This past Friday was the 3rd anniversary of the day my kids were killed in a car accident. Three years. THREE YEARS!!! I still don't get it.
In some ways it feels like yesterday. In some ways it feels like it was 300 years ago. It doesn't really matter. I still don't get it.
I started this blog so I could let people know how I was doing. There were and are so many people who care and who worry and I wanted to let them know where I was in my grief so maybe they wouldn't have to worry so much. I also wanted to have a place where I could share my feelings and thoughts so I could get them out of my head and not feel so alone. For a while blogging really helped. I just had no way of knowing that life after the death of my kids would be this difficult.
I chose the name "Callapitter" because I loved the idea of the callapitter turning into the butterfly just when she thought the world was over (and of course I also loved the way Peter said "callapitter"). I knew things were bad and that losing my kids was some sort of horrible awfulness that cannot even be imagined, but somewhere in my soul I thought that things would get better. I thought that, initially, this blog would be a place to release the dark and disturbing experiences of grief, but eventually I would have more positive things to share.
Here I am, THREE YEARS LATER, and I'm still convinced the world is over.
It is so hard for me to share this with you. I'm not the type of person to complain endlessly or be negative all the time. I try, I REALLY TRY, to find the bright side in even the worst situation. But at this point I can't. There is no bright side. My kids are dead. The end.
Here's the real reason I haven't blogged in forever: I can't stand to be this negative. I feel like a big fat jerk for complaining when I have so much. Some people have nothing. I am not one of those people. Therefore I am a jerk.
But here's the thing: I am trying so hard to move forward and turn my life around after this truly devastating loss, but it's not fucking working!!!!
Let me cut through the crap and be specific. Many of you have inquired, hinted or suggested that maybe I should have more kids. Maybe that would help. I agree with you 100%.
I am a mom. I have always wanted to be a mom. When I was 13 and all my friends were saying they wanted to be teachers and doctors and marine biologists (because for some reason everyone wanted to be a marine biologist in the 80s), I said I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. My high school teachers teased me because I was going to spend a shit-ton of money going to college when I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. I can't help it. It's who I am.
Problem is, at this point, I'm a "childless mom". That term is all wrong. That's all I have to say about that.
So 18 months ago, as you know, I got married to a wonderful, amazing man who I love very much. I thought, "This is a new beginning. We're gonna have kids. I can be a mom again."
Now don't get me wrong. I know in my heart of hearts that having more kids is not going to take away the pain of losing Kate and Peter. I can't replace them and I will miss them with every ounce of my being until I someday see them again.
I do believe, however, that having more kids could add joy to my life which might help balance out the pain and sadness. I also think Ken and I could be pretty good parents and maybe have some kind of nice, happy family. Trouble is, it's just not happening.
I realize that 18 months isn't really that long when you're talking about trying to get pregnant. I also realize that I'm getting old. I'm not older-than-dirt old, but I'm old enough. I'm old enough that doctors say wonderfully sensitive things to me like, "at your age, you can't afford to wait a year before considering your options. You just don't have that much time left." Or, "we have to look at your ovaries to see how many eggs are left in your egg reserve. At your age, you may not have enough eggs left to actually get pregnant". Gee thanks, I appreciate that. Assholes.
So 18 months in I have spent many hours in doctors' offices having every test imaginable. The tests show nothing. I have something called "unexplained infertility". Like I couldn't have figured that out myself.
I mean, I guess it's good they haven't found anything wrong, but the recommendations are the same as they would be if they had found something wrong: extremely expensive, hormonally charged, crazy-inducing fertility treatments that are rarely successful. Sign me up!!!
I apologize for the extremely sarcastic tone of this post. I'm angry. Very, very angry. For once, I want something to be easy. Really, I just want my kids back, but that's not going to happen. Did I mention I was angry?
Ken and I are at the point now where we are considering our options. All of them. We are fortunate, we have options. I know that.
I also know it's not a hopeless situation, but I feel hopeless a lot of the time because I'm so damn sad. I miss them so much. SO MUCH!!!
