potter movie while on vacation – he would’ve enjoyed it. We went horseback riding and I could envision his smile/smirk at this new experience. Laughing at the horses as they raised their tails and pooped at will. Trying to determine, as all the men were, how to be less uncomfortable while trotting.

Has Josh ever skied? I don’t think so. Will ever experience college life? No. Have the chance to find his “soul mate” and marry? No. Ever know the joys of fatherhood? No, no and no. No new songs, books, video games, or experiences – ever. What a waste. What a loss. Why didn’t he think about these things before taking the steps to end his life? Maybe they would’ve pulled him back from the brink and he’d still be with us today.

After five months, why isn't it any easier? Maybe it is because the horrible reality of our “new” lives, without the existence and being of our beloved Josh, is sinking in. Is this really it? Did it really happen? Is he gone from our lives forever? I can’t stand the thought and want to scream and shout, “NO, IT’S NOT TRUE!”

Maybe it is because of a long letter received from a dear college friend. I should have waited to the end of the day to read it. Her empathy and condolences as a fellow mother made me cry. She also shared that her twenty-two year old daughter was no stranger to suicide as one of her best friends in high school took his life, and a girlfriend in college died by her own hand. More tears flowed, thinking about these two young lives, our son and three other young men I’ve heard of, who took their lives this year between January and April.
Why are young people doing this to themselves? What makes suicide a viable option? How can their minds allow for this permanent self-destruction? Why didn’t they open up with their true thoughts and feelings – to receive the critical help needed?

Has the media (TV, movies, books, video games) de-sensitized our young people to the horrors of death and its resulting wake of despair and sorrow for those left behind? Has this made it easier for them to walk towards and embrace death? I don’t know.

It is hard for Tim as well. Since Josh was a linebacker, Tim would watch football games on TV, focusing on that position in hopes of catching a great play, which he would then show and discuss with Josh. The first preseason Patriots game was on the other night, and Tim cannot watch the linebackers anymore.

Since he is a real estate agent, Tim spends quite a bit of time alone on the road. “Josh’s death,” he says, “is always right here”, holding up a hand in front of his face. Last week, he was driving around in Herndon/Sterling, on the same roads that he and Josh traveled while doing errands - just a few days before his death. It is so hard when something as insignificant as driving down a road can bring up bitter memories.

Unfortunately, it does not seem that grief follows a linear progression where one goes from stage to stage – on the way to recovery. No, for me, the grief process is more circular where the stages follow one another, round and round, and sometimes out of sequence. For how long, I do not know. Some of Josh's friends tell me that when they think of him, it is the happier memories that occupy their minds. Not me. When I think of Josh, it is still so hard, so painful, so sad and depressing. I don't know how long this circular voyage of grief will last - I only hope that at some point, the slope is upward, leading eventually to acceptance and peace.

Poignant writing from Nicholas Wolterstorff whose book, “Lament For A Son” was written in honor of his twenty-five year old son, who died in a mountain climbing accident.

Nothing fills the void of his (Josh’s) absence. He’s not replaceable. We can’t go out and get another just like him (32).

My son is gone. Only a hole remains, a void, a gap, never to be filled (33).

Something is over. In the deepest levels of my existence something is finished, done. My life is divided into before and after (46).

So it is with all memories of him. They all lead into that blackness. It's all over, over, over. All I can do is remember him. I can't experience him. The person whom these memories are attached is no longer here with me, standing up. He's only in my memory now, not in my life. Nothing new can happen between us. Everything is sealed tight, shut in the past. I'm still here. I have to go on. I have to start over. But this new start is so different from the first. Then I wasn't carrying this load, this thing that is over (47).

Perhaps what's over is happiness as the fundamental tone of my existence. Now sorrow is that (47).

I end this post with a photo of all of the family on Tim's side, wearing our "Josh" shirts, in memory of him.


Josh - we love and miss you with all of our hearts. Rest in peace, our dear beloved son.

God Bless.

Story from an older sister of one of Josh's friends

This story touched our whole family. With her permission, I have posted it on the blog.

Hi Mrs Anderson (& the rest of the Anderson crew),

I have never officially met you, but you know my brother Artie - I'm his oldest sister, Alexa. I've wanted to write to you for a while, but always thought it was kind of weird since you don't know me, but through your blog I don't think that bothers you very much. I wanted to share my brief memories of Josh with you, as he always held a very special place with me among my brother's friends...

It's a rather bizarre story about how I was able to immediately bring up your son's name when I thought of Artie's gang. When I was a freshman in high school, my best friends (Mary and Alison) went to Stone Ridge in Bethesda, while I went to O'Connell in Arlington. We only ever saw each other on weekends and during the summer. Just before our sophomore year started, we all went to Kings Dominion for the day. When we were in line for the bumper cars, we noticed this REALLY cute guy ahead of us. Through a series of frantic whispers, we decided that we must take secret pictures of him. I think he noticed (we were probably not the very covert), and he turned to give us a weird look. I boldly asked if he would take a picture with the three of us. Shockingly, he agreed.

The picture came out great - he had a beautiful smile and his arm around my waist (plus the three of us looked good). We decided to make up a story and history of this kid, based on this one picture. Since I didn't go to their school, not many of their classmates knew much about me. We then decided that he should be my boyfriend. Obviously, we needed to make it convincing, so we developed a whole backstory, starting with a name. I christened him "Josh Anderson," after my favorite actor (Josh Hartnett) and another friend of mine (Jackie Anderson). It seemed like a totally believable story. We even made up a screenname on AIM ("JAnder527") and a birthday (May 27, 1986). This ploy went on for a few months, and I think the people we told still believe he is a real person.

So you can imagine my surprise when, during my second year at UVA, I saw a real kid named Josh Anderson on Artie's football roster. I had come up to watch a game (their freshman year at Langley), and I was looking to see who I knew on the list. I excitedly exclaimed, "oh my gosh, is there seriously a kid named 'Josh Anderson' on this team?!?!" My parents just looked at me and nodded, not understanding my excitement. They mentioned that he was a friend of Artie's, and did not seem to appreciate the hilarity of finding out that a person who had been completely made up suddenly materialized and turned out to be real - even down to the nicknames!

A few months later, over Christmas break I think, I had the pleasure of meeting your son. I immediately told him the story of how I had dreamed up another Josh Anderson years earlier. Artie cut me off three-quarters of the way through the story because "Josh doesn't care," but Josh laughed all the same.

After that I ran into him at other times whenever I was home - picking up/dropping of people, gatherings at my house, sports events at Langley, etc. I think I may have even talked to you on the phone when you called to see if he was at our house (which I loved, because it showed me that it wasn't only my parents who called to check in). Even when he was with a big, loud group of other guys, he always stood out to me. Initially, this was because I was so thrilled to have found a flesh-and-blood Josh Anderson, but as I was around them more often, I noticed that he just had a strong, silent presence. He didn't have to be the most boisterous to get attention. But when he smiled (that classic smirk everyone mentions), you could see how it drew everyone in, and when he said something, they all listened (and laughed, loudly).

