Dealing with loss

No, this isn't a post with advice on dealing with loss, rather, it's a "I don't quite know how to deal with this" post.
It's been almost 5 years since Henry left us and I'm doing just fine most days. It's the "special" days that are still a problem. We deal with Christmas by going away, that works. Thanksgiving gets pretty much ignored. But what about birthdays and the anniversary of his death?
I have a good friend who sends special gifts for the special days to make sweet memories and I am incredibly touched by her thoughtfulness.
Three years ago - or was it 4 years ago? - I came up with the idea of asking friends to have pizza in Henry's memory. It was his favorite food and we visit his favorite pizza place on occasion. Last year, K was visiting, so we invited friends and relatives to join us and there were 7 of us. It was quite nice. A nice distraction. Yesterday, there were 4 of us and it was fine. But, and I don't know if it's the still lingering cold or what, I don't feel so good today.
Yes, there are good memories to hold onto but there are still all those questions: why, what led up to it, why didn't I see it coming?
And then I ask myself: Am I dealing with this the right way? Shouldn't it maybe be time to just let go? I know I've moved on. But is it maybe time to put this behind me? I just don't know.
I've heard from a friend about another mother who lost her only child in an accident. She shuts herself in her house and spends her daughter's birthday remembering. No phone, no visitors, just herself and her memories. I can't do that and I don't want to do that. I know that isn't right for me.
Another friend organized a card tournament as a fund raiser in her brother's memory. The money raised goes towards a scholarship.
Still others have masses said on their child's special days. We did that for a while, until we didn't need them any longer.
I know this feeling will pass, but there's still the anniversary of Henry's death coming up and we will be visiting the bridge again - with flowers. Since it'll be the fifth anniversary, I am wondering if I should do anything else. But, if so, what? And, really, shouldn't I maybe just move on and treat all these days as if they were nothing out of the ordinary?
I just don't know.

Bittersweet

Today is such a bittersweet day - sweet because of the nice memories - bitter for the obvious reason: Henry is gone. Today would have been his 23rd birthday and, as we've done for a few years now, we're having Pizza Night in his memory. We'll get together with a few friends at what used to be his favorite pizza place and there will be quite a few more people eating pizza where they live or happen to be tonight.
I remember the day he was born so well. It was bitter cold, just like it is here today. Of course, Oklahoma cold is different from California cold. It warms up quite a bit here, there, it stayed cold for ages. During the time we were in the hospital, Henry was the only boy and the heaviest baby in the nursery. He was such a good baby, quite calm and unfussy. And he calmed down immediately when held. Didn't like car rides which was so different from Kate.
The picture above brings back memories, too. It was taken in the late summer of 1995, during the break between kindergarten and first grade. Henry had been taking karate (soo bahk do) for about a year at a studio that was very much geared towards teaching children. This was his first tournament and it was set up in such a way that each child earned a trophy of some kind. He didn't do quite as well in forms (he got so much better as time went on, going from soft and mushy movements to totally crisp and sharp) but won first place in sparring. There had to be contact of some kind and Henry kicked the little girl he was sparring with in the stomach. Not hard, just enough to earn him a point (and it wasn't mean or malicious, just part of the routine). The trophy was slightly taller than he was and he was so proud of it (wanted us to install a security system in the house so nobody would steal it :-)).
My father, who had been coaching a local wrestling team for many years, had died just weeks before in July 1995 and so I was a little weepy when Henry won. I think my father would have been proud of him.
It's "funny" - I can still hear Henry's voice and when I close my eyes I still imagine him coming in through the front door after school. It's been almost 5 years now and I still miss him and I still have questions.
Happy Birthday, Henry! ♥

Facebook and suicide

I'm not always a big fan of Facebook (even though I've been on there for over 4 years now) but I like this:

https://www.facebook.com/?ref=logo#!/notes/facebook-safety/new-partnership-between-facebook-and-the-national-suicide-prevention-lifeline/310287485658707

Apparently, it'll now be possible to report it if somebody makes a suicidal comment. That person should then receive an email from Facebook with info on who to contact - either to call a helpline or to talk online with a crisis worker.

