Farewell 2010

Some of you know the trials and tribulations of the last six months since my last post, some of you don't. In a nutshell, what I thought would be our life of four since the loss of our sweet boy Griffin, has turned into a life of the three of us, making the title of this blog even more appropriate. In the year that was 2010 we have all lost so very much and I sit here pondering, still, trying to make sense of it all, trying to understand what exactly has happened, and most of all mourning the loss of the family I thought I had and building, nurturing and finding my way with the wonderful, beautiful one that I do have.

My Kirin and Cooper continue to grow and thrive. We have celebrated their 11th and 8th birthdays during the latter half of the year. Cooper is in 3rd grade and Kirin in 5th- that first day of school this year was a tough one, as we only had to turn down the big kid hallway at the school! I continue to be amazed at their tenacity and ability to handle everything that has been thrown at them over the course of this year. I take great pride in their acceptance and tolerance of their undeserved situation, their understanding on a level appropriate to them and the constant unconditional love they continue to provide me with. They are a source of great strength for me and I hope, I am to them. They still smile and laugh. They are still kids, despite the immense amount of growing up they have had to do this year.

I have come to realize that my children, all three of them, have taught me great lessons this year. Griffin's occasional visits to me, to remind me that I was and am a good mommy, are a great source of strength. His death, while overwhelming and painful, was for the better of him. I find no need to question why anymore. I have come to believe that Griffin believes and wants nothing but happiness for all of us. He has taught me that life is to be lived to the fullest, each and every day. Embrace the good. Embrace the love wherever you can find it. Roll with the punches and find happiness in each moment. Have fun and love as much and as often as you can. Smile. Smile big. I'm trying to instill this in Kirin and Cooper. I think I'm succeeding too. They remind me to giggle and laugh, as they grow and become the remarkable human beings they are. They are so very wise and insightful. I am so very, very grateful to have them in my life.

2010 will be a year none of us will ever forget, but most of all, I hope what we remember about 2010 is the love and the joy that was brought to us by the presence of my son on this earth and the lessons he taught us about living. It's what gets us all through every day and reminds us to smile, no matter what the circumstance.

This is the final post I will make to this blog. I feel it's the best way to pay homage to my son, and remember the life that existed while he was alive. I'm starting over, and I think starting a new blog is a good way to do so.....if you are interested drop me a line...

I wish you all the best in 2011, thank you immensely for all of your support, love and prayers over the past 3 years and hope that you take a bit of my Griffin with you for the rest of your lives and remember....Love as much and as often as you can and Smile. Smile Big :)

Much love,
Tiffany

In Honor of the Boy.....

Hi all. Griffin's birthday is fast approaching and the kids and I have had an idea of what we want to do to celebrate. This is where you all come in.

We would like to ask that each of you who cares to join in, get a helium balloon on June 19th, 2010. Each of us will have our own, attach a note to it for him and at 4:15 EST we will release it from our yard. We ask that you do it from your own backyard or front yard wherever you are in the world at the same time. So those of you in Thailand, Finland, Turkey, England and the all corners of the US can send him birthday wishes of your own. We'll be singing happy birthday as we let them go and reminding our Griff how very much we will always love him.

We know his sweet smile will be the sunshine from heaven.

Love,
Tiffany

The fight to slay the beast

Grief is a big, horrendous, ferocious, ugly creature. It seeks to maim you, throttle you, scratch you, disembowel you and downright strike you down. Finding the courage and strength to fight back, to stand tall in the face of it's viciousness is an endeavor you cannot prepare for or properly brace yourself against. It attacks in ways you never imagined. You hurt in places you didn't know existed. The wounds continue to reopen again and again. Knowing they will heal in time does not really help. Time is the only viable method of engagement and defeat. Time. The moment to moment living you thought was gone is not. Ten minutes is a good measure. Okay now the next ten. Now the next.

I am determined to slay the beast. To be the powerful, strong, loving woman that I am. While my wounds are raw, my resolve is greater than any pain I may be experiencing now. I will prevail. It is my only option. My Griffin told me so.

I may not write much in the coming weeks but knowing you all are out there thinking about us is so important to me.

Tiffany

Maybe I need a tattoo....

So I have been pondering this as of late....if you lose your spouse/partner, you have the title of widower. You have been widowed. If you lose your parents, you have the title of orphan. You have been orphaned. When you lose your child, you are still a parent. The title did not change. When you say it, there is no mention of the asterisk that should be placed next to it. We go in and out of stores, work, restaurants and no one knows that I should have a baby in tow, cruising in his car seat or riding in his stroller.

