December 30, 2020 – This journey is my own

It’s been nice being in Burley and having the opportunity to visit Benny’s grave.  I’m grateful his tiny body is here, surrounded by family.  But as I’ve gone to “visit” him, I’ve felt something different than I think most parents feel at their children’s graves.  In fact, I haven’t really felt anything.

I realize as I type this—and as I’ve thought about it over the last few days—that my experience is different than many others’ experiences (and in fact nearly every other parent’s experience who I’ve spoken with who has also lost a child).  I understand that by sharing my perspective here, I set myself up for criticism and judgment for not having loved my child enough, or loving my child less than other parents.  I’m opening myself to being vulnerable, because I think it’s important for me to do so.  Because at the end of the day, this is how I’ve been feeling and it’s part of my experience as I process the loss of my angel son, and regardless of what anyone else thinks, I know I loved him fiercely and with everything in me. 

This blog is the place where I’m trying to capture my emotions and feelings as I navigate this difficult situation, so it’s important to me that I record the feelings I’ve been having this week and the feelings I’ve specifically been having at Benny’s grave.  I wouldn’t even think twice about writing this if this site was still private, because it’s authentically my experience.  But, when Tom and I decided to make it public, we did so recognizing we were opening up our private healing journey to anyone to read, good or bad, with the hope of potentially helping others who may be experiencing challenges, too.  I feel vulnerable in sharing this particular aspect of my healing and this experience, because it is so different than nearly everyone else I’ve spoken with.  I also feel bad in some ways because I don’t want other parents to read it and wonder why their experience hasn’t been the same as mine.  Goodness, comparison is such a terrible thing.  But, it’s important to me that I capture these thoughts, so here I am.

By sharing, I don’t mean to say that my perspective and experience is right or wrong, but rather just different than what I’ve heard other people say has been their experience.  Not better or worse.  Just different.  In fact, I think most people would read my experience as me not being as good of a parent as someone else, or not loving my child as much.  I’ve felt guilty as I’ve even compared my own experience to what I’ve heard others say has been their experience.  I’ve questioned whether or not I was as good of a mom because I’m having a different experience.  It pains me to say that, but unfortunately I think too often we compare experiences and make one right and one wrong.  I don’t think mine is wrong.  I don’t think others experiences are wrong.  They’re just different.  I’m processing this in the best way I know how, and others process in the best way they know how.  Just like I tried to be the best mom I knew how.  It’s certainly not perfect, but as with everything else, I’m doing the best I can and leaving the rest to the grace and mercy of the Lord.

Similar to nearly all challenges in life, there is so much that is shared when dealing with the loss of a child. But, I also think there can be marked differences as well.  The experience of visiting Benny’s grave happens to be one for me, but I have to believe that’s okay.  I have to believe that it’s okay for me to process this differently, because this is what makes sense for me.  I think at first I was relying on others’ experiences to make sense of my own, but I’ve come to see that as time has gone on, I’ve recognized things about going through this loss that are unique to me and unique to our situation with Benny.  I’m not entirely sure why it’s different, but it’s how I’ve been feeling and what my experience is, so I think it’s important for me to record it.

We arrived in Burley on Monday and stopped at the cemetery as we got into town.  I think I was expecting that I’d feel something magical or especially peaceful when we were there – but I didn’t.  So then I thought that maybe I’d experience a profound sadness.  Cemeteries evoke some sort of emotion, right?  I didn’t have bad feelings.  I just didn’t really feel anything.  I tried to connect with Benny while we were there.  I felt like his spirit was there and glad we had come to visit and remember him, but I also felt him tell me that I don’t need to feel like I have to come there to remember him, or that I can only remember him there. 

I was grateful to have a relatively positive experience at Benny’s grave on Monday, especially in contrast to the last time we’d visited on the night we buried him.  But, when we visited that day and as I’ve visited each day since, I’ve come to see that I don’t feel that’s where I need to be.

I’ve had people ask me how, as a mother, I could leave my baby in Idaho.  I’ll be honest – I’ve thought about that myself, and especially on the day he was actually buried.  But from the day Benny left our earthly home for his heavenly home, it’s exactly where I knew his little body should be.  In fact, it was my idea and I was grateful that the idea also came to Tom and his mother (the owner of the cemetery plot).  Something just felt right about having our little Benjamin Jerry buried by his Grandfather Jerry, whom he was named after.  There has always been a special connection between the two of them, and we knew it’s where our angel boy’s body should be laid to rest.