Let's hope it works.

High IQ and drug use

L sent me a link to this article a day ago or so. Both of us still read quite a bit about drugs, still trying to understand and lots of these articles add another little piece to the puzzle:

http://blogs.wsj.com/ideas-market/2011/11/16/high-iq-in-childhood-correlates-with-adult-drug-use/

International Survivors of Suicide Day

Saturday is International Survivors of Suicide Day. I am posting this early in case somebody wants to attend the conferences mentioned at the end.

I am a survivor of suicide. No, that does not mean I tried to take my life and didn't succeed; it means I lost a loved one to suicide, my son Henry.

All of us who have lost a loved one - no matter how - experience a lot of the same emotions: sadness; grief; loss; despair and anger, yes, anger.

For survivors of suicide there are a couple of extra emotions, though: shame and guilt. After talking to a few people just recently who lost as loved one as well, I have come to realize that maybe people aren't necessarily judging you or your loved one after a suicide; they just simply don't know what to say (a simple "I am so sorry for your loss" is sufficient), so maybe the shame is unnecessary.

The guilt, though, remains, even to this day - more than 4 years later. I don't kick myself quite so hard any longer, but I still ask the "what did I miss?," "what if" and "if only" questions. Why didn't I understand what was going on? I saw something was wrong, but I didn't know what it was.

One more thing that is different for survivors is the need to know, and I believe that's the same for anybody who has lost a loved one unexpectedly, violently. For me, it was an important part of the healing process, trying to find out as much as I could about what had gone on in Henry's life, what he had been doing, who he had hung with. Unfortunately (and most likely understandably), most of the people he spent his time with towards the end were reluctant if not downright unwilling to talk to me or answer my questions. That means there are still holes I would like to have filled. But I realize that I may never get answers to those and, as times goes by, it gets easier to live with those unanswered questions.

I assume all of those questions will always be there along with the feeling of loss and that big hole in my life.

As always, the AFPS has information on conferences, both online and in various locations around the world and helpful info for survivors.

http://www.afsp.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=home.viewPage&page_id=FEE7D778-CF08-CB44-DA1285B6BBCF366E

More on the funeral

http://napavalleyregister.com/news/local/large-crowd-of-mourners-says-farewell-to-vintage-student/article_b31c9596-01e3-11e1-9ccf-001cc4c002e0.html

I was right in my assessment: a huge crowd, lots of Vintage students and lots and lots of white Tshirts.
Thankfully, there's a recap of the sermon because my Spanish just isn't up to it.
Still no news on who did this, but there's been yet another hit-and-run yesterday afternoon:
http://napa.patch.com/articles/child-airlifted-to-hospital-after-hwy-29-crash
I find that trend disturbing, very disturbing.

Today I went to a funeral

And I didn't even know the young man who had died nor do I know his family. Why did I go then? To show support for somebody who lost a child - unexpectedly, much too young, violently.
Ever since I read about the hit-and-run accident in which Ramon Ramirez was injured, I have been angry, sad and upset. Story here: http://napavalleyregister.com/news/local/student-declared-brain-dead-organs-to-be-donated/article_802029d2-fea0-11e0-b012-001cc4c002e0.html
As of today, the driver of the vehicle has not been found, the reward has been doubled to $2,000.
The thinking in my house is that it's either a drunk driver (in which case the car will eventually be found and so will the driver) or an illegal alien (in which case all bets are off).
I can't comment on the service itself - it was almost entirely in Spanish (which is the only reason I didn't end up crying my way through every Kleenex in my purse) and 2 years of Spanish simply aren't enough to understand much at all.
What did impress me was the number of people in attendance: easily close to a 1,000 with every bench full and plenty of people standing in back, the majority teenagers. There were lots and lots of white Tshirts (dress code was very casual, I was overdressed in mostly black) many, many of them with Ramon's senior picture on the front and either "Ramon 36" or "Monchiz 36" or "Ramon forever" on the back.
I was very touched to see this kind of support.
I hope Ramon's family will find peace in time and I very much hope there will be justice done eventually.