I miss you so much, my beloved son.

What you do for others around you, you do for yourself. What you do for others around you, leads them to do for others around them, which, like a boomerang, will end up benefiting you and those you love as well. We are all here for each other, and we all affect each other, whether we realize it or not. The more you do for the good of the whole, the better the world will be.
   
Zantamata, Doe (2012-01-18). Happiness in Your Life - Book One: Karma (pp. 83-84).  

I miss my boy.
I miss his anger,
and his joy.

Each of us has been given gifts and talents. Our combinations of gifts are unique to us. Though we may look at others and think we may never be “as good as” they are in something, or that “we’re better than” someone else in something else, those comparisons really do not have anyone’s best interest in mind. It’s kind of like saying, “That grand piano will never drive as fast as that sports car.” Well of course it won’t, it wasn’t designed for driving. It was designed to play beautiful music. Rather that feeling blue about what we do not have or who we are not, we can learn to appreciate what we do have and exactly who we are. It just requires a shift of focus. If your passion and talent is in one area, even if the area doesn’t seem to be practical, it’s important that you develop your talent and enjoy it as much as you can. People around you can benefit from it, and most millionaires and billionaires were made because they had a passion for a certain thing and a career or business formed around that passion. The world may not need another chef, or another party planner, or another actor. But the world really doesn’t need another anything. There are plenty of people to fill all the roles in society. What the world DOES need, is more passion and joy. When you love doing something, and you share it with people around you, thethe joy is contagious. You can inspire other people to get more active in what they love doing, whether it’s the same as you or not. To use your gifts and celebrate them is an incredible display of humility as it shows that these gifts are appreciated and were given to the right person.

Zantamata, Doe (2012-01-18). Happiness in Your Life - Book One: Karma (p. 14).  . Kindle Edition.

"They say that everyone dies two times. Once, when they stop breathing, and a second time, a while later...when their name is spoken for the very last time...."

I read this, and I cannot stop thinking about it. I say your name each and everyday many many times, out loud and in my head. Now, after reading this, I will say the roll call out loud every time I think of someone that I have loved and lost.

 I cant breathe from missing you Frankie.

Jackie was sleeping over last night. I couldnt sleep, and got up and went into your room to paint for a bit. I have been feeling uninspired lately...but, last night I TORE into a page, and was working at a fever pitch. Then, I laid down in your old bed (for a minute), and was out until Pops came in at 6am with Jackie piggybacking! Not a bad way to wake up. I am trying to do more of my own art, instead of collaging. I am afraid, but am watching a new artist I love, Gisele Grenier. She does unedited sessions, and I love her narrative. I have learned so much already. I want to paint my own worlds. I am afraid, but I know I will break through. I am afraid of mistakes, and fear that I may discover that I have no talent. I know we all have talent, and I like my collage work...but I want my OWN work to express myself. I feel it might be harder than I thought to break that barrier. But, I keep watching videos, and shuffling my own feet. But, its a process, right, my boy? I know you are there with your green light, and love, and support. I miss you so much, Frankie. I miss you so much, it is so physically painful. I never knew grief could be so painfully complex, and all consuming...You are in everything I see, do and am. In all things, there you are. You always will be....

I was in your room, doing my art. I looked at the door and got up and walked over to it. Under the shirts, and scarves, are the pants you wore on that last day. They still had the belt in the loops. I sobbed, as I grabbed them and held them to me. They still smell like you, and it is profoundly heartbreaking to smell the "you" that is forever gone. I miss you, my son. I dont want this life without you. I know things can never be as they were, but I still pray that this is all a mistake, or a dream, and I will wake up. I plead with the universe, everyday. In soft whispers, I repeat over and over, "please....please..." It is my mantra. I love you, my brown eyed boy....for eternity. -Mama

I make the brass bowl sing three times every morning before I walk out the door. I hit it three times, and blow you a kiss and tell your picture that I love you. I have to get the door shut before the last vibration disappears. Its a morning ritual...I miss you so much, my son. Its unbearable...

I was making the bed, crying this morning. I was thinking of you, and how many more years of beds I would make in my lifetime. How many more years will we live without you. Will you fade from our minds and hearts like an old photo? i can't bear the thought of you being gone that long from me....I don't know exactly how to explain this awful feeling of getting farther away in time from you. My son, my son, my son...I want the world to have known you longer, and you the world....


