I can't believe it's been 4 years since the day you left us. Can't believe that somehow, I managed to survive all the days without you. I can still remember so clearly, the moment I found out you were gone, how I begged God for it not to be true, for one more chance, to have you back again. I wasn't sure how to live in a world that you were no longer a part of.
Time changes the intensity of pain and pushes it inward, while the responsibilities of life and the love we have for the people who are still in our lives carries us forward, toward an uncertain future we don't wish to face and away from a past we cherish. One day at a time became my mantra, one minute at a time sometimes, and by some miracle, time continued on. Days passed.
I wish I could say it doesn't hurt anymore, but I now know, it will always hurt. I will always mourn for you, for all the days you should have been here to live, for all the possibilities and potential that were wasted, for the young life that was just barely at the beginning, for the son I loved so much and knew so well, whose presence filled up such a huge part of my life and occupied so much of my heart - I will always cry, always ache, always regret, always long for you, Jason. If only mothers were allowed to write the pages of our childrens' life stories, there would never be a broken-heart.
On your birthdays, I celebrate the gift of your life, and on your death day, I mourn the loss of it. I take the time to stop and look at the pain of it, stare fully into its face, and without distraction, I allow myself to once again feel the terrible weight of losing you. I don't apologize to anyone or make any attempts to cover my grief, I don't care what anyone thinks, because this day will always be about one thing - - the end of your life, and the end of the life I had before, about remembering and grieving and mourning for the loss that, for me, changed everything.
I remember so well, the last time I held you. I remember the way you told me good-bye and how looking back after, I realized it was really good-bye for you, just in case you decided to go afterall, which you did. I know this was your gift to me, your good-bye; the way you wanted me to know you loved me and that your leaving was never about me. I accept that gift now, and I cherish it as your last loving act toward me. Thank you for that, son.
I wish you peace and rest and the knowledge that you were and are loved, that I remember, that so many of us will always remember, the light that you brought to our lives, and that light still burns as bright as the sun along with those memories that never fade and the days of you.
I love you,
Mom. 6/8/08
To my Jason on 6/7/08 / Mom
i carry your heart with me -- i carry it in my heart
i am never without it
anywhere i go - - you go, my dear;
and whatever is done by only me
is your doing, my darling
i fear no fate, for you are my fate, my sweet
i want no world for, beautiful, you are my world, my true
and it's you -- whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing, is you.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart - - i carry it in my heart
ee cummings
Still missing you / Vivian (Mom) Somehow, after this much time has passed I'm supposed to be over what happened, To not hurt as bad as I did in the beginning Now that I've had time Time to adjust To a world without my child Yet, here it is The truth that I wake up to each and every day Before consciousness fully sinks in Slamming into my mind again and again and again Forever gone from this world Jason, my son. My beautiful, sweet boy. So, even though my mind has accepted The fact that he's gone... And never coming back, My heart still dreams He'll come walking through the door With that smile that lights up the room Sparkling eyes, Saying "hey Mom," As if he never left at all The world could be right again The world would be right again If only...my heart Could have what it wants. Your picture sits on my desk I lay my hand and head against the cool glass Remembering, always remembering, the warmth The softness That was replaced by cold, hard reality.
Even now, I can feel you in my arms, hear your voice, as you said good-bye But I can't go back to a moment where anything I said or did could make the least bit Of difference. I failed. I failed. I failed. You needed me to see, What my mind could not believe That your life had become darkness And death seemed a friend When to me, you emanated light. I couldn't even see you afterwards. Cold, lifeless, shell - that once housed my child And so many of my dreams. I failed, again, only this time, myself. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sweet baby.
If I could have chosen Way back on April 29th, 1983 The path that led me here Or to someplace else, without you I still would have taken those years We had together Knowing the pain that would follow Welcomed you And given you my whole heart Just as I did For you, my only son, Are worth the tears Yet if I could have chosen It would have been me, not you Worlds apart
The pain is equal to the size of the loss Enormous.
I miss you So supremely inadequate An expression to say how I feel
I have your last note "Tell Rachel that I love her, I'll see ya soon I love you guys. You'll always have my heart."
This is what I hold onto.