When we visited Monday, I felt Benny share with me that he was doing well.  I’m always grateful for those reassurances.  But, I was understandably a little sad when we visited and I felt Benny tell me that I shouldn’t be sad because he is so happy!  He reassured me that he’s with his Grandpa Jerry and Grandma Fern (Jerry’s mom and Tom’s grandma he was close to) and doing what he needs to.  I felt him let me know that he’s so proud of his little body and all it did for him, and he’s grateful that now it’s being kept safe and warm in the ground by Grandpa Jerry.  He reminded me that his little body worked just perfectly during his short five months, and now it can peacefully rest.  I was so glad for those reminders.

But then I felt my little Benny reprove me just a bit.  In his kind, loving way of course, but he reminded me that even though his body is here, his spirit continues to be with us.  He’s not “stuck” here in the cemetery, because his angel spirit is eternal and can be with us wherever we are.  I felt he’s excited we’re here in Idaho, ready to make new memories “together” and enjoy our time for the holidays.  My sweet angel boy reminded me that while it’s nice we can come to the cemetery to remember him, we can remember him in other meaningful ways, too.

As I visited his grave again this afternoon (which I’ve felt I should do since we’re here and have done each day), I again had these same thoughts.  Benny loves that we remember him, but he wants us to remember him in other ways too.  He doesn’t want us to feel like we have to come to the cemetery to remember him.  He doesn’t want us to feel guilty that his grave is so far away from our home.  He doesn’t want us to think he’s stuck here and this is the only place we’ll feel his spirit.  He doesn’t want us to be sad when we think about the fact that he’s not with us anymore.  Because he is with us.  He isn’t “stuck” in the cemetery.  In fact, Tom and I have felt Benny closer these last few weeks than ever before.  That sounds odd, but we have.  We’ve felt him with us so much, maybe even more so than when his angel spirit was here on earth.  I realize that doesn’t make sense, but I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it all.  I just know what I feel.  And what I feel is that I loved the time I spent with my boy when he was here and I love the time I spend with my boy now that he’s in heaven.

As I left the cemetery today, the sun was setting and I decided to take the long way home.  (Tom was with the babies and I’d come over by myself.)  As I stopped near an open field (there are a lot here in Burley!) to admire the beautiful sky, I felt Benny tell me he’d rather be with me and remembered in this way.  He’d rather be remembered through things and experiences that bring me joy, rather than the cemetery where I might feel sad.  My angel boy knows how much I love sunsets, and I loved enjoying it with him tonight.  I’m glad that I was able to visit the cemetery where his little body now rests, but I’m even more glad to be reminded that I can always remember him and have him with me, especially when enjoying the beauty of things I love. 

So many parents feel a connection with their child’s grave.  They find peace in the cemetery and even joy in being able to visit and remember their children there.  I can see how that would be the case and how it’s a source of comfort for many parents.  In fact, many people find comfort visiting their loved ones in cemeteries, not just parents who have lost children.  Cemeteries can be wonderful, peaceful places full of comfort and healing.  But that’s not my experience.  I’m not sure why.  I thought it might be, but it’s not.  And that’s okay.   

My journey may not be the same as another mother who has lost her child.  I’ve seen that it’s not even the same as Tom, my angel boy’s father, as he’s navigated this same loss.  This journey is mine and I’m trying to heal in the way that is best for me.  I’m trying to embrace the feelings I’m having, recognizing they may not be the same as others and trying not to be too hard on myself as a result.  I want to work through the emotions I’m experiencing as I try to move forward in this new reality, so I can heal and continue to be the best mama I can for my angel Benny.  It’s tough, but I’m grateful to feel my sweet boy by my side as I work through it all.  I’m grateful for his reassurances.  I’m grateful for his comfort.  I’m grateful for his happy, wonderful spirit.  I’m so grateful he was mine.  I’m even more grateful to know he is still mine.  Just like this journey is mine.  And his.  And somehow we’ll make it through and be even stronger as a result – together.