I have mentioned in many a post how I have been waiting for my kid’s grief to come to the surface, as it inevitably does for all of us at some point or way. Over the past few months, it has been bubbling to the surface. It is heart breaking as a parent when we see our kid in pain and can’t take it away or make it better.  Today was no different.

I was going to write about something else today, as I went to the Oregon State Capitol to meet with Senator Gelser and Representative Keny-Guyer for the Suicide Prevention Alliance to propose some legislative ideas. As always, this is an illuminating process that teaches me patience. Something I am not known for.  I got home in the nick of time to change clothes, let out the dog, pet the new kitty and pick up Jason for therapy.

He said it was a horrible day, that he felt over whelmed, etc. Kinda normal for a teenager, sometimes he shares the why, sometimes complains about a lot of random things, which I listen to often with a hmm, that sounds hard, etc, learning long ago he just needs a sounding board. He started a new school, 8th grade, with a new gender.  To say I have been worried is an understatement. It has been going “ok” as I can hope for. We went to back to school night last week, met the teachers, and learned about some of the things they are doing for the year.  One is a legacy project, which includes what do you want your legacy to be, and what constitutes your legacy. I thought to myself, uh oh.

Well, as my kid was crying just now, my uh-oh was warranted. His legacy at just shy of 14 is that his step father who raised him from 2, shot and killed his four year old sister, then himself. He lost his grandfather last November, whom he adored. He also lost his grandmother last year, his great uncle, and one of the volunteers at the Dougy Center suddenly that he knew well. He is estranged from his biological dad, and as of right now does not want to talk to him. He even said that he wanted to change his last name. So when you are presented with a project that constitutes 25% of your grade, and it brings up emotions you are not used to feeling or dealing with, it can be crippling. I tried as I might to come up with some ideas, including sharing with the teachers the history, I got an emphatic no.  Jason said to me, when they know, they treat me different, even if they are not aware.  I just don’t want them to know mom. What can I say to that? Especially when I know it is true. My kid truly wants a fresh start at this school, but as fresh as one wants a start to be, their past is present, especially when that past is crashing in.

I am heartbroken for Jason as he starts to deal with this grief with new eyes, that leap that his brain just made that connects dots that have not been connected before, opening that vat of pain that has been sitting there for 4 1/2 years, thing after thing adding on to the original list. It is not like when he was young and got a bonk, and I could hold him saying, it’s ok, it’ll get better. It is not ok, it is fucked up in all the ways something can be fucked up.  He has not emoted much, at all. A bit here and there in the beginning, but much like me, he disassociates.  Today, was one of the first times I have seen him articulate the losses and emote.  Again, I wish I could make it better for him, but I also understand how important it is for him to process this versus keeping it all in like he has.

I want him to know that though he carries this scar, it is one of many parts of him.  I want him to know how what happened to him can break him down or can show him an appreciation of life that most people don’t have. I want him to know how strong he is.  I want him to remember all the parts of him that are wonderful that came from these people we have lost. I also know he needs to process it all, and that it is going to be so so hard, and no one can do this but him. We all have our own processes around grief, and it is not a continuous clean line, it is often gritty, raw, and messy, never a straight path.

I am brought back to a memory of a book my mom gave me, “Love You Forever.”  She inscribed it with: Steph, As some cards say it all, so does this book as to how I feel for you. Pass this story onto your children so they can know the love you feel for them.  Love Mom.   I think of all the times I have held my kids, told them “I love you forever.”  Even now, when Jason does not want hugs, I often find myself standing outside his door saying I love you forever and hug him from afar. I am doing everything in my power to make sure he is supported through this.  But, it doesn’t stop the worry, though my dad once said to me, babe, you never stop worrying about your kids, even when they are grown. I imagine he is right.