I do hope to someday blog again more regularly, but I won't do it if I don't have anything good to say. For now just know that I am still swimming and I'm still trying to find my kids, wherever they may be. I occasionally still have moments where I feel them around me or I get what I consider to be a sign or an "after death communication". To end this horribly negative post on a more positive note, I will share my most recent experience.
Ken and I recently spent some time in Australia and New Zealand with my brother (who lives in Australia). We did a lot of hiking in New Zealand, which may quite possibly be one of the most beautiful places on Earth. One day we were hiking in the Southern Alps near Mt. Cook when I looked to the side of the trail and saw this:
Yes, it is a heart made of rocks with the letters K and P in it. No, I did not put the rocks there and no, it is not photoshopped. I swear. I can't explain it. I can only say that on my worst days, it's things like this that give me a little bit of hope. So thank you, Kate and Peter.
This is the story of my life and journey after the death of my children. It may not be pretty, but it's honest.
Showing posts with label ADCs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ADCs. Show all posts
Monday, April 9, 2012
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Is it just me...
or do you so something unusual in this picture too?
At our wedding, Ken and I gave single-use cameras to all of the kids who were there. There were a lot of kids in attendance, mostly Kate and Peter's friends whose parents are our friends, and we were hoping to see what our wedding day was like from their points of view.
They took many, many pictures (over 500) and did a nice job of capturing things we never would have seen otherwise.
Like this.
Just sayin.

They took many, many pictures (over 500) and did a nice job of capturing things we never would have seen otherwise.
Like this.
Just sayin.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Persistence and pansies...
The cloud of sadness seems to have dissipated slightly, though it's still here. Thank you all, once again, for your kind comments and words of encouragement. It is so helpful to know that even when I'm home alone, feeling intensely despondent, I'm really not alone...that caring friends and strangers are, for some reason, willing to go through this hell with me. I don't know why you're all still reading, but I'm sure glad you are.
Since Tuesday night, when the cloud arrived, I've managed to make it through each day, trying to be as productive as possible, but it hasn't been easy. I just can't shake it this time. In the past I've been able to distract myself by staying busy, but for the past few days I feel like I've had to reach into the depths of my being to find strength I don't even think is there. It's like everything I do takes so much energy and everything I see or hear makes me even more sad. But I have no choice - so I just keep going, hoping that this too will pass...or at least get easier.
While I actually have a moment to sit down and write I would like to share one little story that brings a smile to my face when I think about it. It has to do with perennial pansies growing in front of my house.
Let me begin by saying that I am the farthest thing from a gardener. I generally feel that I don't have time to deal with my yard so I cut my grass and call it a day. When I do try to plant things they usually die so I don't plant things.
Two years ago, in April of 2008, I was getting my house ready for Peter's birthday. I knew a lot of people from out of town would be stopping by, so I wanted my yard to at least be presentable. We're not talking about any kind of real landscaping, but I did trim my hedges, put some mulch down and attempt to plant a few flowers.
I have two planters in front of my house so one day while Kate was in Kindergarten, Peter and I went to Home Depot to pick out some flowers. As I said, I know nothing about flowers so I thought I'd let Peter pick some out. It wasn't a big deal to him, but he happily chose some yellow pansies. So together Kate, Peter and I put them in the planters where they survived until the fall when it got cold. I was amazed that they actually survived through the summer.
Then last spring came (2009) and I definitely didn't feel like planting anything (though, thankfully, sometime in mid-June a bunch of friends came over and helped me with me yard). However, one day in early June I noticed two little yellow pansies growing in between the bricks of my front walk. As I mentioned, I know very little about flowers, but I do know that pansies are annuals, not perennials. They were so sweet. They grew there all summer and were still blooming when I came home from Italy in November. I know they're not much, but to me they felt like a little gift from my kids.

This spring rolled around and I wondered if the pansies would come back, though I doubted it. Nope, nothing but dandelions this year...until two weeks ago, when two yellow pansies popped up on the other side of my walk. One day they weren't there, the next day they were. Thank you, Peter and Kate! I needed that.