I wanted people to see you become the man you were meant to be, the father, and the friend. You were so loved, and loving, and good. But I know you were evolving, I could see you "becoming". Why did you have to go so young?!? Why? Why? I miss your laugh, I miss your jibes. I miss you, even when you were being "Cranky Frankie". I still smell the shirts hanging on the back of your door. But, your smell is fading, and that scares me more than anything. I can't explain these horrible fears and sadness. I just want to get to you. I don't know if you are floating out in the universe, or sitting on the right hand side of Buddha, or God, or a highly evolved Alien....I miss you son of mine. You shine in my soul, and I will never stop missing you or loving you, or remembering you. -Momz

The night before last, I was in the living room. It was about 10PM. Griffy dog stood up abruptly, and started barking towards the kitchen.  It startled me so, that I got up to look to see what he was barking at. The front door was closed, and there was no reason for company that late. I looked, and started to walk closer, I was seeing something I couldn’t wrap my brain around. I thought my eyes were buggy from being tired. I was seeing a green colored, moving  light…but, that isn’t a good enough explanation. It was like a green aurora borealis , muted and miniature. As I approached, I could SWEAR it took on a playful, almost dancing movement. The hair on my arms stood straight UP! I knew  it was you, Frankie. It wasn’t even something that I thought about. No, “Could it be, maybe it’s,…” There was not a conscious thought, I just KNEW it was you. I could feel the joy in it. Then, I got scared. I turned around and ran into the bedroom, and WOKE your Pops up. I was scared and excited and I was happy all at once. He woke up and smiled when I told him. He believes you are here all the time. I do to, sometimes I talk myself into it, out of desperation. But, Frankie…this time…it was SO unexpected, and GENUINE!!!!!!!

After I came back into the living room, the glow was gone. But, I still felt you. And, I said to you, “ Frankie, remember when you were still in human form and how scared you got when you had contact with the ghosts in our house? You were excited, but scared too? Please have patience with me, because I am still in human form, and I am scared and happy. I want you to be here when you can, but forgive me if I am afraid sometimes. It came as such a surprise. If you can remember how it feels from my end, proceed haunting us whenever you want, as much as you want…but remember we are human, and proceed with that in mind.” I then went back to the couch, and wasn’t afraid…only happy. Wolfgang was all creeped out, and he was on the couch with me. No room to sleep. So, we all went to your room. Griffin on the floor, Wolfie with me on the bed. I felt like I was being cradled by your spirit. We fell asleep, and slept all night. Frankie, I love doing my art in your room. I feel closer to you, and I know you inspire me, and feel your hand on my shoulder. I know how proud you are that we are trying to “live” without you…I wish we could have done art together. I KNOW you would have had a blast, and when I make a particularly satisfying, or funky piece I have a conversation with you about it, sometimes silently. Sometimes out loud. I picture your handsome face, and I smile back at you. Your face is filled with love, and it is bittersweet. I love you, my Frankie Boy…

I will have a jamesons and a cigar on July 4, with your Pops...in memory of you and the good old days....I love you sonny boy. I miss you with a crushed heart and soul.

Your son is everything you'd hoped he would be. He is handsome, smart, passionate, stubborn, humorous and quirky. He thinks for himself, and is amazingly empathetic. I cannot help but feel he has more than your DNA...No, he definitely has a piece of your soul, your spirit working in him, and through him. He is one of a kind in a world of sames. I am increasingly proud of that "no, Oma! I'm a BIG boy!..." little boy....And, I know you are too. I love him so very much. Words could never explain. He is our thread to you, and he is not. He is joy, and he is sadness. We laugh and we cry at the wonderful moments we share with him. All these "sparring" emotions, because you are here, but you are not here. I love you so much, my son. I will never forget, and I look forward to the day we will be together again. Until then, we will look for you in the night sky, and remember....

I don’t know when I started to do this visualization. I do know it began years and years but it has increased since Frankie died in 2013. When I see an animal dead on the side of the road, I visualize picking it up. I cradle it in my arms, until it starts to change back to the warm, living, breathing, soft sweet soul it was in life. I pet, and stroke the animal’s body, and talk to it sweetly. Their (sometimes gruesome)  injuries start receding, and healing. I feel them becoming warm again, their stiff bodies becoming warm. Their fur softens and becomes velvety to the touch. They all react differently when they open their eyes. They all take a different amount of time and way to do it. Some of them jump from my lap in a short time…upward…..Some grab my fingers like baby’s as I stroke the space between their eyes, and rub their faces on my hands. Others will crawl on to my shoulder, and nuzzle their noses in my hair, and neck. They will either go to the other shoulder and jump to heaven, or on to my head, and lift off from there. Sometimes, mainly Possums (don’t know why), will climb on my head, and look down at my face and sniff or lick my face before they go. For some reason, when the possums go up, I say out loud, “I love you, Possum”. I feel the love for the raccoon, squirrels, groundhogs, deer, cats, dogs, but the possums seem to have a special spirit for me. I don’t know why, but that’s what I feel. I know it sounds like a crazy thing to do, but I am compelled to do it. It’s an amazing release for me, and I feel like I am acknowledging their existence, that they mattered. And, I know they don’t really need my help to get to heaven. But, for me, I think I do it for all the pain they suffered alone. All the animals that suffer at the hands of men. I cannot do anything about all of those poor innocents, but I can do this. Sending them off with love and light. In honor of them and all the unseen, tortured and forgotten souls. 

