I have two sons.

Socially, I have progressed in my life long journey of grief.

In the beginning, anyone that happened to say hello, ask if they could help me at a cosmetic counter, complete strangers, I would end up, literally sobbing on their shoulders telling them my son was gone!

As time went by I started introducing myself to people as if I were at an AA meeting. “Hi, I’m Lesli and my son, Austin, died.”

Then for a while I would say in the first few minutes of introduction, “I have two sons, my oldest, Ryan and my youngest, Austin, who died.

Now, I simply say, “I have two sons.”
I am asked their names. “Ryan and Austin.”
How old are they?, I am asked. “Ryan is 31, Austin would be 27, he died 3 yrs ago at age 24.” I wipe a single tear from my cheek.

I have learned to cry alone. I can walk the beach with my face wet with my tears mixed with the salty spray from the waves. The crashing of the waves and the shrieks of the gulls mask my pain filled sobs.

I have two sons.

Dreams keep me sane.

I am lucky. I have wonderful dreams of my children. During that short span of dreaming/sleeping, I live, I remember, I am a mother of two young sons.

We were on an adventure, Ryan, Austin and I. Walking through an unknown city. The streets were dirty and trash was blown up against the curb. Several buildings were boarded up. There were homeless people scattered around and people selling things on the sidewalks. We were walking in alleys and stairwells. It sounds like it was maybe frightening, but it wasn't. We were exploring. Ryan and Austin were talking and interacting with each other exactly the way they always did. At on point Ryan was carrying a mesh bag with knee and elbow pads for rollerblading/skateboarding. He had gathered other things in the bag also and it was getting heavy. Ryan dropped the bag on the floor in a stairwell and said that when we came back this way he would pick it up. I turned back and Austin looked me in the face and said earnestly, "I will take out some of the things and keep what we really need and I will carry it. We may not be back through her again." So very typical of Austin.

Why this and other dreams are so important to me is... my sons, both of them, their personalities, expressions, voices and even the waves and curls of their hair is exactly the way it was when they were 6 and 10. Ryan always a few steps ahead then running back, Austin trying to keep up with his older brother then shuffling stoically when he got tired.

When they were young, I would teach them not to be afraid or judgmental of people and places that were unfamiliar and different. One time I took them to a thrift shop in a bad part of town. While we were looking for antiques in the back I heard an angry man yell at the cashier for selling him a broken television set. When I saw him flashing a gun, I quietly steered the kids out the back door of the shop. I didn't tell them why, I just said, "Let's go to McDonalds!" They eagerly left the shop, out the back, through the alley without question. I didn't want them to be afraid.

I am lucky. I get to relive their precious childhood in my dreams.

Thank you.

http://tinyurl.com/cu7yr7

A Place to Call Home.

I am making my home in Savannah, GA.

Years ago (over 15 yrs!) I spent the evening walking along the riverfront of Savannah with my sons, Ryan and Austin, my niece, Ashley and my sister and mother.

Life has many twists and turns; one doesn’t know what will happen next. It seems like some people have their life planned perfectly and it actually works out.

I have never been a “planner”, but I always thought my sons would be a constant in my life. It has been three years, yet I still wait for Austin’s phone call. I can still hear him say, “Hey, Mom, what’s up?” “Think you could bring me lunch to the office? It’s a busy day and I can’t get away from my desk.”

So now I am in Savannah. A place with only good memories. A place to call home.

An email to dfc

Look up this website.....

http://dfcasa.com/prueba.html

I wrote them the following note....as if that will make a difference!................................

A string of porcelain Oxycontins to wear as a necklace!

My son died from Oxycontin.  Many, many have died from Oxycontin.  It isn't amusing.  What is next?  Pink cancer ribbons with skulls on them?

Where is your social conscious?

Lesli Messinger

http://grief-journal.blogspot.com

Three years ago today I lost you.

It is so difficult to get the through the weeks before the 16th....and then the weeks after.  Today I am going to attach little notes to orange and blue balloons and let them go up from our boat off  the barrier islands of Georgia.  The notes...are my apologies of guilt that I need to let go of.  

I am sorry I didn't have time to take you to the movies to see "Dukes of Hazard". 

I am sorry I was in California when you died in NJ.

I am sorry I sent you to that pre-school.

I am sorry Everts Middle School had mean kids.

I am sorry that I taught you to be too sweet and caring.  It made life harder for you.

I am sorry I didn't understand addiction and I didn't know how to help you.

I am sorry for trying "tough love".

I am sorry I told you to "grow up" and live on your own.

I am sorry I didn't hug you and kiss you more.

