A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Originally posted by me as dakotaismyson March 17, 2020

Well, I cried a lot during support group. Both the leaky kind and the aggressive kind. The group wasn’t crowded, just a few people. A mom. A brother. A wife and daughter (she went through this twice, once with her dad and once her hubby), and another daughter. Add my family and we have another mom, a sister, and a step-dad who also went through this with his father. People told their story. I didn’t feel pressured to but I shared some of mine. They were all surprised it was so recent and we were already there. That sorta shocked me. They were kind; reiterated that none of them are counselors, just people like us learning to put one foot in front of the other.

I told them I decided to go because of anger issues that were creeping up. I don’t want to be an angry person. My son wouldn’t want me to be an angry person. I’ve always been precise about the people in my life and I don't want to lose them. It’s not their fault they can’t understand and I completely never want them to... so angry bursts aimed at them wasn't fair. Safe people shouldn't become your whipping posts just because they love you and are safe.

I realized I didn't exactly find what I was looking for. I think I had some thought that I would find another mom, just like me, who had a relationship with her son that was very similar to mine. While that mom may exist, I realized (well, hubby told me) that each situation is unique, just as each relationship and each person involved is unique. Even there (support group) it’s hard to contain the snippy individual lurking inside.

My life is a roller coaster and I think I’m coming to terms that I’m a bit of a control freak when it comes to my life. I call it being a planner by nature… but is that not merely a means of trying to control my life? I like my routines… and the last 26 days have taught me that control is, for the most part, illusion. I can control how I behave… I cant seem to completely control what I think. And WOW have I learned I can’t control others.

Denial… confusion… guilt… anger. This is my cycle. I have no idea how long I will stay in this cycle. I think I have a grip on the anger. At least I’m aware of it, and that’s a start.

I am not yet really able to talk about my son in any depth without my insides all contracting into a tiny ball of pain. My whole life I’ve tried to make the people I love proud of me. Hearing “I’m proud of you” is the highest praise in the world. I wish I had thought to tell Dakota that during our last conversation. …just so he knew. I had told him before, just like I’ve told Jess or hubby… maybe even my parents (I need to work on that). But oh how I wish I hadn’t been focused on winning that battle that was going on in his head and taken the time to tell him that I am one heck of a proud momma. I still am. Ironically one of the things I tell both kids I’m proud of is that they were waiting to start families… waiting till they didn't have the same struggles we Three Musketeers went through. But yes, I am forever one proud mom. I raised 2 extraordinary people. Both smart, both kind, yet both distinctly different from each other.

One of the hardest things is dealing with all the “shoulda” moments, just like that one above. We all think we have more time. We get lost in our own day to day and think we have ages and ages with people we love. It’s a great denial or naivety about the reality of our world. Every single moment with someone we cherish is an opportunity and how often do we let those just slip past and leave things unsaid?

The night Dakota died, a couple hours before it happened, he tromped downstairs where hubby and I were working out, brandished a speaker we use in the workout room like it was a trophy with this mischievous yet victorious grin on his face. I smiled at him and said, “We keep a spare, goob!” …I wish I had asked him if he wanted to join us. After you lose someone, regardless of the how, the wishing becomes part of life. I wish and wish and wish… from silly wishes like that… more meaningful wishes I had said more… the devastating wish that I had my son back.

I sleep a lot these days. I’d say I average 9-12 hours a night. Dumbledore (in Harry Potter) says that in dreams we have a world entirely our own. In my dreams lately, my son is alive and smiling, and being the gooney, lighthearted, amazing person I raised. No wonder people sleep so much.. it’s a wonderful escape.

I have to visit the attorney today. Not scary, other than dragging me through more… but -with the love and support of my family- nothing can be worse than what I have endured.

I miss my son with every fiber of my soul.