(and, as you can see - I haven't done anything about the weeds this year)
Since Tuesday night, when the cloud arrived, I've managed to make it through each day, trying to be as productive as possible, but it hasn't been easy. I just can't shake it this time. In the past I've been able to distract myself by staying busy, but for the past few days I feel like I've had to reach into the depths of my being to find strength I don't even think is there. It's like everything I do takes so much energy and everything I see or hear makes me even more sad. But I have no choice - so I just keep going, hoping that this too will pass...or at least get easier.
While I actually have a moment to sit down and write I would like to share one little story that brings a smile to my face when I think about it. It has to do with perennial pansies growing in front of my house.
Let me begin by saying that I am the farthest thing from a gardener. I generally feel that I don't have time to deal with my yard so I cut my grass and call it a day. When I do try to plant things they usually die so I don't plant things.
Two years ago, in April of 2008, I was getting my house ready for Peter's birthday. I knew a lot of people from out of town would be stopping by, so I wanted my yard to at least be presentable. We're not talking about any kind of real landscaping, but I did trim my hedges, put some mulch down and attempt to plant a few flowers.
I have two planters in front of my house so one day while Kate was in Kindergarten, Peter and I went to Home Depot to pick out some flowers. As I said, I know nothing about flowers so I thought I'd let Peter pick some out. It wasn't a big deal to him, but he happily chose some yellow pansies. So together Kate, Peter and I put them in the planters where they survived until the fall when it got cold. I was amazed that they actually survived through the summer.
Then last spring came (2009) and I definitely didn't feel like planting anything (though, thankfully, sometime in mid-June a bunch of friends came over and helped me with me yard). However, one day in early June I noticed two little yellow pansies growing in between the bricks of my front walk. As I mentioned, I know very little about flowers, but I do know that pansies are annuals, not perennials. They were so sweet. They grew there all summer and were still blooming when I came home from Italy in November. I know they're not much, but to me they felt like a little gift from my kids.
This spring rolled around and I wondered if the pansies would come back, though I doubted it. Nope, nothing but dandelions this year...until two weeks ago, when two yellow pansies popped up on the other side of my walk. One day they weren't there, the next day they were. Thank you, Peter and Kate! I needed that.
(and, as you can see - I haven't done anything about the weeds this year)

Sunday, July 18, 2010
Closer than ever...
Lately, I swear, my kids have felt closer than ever. Since I got back from Vermont I feel like they're with me, right next to me, so often - it's been great!
Have you ever been really close to someone physically - like hugging someone, for example - and even though you're touching them, you feel like you can't get close to them? It's like there's an invisible wall separating you from the other person. Maybe I'm just weird, but I have experienced that many times.
Anyway, this is the complete opposite! Physically, my kids aren't here, but they feel extremely close. As close as I've ever been to anyone. Almost like they're a part of me.
This isn't a constant phenomenon, but lately it's happening more often. And I think I may have figured out why.
When I was in Italy, one of my roommates, who's a good friend of mine, explained to me that sometimes she can see or hear spirits. It's not something she can do all the time, but it has happened. A few days into our trip she told me she needed to talk to me, but she was a little nervous I might think what she had to say was crazy. I told her not to worry about that, I've said my fair share of crazy things. This is what she told me, through tears as it was such an intense emotional experience:
She said, "Your kids are here - I know it. I can feel them, but they're afraid to get close to you because they don't want to set you back in your grieving process. They want to be close to you, but they don't want to hurt you."
At the time I did my best to try to understand what she was saying, but I didn't totally get it. Last week I think I finally figured it out: when my kids are close, I feel more sad and emotional than I do when they're further away. It's not that I miss them any less any other time, but when they're close I can feel them and the love between us and I get sad and emotional because I want them back, the way they used to be. So then they back off. Finally, what my friend said to me 9 months ago makes sense!
