The Salt to My Wounds

Yes through all of this pain that I am already in there is such thing as salt to my wounds.  Since the 2nd day after I buried my son my dad has constantly been encouraging me to relocate Wesley's belongings from their original position. After Wesley was born we moved in with my parents since I would not be working until our renovation on our basement (at Bill's parents house where we usually live) was completed. Therefore all of my son's belongings made settlement at my parents house. I've told my dad from the initial time that he asked me to move them that I was not ready. To me, it was too soon. To me I wasn't ready to move forward. I didn't want to not see his things not there anymore because it means he really is gone. I'm not dumb...I know my son is no longer physically here, I had to bury him. But could that just be it? Could letting go of my son just stop there? Why did I have to let go some more?? His physical things are all I physically have left of him...they are as precious to me as he is. I didn't want to box him up, hide him, put him away. I didn't want things to change more than it already has. Now, after we had the funeral we no longer stayed at my parents house because it was just hard for my husband. He had no reason to be at my parents house anymore. I followed him because I needed more than anybody in this world. He kept me together, he held me when I fell apart, he reminded me of what's in store for us. He would remind me that there's still hope.

Well, as the months went by my dad could not stand my son's things being there. And I just could not fathom his things out of its original position. I wanted things to stay as Wesley left it. I mean...atleast give me some time. My dad was bugging me about it 2 days after my son's funeral and on. I felt like he wasn't giving me a chance to breathe. A chance to figure out how to move forward. A chance to figure out how to live. I felt pressured, I felt forced, I felt that he didn't care. He says it's because it's his house and he wants his space. He told me if I wanted to keep Wesley's things there to pay him rent. He doesn't understand why I'm just struggling with life period. He wanted me to just suck it up and move on. He says that I choose to grieve...I choose to be sad and to miss him and to struggle. When I tell him it hurts and with disgust he says "That's just your feelings." All of my life my dad wanted me to be someone I'm not. My dad says it's tough love, but growing up I felt no love. He said I wouldn't be alive if he didn't love me. Anyways, feelings were a sign of weakness to my dad. And I as his daughter was not allowed to have feelings. Growing up I could never be true to myself. If my feelings were hurt, there was no such thing. So truly I'd be hurt, but I couldn't say or do anything about it because my dad wouldn't allow it. He'd put me down, call me fat, make comments about my looks. Tell my mom I didn't deserve anything. Couldn't call my friends, couldn't have friends call me. And to my dad everything I did is because I did it for attention. Even as a 25 year old mother who lost her 3 month old baby, he labels my grieving as attention seeking. That I go to the cemetery everyday to get sympathy and attention. This is all coming from MY DAD. And my family tells me..."are you surprised? You know how your dad is." And honestly, yes. I am surprised. I didn't even question my dads compassion when it came to the death of my son, his grandson. I thought he was going to be there for me. The week my son died my dad was the dad I've always needed. He was gentle, held me as the medical examiners took my son away, told me it's going to be "ok." Then after the funeral that dad that I never saw before I never saw again. It was back to tough love dad. And no one can understand why I'm so upset with him. I just thought that he wouldn't want me to hurt more than I already am. How can you not be in a crazy storm after you lose your child. I know no one in my inner circle understands how I feel...but can you understand that it hurts?? My mom has always been the referee between my dad and I. Yes, I got to the point in my adolescent years that I just could not take the abuse anymore. I could not stand being kept in a box and kicked while I'm in it. I am his daughter. His only daughter that he raised. His only child that he raised. He says I always talked back and disrespected him. And yes it is true. But my dad has "hated" me since I can remember. I remember when he would visit my mom, brother and I in Hawai'i and I remember that I hated him being there. He always looked at me like he hated my face. He always was smacking me around. Never got a hug, never a kiss goodnight. Who wants to feel hated 24/7? Especially by your dad. So I couldn't take the abuse anymore, I started to talk back. I started to defend my "feelings" that they were real and that they matter. But no. They will never matter to my dad. To this day they will never matter. SO. Yes, my feelings get dismissed by some. Even my cousin/best friend/sister growing up has dismissed my grief saying that I "choose" to be in pain. Yet she is not even a mother nor has ever been in love. So there are multiple parts of her heart that she hasn't even discovered yet. But it still hurts that she could and would dismiss my grief when I thought she was going to be a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. But no, she says don't show her my problems (I told her my dad moved my sons swing without telling me, which he did and it hurt.)

It just sucks that the people that I love, the people of my blood can kick me when I'm down. They have no idea how hard it is to navigate through grief. It's like being born into a new world and there's no one to show you how to walk...but they can hold your hand. It's just unbelievable that there is such thing as people who don't want to hold your hand...the ones you thought would never let you go.  It's a struggle. There's still so much more to write that has been said and done for you to understand how intense the salt on my wounds are. It's like throwing salt on my gash and then stepping it in as if you were stomping out a cigarette. It's like drowning and your trying to make your way to the surface and someone just grabs your leg and pulls you down making it harder and longer to swim. Some people swim better than others and I'm not sorry that I'm not swimming how you want me to. I'm just swimming the only way I know how which is practically not at all! You can't swim for me but don't deny that I am drowning. I really didn't that I would be going through this. I guess not only losing my son was something I never expected or prepare for but I never expected or prepared for my family to hurt me even more. Some people just tell me to forget them, leave them behind, I can. But it still hurt.

Dismissing my grief is like dismissing my son. Dismissing his things are like dismissing my son. Dismissing me when I want to talk about him is like dismissing my son. Dismissing that I am just freaking sad is like dismissing my son.

 I cannot and will not hide my grief just like I did not hide my love. And just because I'm sad it doesn't mean because I am thinking about the day he died. No. It's because I'm living in the present day without him. PERIOD.  I am just trying to find my footing in this life I know nothing about. I know nothing about the future. I only know my present and my past. I don't know who I want to be yet because I don't even know where or who I am. I'm so confused about everything. I can be super happy one day and then totally depressed the next. I don't know which part people want to see so mostly I'm alone even though I don't want to be. I just don't want to make people uncomfortable if I say "I'm not okay." when they ask how are you. I don't want to say "I'm okay." and then I can't keep it together for much longer and then I break down or I get overwhelmed by all the "normalness" around me. I just want to talk about my son. I just want to talk about how I'm feeling. I just want you to listen.  SOMETIMES. I don't know, I just want you to be who I need you to be when I need it. If I need a ear, be an ear for me. If I need a movie partner, be a movie partner. If I need you to be the one to say it gonna be ok even though you don't know how, then be the one to say it. I know everyone has their own lives, I know everyone can move on better than I can and it scares me. It scares me that my son will be forgotten. My son was my daily life and now I'm out of routine. I  just don't know how to do it but I'm trying. BTW, my dad thinks its absurd that I say I'm trying. I know some people are just DO IT people. But so much easier said than done when you just lost your son. I don't think I could ever fully describe what's going on in my brain right now or what has gone on between me and my family the past few weeks but it just has sucked. But after all the fighting I just realized my dad wasn't going to budge for me, so I'm better off taking my sons things out of it's original position and dealing with it than fighting with my dad over my sons things. That's another thing that I hated. Was that we were fighting over my sons things. Like why? WHY? Why??? It's harder for me to move than it is for him to see it. But whatever. I'm at the point in my life where I will take it out of his house. And that's that for now.