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.

The Bronze Serpent

I remember at a stake conference last month there was a speaker who talked about The Bronze Serpent.  In the biblical book of Numbers chapter 21, the Israelites were punished by God for speaking against Him and Moses. He sent fiery serpents among them to deliver deadly bites.  When they asked God for forgiveness and to heal them He told Moses to make a bronze serpent and attach it to his staff, that who ever looked upon it will be healed.  The interesting part about this story is that even though God gave the people a way to be healed most of them died. Why? Because the way they were to be saved was too simple.  They did not believe that it would be so simple to be saved and therefore they died.

My interpretation and how it resonated with me:

I remember it was still morning time and the sun was shining through our living room window and I looked at it through our white transparent curtains and I called out to God.  It was then that I felt His response and I was given the remedy for my loss. Although I truly believe that I was not being punished for my sins, I know that when my son died God presented me with the Bronze Serpent and all I had to do was to look upon it to be healed.    It was simple, just like the Israelites had to look unto the Bronze Serpent to be healed, I had to trust Heavenly Father to be healed. I had to change my life and become the person He wants me to be.  The Bronze Serpent is the knowledge of the gospel, I just had to accept it with all my heart to be healed.  The Bronze Serpent means all of the lessons and teachings of Christ, the prophets and the Apostles, for these things help to heal me. The Bronze Serpent is like having faith, and with this faith comes the hope that I needed, and with hope I can be healed.

The Bronze Serpent is the soft spoken words of the Holy Spirit, I just have to listen to be healed.  And now that I am listening, it's whispers are so clear; I had to go back to church, I had to obey the commandments,  I had to endure to the end.  In order to be healed, the Bronze Serpent told me I had to do my temple work and make and keep sacred covenants, I had to be sealed to Wesley for all time and eternity so that I may be with him again.  The Bronze Serpent is all the knowledge that I have and will have in this life that will make being with my son possible one day, and then when I do get to hold my son again I will be healed.

I do have faith. I do believe that Heavenly Father sent His only son down to Earth for the remission of our sins. I do believe that eternal salvation in Heaven is possible through the Atonement of Jesus Christ...and I have never understood or been more grateful for this act of selflessness. The ultimate sacrifice God made was to have His son, Jesus Christ, die for our sins because He loves us so much and wants us to be with Him.  Without the Atonement, without repentance, I could not have the hope or the chance to be with my son again.  If I hadn't looked upon the Bronze Serpent, I too would be doomed in this life. I probably would have caused my own self destruction. I probably would have killed myself.

When I read the scriptures, learn about the gospel, learn how to be with my son again it gives me so much comfort. It is in these things that strengthens my faith and it's in these things that I know God will heal me.  I know this because I looked...

Grief and How it Affects My Faith

It's been 58 days since Wesley has gone to Heaven and I'm still struggling. If you were to step into my mind you'd see a battle between my grief and my faith.  The other day, I read an article that almost mimicked my very thoughts.

Yes, I get angry with God sometimes...I usually have to quickly push that anger out of my thoughts because "I shouldn't think like that." I would worry that if I questioned Him it would be a great sin and my chances of getting into Heaven would be ruined.  But in truth sometimes I am angry, sometimes I do admit that one of my biggest fears is that none of this is true. That there is no afterlife, no heaven, no God, no chance of being with Wesley again...crazy right? But to me it's not that crazy.  The greatest desire in my heart is to be with my son again, so it makes sense that my biggest fear is that there is no hope left of being reunited...that when he took his last breath that that was literally the end.  I'm not saying that that's what I believe --I honestly don't know how people with no faith can live with no hope as their truth--but I do believe that the darkness planted that fear in my heart.  There may be times where my anger can cause my faith to be damaged but I do believe that the Lord reaches out to me and mends it.  This article helped me realize that it's totally normal and healthy to be angry and to let it out. The best thing I read was the advice this mother was given when someone told her, "God can take it. So tell Him how you're feeling." The article can be found here: http://powertochange.com/discover/faith/havefaith/

I gave my best to Wes

I woke up and cried today. I really miss my son. I still can't believe he's gone. I still wake up every morning and have to endure my heart breaking once dreamland is no longer my whereabouts. But I still haven't dreamt of Wesley. I don't remember dreaming at all. It's like sleep lasts for a second and then I wake up and hours have passed and the real world is my nightmare.