The Fragile Rose / Mom On a rosebush full of blooms, there is occasionally one rose more fragile than the rest. Nobody knows why. The rose receives the same amount of water and of food from the earth; of clipping and tending and gentle encouragement from the gardener. Its time on earth is neither more nor less significant than that of the other blooms alongside. Its stresses are neither greater nor fewer. Its promises of development are just as rich. In other words, it has all the necessary components to become what it is intended to be; a beautiful flower, fully open, spreading its fragrance and color for the whole world to see and enjoy. But for some inexplicable reason, once in a while a single rose doesn’t reach maturity. It’s not the gardener’s fault; It’s not the fault of the earth, nor of the rain, nor the sun. But neither is it the fault of the rose. For some roses, even the touch of the gentle spring rains leaves bruises on the petals. The sun’s rays-so soft and warm to some flowers-feel searing to others. Some roses thrive while the fragile ones feel buffeted by inner and outer ghost winds. So it is that sometimes, despite the best growing conditions, and best efforts of the gardener, and the best possibilities and predictions for a glorious blooming season, a particularly fragile rose will share its glow for a while, then fade and die. And the gardener and the rosebush and the earth and all around will grieve. We are never ready for a loss. Not for the loss of a promising rosebud, nor for the loss of a friend or relative whose life appears ready to unfold with brilliant color and fulfillment. In the midst of our grieving, we can be grateful we were in the garden during the same season. We can remember and celebrate the glimpses of color and fragrance and growth that were shared. We can love the fragile rose and the fragile soul for the valiant battles won, and blooming that was done. And as our own petals unfold, we can remember the softness and beauty of those who touched us along the way. Ernestine Clark (1988)
Hold on... / Vivian (Mom) Maybe you're just passing through and wandered into this site. Maybe you're looking for something, like a reason to stay. Maybe you just want some reassurance that everything will be okay. Or maybe you've been thinking about ending your life. If that describes you, please read this message.
Jason would not have believed how many lives would be impacted by his death or the pain his decision would cause. Suicide, which is supposed to end pain, merely passes it on. Every person you love, every person who loves you, every friend and relative, everyone you have ever been close to will be forced to carry the pain you leave behind. You may believe the lie that everyone is better off without you. It is a lie that depression tells you, over and over again. But it's not true. No one will be better off without you. Everyone who loves you will be left in agonizing pain that they will have to endure the rest of their lives. Everyone will blame themselves. Everyone will wish for one more chance to talk to you, to tell you how much they care, to try to keep you here, to help you. No one will ever "get over you" or "forget about you." Time will not make missing you any easier. The horrible thing about suicide is that it's forever. You can't take it back. You can't change your mind. You can't undo the pain you leave behind.
Maybe there's someone in your life who has disappointed you, been unkind or made you think you are worthless, unworthy of love, and left you feeling that there is no one in the world who cares. Maybe you love that person so much, you can't imagine life without them. Maybe they have already found someone else and that hurts you so bad you don't know how you can go on. I won't try to tell you that there are "other fish in the sea" or some other lame cliché that's supposed to make you feel better. It hurts to lose someone you love. It is hard to get over the loss of a love, but you can survive. It won't be easy, but you can. I have survived the loss of my son. I don't think anything compares to losing a child, and if you die, your mom, your dad, and everyone else who loves you, will lose YOU. This would be a terrible loss to them. One they might not survive.
I have lost relationships in the past that I thought would be forever. I know how much it hurts, but when I think back on them now, I can see why I was never meant to be with that person. It didn't happen overnight, but eventually, the hurt goes away, and when you least expect it, someone new comes along, and even though you can't imagine it, you find yourself loving this person so much that you can't imagine why you ever felt the way you do about the person you lost. You won't always hurt this bad - but you have to hold on to life. Choose to survive - because if you don't, you pass on your pain, and leave those who love you most, wondering how they will live a single day without you.
Maybe your situation looks hopeles. You are in an abusive home, your parents or the people who should care, don't seem to. You live in an environment where pain and survival are the modes you exist in. You don't believe, can't believe that life will ever change. You can't and don't believe that anyone out there cares, but it's not true. Please let someone help you. You don't deserve the treatment you are getting from the adults in your life - who are supposed to love and protect you, but there are others who will, if you just reach out to them. Things may not change overnight, but they can change. And maybe someday, you can help someone else who is living through what you have. You have much to offer the world - people who are broken-hearted always do. But you can't, if you're not here. It all starts with a single phone call. Reach out and hold on!
How do you get through this? Why should you go on? There is help and you don't have to go through this alone. Please contact 1-800-suicide. People are waiting to talk to you 24-hours a day. Visit this website: http://suicide.com/suicidecrisiscenter//whylive.html where you can learn more about what's happening to you and ways to stay alive when you feel like giving up. E-mail me by clicking on the contact Vivian button. I will gladly write to you and support you through this.
Please believe me, you don't have to die to end the pain. There is help, there is hope - please hold on to life. Please spare your Mom the pain of losing you. Please give yourself a chance. You don't have to be strong, you don't have to have all the answers, you don't have to make any decisions today, you just have to hold on. Please, please hold on.
Five years since the last time I saw you, five years closer to the next time I hold you. I feel you all around me sometimes, and other times, I wonder if you were ever really here at all. Rachel says she can't remember what it was like when you were here. I know that would break your heart - if it weren't already broken, I suppose you'd still be here. I remember everything you ever said - I can still remember your voice so clearly, like a song that plays over and over in my head. What's so hard, what is so very very hard, is the wanting. The wishing you could still be part of everything I do. I tell myself, you're with me, I carry you along...so why do I feel so empty and alone? I dream about you sometimes, but in my dreams, I'm always too late. Too late to see you one more time, to late to tell you anything - I always get there just in time, to hear someone say, you're dead. So I relive it, even in my dreams. Even in my dreams, I grieve.