When I heard the awful news in March, I felt crushed. I actually came home to be with my brother, who was devastated. I will never forget how lost he (and his friends) looked that weekend. I cannot even imagine what your family went (and continues to go) through. As an older sister, I felt utter shock, grief, and disbelief for your other children especially. Through these past months, your blog has helped us all deal with this tragedy. I hope this random little story helps add another facet to Josh's life for you. He won me over when he didn't scoff at the story of the first Josh Anderson in my life, and I will never forget him.

Please give your daughter my congrats for her graduation from the Comm School. My thoughts and prayers are still with your family. Thank you for all that you have provided through your blog - it means a lot to a great deal of people.

Yours,

Alexa

My "Grief Journey" - Why, Josh, Why?

Consider this - everyone’s life is a journey, a linear road in which things happen, events occur and memories are made. There are forks in the road when decisions like moving, going to a new school, taking a new job, getting married, or having kids changes the landscape and makes the journey new, exciting and sometimes scary. At other times, unexpected obstacles make the road difficult and challenging but hopefully not insurmountable.

Our son, Josh was on such a road – a pretty typical teenage boy’s life as one can see by reading the posts on this blog. Granted, in the past year his journey was more challenging due to the changing of schools and just prior to his death, the probable expulsion from Fairfax County Public Schools. Difficult? Yes. Worth ending his life over? No, nor did he ever give any indication that he felt like it was.

But for some reason, still unknown to us and anyone else who has known our boy in his short life, he faced something he could not overcome nor could he share. Had he told either Tim or I, we would've done anything to help him. So whether this obstacle was like a Mount Everest that he could not climb, go around or pass through; or a deep chasm that he found himself unable to climb out of, he decided to end his journey. I don’t understand it and in my journal, I am writing the same three words over and over: “Why, Josh Why?”

To say his action has changed my life is an understatement. It has changed me - permanently. Prior to March 18, 2009, my own journey was pretty “normal”. Childhood, adolescence, college, marriage and over time, the normal chaos of juggling work and raising four kids with two dogs. Post Josh’s death, it's as if I have woken up from a horrible nightmare and am now on this somewhat familiar road minus a part of my heart - without any idea of what just happened and why. Why me? Why us? Why our son? Why, Josh, why?

I don’t want to be on this "grief journey" as it is not part of life’s natural order – a parent is not supposed to bury a child. It should be the other way around. I don’t like this journey as I am not prepared and am here against my will. Plus, it is so emotional - draining my energy and making the simple things more taxing. Why, Josh, why?

As a kid, the passing of our pet dogs was sad but did not put me on this journey. Nor did the deaths of my maternal grandparents (I never knew the grandparents on my father’s side). So at 48 years old, this is new. I feel for my own kids and Josh’s close friends who find themselves on this road at such a young age.

Regardless of my feelings or unanswered questions, here I am. Unexpected things have occurred, such as this blog. The writing has helped me and as I have been told, it has also helped many others. Of this, I am grateful.

These days, the bookstore is a magical place for me. At home, I frequent the large chains like Borders or Barnes and Noble. On our vacation in New England, however, I found locally owned bookstores similar to the one that Meg Ryan’s character operated in the movie “You’ve Got Mail”. With hardwood floors, tall wooden bookcases overflowing with books, comfy seats in various nooks where one can sit undisturbed for hours and friendly, knowledgeable employees whose love for books is unmistakable - a book lovers dream.

I have always been a reader, as mentioned in a Book Review post, but why this almost insatiable desire to read, read and read? I don’t know except that it is an important part of my journey.

A couple of days ago, as I was browsing through a bookstore in Vermont, this title intrigued me: Writing through the Darkness, Easing Your Depression with Paper and Pen by Elizabeth Schaefer. The author, who suffers from bipolar disorder, uses writing to successfully help her cope with her illness. She has also formed a writing group for others and the book is a result of what she has taught and learned.

Though I do not relate to her daily struggles, I do feel as though life is now dark and grey. After reading a few sentences shared below, I not only bought the book, read it in within a couple of days but also ordered seven more books based on the bibliography and resources listed in the back. This book is a gem.

This book and its approach to writing and healing are designed specifically for people coping with situational depression due to a difficult life event, or with major depression or the depressed phase of bipolar disorder (pg. 18).

Writing can help you overcome the trauma of a situational depression more quickly and assist you in finding perspective on how this event fits into your whole life (24).

Writing will help you discover your feelings, too. It can help you acknowledge the hell you may have gone through, validate how it may still pain you, and digest those feelings to bring you into a new place and perspective (52).

As I had read through the book - with all of my customary underlining, notes in the margins and dog-eared pages - I think, "Aha! This is why the blog is so important to me. And why I always feel better after writing a post, even though it is often difficult emotionally."

I never realized there were so many books on the topic of "writing to heal" or on "journaling". Here are some that I am eagerly awaiting.

• With Pen in Hand: The Healing Power of Writing by Henriette Klauser
• Writing as a Way of Healing by Louise DeSalvo
• Writing to Heal: A Guided Journal for Recovering from Trauma & Emotional Upheaval by James Pennebaker
• Writing to Heal the Soul: Transforming Grief and Loss Through Writing by Susan Zimmerman
• Journal to Self: Twenty-Two Paths to Personal Growth by Kathleen Adams

My "to read" stack is tall. The grief journey has led me to books written by survivors of suicide, books about why people commit suicide (I have not been able to read these yet), fictional books on the topic of suicide/grief and now, these books on writing/journaling to heal.

I read to learn and if helpful, I plan to share this on the blog. I also realize that I am reading to become a better writer. This is one of the most surprising things on my journey as I have never liked writing, nor would I ever consider myself a writer, but here I am, and it is helping. Who would ever have guessed?

I think that writing has helped some of you as I hear there are still friends posting on Josh's facebook wall. Many of you have written a letter to Josh in my book while in our home or at the funeral service. I cherish what was poured out from your hearts. Since then, maybe you have written a poem or a song or a story. If so, would you share it with Tim and I? We would love to read it.

Writing has been healing. This blog has been healing. Thanks again for the love, support, thoughts and prayers from all of you - it means the world to us.

God Bless
jandermom@gmail.com

First Summer Vacation - Without Josh

In the books that I have been reading, the authors have all commented on how the first of everything will be difficult: holidays, vacations, birthdays, special events, etc. I am seeing that these affect us in different ways.

Since Josh's death, our extended family has gotten together a couple of times - to celebrate Lauren's college graduation and for a birthday weekend. These have been the hardest on Gillian as Josh was her "hang-out" buddy. When they got bored, they found ways to entertain each other. For me, Mother's Day was endured. In fact, I would rather have skipped the whole thing - not only this year but for several years. I don't think it is possible to ever have a "normal" Mother's Day again.

So now we are on our summer vacation. It is good to be with family and this year, we are all making extra efforts to be together. But at every turn, we are reminded of Josh. We went out to a nice dinner while visiting with Tim's family on Cape Cod. All the cousins ate at one table and wouldn't you know, there was an empty seat - just for Josh. When I saw this, and even as I remember now, the tears flow. In his book, "Lament For a Son", Nicholas Wolterstorff wrote what I feel.

When we gather now there's always someone missing, his absence as present as our presence, his silence as loud as our speech. Still four children, but one always gone. When we're all together, we're not all together.