After figuring this out I "told" them that I want them to stay close to me and I can deal with the sadness. It went something like this, "I know I look really upset when you're near me and I'm crying, but I'm tough and I can handle the sadness. I'd love for you guys to be close to me and I don't want you to think you're making me cry. Really, I don't mind crying if it means I get to be near you guys!"
That "conversation" must have done something because now I feel them a lot more often, no lie.
Yesterday, I was trying to get a bunch of stuff done around my house and I felt Kate with me for most of the day. It's weird how sometimes I feel one or the other of them and sometimes they're both here. I think that's how I know I'm not making this up, because if I was I'd want them both here 24/7.
I was getting ready to go out last night while listening to Kate's Pandora station. I asked Kate if she could maybe "choose" an appropriate song (like she has magical Pandora powers - who knows?) and this is what I got:
I posted the version with the lyrics because, when you really pay attention to what the song is saying, it's is so obvious that this was something from my kids. Immediately when the song started I could feel both of them. I was completely blown away! And it didn't stop there - the music montage continued: the next song was "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" followed by "Best of Both Worlds" then "Hey, Soul Sister" and "Live Like We're Dying". I'm not making this up. Seriously.
They're here. I know it!


Have you ever been really close to someone physically - like hugging someone, for example - and even though you're touching them, you feel like you can't get close to them? It's like there's an invisible wall separating you from the other person. Maybe I'm just weird, but I have experienced that many times.
Anyway, this is the complete opposite! Physically, my kids aren't here, but they feel extremely close. As close as I've ever been to anyone. Almost like they're a part of me.
This isn't a constant phenomenon, but lately it's happening more often. And I think I may have figured out why.
When I was in Italy, one of my roommates, who's a good friend of mine, explained to me that sometimes she can see or hear spirits. It's not something she can do all the time, but it has happened. A few days into our trip she told me she needed to talk to me, but she was a little nervous I might think what she had to say was crazy. I told her not to worry about that, I've said my fair share of crazy things. This is what she told me, through tears as it was such an intense emotional experience:
She said, "Your kids are here - I know it. I can feel them, but they're afraid to get close to you because they don't want to set you back in your grieving process. They want to be close to you, but they don't want to hurt you."
At the time I did my best to try to understand what she was saying, but I didn't totally get it. Last week I think I finally figured it out: when my kids are close, I feel more sad and emotional than I do when they're further away. It's not that I miss them any less any other time, but when they're close I can feel them and the love between us and I get sad and emotional because I want them back, the way they used to be. So then they back off. Finally, what my friend said to me 9 months ago makes sense!
After figuring this out I "told" them that I want them to stay close to me and I can deal with the sadness. It went something like this, "I know I look really upset when you're near me and I'm crying, but I'm tough and I can handle the sadness. I'd love for you guys to be close to me and I don't want you to think you're making me cry. Really, I don't mind crying if it means I get to be near you guys!"
That "conversation" must have done something because now I feel them a lot more often, no lie.
Yesterday, I was trying to get a bunch of stuff done around my house and I felt Kate with me for most of the day. It's weird how sometimes I feel one or the other of them and sometimes they're both here. I think that's how I know I'm not making this up, because if I was I'd want them both here 24/7.
I was getting ready to go out last night while listening to Kate's Pandora station. I asked Kate if she could maybe "choose" an appropriate song (like she has magical Pandora powers - who knows?) and this is what I got:
I posted the version with the lyrics because, when you really pay attention to what the song is saying, it's is so obvious that this was something from my kids. Immediately when the song started I could feel both of them. I was completely blown away! And it didn't stop there - the music montage continued: the next song was "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" followed by "Best of Both Worlds" then "Hey, Soul Sister" and "Live Like We're Dying". I'm not making this up. Seriously.
They're here. I know it!



Sunday, June 27, 2010
The Profundity of Mario Kart...
I know I said I was taking a break, but I felt this was important enough to document - not just so I could share it, but also so I'll remember it. Let me also preface this post by saying that if you don't already think I'm crazy, you may soon. Oh well...there are worse things in life than being crazy.