I try not to be jealous. To not wish I could have, what so many others have. Their children, all of them, alive. I try not to wonder why people don't seem more grateful, to not be where I am, who I am, bereaved. But I guess it's like not knowing how it feels to be a mother, even though people can tell you, until you are, you just don't know. Until you've lost, you just can't imagine.
I wonder who will ever know me, the way you did. All those years it was just us - you and me against the world - a family, complete. You were my reason for living for so long. Now there's no you, and that part of me, the part that was yours solely, is so incredibly lost. You see, I say I lost my son. But I KNOW where you are. You're dead. I'm the one that's lost.
I got a new dog, a new job, and try, try, try to find some meaning in this life. I know that's what you would want. I hear your voice sometimes, and it tells me, so clearly - it's time I was moving on. So I try, Jay. I really do...try. But you must know, somehow, that what you did when you killed yourself, was to forever and completely create a wound in me, that can never, with any amount of time, be healed.
i'm going to miss out on the gathering at your grave :(
but i think about you throughout the year from time to time, sometimes when i don't even know why you've popped in my head. i love when people bring you up and we can share some memories.
jason, i know you're in loving hands... i'll keep living this life out and see you in the next!!
Right after you left, I started praying that God would send a sign that you were okay. I knew I would never be able to see you again in this life, and that was almost too much to bear. I couldn't imagine a life without you...without knowing you were with Him and at peace. I prayed for a yellow bird - an out of the ordinary yellow bird. It was weeks before I saw the first bird, and actually only saw it when Rachel pointed it out. It was an orange and yellow bird that seemed to have no business in Colorado, but there it was. When Rachel showed it to me, it actually flew closer to us and landed on a branch as if to say, "look at me."
In the last 4 years, there have been other yellow birds, always coming at the lowest points, the darkest days. Your birthday in Arizona, a yellow bird flew out of a cactus, and again, Rachel was there to point it out. The bird appeared from no where - smaller than my thumb, but real and beautiful and a reminder from God. You are at peace.
Mother's day, I couldn't seem to escape the pain. It hung over me like a heavy stone around my neck. In desperation, I grabbed Rachel and we went for a walk with the dog on top of a high mesa. The walk didn't help and when we came back to the car, Rachel wanted to chase lizards. She was walking by some boulders when she said, "Mom, look, a yellow bird." This yellow bird was huge. It was extraordinary - sitting on top of a rock, not flying away when Rachel and I and even the dog came closer. It fluttered its wings and looked at us. Remember...peace. Hope....
God, yes, my Jason is at peace and with you and someday, only you know when, I'll be with my sweet boy again. Hope is mine to grab hold of...because You will never leave me, and with that yellow bird, I picked up my grief burden, and am given the strength from above to carry on.
To the sky, I whisper your name. "Jason, Jason...I love you, son. I always, always will."
Jason wasn't someone anyone would have called sad or depressed. In fact, he was always smiling, always joking around, always seemed to have a funny story or hiliarious comment to share, and being around him you couldn't help but feel happy.
He loved to be the center of attention. He wasn't shy, didn't lack friends, could make people feel at ease, and seemed to be comfortable in whatever situation he was in. He had this little smile, sort of a little grin that he just always seemed to have on his face. I used to love looking across the room at him, to see that little grin, and at times, it seemed we would just know what the other was thinking. I think I miss that the most about him. Jason has a way of making life better just by being Jason - and without him, life seems very empty.
He couldn't stand anyone being treated unfairly. As a kid he went out of his way to make friends with the kids who were considered the "outcasts" or who he thought were being judged by the way they looked or dressed. He was always sticking up for his friends. When he loved someone, he was completely devoted, completely loyal. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do. He was a true friend. He would go out of his way for you. If you needed him, he was there, you could count on it.
As he got older, he used to go out of his way to help other people. In fact, some of the ladies he worked with told me how in the winter time, Jason would go out and scrape their windshields for them after work. That was Jason, he loved being able to help other people if he could.
Watching his old movies, it's amazing how he always wanted the camera to be focused on him. I'm grateful for those movies, for the opportunity to watch him laugh and smile and be totally happy. Watching them though, I can't help but wonder what he was feeling deep down inside. When did the blackness begin to take over? When did the seeds of depression begin to take root and grow? There, on the tapes, in the pictures, in the memories I have of him in my mind - it doesn't exist. Jason was happy. He was so full of life, so completely alive. How could anyone know - when what he showed the world was the smiling, happy face, the pictures that tell a story leading up to a very different ending.
Jason loved music, his friends, his family, and his wife. He loved snowboarding and said it was the one thing that always made him feel happy.