This has brought me to the the conclusion that I need to tattoo it across my forehead for all the world to see. Don't forget me. Don't forget my pain. Don't forget my son. The whole world should know that my Griffin is no longer with us here. The sadness in my eyes is there for a reason. One day it won't be as prominent but for now, everyone should know. Everyone should be kind and gentle to all four of us. We are tender and raw right now. Everyone should pay attention to that. Don't cut me off on the road and expect me to be happy about it. Don't make a joke and always expect me to laugh. My heart hurts and I have no label to share with the world.

Okay, so maybe a tattoo isn't the solution. Maybe just a Miss America Ribbon replete with the title, "Angel Griffin's Mommy" or "Mrs. Mommmy*" I could wear it for a little while right? I think I'm entitled. I think Griffin is entitled. I miss him terrible. I miss what our family was before this happened. I miss everything. I knew this was going to be hard, but I had no idea what the hard was going to be. I think I thought it would just be the missing of Griffin, but I was so wrong. We are each dealing with this in such different ways and it makes it so awkward to be around each other. The kids telling me that Griffin is walking along side them on the way to dinner almost irritates me. I don't tell them that, but it makes me hurt. Drew wants to be alone and I can't stand to be alone. I miss my evenings with Griffin and our physical contact. He would cuddle me or play with me on the couch. Now I sit alone. I have to ask the big kids to hold my hand on the way to school. I need the touch.

Yup, the banner would probably work. They pass out new mommy badges to wear, and big sister/big brother ones too. Maybe I need to make one to wear on the outside to match the one on my heart.

Tiffany

Major Suckage....

Okay, so last week the kids got up every day without a single issue to go to school (apart from the normal moaning about getting up for school.). We weren't late for school a single day, and we walked every day! I had taken to the 'walk it out' theory for myself.

This week is a totally different story. Monday we were dragging. Tuesday, I let the alarm go off so long it shut itself off. When I finally got up at 5 till 8 to wake the kids up, Kirin was sitting in her bed reading a book, knowing full well she should be at school at that moment. Cooper was rolled up in his comforter bellowing, "it's too hard to get out of bed' over and over again. Drew was still asleep. I made them get up and got them to school at about 830. When signing them in I wrote in the slot that asked 'reason for being late' - Grief. And I thought, Go ahead. Question it. Ask me about it. I dare you..... Wednesday was much of the same, minus the late part. I decided that we have to get away for a few days. So, we are leaving this weekend. Beach. Salt air and sunshine. Away. Breathe. This has given the kids something to look forward to and we talk about it whenever we're together. What are we going to do? What does the hotel look like? etc. Seems to be an excellent distraction already and we haven't left yet.

The kids have had the benefit of the same routine since Griffin was born. We insisted on it. They went to camp everyday in the summertime and school everyday otherwise, so going back to school should be normal for them. Drew and I don't have the luxury of some routine to return to. Well, one that we can remember how to do anyway. So, for me, going back to work every day is so foreign to me that I am exhausted after a few hours. Not to mention how strange it is to leave the house with no one in it, or be in it by yourself. But, routine is not routine, obviously, for any of us right now. It's major suckage. It sucks to leave the house, it sucks to be in the house, it sucks to have fun, it sucks not to have fun. It just sucks. This whole thing just sucks and it will for a while. Maybe even a long time. At least we're in it together.....

So, thanks to many generous, kind hearts in our department at work as well as a fellow alumni of ours, we are able to jump the Grief Relief Train for a few days without worry. Hopefully we'll be able to relax a bit, smile a lot and remind ourselves what it's like to be the four of us again. We're not the same people we were 3 years ago, but we're still a family and we've been blessed with knowing an amazing little boy for a short time. We wish he were here with us to play in the surf, but we know he'll be watching us smiling instead.

Love,
Tiffany

Two Weeks Gone.

Drew is finding some solace in music, Kirin and Cooper are finding solace in the birds and the sky- telling us at different times that Griffin is singing to us with the cute bird on top of the speed limit sign or he's made the clouds part and the sun shine. I find myself quoting movies. Today, I felt one with Forrest Gump as I walked in circles around the track. When he takes off running after his mother dies, and runs and runs and runs. I kept waiting for people to show up in droves walking behind me, but finding only a deeper meaning to why Forrest ran by himself. Steel Magnolias, Contact, Sleepless in Seattle and Forrest. The feeling of needing to scream is beginning to bubble up to the surface and I'm wondering where my Weeza is.. I need someone to hit. The world continues to spin, life goes on around us and all I want to say is STOP. How is it possible that just two weeks later we continue to do what is 'normal' and I feel like how dare we. How dare we act as though he never existed! How dare we eat dinner out, do the laundry, go to work, go out to lunch, dare to smile?