The world looks so differently to me now.  Sometimes I feel that life is standing in the way of me and my son. Like I have to continue living the rest of my life and then I will die. Honestly, I can't wait for that day. But I feel bad because life is a gift and I'm so focused on the after life and death.  Ideally I'd like to be able to get through this endeavor and become the best person I can be and live the best life that I can. It's hard to do that and be that when you're a bereaved mother. As a mother your children are your world, your reason for existing. To have to live my life without one of my children is devastating. It's unbearable. It's all I can think about.

It's hard to focus on Kekoa. I want to channel all this mothering that I have left in me that was created for Wesley onto Kekoa. But it's hard. I know it sounds messed up but when I had Wesley, I always wanted him. When I was pregnant with Kekoa I was young, I wasn't ready to change my life, I didn't know how to change my life and I was very depressed. I didn't connect with him when I was pregnant. After I had him I tried to bond with him. But I was so caught up in my own world trying to find love for myself that I didn't know how to love Kekoa like a mother normally does. I used to be so jealous of all the pregnant moms that totally loved the person that was growing inside of them. I envied the undying love and sacrifice that they were able to make for their baby.  It took awhile for me to connect with Kekoa on that level.  In my dad's opinion I never sacrificed enough for Kekoa. Which always hurt me because I thought I was doing the best I could. My parents have helped me take care of Kekoa from Day 1 and my mom loved my son like I wish I could. So I've always felt that Kekoa was more of my parents child than mine. But I know Kekoa loves me more than anyone in this world. I see him crave my attention, my affection, my unconditional love, my presence. I just don't know how to genuinely give it to him. Don't get me wrong I love my son more than anything. I just loved Wesley differently...He needed me more and I wanted to give my all to him. It may sound pretty shitty on my part, but this blog is where I can be honest, and that's the truth.

When I was pregnant with Wesley I didn't know if it was possible for me to love another child like I do my son.  But when Wesley was born...a whole new heart grew in my chest. It was the heart I've been waiting for. I finally understood the power of a mother's love.  It was consuming my very existance and I was swimming in it. I understood how a mother could sacrifice anything and everything for my little cub. He was the most beautiful angel that ever came from Heaven.  I never wanted to leave his side and I didn't. I never wanted to give up breastfeeding and I didn't. Even though I could never produce enough for the demand I still put him to the breast as much as possible. It was such a blessing to be able to provide for my baby. To be his source of nutrition, to be the lullaby that puts him to sleep, to be the warmth that comforted his little body. I barely asked my mom to watch him. If I went for a walk I mostly took him with me because I worried about him being away from me. He couldn't sleep without me. I didn't want him to stress out because he was so tired and couldn't sleep. Even my husband would rush me to get home from the store because he couldn't put Wesley to sleep. I extended my maternity leave for this very reason. I'm so glad I did. I'm so blessed that I didn't miss one day without my son. I've only been away from him for a few hours at the most when I went for a job interview for Horizon Airlines (which I got!).

I didn't fail to tell him everyday how much I loved him. I told him everyday I will always take care of him. He made me so happy, I've never felt such joy. It was so rewarding to do that he needed me to do for him because of the love that I got in return. His face would just light up with so much love when he saw me. He loved me even when my hair was a mess and dark circles under my eyes. I felt so loved.

So the day he was called back to Heaven it was the worst day of my life. I truly believe there's no greater pain than experiencing losing your child--your baby. It's infancy where your children need you the most. They can't do anything on your own. So it's hard not to feel like a failure when everyone says "You did everything right. You did everything you could do," yet I still couldn't save him.  I can't even write about that day because I don't want to look back at this blog years later and remember the details. But I believe I will never forget anything about that day. It's hard to forget the worst day of your life. I spent weeks blocking it out. Every time it crept into my mind I physically had to shake it out of my head...I didn't want to crawl back into the dark place. I didn't want to remember my son that way. But honestly I feel I remember more about that day and the days after than the days that he was alive.  When I think about that time it was suggested to me to think about the day he was born. I'll admit I've been forgetting to do that because I'm so stuck in my dark place that it just blocks out the best day of my life which was June 7th, 2015, his birth day.

