How To Keep Moving After Heartbreak

Want to go out to eat? What about Evan? The last time the whole family went to a restaurant, a couple who were seated near us asked to be moved to another seating area because Evan was making so much noise – noise that we had learned to tune out, but that others often found obnoxious and disturbing.

Want to go to a week-long seminar? What about Evan? Will the parent who stays home be able to handle his care alone or will we need to find in-home respite or find a facility that would care for him for the week? Or should I just forget the seminar altogether?

My husband and I waltzed this dance for 28 years, and our other two boys knew nothing different. They never really complained, but my husband and I know they feel they missed out on many activities simply because we couldn’t figure out how to care for Evan at the same time.

I miss him desperately. My entire day revolved around his care. We were fortunate to have a wonderful nurse who helped us care for him in our home, but my daily schedule always included whatever needed to be done for him.

Now, I sit in my office and still look at the clock to figure out what he needs next – medicine, a tube feeding, a new diaper. I look at the clock, remember I don’t need to look at the clock anymore, and feel such intense sorrow.

It’s not getting any easier – just different.

One thing that will not change anytime soon is the presence of all the windchimes in his room, which is my husband’s and my bedroom now. We bought windchimes everywhere we went and hung them in his room so that any breeze that blew through the windows would make some beautiful music.

We like to sleep with the ceiling fan running, which means we hear the windchimes constantly. Their melody is soothing.

Some of my husband’s cousins sent us a memorial windchime that we hung on our deck. It jingles all day long – even when the air is still. I imagine Evan is making music from heaven.

I do believe that he is whole now and that I will see him again. I envision him and my parents playing and talking – finally, really talking. Something they couldn’t do when they were alive.

Some people may think we didn’t pray hard enough. That maybe we were being punished or that God indiscriminately chose to not heal Evan while healing someone else. I won’t believe that. We prayed for his healing and that’s exactly what we got. He is healed. He can run. He can marvel at all the wondrous colors in the world that he was never able to see while he was physically here. He can tell stories and finally talk about his dreams. I’ve always wondered what he dreamt about.

I cling to the thought that when I die, the first person I’ll see will be Jesus. And behind him will be a tall, handsome, young man with copper hair and a huge grin. He’ll wave his arms and he’ll call out to me “Mom. It’s me! I’ve been waiting for you! Let me show you around.”

I covet that image.

I can almost feel his strong arms wrapped around me in a hug he was never able to give while he was here. Part of me can’t wait, but I will until it’s my time to join him.

The biggest thing I am trying to learn is how to keep on living. Right after Evan died, I remember walking up and down our road and wondering how the world could still be spinning. Why didn’t a neighbor stop to ask about him? Don’t these people know my world was crashing down around me?

Then I realized most just didn’t know. With COVID, we’d stayed pretty much isolated and just waved at neighbors as they drove by. We hadn’t actually talked to any of our neighbors for nearly a year, which is a sad statement about our neighborhood (or about me).

About three weeks after Evan’s death, I decided it was time to get back to work. I contacted my two clients and tried to jump back into the swing of freelance writing. I had a slow start, but I think I’m rolling along now.

That’s when I started wondering “How do people keep up with their lives in the midst of personal tragedy?” You’re in the middle of a divorce, or you just got a cancer diagnosis, or a child dies. How do you recover from that? I’m still trying to figure that out, but I do know I’d have an easier time if I learned how with some friends.

That’s why I’ve started the “Stix-N-Stonez” Facebook group, a private group for people needing support and an outlet when life seems to get too hard. You’re all invited to walk this path with me. You can join the group here. 

So, while I still wonder how to keep going without my oldest son, I’m hoping to figure out how to make the journey bearable. I’d love it if you would share your story. Just fill out the Comments section below or email me at susie@stix-n-stonez.com

We can support each other as we meander through this life – together.

Until next week,

Susie at Stix-N-Stonez