I have never written about what went through my head or my feelings regarding the days of Joshy's funeral or his viewing. Every once in a while I will look back through all my posts and then come across his funeral post this one. The pictures were taken by one of Jonathan's uncle. We didn't ask him to take the pictures but I will forever be grateful that he did. They are the last "pictures" I have with Josh.
The day we were supposed to go take the clothes we wanted to have him buried in I slipped and fell down the stairs. I landed on my back and it hurt really bad. I was actually glad I fell at the moment because I was feeling pain, I wanted to feel pain. Those last days that were spent picking his clothes, his casket were a haze. I seriously have no idea how I was even able to function. Those nights were spent with me making his slideshow. I needed to keep my mind off of what was happening. I couldn't wrap my head around what was actually happening, I couldn't, I would of gone crazy. To say I was popping my xanax pills like skittles those days was an understatement. I didn't want to come to terms with what my new reality was. I had to go to the mall to pick out a dress to wear to his funeral because we had asked everyone to wear white and I didn't have any white clothes. I must of looked like a crazy lady with puffy eyes walking around the mall looking for a white dress. I also went to get a haircut that day, I asked my hair dresser to cut my hair really short, I don't know why but I felt like I needed to have it cut short. Like somehow by letting go of my long hair it was going to take away some of the pain that I was feeling, worst the pain that was to come. Those days leading up to his funeral were the worst. Everyone kept asking me if I was OK how was I supposed to know what OK even was. My life had just changed and everything that I had planned for my life was now obsolete. Non existent. There was going to be no life with Josh in it.
The day of the viewing and the day of the funeral I had moments of "feeling" and not. I'll try to explain the best I can. On the day of the viewing we stopped by a grocery store to buy something, I don't even remember what it was but I remember this, I asked J to get a bottle of hennesey and he did. All these emotions I was feeling were beyond what I could handle and I needed to calm my self the best way I knew how. Self medicating and so I grabbed a couple of my xanax, a vicodin and chased them down with a swig of henessey. There was no way I was going to be able to handle what was going on with out self medicating. My mind had moments of shock and "what's going on" but they were on & off. Josh was laying in a casket and my mind could not even come to terms with what was happening. This was not how it was supposed to be. This was not what was planned and I was angry, upset, shocked, I was feeling every single emotion that one person could possibly handle all at once and in bursts at any particular moment. I was angry at God, angry at my faith, I was angry at myself for putting my child through everything that he had endured during the last year, six months inside me and six months out. I admire all the child loss parents that were brought closer to their faith because of their child passing away, the complete opposite happened to me. I was angry, I needed to blame someone, something and God, If there was one was to blame. There was no way God would take my child away and even though I was angry I also needed to believe in him. I had to believe Josh was with him in heaven and he was OK. I had to think this way to make my self feel better and from going insane.
The day of the funeral seemed like a dream. When they asked me if I wanted to say goodbye to Josh and kiss him before they closed the casket I thought, Why ? I'm going to see him again. What does even mean ? They're going to close the casket & this is the absolute last time I will ever get to see him ? touch him ? The last time ? How can you fit that into one last moment, or one last kiss or touch ? There he was laying in his casket, cold to the touch and I was supposed to kiss him one LAST time, how does a mother even do that ? You mean to tell me that after we have said good bye for the LAST time he will be driven to the cemetery and he will be buried and left there by himself, in the cold, in the dirt and you want to know if I want to have a couple minutes before you close the casket ? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN!? I didn't know what it meant and so I kissed his forhead told him how much I loved him, how sorry I was for not having been able to carry him longer, for everything I had put him through and then I let Jonathan have his last moments with him. It seemed like we didn't get that long to say good bye because before I knew it, they had closed the casket and just like that Me and Jonathan were carrying our little boy that we longed to take home out the door unto the hearse that would take him to the cemetery.
They laid his casket on the straps that would later lower him down and Me & Jonathan were able to say a couple of words. Don't ask me what I said because I can't remember and if I could go back I would of probably would of said something different. The whole scene seemed so unnatural, unreal, unrealistic. Everyone was able to lay a single white rose on top of his casket and as I sat there watching everyone do that I wanted nothing more then to be sitting back in the NICU, back to where everything was "normal" were everything was OK and where Josh was alive. They lowered his casket and started to throw the dirt on top. He was gone. We walked away to drive over to Jonathan's parents house for everyone to have a bite to eat. His primary vickie and I sat on the floor talking about Josh and his last hours. No one besides me & Jonathan knew him better then his primary's and his doctors. They were all able to either go to his funeral or his viewing the day before. They somehow managed to take time off their busy schedule to go and I will forever remain thankful.
In two months it will be three years since we had to say "good bye" and yet it still feels like it just happened but then I realize it really has been three years. I'm able to look at those pictures and remember what I was feeling and remember that day and some times when I look at them I wish I could go back to those days where the pain was so raw and so here that knew how to handle it. Where I was "allowed" to feel depressed and cry and any given moment about Josh,Unlike now, everyone including yourself expects you to have come to some type of closure some type of healing but I haven't. You don't heal from this, Just just learn to live with it. Not sure if any of you have ever seen the movie 'Rabbit hole' but this quote is the best one I have found on the best explanation of what happens with your grief
Does it ever go away?
No, I don't think it does. Not for me, it hasn't - has gone on for eleven years. But it changes though.
I don't know... the weight of it, I guess. At some point, it becomes
bearable. It turns into something that you can crawl out from under
and... carry around like a brick in your pocket. And you... you even
forget it, for a while. But then you reach in for whatever reason and -
there it is. Oh right, that. Which could be aweful - not all the time.
not that you'd like it exactly, but it's what you've got instead of your
son. So, you carry it around. And uh... it doesn't go away. Which is...
Which is what?