I am sorry I didn't tell you I loved you more.

I am sorry I didn't tell you how proud I was of you more.

I am sorry we didn't go to Red Cross classes and get sent to New Orleans.  Thank you for wanting to go and protect me.

I am sorry that I wanted you to look for a roommate before moving back with me.

I am sorry I didn't know you died until the next day.

I am just so sorry.................

The balloons are navy blue and orange, with white ribbons.  That is what you asked.  I assume it is because that is colors of the Denver Broncos.  You liked that team and wore the jersey I gave you.

 Remember when you were little and you would say, "I love you all the way to Mexico!"  Mexico seemed like the absolute farthest place to you!  

Well, Austin, I love you all the way to Mexico!

high school reunion

My high school reunion is today.  I will not be there.  Five years ago, when I attended the reunion, I had two healthy sons.  I just can't go because I keep thinking, "When I was there last, Austin was alive."  I will miss seeing my good friends, I dearly love them, but I wouldn't be good company.  I would cry.  

I Visited My Sweet Austin’s Grave.

I visited Austin’s grave.  The morning was cold and rainy, I drove with the heater and windshield wipers on, fresh flowers for Austin laying on the car seat. As I pulled through the cemetery’s gates, the rain ceased, the sun came out...

As I wiped the dust off the polished black granite I noticed movement nearby.  I turned my head and waited.  Up came a little chipmunk!  He stared at me then down he went.  A few seconds later, he rose up again.  Down again.  Up again.  He kept doing it, as if he was playing a game.  Austin loved chipmunks.  A week or two before he died, I was sitting on his apartment step, talking to a little chipmunk.  The chipmunk was playing within a foot of me and it entranced Austin.  Austin was on my cell phone talking to a friend and telling the person about the chipmunk that was making friends with his Mom.

I visited my wonderful son, Ryan in Ohio last week

Ryan is struggling with work-related lower back pain.  The company he works for (family owned!) does not provide health insurance to him and unbelievably, they are denying workman's’ compensation.  Their reasoning?  It would make their business insurance go up.  All of Ryan’s money is going to pay for medical expenses.  I flew to Ohio to “mother” him.  He wasn’t able to do anything too active, the constant pain is limiting his activities and causing depression.  We spent the time sitting in his living room and watching movies.  

His apartment was spotlessly clean and tidy, his sweet little dog, freshly shampooed.  Ryan had rescued this dog from an abandoned van, out in the country by an ATV trail. Ryan inquired about the homeless dog at the closest house and was told that the owner had moved to an apartment in Columbus and wasn’t allowed pets.  So they left the dog in the woods with a bag of dog food in September.  Ryan found this pitiful little dog in November.  Ford, as Ryan calls him, was starving, frightened; his fur was dirty and matted covering a bony frame.  

Ford is now plump and healthy with bright, shiny eyes. He looks like a larger(12 lb.?), long haired Chihuahua He welcomes being petted now.  Ryan said that initially, when you started to pet his head, Ford would hunch down, as if anticipating a beating.  Ford has never had an accident in the house, does not get up on  furniture and has never chewed on furniture, shoes or caused any mess.  He goes outside in an unfenced yard and does not wander off.  Ryan can walk around town with Ford, unleashed, and he stays alert at his feet. 

I wanted to give Ryan some money, but I first had to ask him if he was taking any drugs.  After all I had been through with Austin, I didn't want to give money to Ryan if he was going to use it for drug money.  He wasn't offended.  He said, "Mom, I couldn't do that to you.  I am not taking drugs."  I believe him.  I gave him the money.  

I can talk to Ryan about Austin.  Ryan misses and mourns Austin as much as I do.  I know that it is a brothers love, not a mothers love, but it is immense, never the less.  Ryan keeps a framed 8X10 photo of Austin in his bedroom.  The ashtrays in Ryan's apt. are pottery that Austin made in high school, his name carved on the bottom.  Austin didn’t leave Ryan and Ryan keeps him close by.  They are two brothers that have found a way to always support each other, in ways that is beyond comprehension to most.

Politics

Unfortunately, I was not picked as a NJ delegate.  Close, but no cigar.  But if someone drops out, I am an alternate..... 

Last night we went to the HUGE rally for Hillary at the Palestra in Penn University (in Philadelphia).  VIP seats! 

Nathan always wanted to see Bill speak, so I got TONS of points for getting us in there, up close and personal!  We saw Bill, Hillary, Chelsea, Myor Nutter and Gov. Rendell.  It was fabulous!  I can't help it, I love politics!  Hopefully, today the people of PA will vote for Hillary.  Otherwise, if she drops out, I will have to back McCain.....  I have to go with the background and experience!