The picture are the top of this blog was taken at the Cape by Gillian last summer - so signature Josh. Chilling outside with his shades and listening to music. Who would've ever known that it would be his last visit?

We are now with my family in Vermont. Reminders are here too. While out to dinner, ribs were on the menu. We all knew what Josh's would've ordered. There is a snow making pond nearby which is a good place for people and dogs to cool off. Tyler and Emily both thought that Josh would've loved swimming with Biggie and Huck.

We are watching movies. Last night was Juno. I cry easily at movies anyway but now, any scene that reminds me of Josh will do it. When Juno sees the ultrasound of the baby, it reminded me of Josh's baby book that I recently found which had the ultrasound polaroids of him. Or when she gives birth and sees her baby for the first time, I remembered the cold January day our precious baby boy was born. The shower is a good place to cry without alarming or disturbing anyone else.

I can picture him in both of these places. Sleeping here, chilling there - not saying much, but just being with us. How could he be gone? Why did he go? I just can't seem to move past these two unanswerable questions.

This grief that I feel resembles an ocean where I am the shore and the water is the grief. Most of the time, the water is calm, slowly coming over the shore and slowly moving out. In and out, just like the grief. Always there but not always covering me.

Other times, the waves are high and crash against the shore. The tide is powerful and there is a strong undercurrent. Swimming is at your own risk. At these times, the grief is overwhelming, crashing against my heart, mind and soul. Luckily for me, this does not happen but maybe once a week for if it were more often, I don't know if I could survive. Maybe this is why the risk of suicide is higher in families when a loved one has died in this way.

What does help is this blog. Thanks to all who are part of this special community - you have been a lifesaver to me and my family.

God Bless.

A Post Dedicated to Josh's Friends

Josh’s friends have shown such love, kindness, generosity, openness, warmth and affection to Tim and I since the passing of our beloved son, I just had to dedicate a post to them. Their acts of kindness over the past four months have done much to ease our constant pain and anguish since that fateful day.

I have to admit, I did not think so highly of teenagers prior to all of this. Having gone through the “teen years” with our three older kids and in the midst of it with Josh, my descriptions would’ve been more like the following: self-absorbed, cocky and arrogant, argumentative, non-compliant, sullen, unopen, only want to be with friends, ungrateful for family, etc. etc. While these descriptions may have been true in part with our son, I am seeing that he was a completely different person with his friends. I now feel blessed to have been witness to and recipient of another side of these young people and have learned much from them.

As I have mentioned in a previous post, these kids have networking skills that far exceed anything I have. Through Facebook and text messaging, it was incredible how quickly the student body at both high schools found out about Josh’s death which happened on a Wednesday morning. By that afternoon, the first group of kids arrived with bouquets of flowers as offerings of sympathy. Josh's best friend lives in Georgia. As soon as he heard the news, he and his family jumped in the car and were at our home the next day, after driving through the night. During the following two days a steady stream of kids came to pay their respects and the first couple of lessons were learned.

The "out-of-sight, out-of-mind" way that I can view relationships is not the way of these kids. Even though Josh had not been part of the Langley high school student body for a year, it was as if he had never left. The number of these friends that came over was staggering. There were some close friends that were so affected, they did not go to school for the rest of the week. Others were very upset when the school administration did not have a moment of silence the next day for Josh. They organized a "black out” and made sure photos were taken of everyone who participated. Apparently there were so many kids that they had to take two pictures in the school gym.

The outpouring of love and support from the South Lakes high school students was equally overwhelming. Josh had been there less than one year and yet these kids treated him as if he had been there from the start. The lesson here is that it does not need to take me a long time to develop friendships that go beyond the superficial.

Two days later, on Friday, there was ”a black out” at this school, with hand-painted shirts reflecting his nickname, "Jushua" and football number, 33. The varsity lacrosse players dedicated the game to him that night by playing a man down on defense for the first play and by putting his initials "JA" on their helmuts and some on their faces. I remember the captain of the team sitting in our living room, telling us of the plan and Tim and I were touched and amazed.

One fellow football and lacrosse teammate will forever remember our son as he got a tattoo on his calf with Josh's name and date of death. This along with two other tattoos can be seen in the "Original Art" section on the right side of the blog. Josh's best friend mentioned above got the large one on his back and the small JLA was received by Josh's sister.

We heard that one baseball player at South Lakes decided to change his jersey to number 33, despite being badly stained - he didn't care because it was Josh's number.

We received a packet of beautiful cards made by fellow students in Josh's business management class along with this letter from their teacher: "The first day back after this tragedy, there were several reactions in my class. A few students, especially those that knew Josh well, stayed home from school. Others were just in a daze. I wanted to take their lead as to what we did in class...no one was really focused. I told them that they could write a letter to your family if they wanted to and that I would mail it to you. Some, as difficult as it was, courageously wrote a card."

The graphics, words and pictures were thoughtful and beautiful. For example, one card said, "When you lose a loved one, you gain an angel whose name you know". I don't know these kids and I don't know how well they knew our son, but it was very touching to have received their condolences in this way.

As early as the next morning after Josh's death, when we were planning the funeral service, it became clear to us that many students from both high schools were going to come and pay their last respects. Thanks to the wonderful work by the funeral home director, we were able to secure a large church that seated 1,500 people. On the day of the service, the numbers of kids that came far exceeded our expectations. It is a true testament to their desire to come and support the memorial service of their friend. As far as I could see and from what we heard from others who attended the service, there was not an empty seat anywhere.

The funeral director also told us that he would need a number of pictures by 8am the next morning. These photos would be part of a printed tri-fold” and slideshow for the service. Also a photo would need to be designated as the primary one - to be used for the large portrait. We had many pictures of Josh's younger years and thanks to my friend who gave us photos taken during a recent trip to Maine, we had great pictures of when he was older. What were were missing were pictures of his football season, one of which we hoped could be the main photo. By Thursday night, we had them all - thanks to Josh's girlfriend's best friend, who was on the South Lakes yearbook committee. These girls went back after school, accessed the yearbook computer and found pictures that we could use, including the one on the front of the tri-fold and on the side of the blog.

On the day of the service, other surprising gifts were received as well. We heard of a football that was brought and signed by his Langley teammates for the expressed purpose of being placed in the casket with Josh.

I had mentioned the day before to a group of kids that were in our home that I did not have many pictures of Josh in high school. Lo and behold, on the day of the service, three girls from Langley HS came to me with a CD of photos that had been taken during an art class in Josh's sophomore year.

Another young lady came with a pencil drawing that she had done of Josh. This really blew us away as it must have taken her hours to make. You can see this and many of the other items created in Josh's memory by his friends in the "Original Art" section on the right side of the blog.

Facebook - I know of at least three groups that have been created in Josh's memory. It was this next story that really gave me the idea of creating a blog. I heard from the kids that many were posting on Josh's facebook wall right after hearing about his passing. I said something like, "Wow, I wish I could see those" and the next day, one young lady came over with a print out of all of the postings complete with cover page (picture of Josh) and dedication written by herself - all in a presentation binder. To say that I was moved would be an understatement as she must have stayed up most of the night to get this done. Since I am not a Facebook user, at least not yet, I wanted to have a way to keep up with Josh's friends - thus this blog.

