I love my blog. I love that it is a way for me to record my feelings and my thoughts and my life.
I love writing, getting out the emotions that would otherwise be trapped and perhaps fester inside me.
It's the cheapest form of therapy.
But sometimes things happen in life that are too difficult to process, let alone write about.
Hence, my neglected blog.
I have had several ideas and blog posts that seem to write themselves in my head, yet I feel hesitant to share, to let it out.
This winter has been difficult.
Lots of heartbreaks, too many to handle with the grace I'd like.
I feel at a loss of words to express myself.
I like to be light and positive and think of my relationship with my Maker and the joy that brings to my life.
But right now, I'm dealing with some pretty heavy stuff.
Right now that relationship with God along with that of my amazing family are the only things getting me through.
About a month ago our family got some devastating news.
I had a restless night, sleep just would not come.
I found myself at 3:30 am as wide awake as a night owl, I had yet to even fall asleep.
I came downstairs to give Jay some peace from my tossing and turning and checked Facebook in the wee hours of the morning.
I noticed some alarming, but vague posts by 2 of my nieces directed to their brother, my nephew Josh, that were just alarming enough to make me worry.
I quickly sent each of them a private message asking what was up.
I stayed online a few minutes longer with no immediate reply from them, then decided to try sleep again.
The next morning after I dropped the kids off at school I hopped back on Facebook to see if there was any news.
This was my niece's reply:
"Hes gone Sara, he died."
My eyes saw the words, yet my brain could not, would not comprehend them.
That was simply not possible.
He was not old, a mere 20, he was not sick. Just the opposite, in fact, he was in the prime of his life.
He had just started college and bought a car the week before.
The words simply did not compute.
I picked up the phone with my shaky hands and with a pit in my stomach, dialed my sister, his mother.
My other nephew, Bradley answered the phone.
Brad is married and no longer lives there, yet here he was answering his mom's phone at 9 am when he should have been at work.
Clue #2, yet it still did not register.
The words came from my mouth, but I don't recall what they were, the conversation is a blur.
It was confirmed that Josh had indeed passed away sometime the previous night.
Then there was screaming and crying and panic and shock and horror and gut wrenching physical pain, it was difficult to suck in air, I found myself hyperventilating, struggling to control my body. My arms and legs literally flailed about as I writhed in shock.
It felt like my very spirit was struggling to be still, it did not want to be contained.
Then came the details involving a call to the suicide hot line, police notifying family of the call, an overnight search for him and the shocking discovery in the early morning hours, just as daylight was breaking.
The shock and horror were too much to bare.
I have lost loved ones before, and not even that long ago, but this was by far the most shocking situation I had ever found myself in.
My brain simply could not make sense of it.
How could this be real, and yet my head was telling me that it was.
I could go on and on about the next few days and weeks and all that has happened, and I likely will over the next little while simply so that I can process this in my way.
For now I have a few predominate thoughts.
Suicide is one of those things you never think will touch your life, until it does.
For me it was more of a concept than any sort of reality.
I remember learning about the word in a vocabulary unit in high school. It was lumped with words like herbicide and genocide.
The thought that someone could or would end their own life had never even occurred to me.
But the idea of it seemed so far from anything anyone would ever really do that I really didn't give it much thought.
It feels different than losing someone in other ways.
Maybe it's just the sheer fact that no one sees it coming.
Or maybe it's all the unanswered questions and guilt, that we perhaps could have done something to prevent this.
Did I mention the questions we will likely never have answers to until we leave this realm ourselves and see our beloved Josh again?
Then there's the stigma about it.
Like it's a taboo word and that there is shame in it.
A few days later I started having nightmares about it, which took me completely by surprise because I usually have quite pleasant dreams.
I don't fully understand why it feels so much more harsh, but it does.
All I know for sure is that I miss my Joshy.
I feel heartbroken that he was suffering enough to do this and I did not know, that none of us knew until it was too late.
I miss his little boy self with the white blond hair and the infectious smile and the one million questions a day.
I seriously have never met another little kid who asked as many questions as he did.
I miss his giant teddy bear hugs and how he loved the children.
I am sad that it had been so long since I had seen him.
I am sad I didn't get a proper goodbye.
Most of all I feel broken and tired and ready to get back to my life and my kids and away from this heartache.
I know healing will come and that it's a process, I just wish I could fast forward through this part.