The Obituary and Celebration of Life

I made sure that I was the one who wrote it. Today looking back, I have absolutely no idea how I accomplished this task. All I knew at the time was that I was adamant that it be me who wrote it. Up to this point, I was in a whirlwind of sorts, with all of this grief and emotion and people and decisions and tears swirling around me. It was, and is, a complete feeling of helplessness. I will not post the obit in this blog because of the extended family names and such, but I will say that I worked on it with the thought in mind that I wanted to make Colton proud. I wanted to include everyone that needed to be mentioned, and to say things about my son that I knew were important to him. As we had to leave the Province and go home quite soon after the service, the date of the Celebration of Life had to be the following day. Even so, the hall that we booked on such short notice was filled. There were many people there that I did not know, as they were from the other side of the extended family, or friends of Colton’s from school, or the boys from the band that Colton was a part of. More than enough food showed up without my knowledge or input of any kind. I remember thinking later “who planned all this?” because clearly, I was not in a state to have done it. Yet somehow, even in those dark moments, when important decisions needed to be made, as his mother, I made them. At the core of a mother’s heart, there is the strength to do anything that is needed to be done for your child. At the service, I was told that someone wanted to get up and say a few words, and did I want to be first. Up to that moment, I had no intention of speaking. Looking back, this is surprising to me because of course people get up and speak at funerals. For some reason I simply hadn’t thought of it. So, I took a “time out” and sat in the lobby of the hall for a while and wrote a speech. It went like this:

On this special day I want to thank everyone that’s here this evening for the love and support that they’ve shown to my one and only child. Since I’ve been here, back in Prince George, I’ve seen an outpouring of love from all that know Colton, from high school friends to local musicians to family to co-workers and people in the community that know him. This young man has touched so many lives and is loved by many. As a mother, I see there is no better testament to the man he has become than to see him surrounded by love at this time. Today, everyone here has become one family. I’m also so proud of him today, for he has chosen well, a wife to share his life who no one here could’ve chosen better. I love her as my own daughter. So Colton, to quote the only astronaut I know, “I love you to Eternity and Beyond”.

Colton and his girl shared vows in a brief ceremony four weeks before his passing. She had been his primary caregiver through the previous year and powered through this task with a fierce love and determination like I’ve never seen in such a young woman. She has since moved on and has a son of her own now, and I’m happy she is doing well.

When Colton was little and the first Toy Story movie came out, I bought him the Buzz Lightyear toy that made noise and said “To Eternity, and Beyond!”. Sometimes, instead of “I love you more” it would be “To Eternity, and Beyond”. I also make note that in the speech, I only made reference to Colton in the present tense. To me, he wasn’t gone. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be at their own Celebration of Life, to see who showed up and what they had to say? I know I would.

In hindsight I am so grateful that I did write his Obituary. I am so grateful that I got up first to speak at his gathering. I would encourage bereaved parents to do the same, or participate in whatever way you have the strength to, because you will not regret it. You won’t get another chance. It is a gift you can still give to your child. There are many tasks at this time that are so very, very hard. Burial or cremation? What will you put the ashes in? Do you want a necklace to hold some of the ashes? I hope you have/had someone special and close to you to talk through these things with and who will help you make these important decisions. I am grateful that I did. I am also grateful that Colton made some of the hard decisions for himself. If you can, have these difficult conversations while you have time. He chose to be cremated, and I do have a necklace containing some ashes that I wear when I need to. At first, I wore it constantly. Over time, I wear it less and less. I guess that’s progress. He’s not in the necklace.

A conversation in Hospice

He said “mom, this morning I woke up to someone crying and saying ‘I missed it'”. I said “Well, honey, many people wait until their loved ones are out of the room before they pass. They go to get coffee or go pee and when they come back it’s too late. They think they’re saving them from the pain of seeing them go”. He looked at me and nodded, a very thoughtful look on his face. I looked him right in the eyes and said “Don’t be that guy”. He said to me “I’ll see what I can do, mom”.