It has become what I had hoped. A quick scroll through the posts will show that much of the content has come from Josh's friends, either directly or indirectly.

The idea of have a fundraiser for Josh's memorial fund at the Buffalo Wings Factory came from a South Lakes football teammate who was working there at the time.

Just two days after his death, this slideshow was created by one of his friends to "help his memory live on".

In a singing competition less than two weeks afterwards, we heard that the songs were performed in dedication to Josh.

Other pictures of Josh and friends on the bus and hanging out at the Apple store were supplied - giving us a picture of another side of our son.

An original poem showed me that these kids are grieving his loss, just as we are.

One of the sweetest things was received just one week later. In the original picture at the top of the blog, Josh's arm had a small bruise on it. Someone who actually did not know Josh very well, retouched the photo to remove the bruise and emailed it back. This was placed on the blog immediately - I will never forget that small act of kindness.

When the girl's lacrosse teams from the two schools met for the first time after his passing, hair ribbons for both teams with Josh's initials were made by the Langley girls and given out. Our hearts were moved when we heard this story and received the photos.

On the Mother’s Day post I had shared how a couple of Josh's teammates had come over for a BBQ lunch and talk. Since then we have had several others visit with us and a couple of them have gone to Josh's grave site with me. I have also received fairly lengthy emails from friends at both schools. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to be in touch with Josh's friends either by visit, via email or posts on the blog. For some reason, it matters very much to me that Josh is not forgotten. Their stories and memories of Josh are ones that I cherish and are giving us a picture of our son that we would not know of otherwise. They are asking me very good questions, are willing to answer mine and I am finding it helpful as they share their own perspective of Josh's death and how they are handling it.

Our family has been thrust on this journey of grief, not by our own choice but by that of our son. Why we got here will never be understood, but one day will need to be accepted. I am finding solace that we are not alone in this journey as evidenced by this post.

To all of Josh's friends who continue to think of him and our family, our heartfelt thanks.

God Bless

4 Months Later - July 18, 2009

I begin this post with two distinct thoughts that are related; the first, I can't believe that it has been four months since our beloved son has passed away and second, I am having a hard believing that Josh is really gone. My head know what our reality is now, but my heart is having a very hard time accepting it.

One would think that I should have moved on from the "denial" stage of the grieving process with the many reminders that happen, even on a daily basis. Within the past week, we've received several sympathy cards, letting us know that we are still in our friend's thoughts and prayers. Another day brought a package with a book on grieving from a thoughtful friend who lost her young son a few years ago.

It hits me when I come across items that have dates just prior to the fateful day of March 18th. An example would be finding a work-related email that I sent on March 17th. My first thought is, "Wow, when I sent this email, Josh was still alive and I had no idea that it would be my last day with him." My second thought is, "How can this be?" with tears.

I teach several indoor cycle classes at two gyms and in order to keep my music straight, I have a notecard for each playlist with the date/place of the class so that I don't inadvertently use the same songs in a short time period. I have come across one such card that references Sunday, March 15th and Monday, March 16th. I know that those two days, I played that play list in separate classes, completely oblivious to the fact that my world would be changed forever by Wednesday morning. And I think, "Is this really me?"

When I am out running errands at the grocery story, or the mall and see a group of boys, roughly Josh's age (17 - 18 yrs old), my breath catches, my throat constricts and tears come to my eyes as I understand that it is no use looking for his face in the crowd since he will absent from such groups forever.

I am being brutally honest with this next example, so please forgive me. When in NYC last month, riding the train, I saw a boy whose age was probably seventeen or eighteen sitting across the aisle. It was clear that he was emotionally and intellectually challenged and in an instant, I saw his life. If he went to a public high school where looks, talent, academic or athletic ability is paramount, this kid probably did not have many friends. Maybe he was ridiculed and/or bullied. At the very least, he might live so far in the background that he didn't register on most kid's social radar screen. Did he ever experience the heady feeling of a young girl's attention? I doubt it. Was he invited to parties and other social gatherings? Probably not. Did he have a loving and accepting family - I sincerely hoped so.

Sitting on the train, thinking about this kid and our son, and as I type my recollections now, my brow furrows in complete incomprehension. I don't how our son who had the looks, the girlfriend, the popularity, the intelligence, and the natural athletic ability could end his life when this kid, who on the surface had none of those things, was still alive.

This kid did not find his life so unbearable that he would end it himself. He still had some reasons to live - perhaps many reasons. Whatever obstacles were in his way, he was moving through them, or living through them. He was not experiencing such excruciating mental anguish that he would cross over to that place in the mind which would allow self-murder.

All of these thoughts running through my mind then/now and I end up at the same place - this is so unfair. Not that I wish circumstances to be reversed where his mother was the one grieving, and not me....it is more like if this kid could still be alive, why couldn't our Josh find a way to live too? He seemingly had so much more - why wasn't it enough? It is still so incomprehensible to me and therefore unbelievable.

We went to the fundraiser at the Buffalo Wings Factory for lunch and ate with two of Josh's friends. They both have been so good about keeping in touch with us; in fact, one of them had come over last week with another friend, just to hang out and talk. Apparently on the way home, these two boys talked about how sad and depressing it was for weeks after his death. Now, however, when they think about Josh, it is the happy memories that occupy their thoughts. I am glad it is this way for them and hopefully for all of Josh's other friends, but I cannot relate.

I think I will get there too but it is not that way for me now. Still, when I think of his death, I am overcome with sorrow, pain and anguish. It is still so hard for me and the tears can flow easily and freely - at any time, day or night, when I am by myself or with others.

One of the most difficult pictures to look at - of the many that are around our house now - is the one taken a few days before Christmas, the one sent out with our annual letter. I can remember that day so clearly. We have a tradition of wearing shirts of the school of choice for our newest college attendee. Gillian had decided to attend the University of Virginia so we were all wearing our UVA gear. It took a while to figure out what everyone was wearing and of course, there were issues with Josh's shirt. It was either too small or the wrong color and he had to wear another one. It was a chilly day and we were all outside waiting for him to come. Finally he did, we took a great picture and that was that.



Now I look at this picture on my fridge and think, "who would've thought at the time, that we only had another two months and three weeks with him." And once again, I can't believe it.

Yet, I have only to look at his empty room, or vacant place at the dinner table, or now, the new license plates on our cars to know that it is true - our beloved Josh is no longer here.




Please continue to keep the Anderson family in your thoughts and prayers.
God Bless.

Pictures of Joshua: Birth to 4 Years Old

As mentioned in a previous post, I have begun the formidable task of scanning all of my negatives into our computer. Had I known from the outset just what kind of project this was, I might have been discouraged from even starting. Just in case there are others who having been meaning to digitize their photos, I though it might be helpful to outline what we have done. Certainly, if there is a better way, please feel free to share.

First of all, at least for me, nothing is ever easy if it has to do with technology. I am using a Mac mini purchased about 2 1/2 years ago, which in Mac years is a long time. So much so, we had to first load a more recent operating system to be able to handle the upgraded iPhoto software which I wanted to use. So with the help of Gillian and her friend, this was accomplished. The only other thing, so I thought, was to find a good scanner that would do the job. This did not turn out to be that hard to do via some research on the Internet and the cost was actually pretty reasonable.

