The Two Boys with Beautiful Souls

Charlie (12) and Jack (16)

Two boys.

9 and 12.

"Please sit on the couch.

We have to talk."

3 words.

I had to say them.

Words I knew would change their lives forever.

Words most children never hear.

Words no child should hear.

Telling Jack and Charlie their dad died was the most difficult and will forever be the most painful and torturous thing I will ever have to do in my life.

They were living a great life.

A life with a dad who loved them.

A life with no fear, terror, pain, hurt, guilt, shame and longing.

A life that was so good. 

So right. 

So beautiful. 

I waited.

Waited to tell them.

I waited until school was over that day.

I was terrified to tell them.

I had to give them every last second in that life before they had to walk through the door of darkness, grief and the unknown into their new life.

They would grow up in a heartbeat.

They would experience pain no human should feel.

They were just little boys.

Two little boys who I had to tell how their dad died.

Two little boys who sat on the couch and cried.

Who were silent.

Who had no words.

From that moment I was terrified for them.

What will this do to them?

How will this change them?

Will they survive this?

Days were dark.

School was missed.

Life was so different.

Change every day.

Yelling.

Crying.

Silence.

Fear.

Anger.

Days are still tough.

School is still missed.

Tears still fall.

Not as frequent.

But I'm not going to lie, those days still come.

They probably always will.

Just as I crawled out of darkness, those two little boys have too.

They have crawled with grace and dignity and beauty.

They have had to change and embrace a new life.

They have had to find their way every day.

They are 2 boys who have gone through more than most can bear and have grown into strong, amazing young men.

They have grown into 2 young men who understand life more than most adults.

They show empathy and compassion to those who struggle or who may not fit in.

They are funny, loving, talkative and kind.

They are survivors with soft edges.

They have a support group who they love and loves them.

They have an amazing group of friends who they stay tight with in Wisconsin.

They have created solid friendships with an amazing group of kids in Connecticut.

They are both on the honor roll.

They play sports and are involved.

They play in the school band (and hate me for it).

They are on their phones too much and play too much xbox. 

They don't always make their beds or brush their teeth without me yelling at them.

They talk back and can be mouthy.

They are 2 normal kids living a good life.

I can't keep count how many people they meet come up to me and tell me what nice, kind boys I have.

"Thank you. I agree" I say with a smile and try not to tear up.

They don't know our story.

They meet Jack and Charlie and witness the genuine and kind human beings they are.

When their dad died I was terrified for them.

The terror is gone.

Will they be able to survive this?

Hell yes. 

They have and are thriving every day.

Who have they become?

Two beautiful souls I am proud to call my sons.

I wanted to read this 4 years ago.

I wanted somebody to tell me my kids would be so good again.

I write this for you if you are afraid for your children.

Afraid like I was of what the future would hold for them.

This is for you.

Know the road may be long and scary but I promise they will be okay.

More than okay.

They will be amazing.

P.S. Jack and Charlie...

I am proud of you every damn day and honored to be your mom.

I love you.

The Girl With the Hole in Her Heart

I cried all day today.

I woke up and I knew it was going to be one of those days.
They still come.
Not as frequent but they come.
I hate them.

I try to wish them away.
They just don't go away.

My heart hurts.
I can't stop it.
It just hurts.
Physical pain.
Heavy bricks laying on my chest.
My heart feels like it has torn into two.
I can't explain the pain.

Today is one of those days.

Some days I don't feel the physical pain.
My heart feels whole.
Broken but whole.

Other days it hurts so much I want to rip it out of my chest.
There is a gapping hole that needs to be filled.

You can fix this Sandra.
Fill it with work, exercise, a walk on the beach.
Stay away from the wine.
Something has to fill the hole.

I can't fill it today.

Tears pour out of me.

I beg for this pain to go away.
Please.
I hate this.
It HURTS.
I want the hole to go away.

It will go away.
I need to sit in it.
Feel it.
Cry.

Tomorrow it will feel better.
It always does.

I'm tired.
I'm lonely.
I'm afraid.
I'm emotionally spent.
I'm stressed.
I'm on my own.

It piles up.
The pain.
The worry.
The lonely life I lead.

I realize this is when the pain comes.
This is when the hole is the biggest.

It doesn't matter who I am with.
It doesn't matter where I live.
I can be surrounded by people who love me.
I can be doing something I love.

My heart still hurts.
The pain still comes.

It came today.

It used to be daily.
Then weekly.
Now it shows up when my heart can't take anymore.

Let it go Sandra.

Goodbye my heart with the hole in it.
Goodbye pain.
Goodbye tears.

Until next time...


Truth, love and hope in your inbox every Friday. Sign up for my newsletter here. 

I Have Let Go

So here I go...I have been thinking about writing this blog for a long time but I just wasn't ready. After 2 and a half long years since my husband died, something in me shifted. I have started to laugh more, taste my food, drink less (coffee and wine), read again, work out, eat better and smile more. Why?

I finally let go. 

I looked at my two boys, Jack and Charlie, and thought "we have walked a long dark road together but I know we are going to be ok". We finally let go.

Anger, fear, guilt, terror, spite, despair, paranoia, rage...at times they had taken me over but I am done with them. I have let them go.

My deep sorrow, pain and heartache is quieter. It is still there but softer. Grief will live with us forever. It hits us and takes our breath away but we know how to work through it with the tools 2 years of grief counseling has given us. 

I've accepted the new me. I've accepted we are now 3 instead of 4. I've accepted the boys lives are taking a different path if Pat wouldn't have died. I have accepted we all are surviving the trauma of suicide and are taking it one day at a time. I have accepted we now live a strange life I never could have imagined unless you are in it. Strange but good again.

Time does heal. Cliche yes, but time has healed the boys and I. With help from our loving family, dear friends, grief counselors and acts of kindness from strangers, we are healing and so grateful.

We are o.k. We finally let go.

If you have just started down your journey as a suicide survivor, I want you to know you and your children will be o.k. again. I just wanted somebody who had lived it to tell me their kids were not just o.k., but amazing. Actually, my kids are amazing.  Jack and Charlie are kind, funny, beautiful old souls who every day amaze me with their courage and strength. Kids are tougher than we think. Be as honest and open with them. Talk to them about their grief even though it hurts like hell. Give them a voice - their voice as a suicide survivor.

I'm not an amazing writer. I can be crass and raw and use too much profanity. People have tagged me as a "straight talker" and "bitch" for years. It never really bothered me.  I stood and still do stand up for what is right and I believe in.  Maybe that straight talk saved me and gave me the strength to be honest, open, raw and real with my boys and myself. Honesty so many survivors of suicide struggle with because of the stigma attached to mental illness and suicide. We all choose our journey of grief, and I choose to be as open as I can be. It has been a process to get here but I'm talking about suicide. I'm talking about mental illness. I'm talking about grief counseling and school psychologists and crazy situations I have been in. It may not always be comfortable and safe. But I finally let go.

I'm not afraid of what people will think. All that matters is what my 2 boys think. They are amazing and support me writing this blog. No fear here. I give myself permission to live again. I hope this blog will help you live again too.