A Friday Night Out!

If I had to sum up how I have been these past few weeks....

I'm broken.

And I'm pissed about it.

I really thought that I was doing at least a decent job of functioning despite these feeling, you know, holding it together for the good of the family and all. Well, I have been fooling no one but myself. What's more, I have been getting pissy with Nicole when she calls me on it. Defensive, loud, belligerent and just ugly. Believe me. I wish that I wasn't having to own up to this fact. In fact as of Friday night, I was still getting upset with Nicole because of what I saw as her lack of understanding and acceptance of my grief and the processing of my grief.

I mean. how DARE she expect me to act as an adult though this, SHE of all people knows that I am lost without Greyson.

Yup!

Another great moment in the history of Bill Morris, wonderful husband and father! How selfless I am! How Noble!

Thinking about my behavior over the past couple of weeks makes me ill. I was totally sure that I was in the right and that Nicole was just being intolerant of my grief.

Friday night was a rarity. Nicole and I went out, just the two of us. What with the changes to my work schedule and my inability to get out of my own way, we haven't been connecting emotionally real well. About a month ago I had made a half-assed attempt to smooth things over by surprising Nicole with a band for her wedding set that I got for her on our 10 year anniversary. Well. The band didn't match and it didn't work. Nicole thanked me and asked me to return the ring so that we could get our money back.

I pouted, and didn't return the ring in time to get anything but a store credit back. Nicole asked me Friday morning to go with her to the store so that she could pick out a keepsake necklace for our trip to Buffalo next week. So after I finished work, off we went to San Antonio to the store and dinner.

While we drove, Nicole bravely again, tried to talk to me about how I have been acting. I was having none of it. Defensive to say the least! I could tell that she was getting exasperated with me when we still hadn't made any progress by the time that we arrived at the store.

While we were inside, I again saw how patient and understanding Nicole is. She insisted that I use the store credit to replace my old wedding band that I have had since our wedding day. She cited that it, being yellow gold didn't match her new Platinum ring in any way and that I therefore needed to have a new ring that would closer match hers. All of the emotional wrestling and sparing that we had done in the car, and she was spoiling me?! Shocked into meekness, I was quiet when we got back into the truck. Tears in her eyes, Nicole told me:

"Sweet, remember how hard Grey used to work to get your attention and give you attention? Even after he was really sick?

I do.

"You know, I believe that Greyson is still with us and trying to show us how much he loves us and misses us. But he can't get though your anger and your intense sadness. I don't believe that you can hear him or feel him when you are so sad and angry, Bill."

"Remember how happy you could make him just by talking to him or answering him? Have you thought about how upset he must be that he can't get you to hear him?"

I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach.

Have I been unable to dream about him or see his attempts to reach me because of my dwelling on my pain?

I haven't had a dream about him or with him in months. Nicole is always seeing little signs that he has sent her. But none for me. Is this because of me too?

Today I was driving right past the store while I was working. On a whim, I asked my client if we could stop to check if my new band was ready. It was.

As soon as I saw it and the simple, plain beauty of the ring, all of the thoughts and doubts that have been rattling in my brain quieted. I want to start anew. I want Grey to know that I love him and even though I miss him,

I will try to be okay. For him.

For Nicole.

For Luke.

For Seth.

For Riley.

For me.

Forgive me.

Yesterday Was A Really Bad Day!

I have worked the weekends every weekend for the past 11 years. It was a change that we made to my schedule after we discovered that Seth had PKU (Phenyketonuria) from his newborn screening. We decided that the chances of his diet restrictions being ignored by caregivers at a daycare were too great of a risk to take. So I kept the babies home with me during the week until they went to kindergarten. I had always wanted to keep them out of daycare anyways and Nicole being a teacher and off when the kids are, it was just the best for me as a nurse to work the weekends. Besides, there is never a shortage of weekend shifts. So that has been our routine. Me off during the week and Nicole off on the weekends with the kids. Thank God for Nanna (Nicole's Mom), over the years, knowing that she is there to help Nicole has made it all work.