Jason was the guy that would listen to more than your words. He would hear your heart. He would hurt when you hurt and laugh when you laughed. This was the Jason I knew. He had big dreams, high hopes, great plans. He wanted so much, he was willing to work hard, harder than anyone I've ever known. He felt like he had to prove himself to everyone - though no one judged him the way he judged himself. He would throw his arm around your shoulder and say, "hey, whatchu know?" and he would listen - really listen - to the answer, whether you were his friend, his parent, his cousin, or his little sister. He had a serious side, the side that wanted so much for himself and the people he loved. That is the Jason I knew.
I wish I had been a better friend to him. I wish I realized how much I loved him and needed him before I lost him. If I could have one do over in this life, I would go back to June 4th, 2004, and I'd take Jason by the hand and say, "pack your things, babe, we're getting out of here - and we'll get through this together." I would not have taken no for an answer. I would have given him every ounce of strength and support I have. I would never have left him alone. I would turn the entire world upside down to save my precious son, but there are no do-overs, no repeats, no rewind.
There's only now, and me standing here alone, remembering how great my life once was...how my family was once complete and whole, how my heart used to live in the hopes I had for my boy, how very much I loved him. How much we all loved him and what he was like.
Letter to Jason 11/5/07 / Mom
Jason, I thought I had gotten through the worst of it, but then out of no where, it crashes down over me again. This wave of grief, sorrow, incomprehensible loss, a life that no longer makes sense, a future without one in whom I held so much hope, and all I can do is cry these endless, bitter, futile tears. I miss you so much, you can't imagine how much my heart aches for you, if you could have, I still believe you never would have gone. The past 3 years are filled with days, time that passed, and the emptiness that echoes across all of them because you're not here. Sorrow is still the sea, no longer the islands. It washes around me day after day, eroding little pieces of my heart away.
There was a terrible price to pay for your suicide. The people who love you were the ones left with the bill. I struggle with life, fear that I could lose someone else I love, fear of loving so completely and unconditionally again, fear of not being able to protect your sister from the pain. I am angry. Angry that something so stupid, so evil, so completely pointless could take you away from me, angry that there isn't a single thing I could do to prevent it and nothing I can do to change it. Angry at the lack of support and love you got when you needed it most - angry that I will never know the whole truth about what happened in those months before that led up to the day you died. Angry at the police who did nothing but left you in the garage to die. Angry at God for not intervening. Angry at you for not giving me a chance, giving anyone who loved you a chance, to help you. Angry that when it mattered the most, you turned your back on all of us and died. I'm angry at suicide - the hopelessness that claimed you, the helplessness that you felt, the pain that you passed on to us.
I would give anything to have you back, but only if I could have you back whole and happy. If only you hadn't worn the mask for so long, maybe, just maybe, it would have been easier to accept your choice, to understand why, instead of the overwhelming shock and disbelief that you, the one who seemed the brightest, happiest, strongest, and most full of life, could kill yourself.
I used to get so upset by the terms "commit suicide." I used to think it was indicative of a crime being committed - but that's exactly what it was. A crime that your life was taken, a crime that you felt there was no hope, a crime that you died alone, a crime that no one could prevent you from destroying what was so precious, so priceless, so valuable to us. You robbed us of a future with you. You committed suicide, and as ugly as those words may sound, they cannot compare with the reality of what happened. There are no words that make it easier, that somehow lessen the pain, and I don't think we should even try. It's ugly how depression could destroy your life, and how your suicide could damage so many lives because of it. It's abhorrent how you, my beautiful, talented, loving, and sweet son could end up another number on the state's sheet of statistics, dead by suicide.
Jason, I don't know if any of my words ever reach you. I know that I ask God to give you messages, and I believe that He hears my prayers. I hope you know how much you are loved, how with every single breath, I still miss you; how when you died, part of me, maybe the best part, died too; how dark the future looks without you; how I will always carry you in my heart, always wish you were still here, and always long for the day when I can hold you in my arms again.
I'm trying so hard to forgive you, for taking yourself away - for the pain that I have to carry, for the destruction of not just your life, but mine too. Someday, I hope I can say that I have. Every day until then, I love you, Jason. I miss you. Always, Mom Close
Each year, almost 5,000 young people, ages 15 to 24, kill themselves. The rate of suicide for this age group has nearly tripled since 1960, making it the the leading cause of death in adolescents and the second leading cause of death among college age youth.
Studies show that suicide attempts among young people may be based on long standing problems triggered by a specific event. Suicidal adolescents may view a temporary situation as a permanent condition. Feelings of anger and resentment combined with exaggerated guilt can lead to impulsive, self-destructive acts.
