elephants

This is the post I made on my personal Facebook page about a week ago.

Do you ever feel like you are the elephant in the room? I was talking about how I feel after losing my sweet Holden.

I don't want to be around people for that reason. No one talks to me because they don't know what to say. Or, they do talk to me and never mention Holden, and act like nothing ever happened. Both options suck.

I want to talk about my sweet boy. I miss him. Acting like he never existed only makes me sad. Sure, I might cry when I talk about him or what I am going through, but that is a better kind of cry than the one I do at night in the darkness while curled up in my bed alone.

If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died--you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift. -Elizabeth Edwards

Over the course of the last few months, I have been put into some awkward situations. I know it is never intentional. I know that my family and friends love me, and most likely still do not know what to say. I get that. I have been there too. I just ask you all to consider my feelings. I lost a child, I am hurting, and I am lonely. I know no one will ever truly understand what I have been through, or what I am still going through. I don't expect that, but what I do expect is respect and friendship.

I have been to numerous events recently where I have felt like an outsider. Some have been family events, some with friends and some with just acquaintances. At each event, I have had a small handful, at most, of people come up and even acknowledge me. All of those very select few, greeted me with the warmest, sweetest hug and encouraging words, and I am so very thankful for them. They will never truly know what they did for me in those very tough situations where I wanted to run to the nearest exit and never return. The others...well, lets see, for the most part, they avoided making eye contact with me. For the few that accidentally looked in my direction, I got a quick hello or head nod. Then there have been a few that when I approached them, there was a small, very forced, uncomfortable exchange of pleasantries. The basic, "Hi, how have are you?" You know the ones, the ones that really aren't asking how you ARE, it is more of a thing to say during small talk. Obviously I do not expect anyone to go out of their way for me, or repeatedly treat me like I am fragile. That is not at all what I am asking for. At all. What I am talking about is when we see each other for the first time since my loss. Once again, I do not want special treatment, and that is not what I am asking for. I just do not want to be treated like I have a disease or like you've never seen me before.

This is all so new to me. I am an extreme extrovert and my world has come crashing down around me. I feel like I have not only lost my son, but I feel like I have lost friends and loved ones as well. I feel like a stranger in my own skin. I don't know where I fit in anymore. I have had to face demons I did not even know existed. I am just asking for a little empathy and respect.

In case you are looking for the right thing to say to me:

I'm sorry.

I love you.

I don't know what to say.

It's that simple. Nothing you say can bring him back or make me feel better. I don't need a long drawn out explanation of why things happen the way they do. There is no reason.

Just love me and respect me enough to acknowledge that I am in the room and that I am still hurting. My son DID exist, and to me he STILL DOES, my son is loved just as much as my other children, he is just as much a part of my life as they are, he is still, and always will be, one of my beloved children. I love him and I miss him.