I saw you in the darkness last night.
It was 3 a.m.
I smiled out loud as I stumbled to the bathroom...
Love you, baby boy.

Christmas 2014

Christmas 2014

2013

2013

Frankie,

Your boy looks at the sky, just like you did. He has to point out the airplanes repeatedly and he calls to the moon at night. He is such a unique child. I know I am saying this as a Grandmother, but I have seen and known my share of children. He is so special, and I think in ways we cannot even imagine. You did well my son....I try not to think of how sad it is that he will not have the benefit of your guidance and love as he grows up. But, I also think you ARE with him, actually and in the people all around him who loved you, and who you loved. You and Ilana made someone who is going to change the world in some wonderful way, large or small. He matters big time to this world. Thank you for bringing him into this world. I love you so much, my son.

Always and forever.

Mama.

For my son...

Grief
You’ve probably heard people say, ‘the first year is the hardest’, this is true, and the second year may be no picnic either. It is also true that at some point things should get easier. The symptoms fade and acute grief is replaced by less frequent moments of sadness, anger, and frustration. You will still have bad days, but you will know things are getting better when they are outnumbered by ‘okay’ days.
This does not mean you are ‘getting over it’, moving on, or forgetting. An important part of healing is discovering the role your loved one will play in your life after their death. Of course at first you hold on very tight, afraid if you let go your loved one will disappear completely. You hold on to items (not crazy), you leave rooms untouched (not crazy), you pay their cell phone bill so you can continue to hear their voice on their voicemail (not crazy). These things are not crazy and some of them you may continue to do forever, but some you will eventually let go of as your grip slowly loosens and you realize that nothing short of amnesia could make you really let go.

And slowly…slowly…the faded colors of life become more vibrant. The world unthaws and you start to find beauty peeking through in places you would never have expected it. Your season of grief has left you weary but stronger and as you walk out onto the sunlit path you glance back as the form of the person you used to be disappears. You know you will never be the same and you begin to accept that you must integrate your loved one and your experiences and continue to live…a little bit wary, a little bit wise, and a little bit crazy…

My name is Lynn.

Last year, our son passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. He had a massive asthma attack, and was gone within two hours in the emergency room. He was 31, our only son, and he left behind a fiancé and an 18 month old son named Jack <3 .

In spite of being surrounded by love and support, I walked around in a state of profound sorrow. I went to work, but that was all I could do. I would have to stop my car on the side of the road because I couldn't see through the tears. I screamed my primal screams where no one could hear me. I screamed my throat raw. As soon as I got home, I was a zombie.

My sister booked us a cabin last summer for us and her for a week in the Adirondacks. We spent our childhood summers on a lake in Maine, so she thought it would bring us some happiness. I bought two notebooks to write our travel notes in.  I thought I would put some uplifting quotes, photos, pictures throughout her book as a surprise. By the time I finished, the book was already twice its size. She absolutely LOVED the book, and she could not believe how beautifully I had put it together. A gift for Lilly became a gift to myself as well. I made my notebook, and put sad and happy, dark and light, hope and hopeless quotes, pictures, art, etc. all throughout. It made me feel...somewhat lighter, and cleansed.

And, so I began.

I had never even heard of "Art Journaling", or mixed media! I didn’t even know about acrylics, nevermind how to USE them! Until, while searching on Pinterest for video tutorials on collaging, I found…….a treasure trove of videos and information on all kinds of art, and a wonderful community of artists who were informative and encouraging.

My first work was dark and I cried while I created. But, even though I am still making more dark art than light, and that's okay. Because it is all a part of the process of coming out of the darkness, and into the light.

I use Frankie's Room as my studio now. I feel him looking over my shoulder with his beautiful smile.

I still grieve.
I am sad.
I am angry.
I am changed forever.

I will always feel the horrible loss of my beautiful son. I still feel adrift in an open sea. But, my art brings me closer to a safe harbor. I found art in the midst of tragedy, and in doing so, found a lifeboat in the dark waters. 

I hope that if you are lost in your grief, you can find something that helps you to heal. Something that can start to bring even the tiniest bit of joy back into your life.

Art CAN do that.

Believe me, I am absolutely NOT an artist, and never thought that I would be up to my elbows in paint, crying and creating. And, so grateful that I didn't let my lack of talent stop me. Anything you create.....IS art!

Art saves.
I am living proof.

Thanks for listening.

Lynn