So Friday night I was driving down my street when a bunny ran out in front of me. I had no time at all to slow down or swerve so I ran over the bunny. This was extremely upsetting. So upsetting, in fact, that even though this occurred on my street two full days ago I have now found two other ways to get out of my neighborhood without driving past the scene of this tragedy. I just don't do well with dead animals. In my almost 20 years of driving I have only hit one other rabbit and one raccoon, and cried profusely after both incidents.
So Friday night I was driving down my street when a bunny ran out in front of me. I had no time at all to slow down or swerve so I ran over the bunny. This was extremely upsetting. So upsetting, in fact, that even though this occurred on my street two full days ago I have now found two other ways to get out of my neighborhood without driving past the scene of this tragedy. I just don't do well with dead animals. In my almost 20 years of driving I have only hit one other rabbit and one raccoon, and cried profusely after both incidents.
Hitting this rabbit Friday night really set me off. First I was just sad about the rabbit, but then I started thinking about how lucky the rabbit was because it didn't have to be here anymore and would maybe get to go be where my kids are. (I told you that you were gonna think I was crazy...and I haven't even gotten to the crazy part yet.) That started me on this whole life and death thing, then one thing led to another and, before long, I was wishing I could go the way of the rabbit so I could be with my kids again. (I swear I am not suicidal, I'm just sayin.)
This is where the crazy comes in: as soon as I thought that - you know, the whole wishing I was dead so I could be with my kids thing - I felt Peter say to me, "You don't understand, Mama. It's not like we're in a different place than you. It's just a different sort of reality. We're right here, you just don't see us."
My reply to him was, "No kidding, I don't understand! I need you to help me understand!! I WANT to be able to see you and know you're right here, but I can't!"
Peter then said, "Well... it's sorta like Mario Kart. Ya' know how when we used to play Mario Kart all the time we were characters in the game, driving inside the TV, but we were actually still in the living room? Life on Earth is kinda like that. Even though you're 'in the game' you're still with us, here."
This completely confused me because I don't understand where "here" is or what he could have meant by that. I then felt like Peter could sense my confusion so he said, "You have to unlearn everything you know about reality". And that was that.
I'm telling you, I am not making this up. I know these thoughts did not originate in my brain. Even though I didn't audibly hear Peter, I felt him and I know he said these things to me.
So now I'm trying to figure out how to unlearn things. None of this makes much sense to me now but maybe someday it will. If anyone has any thoughts, aside from an evaluation of my mental state, I'd love to hear them.
On a side note, Peter and I loved to play Mario Kart together. He got a Wii for his 4th birthday and we spent many late nights playing that game during the summer of 2008. He was really good at it and together we finished the game pretty quickly. I can't believe I'm going to admit this, but one night after he and Kate went to bed I played for a couple of hours by myself. After unlocking some cool new boards I actually went into his room at 11:30pm and woke him up because I wanted to show him. He happily got up and played for another hour before going back to bed. Can't believe I did that, but, hey, it was summer. We could sleep in.
It's been a very long time since I've "heard" from either Peter or Kate, so that in and of itself was a good thing. I have a few preliminary theories on what he could have meant, but nothing I can put into words just yet. If I figure anything out I'll be sure to let you know...if you're still reading.
Monday, January 25, 2010
a little something from my kids...
I’m home from my adventures at sea. It’s nice to be home and though I had some sort of flu-like illness for the first few days of my cruise, I was still able to enjoy a nice relaxing vacation.
Given that I’ve been away from home and, for the most part, away from my blog for the past twelve days I have experienced a whole range of emotions since my last post. I would like to report that I did spend some time releasing my anger using a tennis racquet and pillows - ok, it was more like an exorcism than a release. It was quite cathartic and I felt much better after doing so. I thank you all for your suggested anger-releasing techniques and plan to give some of them a try for what I’m sure will be many upcoming episodes of anger.
There were so many things I considered writing about while on vacation, but due to my sheer lack of motivation from being sick and the ridiculous price of on-board wi-fi I haven’t written anything yet. I have much to sort through in my brain before writing anything coherent, however there is one occurrence I’d like to quickly share.