Well, since Grey's death, I have been alone during the weekdays. This has been a good and bad thing. It has gotten to the point that I have too much time to myself. Not to mention that Nicole is feeling it with 3 older boys all weekend alone. So it has come time for a change.

Sunday, October the 25th was the first Sunday off for me on my new schedule. I am now off on all the Sundays and working 2 additional shifts during the week. We had lots of ideas for the first Sunday and it all got messed up. Luke has been asking me to take him to the Home Depot to get the materials that he needs for his science project, so this had to get done. My van's battery died on Saturday and I needed to get a new one, so Luke and I went to Walmart first, while we were waiting for the van, I saw a Dad and his little boy walking through the Walmart. He was exactly the same age as Grey would be, and his was having a time riding his Daddy's shoulders. He had gotten a toy sword and was very proud to show me as they passed me. My greeting to this little boy was rewarded by a wonderful smile, which shook my heart and soul.

The pain.

The sadness.

I finished the day, and went to work for the night shift. As I drove home in the downpour of a fall thunderstorm, the black mood that had been creeping at the edges of my consciousness took hold. I got home desperate to find some sign of my Baby Boy, my Greyson, some sign that he was real, not a dream. something that he had touched, I went to his room and pressed my face to his bed breathing deeply, trying to catch some wisp of his scent, dust.

I panicked, I grabbed his Halloween Costume, the darling Giraffe, which I knew we had never washed, DUST!

Tears stinging my eyes, I stood in the middle of his room, trying not to lose it. His room didn't have the scent of sweet baby smell anymore, just the staleness of a unused room. I collapsed to sit in the middle of the room, and just blubbered like a baby. It has been over 10 months since he left us and the pain is just as new, just as raw, just as strong as ever. So much for the healing of time.

After sitting there for I don't know how long, I pulled myself out of his room and decided to blog about my feelings to keep myself busy until I had to leave to pick Seth up for his checkup at the Pediatricians. Those that know me may or may not know that one of the very problematic symptoms of my grieving process has been that I have been having sleep issues. At times I lie awake unable to shut off my mind, the last week of my son's life replaying endlessly in my mind.

Or more annoying, I fall asleep without even realizing it and sleep as if I, myself am dead. Nothing wakes me. NOT an alarm, not the phone, nothing short of shaking me awake works. I have been as much as a 2 hours late to work a couple of times.

Seth's appointment was for 9:30 am and I was going to pick him up and then drop him back at school after. I fell asleep typing on my blog, sitting up on the couch. Seth, sure that I had a car wreck, called Nicole at her school and she called me. 15 times. I woke up at 11:20 am, a crick in my neck and having missed the appointment totally.

My grief counselor has assured me that my issues with sleep are just a symptom of my grief. That in time it will pass. That when my mind can't handle it anymore, it shuts down.

So much for not curling into a ball and not moving. So much for being strong. I just keep letting people down.

Memories of My Grey....

I have found myself running through all of my memories of our brief time with our sweet boy. Most of the time, these moments happen to me on the way home in the morning after working a night shift. I guess that this is a improvement, because it wasn't that long ago that being alone on the night shift was just torture. Being alone with myself, I would be racked by the grief and regrets of dreams lost. At this particular point, I am travelling the memory circuit, transported back in time to the memories of the worst period of my life, the illness and death of my baby boy.

Not all of the memories are terrible, some are actually quite pleasant. All of them are laced with sadness.

The past couple of mornings, I have been replaying in my head, one particular memory. It was after we knew that Grey was terminal and his small body was rebelling against him. He was paralyzed and unable to move, when we held him it was like holding a newborn, we had to support his head and he would just melt in your arms, as if he were still a newborn. Nicole and I had my parents over to the house for dinner. We were trying to make sure that everyone spent some time with Greyson. We were still grasping at straws that Greyson might not be dying, that he would be paralyzed, but he would live. Anyway, I was sitting on the same couch that Grey and I always napped on. My Mom was sitting next to me on my left side and my Dad was sitting across the room on the opposite couch with Nicole. The boys were playing together on the XBox and I was holding Greyson on my chest with his face snuggled against me. Grey had lost all control of his head and as a result he always laid his head on my chest or shoulder. He was facing my Mom and she was talking to him. He was smiling and just taking it all in with his big, beautiful eyes. All of a sudden, he made a little cooing sound, which at this point, took a lot of effort and started to scratch at my shoulder, opening and closing his little hand. Just this simple little move took enormous effort for him to do at this point, and I was trying to figure out what Grey wanted. My Mom looked at Grey and asked "Is that your Daddy? Does your Daddy got you?" Greyson sighed a big sigh and scratched at my shoulder again smiling a grand smile. "Yes, Sweetheart, you love your Daddy don't you?" more smiles and sighing. Greyson snuggled against me even closer, as much as he could manage. My eyes were stung by tears, my heart pounding. My boy was making sure that he told his Nonnie how much he loved me.

