All the Little Children Need to Come Home

Chapter Seven: Choosing Life

It was almost six weeks to the day that she lost her son. Alice lay in bed wondering if she would ever stop counting the days. She didn't intend to remember each day, but every morning when she woke up, the days were there. The 24th of each month was as vivid as that first day, making it impossible not to remember. Each night as she fell asleep, it was on a damp pillow. Kleenex became her best friend. She immersed herself during the day tackling mindless chores, going to meetings or helping others until nighttime, when she was exhausted. Falling into bed she cried herself to sleep, and pray her son would visit her in her dreams.

She looked forward to Adam calling her every morning on his way to work. Later in the day, she would get a call from Cathy who would say, "Guess who's here, Aunt Alice." This was her signal to Alice that her grandson was visiting for the day. Alice would finish whatever she was doing and eagerly join them for the rest of the day, filling her heart and mind with a peace that came with being around a toddler. She cried in the shower, letting the water wash away the deep misery of her loss. She would pray. If it wasn't for those phone calls, the intense praying and her undaunted determination to go on, Alice would not choose to live in a world without her youngest child. Human nature instilled a reset button for everyone. She hoped one day that she could reset the button against the tremendous pain of today, and embrace the memory of Todd.

The alarm buzzed and Alice dropped a leg out from under the covers, turned on the TV and waited until just lying there was too still. Her foot would twitch and her leg would swing. Goosebumps traveled throughout her body and she would sigh. Throwing back the covers, she went downstairs, fixed a cup of coffee, go back upstairs and snuggle in bed. She sipped coffee and watched her favorite criminal show.

She did the same thing each day. She was up. She was awake. That's the best she could do right now.

Alice thought about Ben. He would wake up each day around eight, try to do things around the house, but by mid-morning he was already drinking and by late afternoon he was back in his chair, watching Jerry Springer. She would sit with him, leaning against his chest, arms around each other. He would talk about how much he missed their son and she would listen, understanding everything he said. They would talk until there was nothing left to say. The would hold each other and cry. Ben would apologize while he fixed another drink, and she would stand and try to go about her day. They both had retired just last year, looking forward to happily ever after with each other and their sons. Alice blinked several times, shrugging off the desperate urge to climb back under the covers and sleep.

She heard Ben moving around downstairs. He had been falling asleep in his favorite chair in the family room every night. From her bedroom window, she could see the colors of fall leaves, dabbling the cloudless sky. This was exactly the kind of picturesque day that people yearn for. Nothing bad can ever happen on such a wonderful day.

But it does. It did just six weeks ago.

Each day, Alice continued to create a new normal for herself, trying not to isolate, trying to go out into the world. She would go into a local department store, feeling a bit better, when she would walk into the Christmas section, just being displayed. She would hurry out to her car before anyone could see her cry.

She became acutely aware sometimes that someone she knew or had worked with had seen her in the grocery store, and then quickly dart down an aisle, pretending not to see. People who did stop to talk would say things to her that made it worse, rather than better.

"I don't know how you get out of bed each day. I would want to die." Didn't they understand that's exactly what she wanted to do?

"He's in a better place." Don't you think I know that? But I want him here!

"I know how you feel. I lost my brother (or mother or cousin or friend) just last year." Did you really feel you lost a part of your heart? That all your dreams and hopes for their future were shattered in an instant? Like mine does?

One of the most hurtful comments was when someone had tried to explain why Ben was having such a hard time getting sober afterward. 

"Well, you know. There's a different bond between a father and his son. He'll get the hang of it. It's just harder on him is all." For real? I had a special bond with my son, too! One that surpassed anything some people could ever understand. I'm his mother! He's my child! We coexisted longer than anyone else on earth.

She remembered that a  friend had suggested that most people didn't understand how to handle another one's grief. She didn't want to understand others discomfort! she was the one who was hurting.  Couldn't they just give her a hug and say I'm sorry for your loss?

Alice swallowed her anger with the next sip of coffee. Just because she was out and about trying to join the world which no longer had her son didn't mean she didn't miss him.

There are things few people knew about her grief.

Just two weeks ago, she had laid on Todd's bed, arms by her side, knowing she couldn't take the heartache of missing him another day. She had said a simple prayer.

"God, please just take me now. I'm tired and I hurt and I don't know if I can do this. I think I'd make a really good angel and could help you up there far easier than here." Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she closed her eyes, waiting to fall into a heavenly forever sleep.

She had waited, and waited, and waited for the welcoming calm that would free her from this wretched pain.

Then her foot began to twitch. Her breathing began to quicken and she realized it just wasn't going to happen. Sighing deeply, she sat up. "Oh, all right. I guess not."

She had gotten up, got dressed and made it to the next AA meeting, where she shared what she had done and that being in a meeting was where she needed to be.

Thinking back on it now, she smiled sadly. It was a silly thing to do. But then again, when one is overwhelmed with the challenge of living each day without a loved one, silly things could be the only way to make it through.

Alice went into the kitchen as a loud yawn came from the family room.

Today, she decided, she would finally plant the bulbs that she had bought in late summer. Usually, they rotted over the winter from her unfinished plans. past the time for planting bulbs, that she decided to grow a garden. Just some little groups of flowers that would gently embrace the ground around the wooden, cast iron bench where Todd had spent so many nights, after his accident, just thinking about his future and the decisions he wanted to make.

"Want to help me put the bulbs in the ground?" she wistfully asked Ben, as he passed by her.

His eyes were bleary from a night of drinking.

"Nah, I want to go to a meeting." She tried not to react. "I've got to get myself together."

She leaned her head against his chest as he pulled her to him. "I'm meeting with someone today who wants me to come work with him, help him start his company." She looked up at him, saw his sad smile. "I guess retirement is over. I should get back to work."

"It will be good for you," Alice said. "I'm thinking of subbing. Maybe after Christmas."

Alice went through the garage and went to the bench where Todd had spent many nights, figuring out the future he hoped to have. She would often join him and they would talk.

She sat down in the middle, leaning back against the wooden slats, remembering.

Sighing, she knelt down and started clearing out the dirt, leaves, and twigs that had taken their place beneath the lonely bench.

This was the perfect place to start a little memory garden.