As you may know if you’ve read my blog in the past I still talk to my kids quite frequently and occasionally “hear” from them. While sitting in the sun one particularly sad day last week I was talking to my kids saying, “You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard from you and I miss you so much. It would be so helpful if you could give me a little something, some kind of sign to let me know you’re still there and that you’re ok.”
Immediately after “saying” that (I didn’t really say it out loud, but was talking to them in my head) I was playing with my phone, as I so often do. I was sending text messages from the middle of the ocean (also not cheap) when I noticed I had about 30 unfinished messages in my “drafts” folder. Those of you who text will understand that when I’m in the middle of composing a text message and my phone rings the partial message automatically gets saved to my drafts folder. I typically forget that the folder exists and retype the message when I hang up the call. I had a bunch of messages that looked like this:
To: Jen
Message: what time di
To: Janis
Message: do u
To: Ken
Message: call m
I went through reading and deleting each message until I got to one that looked like this:
To: (no recipients)
Message: The kids are all right
I have absolutely no clue where this message came from. I know for sure that I didn’t write it for a few different reasons:
1. There was no recipient.
2. I got this particular phone after my kids died so I don’t know who I would’ve been texting about
3. If I had written a message such as this I would have used the word “alright” instead of the words “all right” which leads me to believe it may have been written by a certain little girl who loved to text (see picture below), but wouldn’t understand the grammatical difference.
I don’t know how it’s possible, I only know that after reading it I felt an overwhelming sense of peace knowing my kids are still around and able to communicate with me. I know it sounds crazy, and after reading this you may think I need medication, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Maybe where they are, they were able to find a cell phone provider with inter-dimensional service. Whatever the explanation, I’m just thankful. Thank you, Kate and Peter.
Given that I’ve been away from home and, for the most part, away from my blog for the past twelve days I have experienced a whole range of emotions since my last post. I would like to report that I did spend some time releasing my anger using a tennis racquet and pillows - ok, it was more like an exorcism than a release. It was quite cathartic and I felt much better after doing so. I thank you all for your suggested anger-releasing techniques and plan to give some of them a try for what I’m sure will be many upcoming episodes of anger.
There were so many things I considered writing about while on vacation, but due to my sheer lack of motivation from being sick and the ridiculous price of on-board wi-fi I haven’t written anything yet. I have much to sort through in my brain before writing anything coherent, however there is one occurrence I’d like to quickly share.
As you may know if you’ve read my blog in the past I still talk to my kids quite frequently and occasionally “hear” from them. While sitting in the sun one particularly sad day last week I was talking to my kids saying, “You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard from you and I miss you so much. It would be so helpful if you could give me a little something, some kind of sign to let me know you’re still there and that you’re ok.”
Immediately after “saying” that (I didn’t really say it out loud, but was talking to them in my head) I was playing with my phone, as I so often do. I was sending text messages from the middle of the ocean (also not cheap) when I noticed I had about 30 unfinished messages in my “drafts” folder. Those of you who text will understand that when I’m in the middle of composing a text message and my phone rings the partial message automatically gets saved to my drafts folder. I typically forget that the folder exists and retype the message when I hang up the call. I had a bunch of messages that looked like this:
To: Jen
Message: what time di
To: Janis
Message: do u
To: Ken
Message: call m
I went through reading and deleting each message until I got to one that looked like this:
To: (no recipients)
Message: The kids are all right
I have absolutely no clue where this message came from. I know for sure that I didn’t write it for a few different reasons:
1. There was no recipient.
2. I got this particular phone after my kids died so I don’t know who I would’ve been texting about
3. If I had written a message such as this I would have used the word “alright” instead of the words “all right” which leads me to believe it may have been written by a certain little girl who loved to text (see picture below), but wouldn’t understand the grammatical difference.