Loved me....

I can count myself in a very exclusive club. I have experience the truest and purest form of love. The unchanged true and unconditional love of a parent for a seriously ill child. The complete acceptance of someone and the complete devotion of that child to me.

Definitely one of the special "Gifts" that Greyson has given to me.

I miss him.

I Don't Have The Answers....

The other day, a father that I have been corresponding with sent me the following message:

"How do you make it through the day? It is so hard, I just can't get through some days."


My heart aching, I can totally sympathize with him. His loss is fresher that mine, his little boy only gone a few months, but I recognize and feel the pain that he is talking about. The pain makes you crazy and sure that if you take one more breath, your chest will surely burst. And instead of finding your heart, only a huge, gaping wound staring back from your empty chest. The sadness and pain can be crippling, paralyzing. I consumes very thought and breath totally. Tasks temporarily deaden and distract you from the pain, but it is constantly your companion and quickly returns.

This Father's plea for hope tore at me. I so wanted to be able to tell him that everything will be alright, that he will make it. The truth is, I can't. There are days still that I just don't know how I will manage to carry on. On the 12 th of this October, it was 10 months since our Grey died. I had a very rough time. I tried to blog, and wound up deleting it after trying to express my feeling for a couple of hours. Sometimes I just can't put into words what I am feeling. I just hurt too much.

I miss him too much.

I want to hold him too much.



In the end, all I could do was send this father a few empty words about trying to concentrate on supporting his wife, remembering the good memories and making time to fall apart.

Sounds pretty empty to me too.

How I wish I had the answers, for me as well as him.

Just Broken.

How are you and the family doing?

It's a pretty common question. All of us ask it when we run into friends that we haven't seen of heard from for a while. It is almost a reflex.

Normal.

The thing is, for me, nothing is normal, and I really am beginning to doubt that things will ever be normal again. My counselor tells me that I am stuck, broken and stuck, and that I will remain so until I get sick and tired of being sick and tired. If it didn't hurt so much it would almost sound like one of those jokes like "Who's on first?" She says that I need to be patient with myself and that I will continue to proceed though my grief in a manner that is right for me. Until then, she says to fake it. For the sake of family and close friends, fake it.

Fake that I am able to function?

Fake that I am not ready to scream all of the time?

Fake that work is just tedious at best?

Fake that I am happy?

No.

I really think that she means that I need to fake that I am dealing with the loss of my Grey. Fake that every breath doesn't burn with grief and guilt.

Fake that the fact that he has started to feel like a dream is making me lose my mind!

Fake that I remember what it feels like to have him melt into my arms.

Fake that I am not alone.

Fake that I know what I am doing.

Broken. There is no other way to describe how I feel. Loving him hurts. Missing him hurts. Knowing that my boys and my darling Nicole are missing him hurts. Knowing that Nicole is faking it for me hurts. She still cries herself to sleep at night sometimes.

Broken.

I wish I knew how to proceed from here. I am away from home and my wife most of the nights during the week. It is almost as if Nicole and I are just dating. We see each other less that people that are dating. This can't be healthy for our marriage. But she never complains. She is always supportive.

Broken.

I wish I knew where things are going from here.

Thank God that I have my family.

Really! Are You Freaking KIdding!!?!

Whining ALERT!

If you do not what to read a grown 40 year-old man's whining, vacate this blog immediately!