The medical supply company came on Tuesday to pick up Griff's feeding pump and other necessities. I didn't realize how hard that was going to be. In fact, it completely knocked the wind out of me. I couldn't go to work. I spent the rest of the day in a daze and ended up going to bed at 9:30. And slept. Until the next morning.

I am so very tired. I finally realized why. I really haven't slept in nearly 3 years. I have 'coma-ed' as I have called it in the past. It was necessary for my body to rest as long as possible every night, and so I did. My head would hit the pillow and I was out, no dreaming, just out but constantly on alert. Constantly listening for his call to me. Constantly worrying. Constantly waiting. We all were. Now we are all trying to catch up. Catch our breath. Figure out what has happened over the past few years and figure out a way to go on without him here. I am trying to figure out how to turn off the part of me that was always anticipating the next thing- the next dose of medicine, the next feeding, the next diaper change, the next doctor appointment, the next..........I can only imagine what goes through Drew's head every moment now as well, or the kids. We have sent them back to school this week to try and get things back to a normal routine for them. They seem to be handling it okay, but I wonder if I'm feeling this way about normal, is it too much for them? But, at the same time, I know they will tell us in their own way if it is, in fact, too much.

So, that's where we're at. Straddling two worlds again, normal and paralyzing grief. Listening to each other and the whispers of Griffin still surrounding us- some that make us sad, some that make us smile. Trying desperately to deal with this seemingly never ending ache that exists in our hearts, knowing we have to, but it's okay to succumb to it too. In the meantime, the kids and I blow kisses to Griffin every night in heaven, telling him how much we love him and miss him, share one favorite thing of our day and remind ourselves that no matter what the day has brought our way, we will never forget him or how important he is to all of us, always.

Tiffany

One week later.

I don't know really what to write today other than I know I need to write something. But I also feel like if I write something I'm making that final video of him scoot down this page and away from everyone's memory.

Here we are one week later and it all seems so surreal still. Drew and I picked him up from the funeral home today and brought him home. It was the longest Griffin had been away from home since he came home from the NICU. Very strange. I thought it was going to be bizarre in some way to have his ashes here at the house but I'm finding this remarkable comfort in knowing that he is again under our watch, safe at his house with those of us who love him the most. I know 'he' is not in there, but it does bring more comfort than mortification. I was worried about that. I thought the kids might wig out a bit too- but they surprised me, as they continually do with all of this, and have taken it all in stride. The four of us stood around his beautiful bamboo box and cried together, again, knowing that he was here, but not. Feeling the moment and knowing that we can move on together now. We are whole again, in some sense....

We are all slowly starting to not look for him in the living room, glance at his favorite spot on the floor to check on him or feel the need to find him for a quick hello and love you statement. The "Shhhhh Griffin is sleeping' makes it to the tip of my tongue at least 5 times a day. This is not easy to do. His presence is definitely missing. His occasional 'shout out' to make sure we remembered he was here is gone. The silence can be deafening at times. The kids still get out of the shower and shout, "Griffin, your turn!" I have boxed up his clothes, most of his toys and blankets and Drew has kindly taken the crib and changing table down. We still have things here there and everywhere that are his that I intend to share with others. Some for the physical therapy center, some for friends, some yet to be determined. I feel a kind of accomplishment with each thought and task, but when completed am overwhelmed by sadness and tears. I try not to plan too much for each day to be sure I don't collapse. Each day I go to the mailbox and find cards from beautiful people reaching out to be sure we know we're not in this alone. I am so very thankful for that.

I was with him when the Griffin who smiled and giggled, laughed and loved, left this earth, holding him close to my heart. I was with him his entire life. Not many mothers have the opportunity to do that. I am so very grateful to him for letting me know how much he loved me and appreciated me. To know in my heart that we did everything in our power to keep him safe and loved. I hate that I will never know what he would have grown up to be, or what he would have looked like at my age, but I do know I find great joy in knowing that he is now the toddler he could have never been here. Eating cheerios one at a time, playing with his stuffed animals and drawing with crayons on the white walls or clouds of heaven. He blessed us every day he was here, he never had the terrible twos, always listened to what Daddy and I told him. He never told us no, in that defiant 2 year old (or 10 year old) tone. I would have given anything for him to do so, but I understand it just wasn't what the universe had in store for him. No, it's not fair, it wasn't right and there is no one on earth or otherwise who can explain to us why. For a child, there is no answer that would satisfy the question. Ever.

So, I am so lucky to be his mother. I will always be his mother. And when people ask me in the future how many children I have, my answer will always be three. One just happens to be an angel.

Thankfully and with love,
Tiffany