It seemed like everything was falling into place, until it was discovered that the Mac had only 60 GB of total storage space so by the time we were finished with the steps above, there was only 3 GB left, which was not going to be enough space for all of the photos that would be scanned. So after many conversations with our oldest son, off I went to Best Buy to purchase an external hard drive that would house all the new photos. The choice was a bit overwhelming but in the end, I picked one that had 500 GB of storage space and is about the size of my hand - amazing.

Finally, after many hours one weekend, I was all set up. And amazingly enough, it was pretty easy to use, albeit time consuming as each negative takes about a minute to scan and the film holder, for lack of better word, can hold 12 negatives at a time. It's times like these that being a multi-tasker comes in handy as I am finding ways to get other things done while scanning.

At this point, it feels like an accomplishment to say that I have scanned in five years so far, beginning with the year that Josh was born. I am finding this exercise helpful to me as I am reminded of the time when he came into our lives - a surprise baby - and the way he completed our family.

Oh, how I wish he were still here with us.



Josh, we love and miss you so much.

17 Book Reviews - updated October 17, 2009

As mentioned in other posts, I've been doing some reading to help me cope with Josh's sudden death (still so hard to type these words). I must confess that my memory is not that great - and Josh would've been the first to say so. Therefore, in an effort to help me remember what I've read as well as when I've read it, I've decided to keep a reading list and book review on the blog. I plan to update it as books are read or re-read.

The books that I am reading first have one thing in common - they are all written by SOS or "survivors of suicide". This term certainly applies to family members, but I would say that anyone who has known and loved Josh as a friend could also relate to the feelings that are described in these books.

It is heart-breaking to read about their loved one's suicide and the subsequent painful journey of grief and survival, while knowing that I have my own such road to travel. In the book that I am currently reading, "Grieving A Suicide: A Loved One's Search for Comfort, Answers and Hope", Albert Hsu describes what it is like to be part of this group. His father committed suicide nine months after his wedding.

Suicide bisects your life with a thick dark line. Everything is divided into "before" and "after". Against our will, those of us who have experienced the suicide of a loved one have become part of a unique grieving community. Our particular kind of grief is incomprehensible to many, since death by suicide is radically different from death by car accident, heart attack or old age. It is a society that no one wants to be a part of, one that we wish we had not been initiated into (page 20).

I have a habit of reading with a pen and when there is something that really hits home or I need to ponder further, I underline and/or write in the margins. Most of the books below have writing in many of the pages as I can relate to almost everything that is read - the initial feelings of shock, disbelief, and numbness. Followed by the unending quest to understand why - coupled by the sorrow and despair, guilt, regret, and feelings of being a failure as a parent.

Each author has put pen to paper in hopes of helping others. It is a brave thing to do as they've had to re-live the nightmare in order to accurately describe what occured. Just as it has been more difficult for me to go to Josh's grave site these days as it is a stark reminder of our horrible reality, so it is sometime difficult to write on this blog. It forces me to think about how I am feeling, which has the affect of making the dull, background pain come to the forefront and become acute, raw and overwhelming. Many tissues are used with each post.

Although difficult, I have to believe that facing the pain and sorrow is better for me than to bury it or not let myself feel it. I have also heard that what I am writing is helping others - this encourages me to continue........

No Time To Say Goodbye: Surviving The Suicide of a Loved One by Carla Fine

The first book that I read which was within the first 2-3 weeks after Josh's death. My emotions were extremely raw, but I found this book to be exactly what I needed. I was the one who found our son, so her detailed description of what she found with her husband did not shock me, nor did the details of survivor stories that were gathered from her interviews. These accounts might be too much for others - so beware. I skimmed through it again recently and writing some notes in my journal. This is definitely one that I will re-read as I journey through my own grief.

My Son....My Son: A Guide To Healing After Death, Loss or Suicide by Iris Bolton

Second book read after Josh's death - also within the first three weeks. I read this in one night - lots of pages earmarked and many sentences underlined. I have gone back, almost 4 months later and journaled through the book. These survivor books will have to be re-read as time passes. These authors are speaking and writing after they have come through on the other side of the grieving process, whereas I feel as though I've just begun.


Take The Dimness Of My Soul Away: Healing After a Loved One's Suicide by William Ritter

Third book read - These are 5 sermons given over a period of 5 years from a minster who lost his son to suicide. I will need to re-read as time passes. What he says after 1 year is not something I can relate to very well right now.

When Suicide Comes Home: A Father's Diary and Comments by Paul Cox (no book photo)

Fourth book that I have read after Josh's death. I could relate to almost every feeling this father had as he journaled his way through the tragedy of his son's death, who was in his early 20's. From the book, the father had a very close relationship with his son; they had common interests and seemed to spend a lot of quality time together. His son had admitted having suicidal thoughts at the time of his high school graduation and as his father's request, saw a counselor for a year. He seemed better so he visits stopped. I will keep this book on hand as I go through my journey.

Grieving The Unexpected: The Suicide of a Son by Dr. Gary LeBlanc

Fifth book read about 3 months after Josh's death. I could relate to the father/author in several ways. He is the one who found his son and they had absolutely no idea that his son was contemplating suicide. This book was written three-and-a-half years after his son's death and after going over everything in his mind in the months/days prior to his son's death, the author could still come up with nothing. No signs, no warnings. This is one of the hardest things to deal with. As a result, the author's feelings, questions, heartache, grief and pain are what I can relate to the most. As opposed to the other books (Bolton, Fine and Cox) that were written on the other side of the grieving process, this author appeared to still be wrestling with his son's death. This is not surprising as three-and-a-half years is not a long time. This book is also written from the view of how his faith has been challenged and strengthened through this time which has been helpful to read.

The Pact by Jodi Picoult

My first Jodi Picoult book read, although I've seen her books everywhere - even more so, with the release of the movie "My Sister's Keeper", based on one of her books. The reason I picked this up was because of the subject matter - teenage suicide pact. With the unexpected and sudden death of our 17 year old son by suicide, a little over three months ago, I am obsessed with trying to understand why, although intellectually I know the answer is unobtainable. Although being fiction, the characters give a realistic view of where the mind of teenagers can go. A few pages give a glimpse of how a teen could get the point of completing suicide.

"She was well and neatly trapped, with only one small and hidden exit, so dark and buried that most people never even considered breaching its hatch.....there were really no options at all" (pg 206). "I don't want to be here....I don't want to be" (pg.274). "She didn't feel frightened. Now that she'd found a way out, even the thought of dying didn't scare her. She just wanted to end it before other people she loved were hurt as badly as she was" (pg. 325). "In that moment, with the night shrinking around them.....there was no alternative" (pg. 372).

In our case, how does a well-liked, athletic, smart young man take his own life? I think this question may haunt me for the rest of my life. The book offers some possibilities that I will have to ponder.

Grieving a Suicide: A Loved One's Search for Comfort, Answers & Hope by Albert Hsu

Sixth book read after our son's suicide - over four months ago. So many thoughts, feelings, struggles, questions that were shared by the author resonated with me. Due to all of the marks in the book, I have a feeling it will take a while to journal through this one. This author writes from a Christian perspective - which was very helpful.