I remember being so ready to give birth to him. I was so eager to see what he looked like. I delivered him naturally and it was the easiest birth ever. I didn't feel any pain. He just came right out after about 14 minutes of off and on pushing. I remember the nurses cheering me on saying "GO GO GO GO" LOL. They couldn't get the stirrups out so I just grabbed the back of my thighs and just pushed. As soon as he came out they put him right on my chest and I was so overwhelmed with joy. He was absolutely perfect. He was so warm and was gripping onto my chest...like he was waiting so long to hug me. That moment was priceless. I remember before they moved me to the recovery room I was walking around just minutes after giving birth and the nurses being so shocked at how well I was walking around like I didn't just push out a baby. I showered and put on my robe and had the most peaceful night ever. My life couldn't have gotten any better. I had my husband and my sons and surrounded with love...I was the happiest woman in the world.

It's memories like that that I will cherish for the rest of my life and carry with me into Heaven. I will always make sure my son's name is spoken and never forgotten. My kids will know of him as if he is with us...because he is and always will be. I hope that they will always visit him and their kids too.

I look forward to having more children and to take care of them just as I did Wesley. To raise them and Kekoa in the church. I want to be a better mother to Kekoa, to be the mother that he deserves. But I'm blessed to know that he knows he is loved. My parents and my family do a very good job of that. I don't want him to feel like he's not enough for me because he is. I'm thankful that my children chose me to be their mom. They're the sweetest angels to have ever blessed my life.

First Halloween

My husband and I knew that Halloween was going to be hard. All the upcoming holidays actually are going to be hard. When we went to the pumpkin patch in the beginning of October I remembered that last year I was pregnant and I said the next time we come here we'll have the baby with us! It was hard to remember that and not be able to experience the pumpkin patch with Wesley.  When Halloween day finally came around my husband was the first one to break down. We had gotten into a little argument because he was just grumpy all day. When I finally called him on it he told me he was really missing our son. I completely understood. I wanted to dress our son up, I wanted to look for costumes...Kekoa wanted to be Mario and his little brother to be Luigi, lol.

Kekoa was Venom for Halloween and I painted my a sugar skull on my face. In honor of the Day of the Dead because my son will always be remembered.

I couldn't resist doing a photo edit of my son in a costume. I fell in love with it! Some people probably would think it's weird that I did that but I still wanted to see my son in a costume and include him on our Halloween escapade.

I'm so glad that I did. It's exactly how I picture my son in Heaven. I wanted to print it and take to Kinko's to get laminated and wear it on a laniard so Wesley could go trick-or-treating with us.  But instead I posted it on Facebook. I didn't know how people were going to react but I didn't care. My son is still and always be a part of my life in everything that I do.

Now I want to create one every year for Halloween to see all the little costumes Wesley could be wearing in Heaven. I love you my little Elephant.

Dying Day

Today 11/4/15 visiting Wesley after my night shift. It was 42 degrees @ 7:30am.

During my son's service on Sept. 19th, 2015 my sister and my little cousins sang this beautiful song. It hit every corner of my heart and it brought tears to my ears. I've been listening to this song all day and its like the exact words that my heart would want to sing.

I love and miss you with all my heart and soul, Wesley. I'm still trying to figure out how to live the rest of my life without you.

I love you so much my beautiful angel.

A Thousand Winds

God is so good...

So something pretty amazing happened today. I went to visit Wesley at the cemetery, something I do everyday. I always go because for all of my son's life from the moment of conception to the moment he took his last breath I was always with him. I always want to feel close to him and going to cemetery helps me feel that. People always tell me his spirit is always with me and I don't have to go to the cemetery everyday but I do have to go. I have to go for my own sanity. It helps me start my day by knowing I was there for Wesley. I can't begin my day until Wesley knows I am there, he is not alone. The cemetery feels so peaceful to me and I feel normal there. Nobody feels sorry for me there, I don't have to put on a smiling face for everyone to see that I'm okay, I can cry and not feel guilty about it, I can be free. Be free to be me and be true to how I feel.