Recognizing the Warning Signs: Four out of five teens that attempt suicide have given clear warnings. Pay attention to these warning signs: • Suicide threats, direct and indirect • Obsession with death • Poems, essays and drawings that refer to death • Dramatic change in personality or appearance • Irrational, bizarre behavior • Overwhelming sense of guilt, shame or reflection • Changed eating or sleeping patterns • Severe drop in school performance • Giving away belongings
Helping those who are Suicidal: • Offer Help and Listen. Encourage them to talk about their feelings. Listen, don’t lecture or tell them why the shouldn't feel the way they do. • Trust your Instincts. If it seems that the situation may be serious, seek prompt help. Break a confidence if necessary, in order to save a life. An angry or mad friend is better than a DEAD friend. Feelings change, but death is permanent. • Pay Attention to Talk about Suicide. Ask direct questions and don’t be afraid of frank discussions. Silence is deadly! • Seek Professional Help. It is essential to seek expert advice from a mental health professional who has experience helping depressed individuals. Also, alert key adults in the individual’s life - parents, family, friends. NEVER leave a suicidal person alone!!!
What About You? Perhaps you have sometimes felt like ending your life. Don’t be ashamed of it. Many people, young and old, share your feelings. Talk to someone you trust. Call 1-800-suicide or 1-800 273-talk (8255). You can talk about the way you feel without telling them whom you are. Things may seem very bad sometimes, but those times don’t last forever. Ask for help. You can be helped. Depression doesn't have to be a terminal illness. It can be treated. Life can be good again. Give it a chance. You deserve it.
Remember!! 1. These warning signs should be taken seriously. 2. Get help immediately. 3. Caring can save a life.
If onlys / Vivian (Mom)
I must have said If only A million times a million times If only I had done this If only I had said that If only I had stayed If only he had left If only, such a hollow sound That echoes through my head For all the lost opportunites For all the powerless, hopeless feelings For the overwhelming need to change What can never, ever be changed If only I could tell him If only I could hold him If only I had been a better mom If only I could read his mind If only I had been there Can never make up for the fact he died Or how he died; alone, lost, crushed spirit, brokenheart Sweet boy, sweet precious Jason Gentle-hearted, tender soul If only, my Jason If only you knew If only I could let go of If only Close
It takes awhile / Mom (Mom)
It takes awhile to get used to The idea that you're really gone. Even though the pain hit me like a freight train and almost carried me away, I'm still getting used to the fact, you're really gone.
It takes awhile To get used to responding To the innocent question asked by a stranger How many children do you have And to know what to say, Because 1 is a lie, but 2 isn't the truth either. I'm still your mother, even though you're gone and it takes awhile to get used to that.
It takes awhile to get used to The empty place at the table The absence of your face at holidays, birthdays, and Christmas, most of all. It takes awhile to stop looking at that place And feeling as empty as it is.
It takes awhile to get used to not hearing your voice on the phone Or believing that it won't somehow ring And be you And even a longer while to stop expecting You'll come walking through door
It takes awhile to get used to The way some people never mention your name And the way they react when I say it As if somehow you never existed at all
It takes awhile to get used to the ashes Sitting on my desk by your picture Knowing that this is all I have left of you Hoping, maybe someday, I can let them go too Because it's what you would have wanted But it just takes awhile
It takes awhile to stop asking why Or blaming myself and feeling guilty It takes such a long while, I wonder, if I ever will
It takes awhile for people to understand That I have been forever changed Because the me they see looks so familiar They don't know that part of me died too They wish I could find closure Get over Move on But that doesn't just take awhile It's impossible.
It takes awhile to stop missing To stop crying To stop wishing In fact it takes a life time In fact it only ends, when I can be with you. Close
beaty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning, peace for despair / Vivian Lloyd (Mom)Read >>
beaty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning, peace for despair / Vivian Lloyd (Mom)
There is a crevasse in the middle of my life. A seemingly bottomless place, dark, cold, and mysterious. At first, I didn't notice it was there. I was unable to take my eyes off its cause and the pain occupied my whole being. But as it began to grow wider - and sharply divided my life into before and after it, I realized it was now a part of my life.
I thought I could ignore the emptiness, but found that when I tried, I only ended up falling in and spent days and nights going through the all consuming agony of having to pull myself out again. My strength seemed to ebb and I realized it had become dangerous to pretend it wasn't there.
So...I began to try to fill it in, frantically pouring work, volunteering, writing, trips and meaningless errands, any and all manner of busyness and distraction over the edge only to discover my frenzied efforts were in vain. The depth of the crater was equal to the wound that was left when I lost him. What would best fill the emptiness was the very thing that created it...Jason, and he was not coming back. Nothing would ever filll his place in my life. One day he was there, laughing, smiling, saying "Mom, I love you." The next, he was gone. And just like that, everything changed.
I would sit beside the crevasse occasionally, afraid of falling, afraid of looking away, afraid of going on, and completely exhausted. At times, others would come who sat beside me. Sometimes they were quiet, just letting me know they were there. Other times, they listened when I needed to talk about my loss. And some made me laugh, telling me what they loved about him and why, reminding me how much he was loved by so many, and they showed me that mine wasn't the only loss. There were those who never knew him who wandered into my life - by the grace of God, other broken people who weren't afraid of my wound. In their company and in the warmth safety of their hugs, in the presence of their loving hearts, I found I could give voice to my grief. Unexpected angels all, those who were there to assure me I could go on.