Writing through the Darkness: Easing Your Depression with Paper and Pen by Elizabeth Schaefer.

Just "happened" to pick this up in a small bookstore in Vermont. What a gem. Especially the bibliography and resource list in the back. I read this in two days and ordered another 7 books. While I do not have the daily struggles of the author, I do feel like life is dark and grey since Josh has left us. So it has helped.



Lament For A Son by Nicholas Wolterstorff

Written by a father grieving the loss of his twenty-five year old son from a mountain climbing accident. He writes what I feel and has been quoted in my recent posts. The last third of his book chronicles the struggle in reconciling his son's death with his faith. I have made a note to read this section when ready to ask myself the same questions. Would highly recommend.





Those They Left Behind: Interviews, Stories, Essays and Poems by Survivors of Suicide. By Karen Mueller Bryson, Ph. D.

The interviews with survivors of suicide are divided by the relationship with the victim: parents, children, siblings, extended family and friends. Reading the book is like being at a support group where each person shares their story of loss. My focus was on the ten parents who courageously bared their hearts and soul. I could relate to many if not all of their feelings. It helps to know that we are not alone.

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
I read this book a while ago and remember thinking, "interesting story." Re-reading after our son's death - wow, totally different experience. I found myself thinking and wondering what heaven or the afterlife is like for our boy....can he see us? Know what we are doing/feeling? Can he see how much he was loved - by so many? Made me want to read Sebold's memoir, Lucky, which I did in one night. Powerful memoir. Would highly recommend both books.



Aftershock: Help, Hope and Healing in the Wake of Suicide by David Cox and Candy Arrington
Read this short book in one night. Author's father committed suicide when he was only nine years old. He compares suicide with an earthquake through out the book and I agree. A very personal account of a boy's nearly successful suicide when he was a junior in high school, written in his words was most helpful to me. Up until this point, I had not read anything that gave a glimpse of where the mind of a teenage boy could go in attempting suicide. It gave me a lot to think about.

Surviving Suicide: Help to Heal Your Heart, Life Stories from Those Left Behind by Heather Hays.
A compilation of stories from survivors - broken down by relation to the loved one. So sad as some of them wrote more than one as several of their loved ones took their lives. Personally, I do not think I could survive another suicide in my family. The format is very personal - an introduction to the victim and circumstances around the suicide and then a letter to the loved one. I read the stories from the parents who lost a child and could relate to almost everything. Again, like being in a su...more A compilation of stories from survivors - broken down by relation to the loved one. So sad as some of them had to write more than one since several of their loved ones took their lives. Personally, I do not think I could survive another suicide in my family. The format is very personal - an introduction to the victim and circumstances around the suicide and then a letter to their loved one. I read the stories from the parents who lost a child and could relate to almost every thought and feeling. Again, like being in a support group without having to attend.

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
Excellent book. I saw the movie first, otherwise I would have probably been quite confused while reading. Since Josh has passed away, I read everything from a different perspective and this book was no exception. We say that "hindsight is 20/20", meaning that if we knew what would happen, we would do things differently. But this story makes me wonder if that is really true? Even if I did know that Josh was going to take his life a little over 6 months ago, could I have changed events to prevent what happened? I used to think so which caused a tremendous amount of angst and guilt. Now, I really do wonder.

Paula by Isabel Allende
A well-written memoir by an author I have not read before. Her young married daughter, Paula, contracts a disease that puts her first into a coma, then a vegetative state, and ultimately results in her death. Isabel spends a whole year completely devoted to her daughter's care, hoping that she will recover. During this heart-wrenching time, she deals with her pain and sorrow by writing - about how she feels, about their family history - like a letter to her daughter. A very poignant memoir written by a grieving mother.

Dying To Be Free: A Healing Guide for Families after a Suicide by Beverly Cobain and Jean Larch
A short book, but very powerful. Statistics on prevalence of suicide and yet the difficulty in predicting and preventing. Formula for suicide: "psychache" + thought of death as an escape. I found the chapter called "The Fatal Journey" especially helpful in my attempt to understand why Josh made his decision seven months ago. A couple of chapters are devoted to the grieving process of survivors and some helpful thoughts on how to cope. A chapter called "Staying Alive" is relevant for those who know someone who is suicidal or struggles with suicide. The last chapter recounts stories of the connection between survivor and loved one who died.

Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg
I really, really liked this book. Her metaphors and stories are very encouraging to just take pen to paper and write, write, write. She espouses writing practice as a way to learn how to write from the depths of one's soul, to become centered - forgetting all the "rules" of writing, such as punctuation and spelling. Basically, let it all hang out. Very motivating. I am eager to read other books by her.

Coping - 14 1/2 weeks later

It is difficult to know how to begin this post. I still have a hard time believing that Josh is gone - never to return. I keep hoping that it was a terrible mistake and that one morning, he will walk down the stairs as if nothing had ever happened.

Many things remind me of him - such as sitting by the pool on a nice sunny day and picturing him with trademark sunglasses, laying on a float and just "chilling" as only Josh could do. Or as probably most families do, we enjoy barbecuing in the summer. For Father's Day, we grilled steaks and sausage and I couldn't help but recall how Josh loved a huge, thick steak - cooked medium rare.

We are big Red Sox fans as Tim grew up in Boston and we actually met while in college at Boston University. We always make it a point to attend a Red Sox game when they are playing the Orioles at Camden Yards or "Fenway South", as we like to call it. Last week, we were fortunate to get tickets through one of Gillian's college friends, to see the Red Sox play the Nationals. This was our first trip to the Nat's new ball park. I know that Josh would've enjoyed being at the game, sitting next to Gillian, cracking jokes and making her laugh.

Other memories are triggered unexpectedly - most recently by things that I have found. When this happens, I find it hard to breathe and it is like a spigot goes off and tears stream uncontrollably down my face.

For example, I was clearing a flashdrive the other day and found a Word document for school that Josh had saved. It was basically a note to his English teacher regarding some feedback she had given to him on an essay. It made me cry because I could actually hear him speaking the words - as he was trying to explain himself.

There were some comments that I can't argue about, like that I needed more analysis or that I needed to better explain the significance of a quote, or something like that. I thought the first quarter was alright, there was some room for improvement. I look forward to get better grades in the second quarter and we'll see if I can. Things might be a little bit easier because football season is basically over. That's my goal for the second quarter. Josh Anderson

Most homes have some space that is dedicated to storage. In our case, it is a large crawl space located in our basement, which over the years, had become filled with unused items - most of which I could not remember. This space is located directly under our laundry room and unfortunately one night, when the water from our washing machine did not automatically shut off, not only did that room get flooded, but water flooded the crawl space. For four hours, with the help of our two girls, my brother and sister-in-law (who arrived just in time to help!), we emptied the entire space.

Over the past few weeks, we've needed to sort between what to keep and throw out. As a result, I found boxes of memorabilia and various pieces of art work that had been done by the kids. When I came across Josh's baby book and scrap book, I wish I could explain the emotions that overcame me. Suffice it to say that I could only take a cursory look through my tears and put it in a fresh box to review later. Some photos of what I found.....