I don’t know how it’s possible, I only know that after reading it I felt an overwhelming sense of peace knowing my kids are still around and able to communicate with me. I know it sounds crazy, and after reading this you may think I need medication, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Maybe where they are, they were able to find a cell phone provider with inter-dimensional service. Whatever the explanation, I’m just thankful. Thank you, Kate and Peter.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
A message from Kate?
As I traveled through Italy last month and spent a few days in Florence, I had a couple of interesting experiences in which I felt like my kids might be communicating with me. Here's my description of one of them:
On my first night there my friend, Ken, and I were walking back to our hotel after dinner when we heard this musician performing on the street. He was playing and singing the song "Hallelujah". I'm not sure who originally recorded it, but I'm familiar with the Rufus Wainwright and Kate Voegele versions. My daughter, Kate, and I both loved this song and used to sing along in the car quite often.
On my first night there my friend, Ken, and I were walking back to our hotel after dinner when we heard this musician performing on the street. He was playing and singing the song "Hallelujah". I'm not sure who originally recorded it, but I'm familiar with the Rufus Wainwright and Kate Voegele versions. My daughter, Kate, and I both loved this song and used to sing along in the car quite often.
I was crying pretty hard by the end of the song. It's fabulous to sob in public, let me tell you. At least I was in another country where I don't know anyone.
So when the musician dude was finished singing "Hallelujah" he went right into "Everybody Hurts" by REM. I mean, seriously. What are the chances? "Everybody Hurts" is one of the greatest songs off all time, in my opinion, and could not have been any more descriptive of how I was feeling. And the message of "Everybody Hurts" was so fitting! If you don't know the song and don't feel like following the above link to the video, here are the lyrics:Everybody Hurts
(Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe)
When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on
'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on
Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts. You are not alone
After that song the musician started singing in Italian. After all, we were in Italy. Ken looked at me and said, "I think Kate's trying to tell you something." I think he was right.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Non-coincidence #157...
So Thanksgiving was ok. Like I thought, it wasn't worse than any other day. (though Christmas may be another story) I was distracted, surrounded by wonderful people and fairly busy. It wasn't until I went to bed that night that the sadness hit me.
It's so weird...I'll be totally fine and all of a sudden I realize how much I miss them and that they're really not coming back and the pain is instantaneously overwhelming. So I started talking to them and telling them that I needed to hear from them.
I truly believe, as I've said many times, that they are in a better place. They're better off...we're the ones who have it rough. I believe this in my mind and my heart and my soul. Sometimes, however, it's hard to feel it. Especially when I feel sad.
The day after Thanksgiving (which would be yesterday) I told them I needed to know that they really are in a better place. I'm still their mother and I can't sleep at night if I'm worried about them. They still have to check in from time to time. I SO wish I could find a cell phone provider with interdimensional service.
Literally, within a few hours of my request an anonymous person posted this comment on my blog:
It's so weird...I'll be totally fine and all of a sudden I realize how much I miss them and that they're really not coming back and the pain is instantaneously overwhelming. So I started talking to them and telling them that I needed to hear from them.
I truly believe, as I've said many times, that they are in a better place. They're better off...we're the ones who have it rough. I believe this in my mind and my heart and my soul. Sometimes, however, it's hard to feel it. Especially when I feel sad.
The day after Thanksgiving (which would be yesterday) I told them I needed to know that they really are in a better place. I'm still their mother and I can't sleep at night if I'm worried about them. They still have to check in from time to time. I SO wish I could find a cell phone provider with interdimensional service.
Literally, within a few hours of my request an anonymous person posted this comment on my blog:
This is what I believe...
When you die, you don't die at all you just move on to another place...call it heaven or whatever you'd like. It's calm, you're at peace, you're greeted by generations of family you've never known...but they've seen you grow up from that other place. You aren't scared, you're at peace. You're still here, in dreams, in thoughts, in memories, people never die...they just move on. It's always easier to leave than to be left behind...
As a child I've seen family members I've never even met in my dreams. My grandfather recently passed away, and I've seen him in my dreams as well...and he let me know that he is happy, healthy, and with family. Death is sad for those of us that are left behind, but those who move on are at peace. I know it to be true.