Sometimes I would look up to find that time had passed, even though I didn't believe it would, even though I didn't want it to. The distance between the borders of this divide had grown, expanded to where it was difficult to even see what my life was before, to remember what course I was on. The walls between the two borders were separated now by so much distance, my old life with my family intact, my life now, and also separated me from so many I thought I could count on, but who were even more afraid of this dark canyon than I, who could not bear to even glimpse the pain, and turned their backs and ran away. More loss to add to the deep gaping wound.
Time brought on new responsibilities, demands on my attention, a life that refused to be ignored - but no matter what else I was doing, am doing, it's there, in the center of my life. So I've come to accept its presence, to incorporate it into myself, to live with the fact that I will always be broken and damaged and that it's part of who I am. I've become good at concealing it - and with some, pretending it's not even there, but believe me, I know it, see it, and feel it all the time. It's hard to ignore something in the very center of your life, at the core of your very being. A canyon that touches the depths of your soul. A constant longing for a life that was swept away, a child I used to hold, the Mom I used to be...
I was angry for a long time too. Why me, why my child, why did God allow this, how can I believe in a God who would let my son die this way? Not only did I doubt God, I questioned everything I knew about myself as a person and a parent and everything I believed. Still, I begged God to make it as it once was. To give me the son I had lost, to turn back time and allow me one more opportunity to make it right. My anger blazed against heaven and earth when my prayer for life as it once was were seemingly left unanswered and God felt so distant, so quiet, so unfeeling, so cold.
Yet time and again, even in my anger, doubt, with my fist raised to heaven and my accusations hurled, I was reminded of his promises, his words, his gentleness, his love. Words from the bible that I had read over a lifetime, repeated themselves, like a soft whisper at times, and they shined light into the darkness, showed the promises of God to be forever etched upon my heart and to be the greatest source of peace and comfort and the sole reason I am able to go on. Someday, I will hold my Jason again. Long before I knew my son would leave, God knew, and he helped me be prepared by giving me the words so long ago that would later mean the difference between hope and despair. I will never leave you or forsake you. Those who call on me, I will never cast out. And Jason's favorite, I have a plan for you....
Still, I begged God to heal my wound, to close this pit in my life, but he showed me that brokenness does not equal worthlessness, that my weak and wounded place is where he can best show his power and his light. In the depth of the pain, I realized I do not have to understand God to trust him. In the depth of my sorrow, I saw the very face of Jesus. Not the picture perfect painting I used to have in my head, but the man acquainted with many sorrows, abandoned by friends, rejected, heartbroken, beaten, mocked, tortured and alone - I saw the Jesus who endured suffering, pain and sorrow far beyond any I have ever known or will ever know. I knew he understood my sorrow just as he understood Jason's hopelessness in this world. I knew in spite of anything this life has to offer, in spite of the fact that I now have a giant crater in the center of my life, in spite of my past mistakes and my present failures, he will never leave me to face it alone. I know the meaning of deep calling to deep. I see it in the eyes of every broken hearted person I meet. I hear it in the words of the psalms.
I am still broken, but I trust in his plan. My son is still physically absent, but he IS alive today with God. Jason will never hurt again. His body may have died, but I know he did not die alone. Jason closed his eyes for a moment but opened them in the presence of God. A God who loved him, a Father who knew him better than anyone ever would and understood every motive, collected every precious tear, a Savior who laid down his life for Jason and at the end of his journey. welcomed him home.
I may not have any answers, but I trust in a God who does. I found strength in letting Him be enough...He will always be enough. Close
I woke up this morning with Mr Jason Horne on my mind! I am an old friend of his from Progressive. I smiled when I saw his pictures. I was reminded of a day when me and Jason set next to each other in a training class. I am one of those people that can't sit still and my hands always need to be doing something. I whispered to Jason that I was going to draw a picture of him, I told him not to move, he just smiled. So I started to sketch. I wouldn't let him see it until it was completed. As I was finishing the picture, I fell out laughing because it look so much like him. All his features were included. From his triangled shape face to his spiked hair. I folded the paper and slid it to him. He opened it and let out a loud burst of laughter. I couldn't help but laugh too. It was uncontrollable. Long story short, we both got kicked out of the class and recieved some "feedback" about how not to disrupt a training class. I'm not sure of why Jason was on my mind this morning but I just wanted to share one of my happiest moment about him with you!