A page from Josh's baby book.
I had forgotten that he was a big baby, 8 lbs and 11 oz. and was born at 3:45 am. This book also contains the ultrasound pictures as well as a picture and a locket of hair from his first haircut.

Josh was a good artist - even at a young age.

Josh's picture of himself and his dad.

Self portrait with a note from his art teacher:

Joshua - I'm sorry that I have had your self-portrait for the whole year. I simply am amazed by your talent. I hope you don't mind that I trimmed and mounted your picture. You should keep it for as long as you can to remind you of your skill!

It has been over three months now and I feel the need to make sure that all memories of not only Josh, but our family are preserved. This is an overwhelming task as we have photos in various photo albums - many of them in those awful, sticky pages of another era - as well as in photo boxes. We took hundreds of pictures in the "pre-digital" age where the originals are stored as negatives.

I know that any kids who are reading this cannot even imagine the time when you did not have instantaneous access to your photos and had to wait until the film was developed. I recently asked my 19 year old how many pictures she had. The answer was over 3,000 in her iphoto library and even more saved in other files. In our day, that would've meant a lot of money in film and developing. Technology is amazing.

So with the collection of memorabilia uncovered, and the need to organize decades of photos, my dining area is no longer recognizable. I have known that this needed to be done for some time, but for some reason, there was never a pressing enough reason to tackle such a monumental task. Until the passing of our beloved son.


So for the next few months, or however long it takes, I will be spending my spare time going down memory lane - with a box of tissues close by.

God Bless

Happy Father's Day - June 21, 2009

This post is for Tim - who is a great husband and father. In their cards, our children expressed their love and appreciation for everything that he has done for them through the years. As with many other children in our area, our kids were very active throughout their school years; involved with soccer, basketball, football, lacrosse, and dance team.

We would often have to "divide and conquer" in order to watch all of their games on the weekends. Tim never minded - he loved going and watching them compete. Once the older kids were in high school, it became a bit more challenging as we had four kids in four different schools. Both Lauren and Tyler played basketball so I remember the nights when we would go to Lauren's JV game and then race to Tyler's varsity game - many times across the county.

Probably similar to other father and sons, Tim had a special bond with Josh through sports. He NEVER missed a football game and often chastised me for being a few minutes late, which to him was like a mortal sin; for me, it meant missing the opening kick-off and a few subsequent plays.

Successful high school sports depends on a lot of parent involvement. While I was content to sit in the stands and cheer Josh on, Tim was up above the press box, filming the game. This, apparently is very serious business, of which he was the most dependable game-filmer ever. No matter what the weather, he was up filming and providing some commentary such as, "first and ten", then "second and four", then "third and two", etc. etc. Sometimes, I would go up to watch the game with him, but would have to really censor myself as I can be quite loud and one can't have a mother's voice on the film that is given to the coach and watched by all the players the next day!

Gillian gave a special gift to her dad this Father's Day. I will end this post with a photo of her card and gift (a mug with a collage of pictures on it) as well as a slide show of some photos of Josh and his dad.

Poem by Josh's friend

Tim and I spent an unexpected afternoon this past weekend with two of Josh's really good friends. Independently, they each called me to see if they could come over to see how we were doing and to talk. It was so great to see them and reminisce together about our son and their friend.

It was clear to us that Josh's death impacted them deeply and still does. We are all grieving - individually and together.

They were able to give us continued insight into the difficult waters that teenagers must navigate these days. Not only are the academic pressures so great, especially for teens who live in the Northern Virginia area, but as we can all guess, the social pressures and temptations can be overwhelming as well. If this were not enough, stress within the family can take what is difficult and make it almost unbearable.

Was Josh feeling all of these things? I would say "yes". Getting into trouble at school for the second time meant facing probably expulsion and leaving another group of friends that he had just made. And although it was clear that we were willing to support and assist him, we were disappointed that he made decisions that brought him back to where we started in the first place when he had to leave Langely HS. I am beginning to think that all of this was just too much for him to bear and that he did not have the ability to cope, nor the motivation to reach out to call someone who could help him.

How I wish this weren't so because then, maybe he would've had the ability to see himself through that awful night, and have woken up to a new day with all of its possibilities.

A couple of days after our visit, I received this beautiful poem written by his friend. With her permission, I'd like to share it with all of you. God Bless.

You Are Near

By Hayley Savage

I can't believe this happened, I feel so dumb and blind,

Everyone's in pain Josh, all the people left behind.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, that's not how death's designed.

I wish you would have thought twice, I know you would have changed your mind.

Josh, I don’t know what to do now, this is way to much to bear,

Who do I go to when I need help? Now that you are not there.

It's real hard to move on Josh, I’m reminded everywhere

I'm so angry that you did this, for all of us it is not fair.

The future that you had, well I guess we’ll never know

You could have done so many things, its amazing how you’ve grown.

The pain you must have felt, I wish we could have known

We would have been beside you, so you didn’t feel alone.

I guess you’ll never understand all that talent gone to waste

All the tears and all the thoughts and struggles we must face.

Josh I really wish that you would fill something in the place

Of all of our broken hearts because there is an empty space.

I know if you could go back, you would probably undo

The thing that caused our hurt and pain, all we want is you.

As we look up in the sky and try to find a sign that you are here

I feel the wind and hear the trees and know that you are near.

June 12, 2009 - Weekday or Date?

This probably seems like an odd title for a post; I will try to explain. Josh decided to leave us on March 18th, which was the the third Wednesday of the month. So, when do we commemorate his death? For example, the third Wednesday in June is the 17th. But three months is on Thursday, June 18th.

This might seem like a trivial question for many, but for Tim and I, it means the difference between a somewhat "normal" day and one that is filled with memories, questions and almost unbearable pain. And for me, non-stop tears.

This question is not unique to us. I wrote in an earlier post that I had been doing a bit of reading to help me deal with this tragedy. One such book is called "When Suicide Comes Home - A Father's Diary and Comments". It is the journal entries that the author, Paul Cox, made after his son committed suicide, a couple of years following his high school graduation. He dedicated this book to his young son's memory and to the hope that it would offer help and assistance to others facing the same tragedy.

This is what Paul wrote two years after his son's death:

I thought I would have worked out when to commemorate it by now. I haven't. I don't know whether to mark it on the month and day, or mark it on the third Friday of November. Should I commemorate on November 20th, no matter the day of the week, or the third Friday no matter the actual date? It seems silly, but it is important to me.

As I compare his thoughts and feelings at certain days after his son's death with my own, I am finding that virtually everything is the same. This may be in part because this poor father was all alone in the house when he found his son. It was the same for me. I can relate so well to his struggle with the mental picture that "just keeps playing like a continuous film loop". And the complete and total feeling of blame, despite what everyone says.

We have posted on this blog a playlist of songs that were Josh's favorites, based on how frequently they were played. I have listened to these songs over and over because it felt like Josh was speaking through them. I should not have been surprised to read that the author also found songs, three of them, left on a CD in his son's CD player. The lyrics were sad as well, about "dying, being missed, and going to Heaven."

He journals about having days where he begins to feel good and then feels guilty for feeling good. For me, it is like being in a perpetually cloudy, overcast day in which at times, the sun breaks through. Perhaps for only a moment or for a few hours. But never for the entire day - at least for now. According to my reading, sometime in the future, when I have come to the "acceptance" stage of the grief process, it may be opposite. Maybe at that time, most days will be sunny with momentary times of cloud cover.