I spent hours and hours holding his hand. I had Randy sneak a few photos of our hands so that I could remember how it felt. At first, in the hospital, he didn’t want me to take pictures and would get angry about everything, but later in Hospice he didn’t mind. Most of his anger was gone. His true sweet personality shone back through and he was full of love, laughter and kindness for all of his family, friends and visitors that dropped by. He pushed himself to stay awake when he should’ve rested, knowing time was short.

He would make the effort to get up and walk over and wrap his arms around me and say “love you, momma”. He always did a little tickle thing on my back with his fingers. His signature thing. I would move heaven and earth to feel him do that again.

Letter to Colton

Oct 24, 2020

I’ve been procrastinating all day. Yes, I know that you know that I got my chores done early, did the shopping, started the laundry, walked the dogs, everything that I knew had to get done. All done in silence and as if sleepwalking. Thankful that it’s not an expectation that I be sociable as I carry out these tasks, Thankful that I’m wearing a mask, One of fabric, one of grief. I know the front yard needs to be weeded, and the front entryway needs to be painted. Instead, I sit here frozen. My head hurts. I can feel my forehead crumpled as my eyes squint and my brows come together. The pain of losing you, the physical pain is now permanently etched into my face. I see it every day. It’s aged me in a fiercely unfortunate way. Since I’m alone I find myself talking out loud to you, to God, the Source, the Universe, the Angels, to all and anyone listening, to ask to make sure that you’re ok. And that eventually I’ll be ok. And I cry. And cry and tell you how much I miss you. And I let the pain roll down my face for anyone and no one to see. Time keeps marching onwards and here I am because nothing is changing except maybe that I am getting older and sicker and you don’t have to anymore. I’ve made it to my final destination. I’ve made it to the island. It’s so breathtakingly beautiful, and I am fully aware of every sacrifice it took to get here. So I’m making a conscious effort to make the very most of it. I am mindful every day as I look at the water that it is looking back at me and yes, it brings some comfort. Maybe it time, much more time, I can sit here and think of you and not cry so hard. Maybe my chest won’t feel like it’s caving in. Maybe I won’t feel like I’ve been badly beaten. Maybe I’ll have enough energy to get up and get on with my day. I look at your pictures and I can’t breathe. I would not wish this pain on anyone. It is crushing in its weight, and yet it is only I that must carry it around every day. As the wave of grief crests and passes over me, I am thankful all over again that not every day is this bad. Some days, I am thankful that this feels like one of the ‘good’ days….

Sometimes it comes in Rhyme

November 6, 2020

A glimpse of your smile, frozen in time

Tries to rip my heart from my chest

I think today I won’t cry, but I’m such a fool

Head still learning that heart knows best

I know you’re around to guide me

But then I continually find

All the work that I’ve done seems to fall rung by rung

From the ladder I climb in my mind

On days like today as I crumble

I wish you were here to calm me

But your lessons are learned and your spirit is free

While my learning now walks with my lonely

In the stillness of introspection

Where we still talk face to face

The answers to a million questions

That are far away from this place

In the here and now I still look for you

Even though you were there and then

But our story continues because

I’ll make sure that it does

Until we’re together again

So hard to understand…

Give me a moment if you can stand it

You need to know that I feel stranded

Tell me what is the boundary,

An acceptable level of misery?

For try as I may I can’t catch my breath

Seemingly unable to accept your death

Just as light starts to shine through the veil

I try and I try but I just seem to fail

I keep being told that it’s ok to cry

That it’ll get easier as the years go by

What they don’t know is that time has stood still

And crying out memory only makes it refill

Every day is different

The next video I posted was such a contrast to the first that I want to include it here. I was so surprised that I could wake up after a heavy grief day and feel good. Lighter. I’m sure you’ve experienced this too. Don’t feel guilty when you wake up feeling positive! Your day goes better, your mate has a moment of relief, and you can be sure that your Loved One on the other side is happy to see you smile:)

https://youtu.be/KNG9eEb2c94

 

Introduction to my grief journey

This video is painful for me to watch. I’m sharing it because it is raw, and it is just the way it is some days….not all days (thankful for that!) It was a year into my grief journey and it’s so easy to see now how I was viewed by others. Seeing how grief changed my looks, voice and mannerisms, I now can understand and interpret the uncomfortable looks on their faces. This is real.

https://youtu.be/pUDn3RxI4jw