Just because / Vivian (Mom)
Just because I look normal again, Doesn't mean I've forgotten And just because you don't see me crying Doesn't mean I've stopped grieving I may look like I've "gotten over it," After all, I can function again But you can't see inside Or know that even now I still cry in the car Or the shower Or anytime I'm alone Or it's safe I still think of him before I go to sleep - And every morning I have to convince myself again To get up Pick up the pain - that I've somehow learned To carry And go on
Just because I can work again Or smile and laugh Doesn't mean I've found closure Because "closure" can happen only When at last, he's in my arms again I do the things I have to do Because people still depend on me and expect me to "pull myself together," But inside, I'll always be - more than just a little broken Years may have passed since he left But holidays and birthdays are still hard to face Because I never stop wishing he was here Years may have passed since his death But on that day, I remember every detail And just as it did then It hurts - so bad
You say you don't know me anymore Sometimes, I barely know myself Because I'm not the person I once was And I never will be again You can try to wrap your mind around it But unless you "know," you'll never know Just because
June 8, 2007 / Mom
Here it comes again. Another June 8th, another day that marks the passing of another year without Jason. I dread this day because there is nothing but bad memories of how I failed to protect him, how he chose to leave us, and the horrible way we found out and had to try to force ourselves to say good-bye when we were never prepared or ready to.
June 8th 2004, I was so naive, so comfortable, living in a bubble of belief that nothing bad would happen to the people I love, that somehow loving God and being loved by Him meant we were protected from the tragedies of life. In the early morning hours of June 9th, that bubble burst - and now I know that just like every other person on this earth, I am going to experience pain, heartbreak, and tragedy. I lost a most beloved and cherished child. My loss cannot be measured in terms that make sense. It can only be felt to be understood - the loss of a child is indescribable and unimagineable. The difference in this loss is that I would gladly then and gladly now trade my life for his - and I can't say that about the loss of my father, the loss of friends, even the loss of a spouse. My child's life was more precious to me than any other, even my own.
I think about the things he has missed. Seeing his sister grow up the past 3 years. Music he would have loved. Times with friends he would have enjoyed. Jokes and stories he would have told. Laughter we would have shared. Hugs he would have given and received - and I realize, it's our loss just as equally as his. He was robbed of life, and we were robbed of him.
I know he would be proud of his friends. The way they are always there for me, the phone calls that Adam still makes to me and Rachel, the time that Drew, Tyler, Adam, Lynsey and Blake make to meet with us. I know he must be looking down from heaven and smiling - and as grateful as I am - for the blessing of knowing these young men who have been such a gift since Jason left. It's ironic but I never would have known how special they really are if I hadn't lost him.
Today, I brace myself, try to emotionally prepare myself for the coming of another June 8th, but just as with June 8, 2004, I am never ready to deal with the emotions, the heartache, the wave of grief that washes over when I turn to face another anniversary of losing him all over again. Even now, I expect it to get "better" or easier, but it doesn't. Grief follows no predictable course - one day I'm up, the next day I'm flat on my face and if you can call that predictable, then that's what it is.
So, tomorrow, I will take myself away from all distractions, from everything that would keep me from looking fully into the face of this loss, and I will embrace the pain, the tears, and the sorrow, remembering how perfect life once was, how content, how happy I was, how I once held a small miracle baby who grew into my boy and then became the young man I loved so much. I will grieve again, without restraint, without apologies, without inhibition, for my Jason, my beautiful, sweet Jason, and if I could make it, the whole world would stop for a moment - be still - and remember Jason and the other bright shining stars that flew past us so quickly in the night, never to be seen in this lifetime again.
Jason, baby, I've said it a thousand times, but I suppose I'll say it a million more, I miss you so much. I love you more than you ever knew. Your life was a gift and I was so blessed to be your mom. Your life changed me, made me aware of the beautiful and important things, taught me how to love someone more than myself, and I'm grateful to you for all the things we shared, all the days spent together. Your death has broken me in ways that only God can fully understand. To love someone so much and then to lose them is beyond comprehension. I am so tired of hurting and at times, I understand your heart. The difference is, I know I have a choice and I choose life and possibility. There are so many lives out there, and if I can make a difference in a single one, then that's worth fighting for. You made a difference in mine. You helped me become who I am. Your life had meaning. To me - it meant everything.
On planet heaven, I know you're happy, safe, and well. I know that the things that haunted you in this life are far away, like a distant dream. BUT, if you ever happen to glance into this world, I know you see clearly how in the in the lives of those who knew you, your memory - your love, your life and sense of adventure still lives on.
I know you see, your smile fills my heart with light.
We never said good-bye, we always said, "see ya," So I'll say that now. Only God knows when, but I hope the days pass by quickly. Jay, Ilove you. See ya.
Time changes...nothing / Mom
It's been 3 years now Yet not a day goes by When I don't wake up To thoughts of Jason.
It's been 3 years now, So I've learned a lot Like how to cry alone So no one is made to feel uncomfortable Or wonder if it's unhealthy To still be grieving Because it's been 3 years now, right?