He also journals in the days immediately following his son's death, the need for a "sign" or some communication that he was okay. I can relate to everything that is written on various days: "my poor, sweet son, I long to know that you are okay." Or "I sure would like some communication from him, or God, letting me know he is okay". Or "I long to see him, if only for a few seconds in a dream" or "I could sure use a short visit from him."

Those who have read previous posts know that I was praying for such a sign as well. And received one - on Easter Sunday, witnessed by family and friends. I am thankful to have received this so early on, but confess that I have been praying for another sign that Josh is okay. Just another confirmation that he is at peace would make it a little easier to move forward with our lives.

I feel a bit greedy because I may have received another sign from Josh, based on the feedback of those whom I have told this story. For me, I am not sure so I will relay the story here. In a previous post, I shared that Tim and I went to Hilton Head for a nice getaway trip. During this time, I made it a daily habit to walk on the beach as there is something about being by the water that I find refreshing and relaxing.

One of the days happened to be the one month anniversary of Josh's death. I was on the beach listening to the CD of the memorial service, the first and only time since the funeral. After doing so, I sat for a while and wrote in my journal while listening to his playlist. Needing to stretch my legs, I got up and walked to the ocean. Lo and behold, about 40 yards in front of me was a lone dolphin. It was so surprising to me that at first, I thought the water was playing tricks on my eyes. But sure enough, after floating in front of me for a little while, the dolphin slowly moved to my right and further out to sea. Within five minutes or so, I could no longer see the distinctive fin moving up and down. I wish I had my camera with me to record these precious moments.

According to our hosts, there are a number of dolphins that are sighted off of these shores. However, is it more than coincidence that this one dolphin was there - the exact moment that I decided to walk towards the water? I wish I knew for sure. At the time, I did immediately think of Josh and will end this post with the lyrics of one of the more haunting of his songs that came to mind.

"Into The Ocean" by Blue October

I'm just a normal boy
That sank when I fell overboard
My ship would leave the country
But I'd rather swim ashore

Without a life vest I'd be stuck again
Wish I was much more masculine
Maybe then I could learn to swim
Like 'fourteen miles away'

Now floating up and down
I spin, colliding into sound
Like whales beneath me diving down
I'm sinking to the bottom of my
Everything that freaks me out
The lighthouse beam has just run out
I'm cold as cold as cold can be.....

(chorus)

I want to swim away but don't know how
Sometimes it feels like I'm falling in the ocean
Let the waves up, take me down
Let the hurricane set in motion, yeah
Let the rain of what I feel right now come down
Let the rain come down

Where is the coastguard?
I keep looking each direction
For a spotlight, give me something
I need something for protection
Maybe the flotsam junk will do just fine
the jetsam sunk, I'm left behind
I'm treading for my life, believe me
(How can I keep up this breathing?)

Not knowing how to think
I scream aloud, begin to sink
My legs and arms are broken down
With envy for the solid ground
I'm reaching for the life within me
How can one man stop his ending
I thought of just your face
Relaxed, and floated into space

(chorus)

Now waking to the sun
I calculate what I had done
Like jumping from the bow, yeah
Just to prove I knew how, yeah
It's midnight's late reminder of
The loss of her, the one I love
My will to quickly end it all
Set front row in my need to fall
Into the ocean, end it all
Into the ocean (goodbye) end it all (goodbye)

Josh - please let me know again that you are okay.

God Bless

June 3, 2009 - 11 weeks

I have always been a reader, in fact my favorite time of the day is at the very end, when all chores are finished and a good book is waiting on my end table. Some people watch TV before bed or drift off while listening to music. For me, no matter how tired I am, I must read something in order to fall asleep.

I learn by reading as well. Therefore, as one would expect, once the shock began to wear off, I began looking for books to read. Books that would help me understand how Josh could do this and books that could help my family and I survive.

The resources on the Internet are amazing. Through two web sites, the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention and the American Association of Suicidology, I have found lists of over 100 books that deal with this tragedy.

Many are books for survivors with titles such as "After Suicide Loss: Coping With Your Grief" or "Silent Grief: Living in the Wake Of Suicide". Other books are written for those who are trying to understand how someone could get to this point with titles like "The Suicidal Mind" or "Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide".

A few weeks ago, I went on-line and ordered 11 books. I have only read one so far. I find it hard to read during the early evening hours as there is always so much to do. So the only time I open up a book is before bed. As you can imagine, it is hard to read these types of books before sleeping.

Although, any type of book could be difficult, as I found out last night. I have been reading an engrossing tale of two women who became best friends in HS and have stayed close all through their adult years. Long story short, there is a major breach of trust, they don't talk for several years and one of them now has cancer and it is terminal.

As my kids can attest, I cry pretty easily - with all types of media. A book, a song, a touching article in the newspaper or magazine. In fact, my family were a bit embarrassed when I cried in the theatre during the Lion King. Tears have also appeared while watching TV - once such instance happened when Josh and I were watching something and a short preview came on for the movie, John Q. I started sniffling; he just looked at me, shook his head slightly and smirked. Shortly after we were married, Tim and I saw Terms of Endearment. To this day, he calls it Tears of Endearment because I cried for an hour after we came home. I don't know where this comes from as in general, I am not an overly emotional person. Maybe from my mother, as she cries easily while watching movies too.

This book made me cry, and cry and cry. Then I thought about Josh and couldn't stop. When someone is ill and is dying, at least their loved ones have some time to be with them before the end. With Josh, it was so sudden. One day, he was there and everything was "normal" and then he was gone. No good-bye, no last words, no nothing.

How could this have happened to us? Why? What could we have done? What didn't we do? Why did it have to end this way? Why didn't we know? What did we do wrong? These questions kept circling around and around in my head for quite a while. I know there are no answers but the questions still linger.

I have to confess that it is very difficult to go to his grave site now. The days are pretty busy and although I never forget what has happened, it is not always in the fore front of my mind. But when I go and see the cold, hard stone that has his full name, Joshua Lee Anderson and his date of birth, Jan. 16, 1992 and the date of his death, March 18, 2009 - the reality and all of its horrors and implications hits me anew. It is so sad to stand there and think of what he would be doing now if he were alive.

Sometime I take a walk around and look at the items that other families have put in trees that are near their loved ones. During one such walk, there was a "Happy 16th Birthday" balloon that was tied to a grave stone vase. Sure enough, when you look at the dates on the stone, this young person would've been 16 years old. Then I think of myself buying a "Happy 18th Birthday" balloon next January, coming to the cemetery and placing it on Josh's grave site. This image is almost more than I can bear, but it is now our reality. I honestly do not know how I will be able to cope when the time comes - only by the grace of God, the love and strength provided by our families and the thoughts and prayers of friends.

I will end this post with some pictures taken this weekend with family.

Josh's grandma fixing the mixture of fresh and silk flowers in his vase.

A new pink dogwood tree which was a Mother's Day gift and planted in memory of Josh,

Everyone in the family wearing our new "Josh" T-shirts.

Josh - you are always in our hearts. We love and miss you so much.

God Bless.