Rainy Days and Sundays Always Get Me Down

It is Sunday, and it is raining, but I can’t blame my mood on those two factors; my melancholy has been building for months. I did start a habit of going to Mass on Sunday where we held Sean’s funeral, as I felt for awhile that his spirit was there, and I knew the spirit of his friends was still present. I would then go to the cemetery just to say hello. It was okay for a time, but soon I began to dread Sundays. The ritual didn’t seem genuine as I was questioning my beliefs. The setting seemed almost maudlin. Sundays became a day of questions with no answers and conversations with only one participant.I think that I have been vocal about wishing that Sean would visit me in some way, or that I could feel his presence. There have been times that it seemed as though he might have been trying to let me know he was around. Several times, at key moments when we might have been visiting with one of his friends and talking about him, our door bell has rung with no one there. It has only happened on these occasions. Coincidence? Wishful thinking? There is no way to know. For the most part, I only feel an emptiness, a hole that refuses to be filled by the activities of life. This ongoing sense of loss and longing is becoming harder and harder to ignore.Kubler and Ross are well known chroniclers of the stages of grief. I think the first is supposed to be denial. I don’t think I ever denied that Sean died. I did deny that it would have to hurt me to the point that it would affect my life. I was wrong. I no longer deny that I am a different person because he is gone. The next stage I think is supposed to be anger. I haven’t really been angry. I spent so much of my life being angry that I long ago decided that it serves no purpose. Whom should I be angry at? Sean? How could I be angry at him when I know he tried with his heart and soul to be the best he could be?  At the person who sold him what caused his death, or the people who hurt him so badly that he sobbed with confusion and betrayal? I can only think that they are so badly damaged that they were not responsible for their actions. And would my anger bring Sean back? If I thought it would, maybe I would be willing to go there, but to me, anger is just a waste of energy and I have none left to waste. Besides, Sean never stayed angry, and this is supposed to be about him.Somewhere in the mix is the grief and sadness that comes with the loss of a person that was so important to you that your life will never be the same without them. I have lost many people in my life, but most of them have been in a natural order - grandparents, parent. I have been lucky to have been spared friends and family who have not lived a long and productive life. That is, until Sean. My daughter tells me that losing a child or sibling unexpectedly has been determined to lead to post traumatic stress syndrome. There is no doubt that I live in a world that seems surreal. First there is the shock of the news, then there is the necessity of handling arrangements, and then the sequelae of trying to grasp the concept of something that makes no logical sense. It’s disorienting. Disabling.At some point, you are supposed to reach acceptance. Not just the realization that the person is gone. I think that comes fairly quickly, at least it did for me. Acceptance is supposed to be like letting go of the questions of why and being at peace with what is.I am not there. My head may be acting like it is, but my heart and body are not in sync.I’ve been thinking a lot about life now seeming more like the aftermath of a dream. You know how when you first wake up from a dream and you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t?  Like for a moment, that the dream was real and you are just momentarily disoriented. That’s how life is everyday now. Was life with Sean just a dream? Was he real? Or, is this aftermath just a bad nightmare that I will awake from one day?My mother-in-law died at age 85 or so. She was one of 16 kids and about fourth from the youngest. She was, however, the last to die. When her younger brother and sister died, she stated that it should have been her. She didn’t want to live anymore; she had seen too many friends and family die. She was ready to leave a world, that despite the health of her only son and grandchildren and great grandchildren, held too much sadness for her. Interestingly, before she died, she developed dementia. Once she did, the only brother that she openly mourned was a brother that was killed in the Battle of the Bulge, probably in his late teens, early twenties. Of 15 siblings, he was the one she felt the lingering pain of loss. It seems consistent with the diagnosis of post traumatic stress.This past summer, the deaths of 4 young men have come to my attention. Three of them were (accidental) overdoses and were reported to be related to bipolar disorder. One was a suicide due to depression and chronic mental illness. When I heard of the one young man, whose family I know, I sobbed uncontrollably. I knew that his Mother and sister were going to face a pain for which there is no medicine; a sadness for which there is no cure. I wanted so badly to help them, to go to them and comfort them, but what would I say?  His Mom asked me when the hurting would stop. Can I tell her that I don’t know if it will stop, never mind when?What is the purpose of this blog? My intention is to let the people who are suffering from depression and thinking that they are not important to their family or friends to know that is the furthest thing from the truth. You are so important, you cannot be replaced in our hearts or minds. Our world will not be the same without you. We need you as much as you need us. It is your brain that is malfunctioning, giving you mis-signals about how much you are loved. If you could put yourself in the place of Jimmy Stewart in Its A Wonderful LIfe you would realize how necessary you are. A little while after Sean passed was the only time I believe he spoke to me (sure it could have been my imagination, but the voice in my head was his), and he  said: “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make everyone so sad.”There are days when I think that I’m the wrong person to be doing what I have attempted to do with the Fund. I’m just not operating at a level that I feel is acceptable. Then, I hear of someone who has lost their life due to the suffering of mental illness, and I think, how can I not?This is not optional. There are those who may not believe in bipolar disorder and feel that Sean may not approve of what has been done in his name. I believe in bipolar disorder because I lived with a son who suffered with anxiety and depression for years that was confusing to him, with long periods of no sleep. He hid his confusion and frustration from most of the world to be seen as normal among them. He did not hide his sadness from me. Would he approve of what I am doing in his name?  I would never betray Sean in a gratuitous way that might demean or embarrass him, but I know that he loved his friends and fellow musicians. He was the first to help a friend in need and often brought those friends home for us to help in their care. I also know that he trusted me with his best interest. What we are able to accomplish with his legacy remains to be seen, but Sean never gave up. No matter what, and I’m trying to act with the generosity of spirit that was Sean’s. Believe me, every day I am more impressed with what he was able to accomplish in his life despite his challenges. He is my muse when I feel like I can’t finish what I’ve started.Some tell me that Sean has come to them in dreams where he was smiling. They say it was so real, it was mood altering for them. I am still waiting for that dream. In the meantime, I am awakened every day with the reality of the lives of wonderful, sensitive young men and women (mostly men, it seems) and their pain. They are still alive and they need help, and their families need them. I can be somewhat comforting to people who have suffered the loss of a child, because I won’t dismiss their pain. I can’t relieve their pain, no one can. Better still would be if the loss of Sean led me to a path where someone else’s mother gets to see her son age and grow as an adult. This does not have to be a dream. With your help and insight it can be another family’s reality.[I would like your feedback. I must admit that I write these blogs for very personal reasons, but hope that they resonate in a helpful way. I would like to know your thoughts about the Fund and what you would like to hear from me.]