It's been 3 years now So I go to work and function And look like I'm back to normal But there is no normal. There is Before and After That line that divides my life When innocence was shattered And the belief that nothing bad would happen Swept away in a current of pain
It's been 3 years now So I guess I've gotten used to The silence that follows when I mention his name And I've learned who I can talk to And what call me if you need anything Really means And how some people, few people Will actually say his name and that they miss him And God, how I'm so grateful Whenever I'm with them Because he was here and important and special Just 3 years ago
It's been 3 years now 3 years of missing my child Wishing for one more conversation One more touch of his hand, one more kiss, one more hug 3 years of pain and sorrow I could never before have imagined But the world changed on June 8, 2004 Even the color of the sky is different All creation is tinged by the color of my sorrow Even the memories that make me smile, also make me cry
It's been 3 years now Only 3 years But a lifetime since I held him Or heard his voice And I never stop longing To look once more into his eyes I never stop wishing I could trade my life for his Because I'm STILL his mother I love him, love him, love him Not LOVED 3 years is barely enough time to get used to the idea That Jason is really dead But it's enough time for the rest of the world To expect me to move on To let go Find closure Get on with my life
It's been 3 years now Just 3 years Only 3 years Eternity to my heart
Jason, I miss you so much. Somehow, I pray you know the love I feel for you, how proud I am to be your mom. I will never forget you, never stop loving you, never live a day without missing you. Close
Sorry for your loss / Chris Pazzani
I am a parent of two small children,but i cant imagine what you have gone through since the loss of your son jason.I stumbled upon his websight,looking at his pictures ,reading the tributes and condolences I started crying.Even though i did not know jason I cried for his passing and i have grieved with his family and friends.Even though i did not know jason he has taught me that you can never love your children and family too much.God bless you and I am sorry for your loss C.Pazzani Close
Never Forget / Mom
I will never forget: The day you were born, seeing you for the very first time, the tiny miracle that landed in my life and became the center of my universe. I will never forget how you completely stole my heart from the first moment I saw you. The day we brought you home from the hospital, all those nights you kept me up, but how much I came to love and cherish the time spent with you. The way you crawled on the floor, flat on your belly like a little soldier. Arm over arm, you scooted along on the floor. Your baby laugh. How you loved the pizza monkey. The way you used to call chocolate Kruellers Ka-Ka donuts. How you used to make me laugh. The time you covered your face with green frosting. The time you threw the kitten in the bathtub. When you threw the dog off the balcony and said, "Look Mom, Nikki can fly." Telling me there was a "diamond" behind a rock for me at 11-mile. How you used to tell me the moon was following you. The way you always peeked into your Christmas presents. The time you wrapped up one of my skirts as a gift for me. The way you liked to impersonate Pee-Wee Herman and Eddie Murphy. How you loved to tell jokes and laugh. The first time you rode a bike. You used to say City-dell and Masters of the Eeneberse. How much you loved Happy Meals, grilled cheese, cinnamon toast and just about anything cooked by Grandma Horne. How you used to bring me breakfast in bed and sit and watch to make sure I ate every bite. Getting our pictures taken together. How you always decorated our Christmas tree. The time you carried Chelsa down to Ben's house - she was 2 and you were 6, and it was several blocks. How excited you would get whenever you got to see Jimmy. How you could talk just like Grandma and make me and Chelsa laugh. The way you adored Matty when he was born. Driving lessons at Vista Grande Baptist parking lot. The Flintridge house and the gerbils - MC Hammer and Blackie the cannibal. The time you did the talent show as Chris-Cross - both parts, I missed the bus - it was hysterical. When you had your appendix out :-( When you won the trophy in band. The way you used to practice playing hockey for hours and hours in the driveway. How beautiful you were on skates. How easy you could make it look. Going to San Luis with your 5th grade class. Camping with you by Mount Baldy. How you loved scary stories, movies, everything How much you loved to fly. Watching you go up in the small airplanes and praying you'd come back down. Going to Elitch's with you and how you made me go on the rides. Riding Vail pass with you and Andy. Taking you and John camping. How much you loved Lexie and how she protected you from that German shepard. All the times we drove to cripple creek on Old Stage Rd to see the aspens. How you used to tell me when you grew up you'd live in Vancouver and be a professional hockey player and buy me a house. All the dreams I dreamed with you. How you hated your haircut - every time. Your trips to the emergency room. How much you loved all your cousins and would play with them - even when you were grown. How easily you won at video games, computer games, and mastered the technical. When you taught yourself to play the guitar. How proud I was of you - always. When you caught the BIG fish at Crested Butte. The time we caught the snake. The long talks we used to have. How you loved Rachel. How you used to laugh when I told you she was reading her book. How happy I was when you would come to visit. Our last few Christmases together. How proud you were of your house with the guys and your apartment. How you were so clean and neat as an adult. Hearing your voice on the phone, "Hey Mom, it's me, Jason." Like I wouldn't recognize your voice. The time you came over and told me that all our dishes were in the same place - and that we could read each other's minds. How much you loved the dinosaur cake. The time you told me about your faith in God. The last time we hugged, how you held on for so long, like you didn't want to let go...and how I missed that maybe you were saying good-bye. The last time we talked, how you said you were getting a haircut. The last time you said, I love you.
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