And Maybe they were right.... I built such a high wall around me. At the time I rationalized that it was to protect them from my demon. I had to fight it on my own, or lose to it in battle. I convinced myself that they would be better off on their own because after all it is just an illusion that as parents we can protect our children. I hadn't been able to protect my son. I had not been able to keep two babies protected in my womb. I had not been able to protect half my children. I felt like I had failed so desperately in this area and I was so afraid of failing again. So the wall went higher and it served me well. It protected them from me. Or so I thought.

But my wall kept me more and more isolated from my family. I rationalized that they had friends and they would talk to them. I became so isolated and overwhelmed with my grief that I was unable to parent my surviving children. I became so fearful of my emotions getting out of control and if it did I feared the result. So I just kept stuffing it down and my demon kept on growing bigger and stronger. I knew things were terrible wrong but had no idea of what to do. I was having anxiety attacks. I was unable to sleep, eat, concentrate or go to work. I took a leave of absence.

Alcohol can be an amazing thing when you want to ease the pain and forget the hurt. But it only numbs the pain for a short period of time and seems to fire up an angry demon, leaving suicide to seem like the only other answer. Amazingly from somewhere deep down, I began to understand that there would be no real relief until I could bring my demon out into the open and talk to someone about it.

My counselor helped me focus my attention on what I could do about my situation, instead of concentrating all my attention on the things that I could not change. With the support of a counselor I began this long journey. It was not a journey of miles but the beginning of my grief journey and building bridges instead of walls. My counselor referred me to Compassionate Friends. With the help of Compassionate Friends, my vision became clear and only then was I able to look into my own heart. The ultimate lesson that I learned was that I didn't have to suffer in continual chaos in order to remember my son. Grieving is not forgetting, it's working through some of the pain.

The birth of my first granddaughter allowed me to once again make room in my life for good times and to find an inner strength to look beyond the visible and focus on the unseen. My demon, though still terrifying, and I have changed rolls. As I got stronger and bigger, it got weaker and smaller instead of the other way around. This battle has given me the confidence that makes me unafraid, even unafraid to make mistakes.

Confidence to start a grass roots not for profit organization. Not because I have experience starting an organization, but because I have experienced loss and when I reach out to help others, my son's life and death and our difficult grief journey is no longer meaningless.

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