This past year is getting on my last nerve. I have always felt very blessed in the health and good fortune that my family has been given by the good Lord for the majority of the 12 years that Nicole and I have been married. Starting with Greyson's illness, though, I have to admit that I am beginning to feel a little picked on. WE have not gotten any breaks as of late. In the first months after losing Greyson, we were very blessed and taken care of by our friends and family. With every one's help, we were able to pay off most of Greyson's Medical Bills. But since that, we have been having quite a few potholes. Most of them have come in the form of very expensive AC repairs. We have had to spend almost 3,000.00 dollars on replacing worn out components since March of this year. Every time that I think that we have the situation fixed, BOOM! RATTLE! CLANK! We replaced the outside compressor unit and the blower fan and motor, one would think that nothing else could break.

WRONG!

Nicole called me this morning, and told me that the AC was making a funny sound. "I'll call in a repair" I said. By 7:00pm, Nicole called me again, "Smells hot in the AC room and all it's doing is buzzing. It stopped working again!"

SHIT!!

Of course our AC man has been out of town for the weekend, which means that we may not even get a call back tomorrow.

I know in my heart that we are still blessed and that I shouldn't whine about this petty stuff, but come on! It's got to STOP sometime! Please!

Envy? Yes, I'm Sorry to Say.

Many of you out there read my wife Nicole's blog at http://www.greysgift.blogspot.com/. And have done so even before you started to read mine. I have always been blown away at the number of people that follow Nicole. She has 43 people that follow her and subscribe to her blog on blogspot, meaning that they are notified when she posts a new blog. I think that at the beginning, she and I both started our blogs to help us process our feelings and let those that care about us know how we are doing. At first we were both using it to vent the burdens that go along with losing Greyson.

Now, Nicole actually started her blog right after we received word from the Doctor that Greyson was terminal. She opened herself up and shared everything that happened during Grey's last days. Very powerful stuff.

I was much slower to join in. I came from a family background that involved allowing one's emotions govern your moods and actions. I have had in some ways a much harder time dealing with Greyson's death. Not because it hurts more or I loved him more that Nicole, because I have always been much more likely to see the negative side of things instead of the positive. For me emotions have the power to effect my interactions with others and affect my personality. For me worrying about something is just a natural step in the process. If I don't worry and obsess about something in the right amount, then I think that I didn't care about it in the right way or amount. A bit obsessive huh?

That's just how I always have been. Nicole is not like that at all. She is truly the sun to my moon. While everything is dark and foreboding for me, it is bright and hopeful for her. I have been trying to learn from her our entire marriage and I am proud to say that I have made great strides to improve on this in myself. You would have to ask Nicole for confirmation. I do have an annoying tendency to assume to much sometimes and take things for granted. However, one the primary ways that my "glass half empty" personality quirk still dominates me is when I am down or sad, and it really comes out and rears its ugly head in my blogging.

I have come to blog the most when I am down and missing Greyson terribly. The sadness just takes over. I don't have to tell you that, do I? Those of you that are still following this train wreck of a blog know that anyway! I made the decision while I was holding Greyson in my arms those last few days, that I would attempt to express to anyone interested the depth of my grief and the magnitude of my love for Grey. That is why I started to blog shortly after his death. I have driven many away because they find my pain too much to bear. And yes, the competitive side of me chafes at the fact that Nicole has such a larger following that do I.

In the truest sense though, it is not the fact that people are drawn to Nicole blogging that gets me. It is Nicole's ability to see the beauty and the good in our losing Grey. She has this complete faith that Greyson is in heaven and visits often. Not only that, but she has noticed things that convince her that Grey is dropping hints that he is indeed visiting and remains close. I find myself feeling left out that I can not see. I struggle with my inability to sense that he is near and happy. I find myself doubting how Greyson can be alright with out us.

There wasn't a minute that Greyson didn't want to be held, and nothing that couldn't be fixed by his Mommy and Daddy's arms. Doubt creeps in and shakes me. How can Greyson be okay without us there to take care of him and hold him?

It has been months and months since I have had any kind of dream about my son. I haven't seen him or felt him. I miss him. And yes, I envy Nicole that she has. I am glad, but I still wish that I could too.