I'm not a wallower, I rarely talk about how I'm feeling and I never show how truly lost and hurt I am.
I think I've had this tough get up and get on attitude and I think it allows people to forget that I have feelings and that I have a broken heart.
The boys are my focus they keep me on track day to day but I have bad days but I don't tell all, when I'm alone I cry and weep but I can't spend all my time like that so I have my time and I carry on.
Just because I'm not a mess everyday doesn't mean my heart is not aching and that staying in bed is not more preferable than getting up and facing the world. I have days when I feel endlessly sorry for myself but it rarely lasts, I force myself to count the time I had with Alexander as a blessing and the four remaining boys are the lights of my life.
I focus my energy into my fundraising, it's exhausting being upset all the time, it's been a rough month for me and it's taken it out of me and that is no good for my husband or my boys. Who wants a misery guts as a permanent member of their family!
I do my crying alone or late at night when the house is quiet, not every day but there is always a reminder in our home of the son we lost I can never ever forget him but I do him no good by being sad all the time.
My instinct is to shrug things off and act like I'm OK and most of the time I am but sometimes I'm not. I never thought I'd ever be 'normal' again. It felt wrong to laugh and carry on but I have no choice, I cannot change what has happened although I would gladly trade my soul to the devil if it meant I could have him back
My Mom Is A Survivor
My Mom is a survivor, or so I've heard it said.
But I hear her crying at night when all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach that never wash away...
I watch over my surviving mom, who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others...a smile of disguise.
But through Heaven's door I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death to keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows it is her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom...through Heaven's open door.
I try to tell her that angels protect me forever more.
But I know that doesn't help her or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, go visit her...And show her that you care.
For no matter what she says...no matter what she feels.
My surviving mom has a broken heart that time won't ever heal~!
This poem was written by Kaye Des'Ormeaux
and dedicated to: Clarissa.