Well, today I went to go see Wes. I laid out my mat right next to him like I always do and I kneeled down to kiss his temporary marker, like I always do. I kiss it right on the music symbols that we picked out for the border of his marker. "Music Made Us" is what I always said. My husband and I started dating while we were in a band together. If it wasn't for music we would have never have fell in love, got married and built our family.  I always wipe the rain and leaves off of his little temporary marker made of marble.  I always trace the engraving of his name..."Wesley Kalamafoni-Sivaivai Sheffet"...such a beautiful name. As I sit there I try to tell Wesley about my day..,sometimes it's a good day and sometimes it's a hard day. Sometimes I just don't say anything, I just want to be near him. Sometimes I fall asleep there. I know it may seem weird but I feel so comfortable there that I can sleep next to my son.  I'm usually at the cemetery for a couple of hours, sometimes more. Today I could only stay for a little less than an hour because I had planned to pick up my mom from work. As I was sitting next to my son, staring at the grass that started to brown, I started to get cold. It's usually pretty windy up at Finley Sunset Hills but I normally don't mind.  Sometimes I'm so numb that the cold doesn't bother me. Today I was pretty cold and it was the beginning of November in the pacific northwest. A part of me wanted to get up and go back into my car, but a huge part of me told me to stand against the cold...that nothing can keep me from being with my son. I've tried not going to the cemetery but sometimes I can't handle it, I have to be with my son. Sometimes I feel guilty if I don't go because I don't want my son to be alone and I don't want to abandon him. So, no matter the hour, if I haven't gone yet to see my son, I will go. The latest I have gone there was about 10pm until about 1am.

I knew it was getting close to the time I had to leave to get my mom and also it was getting really really cold. With guilt starting to fill my throat I began to talk to my son. I asked him if he wanted me to continue to come there everyday...and I said if not please let me know that you're with me. Let me know that you're okay if I don't come to your grave...I don't know how to feel close to you if I'm not here next to you...please let me know you're with me even when I'm not here. Then I closed my visit with a prayer, like I always do, gave my son's stone another kiss, put my head to the grass to talk to my son through the ground and tell him I love him, then I rolled up my mat and started the long drive home.

I drove home in silence, traffic was pretty bad but I didn't mind.  My dad had told me he was going to pick up my mom so then I went straight home and decided to get some sleep for work later on that night. When I parked my car at home I pulled up my Facebook and got a notification that my friend Emi had tagged me in a post. When I clicked on it I saw a video from youtube of a woman singing a song called A Thousand Winds. Her post said that this song made her think of me and that she was praying for my family and I. "How sweet.." I thought to myself. I couldn't hear the lyrics of the song because it was a live version so I looked up the song online. The lyrics popped up and it turned out that it was a poem...when I read it, tears started to fill my eyes. It's like my son was talking to me:

It was amazing. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was the most perfect poem. I truly believe it was my son's way of speaking to me and Heavenly Father had made it so. I was in such awe of it all. It was moments like this where I told myself there is no denying it, God is real and He does love me. The other day one of the missionaries told me "God doesn't do random." and I believe it with all my heart to be true. He continues to answer my prayers so literally and clearly. I quickly commented on the video my friend posted and told her what I had said to my son at the cemetery and how her poem had come at the perfect time. She immediately responded.

She said that she originally knew this poem from 10 years ago in japanese and today she just couldn't stop thinking about it. She had to drop everything she was doing and find an english version and send it to me. I'm so glad she did. I believe Heavenly Father used her to comfort me. I believe was my son was sending me a message through her. I feel so incredibly blessed to have had this experience. I will remember it forever along with this poem. Thank you to my dear friend Emi who had the spirit guide her to help comfort me. Thank you to Heavenly Father for hearing me and knowing my heart. Thank you Wesley for being with mommy where ever I go. I will try my best to disconnect your spirit from the cemetery. I will try my best to not feel guilty if I do not go. I will remind myself with this poem. I still will go to the cemetery but it will be more because it's my place of solitude and peace...a place that you and I will share together. I may be visiting you, but I hope and pray that it's you who will be visiting me. I love you, Wesley. Amen.