Pay attention to your dreams and your surroundings, they will let you know they're with you always! You just have to keep your head clear and an open mind... They want you to be happy, they're okay...
To whomever posted that: thank you! And I hope you don't mind that I reposted it. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I believe that my kids somehow prompted you to write that and I thank you for being open enough to give me the message. Kate and Peter, thank you for getting back to me.
When you die, you don't die at all you just move on to another place...call it heaven or whatever you'd like. It's calm, you're at peace, you're greeted by generations of family you've never known...but they've seen you grow up from that other place. You aren't scared, you're at peace. You're still here, in dreams, in thoughts, in memories, people never die...they just move on. It's always easier to leave than to be left behind...
As a child I've seen family members I've never even met in my dreams. My grandfather recently passed away, and I've seen him in my dreams as well...and he let me know that he is happy, healthy, and with family. Death is sad for those of us that are left behind, but those who move on are at peace. I know it to be true.
Pay attention to your dreams and your surroundings, they will let you know they're with you always! You just have to keep your head clear and an open mind... They want you to be happy, they're okay...
To whomever posted that: thank you! And I hope you don't mind that I reposted it. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I believe that my kids somehow prompted you to write that and I thank you for being open enough to give me the message. Kate and Peter, thank you for getting back to me.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Wherever I go, there they are...

Since my kids died I have have quite a few experiences with them, if that makes any sense. Sometimes I feel one or both of them with me, sometimes I "hear" them and sometimes weird things happen that I can't explain any way other than - my kids are trying to tell me something. I've learned that some people call these experiences after-death communications (ADCs).
The first time I truly felt them was when I first saw their bodies after they died. I was so afraid to see them...I was scared shitless!!! I had no idea how to handle seeing my kids lying in a casket. They died on a Monday and I didn't see them for the first time until the following Saturday (it took awhile - it was Easter week and people were busy).
I walked alone into the room where they were laid out. (btw, I hate the term "laid out", but I don't know a better one) I didn't want anyone with me and I felt I should be the first person to see them. I didn't know if I was going to pass out, scream or throw up. Like I said - scared shitless. I walked up to them, started crying immediately and knelt down beside them. It took about 30 seconds before I was absolutely certain that they were not in their bodies (it didn't even really look like them) and they were standing on either side of me. I felt them SO STRONGLY, it's hard to even explain. I stopped crying and didn't cry again for the rest of the wake. A friend of mine who was there later emailed me to tell me that she had been a little freaked out - when she came over to talk to me she could feel them next to me too.
The next time I had an experience like that was Mother's Day. I woke up, alone in my house, and started getting ready to go walk the Race for the Cure. While I was getting dressed I "heard" them say, "just wait, Mama, we have a big surprise for you today". It was not an audible "hearing", but an intuitive one. Regardless, I thought I was starting to lose it. What surprise could they possibly have for me?!
I did the race then had brunch with a good friend. When I got back home I opened my front door, which had been locked, and my living room was FILLED with gifts. I had no idea who had been there or where the gifts came from, but again I "heard" my kids. The sounded very excited and said, "SEE? We pulled it off! Yay!" I was overwhelmed and started crying happy tears. Not only was it so kind of someone to do something like this for me on Mother's Day, but I knew I could really hear my kids! I wasn't losing my mind. It turns out that a bunch of my friends, as well as many people I don't know, had collected little gifts over the previous month to surprise me. It was extremely thoughtful and I was more than grateful...and I knew for sure my kids were behind it.
Since then I've had a bunch of other experiences like that, especially while I was traveling in Italy last month. I want to write about all of them - not only to share them, but because I don't want to forget them. It's so encouraging to have these experiences because it means my kids aren't really "dead", they're just living in another dimension (or whatever you want to call it) with all our other loved ones who've crossed over.
So I promise I will write about the other occurrences soon, but I'm afraid this story is turning into more of a book than a blog post. There's just too much to write all at once - which is a great thing! I hope and pray my kids will continue to be with me wherever I go.
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