 

As a (short) note to my dear friends in grief... I intend to put out the message to Hillary about our specific needs on  healthcare. Briefly, most of our young adult sons and daughters were without health insurance, were not able to afford rehabs with good track records, and they were self medicating themselves with prescription drugs from the streets.   Sadly, the fact that our kids have died and more are dying each day from drugs has not been addressed. I was hoping for the opportunity in Denver to properly address these extremely important issues. I realize those that have not lost a child won't recognize the need, but trust me, there are literally thousands of grieving parents that didn't think it would happen to their child and hundreds of thousands more are at risk at this very moment.  (I will get off the soapbox now)

 

Peace and politics,

Lesli

http://grief-journal.blogspot.com/

I love Savannah!  The city is so very European, a mixture of the south of France with a "softer" version of New Orleans.  I absolutely love it.  The streets, the squares, the architecture is amazing.  It feels good.  

Austin's Birthday

September 26 is Austin's birthday.

27 years ago I was blessed with a 8 lb.14 oz. beautiful, perfect baby boy.

On his birthday, I drove to Long Beach Island, NJ and left Austin a birthday card on the rocky beach.  I didn't stay long, it was windy and cold and as desolate as I felt.

  

Along the sand dunes, on the fence, there were balloons attached.... As if a party was waiting for Austin on this isolated beach.

Austin's birthday present is ten trees planted in Gallantin National Forest, near Yellowstone National Park. 

 

Happy Birthday, Austin.  I love you.

New Jersey

I have returned to New Jersey, an overpopulated state of negative energy and bad memories.   

Why do I dislike NJ… beside the obvious reasons?

I have lived here for 9 years, yet I don’t consider this home.  I have no sense of belonging to a community feeling here.

It is the only place where people have been less than nice to me.

It is so crowded that you don’t really know when you left one town and entered another.

People snarl, “Have a good one.”  (What does a “good one” mean?

You can’t make left turns, where you really need to make a left turn!

I like religious diversity, but when did Santa Claus become a religion and why are agnostics practicing it?

The “ghetto” way of putting the accent on the last syllable of words ending in on, en or an is really getting on my nerves.  Trent-IN, Camd-IN, Man-hat-IN

I miss clear, starry nights.

The crime, homicides and availability/use of drugs and alcohol are unbelievably high.

People think that they are “safe” because the homicides are “mostly in Camden and parts of Philadelphia”.  Less than 20 miles away!  Wake up!  We are living on the outskirts of the worst areas in the US, for God’s sake!

People tend to have opinionated, closed-minded attitudes.

Women have loud, abrasive voices.

Okay……the above listed are somewhat petty annoyances, but I gotta get out of NJ.  For real.

I truly dislike NJ.  My son died here.  People were mean to him.  People that really should have been nice and supportive like FAMILY but they were greedy and selfish. Typical New Jersey.

I can't live here much longer......

 

 

A Mother's Wrath

The emotional make-up of a mother is such a paradox.

I am a nurturing, caring person that feels empathy and compassion toward all of the Mothers’ children of the world. I have long forgiven Austin’s girlfriend and family for their contribution towards my son’s death. I want Brielle to be drug-free and live a good and productive life. I want this because I know that is what Austin wants.

I have always avoided conflict, emotional or physical. I do not like violence of any kind. I don’t like to hear someone shout “Moron!” to a car in a traffic situation. I can think of a dozen reasons that a driver may accidentally cut me off, after all, life doesn’t revolve around me and my problems.

I am a Mother. One of generations of mothers that has descended from centuries of Mothers protecting their precious children. As a Mother, a female…we are of a softer, sweeter nature. We want to protect and take care of others.

Now the paradox, the contradiction…..

Someone did something really stupid to my oldest son. I have never felt such enormous, all-encompassing wrath, rage and fury focused at an individual.

Internet fraud, destroying of personal property, extortion…all from a “friend”.

This individual and his extended family, to my knowledge, have not contributed in any positive way to society. He spends his day’s unemployed, playing video games, four-wheeling, sleeping at friends/relatives. Basically, he is a drain on society, not with standing the criminal acts.

This criminal shall feel the intense vehemence of rage as he has never known. .

My son will be fine. He is a good, decent person with a promising future. He has good work ethics, is compassionate and loving, he is truly an amazing young man.

Grief Manifests as Physical Pain

The gnawing pain has been circling my abdomen for months now. It is as if the grief in my heart has overflowed into my intestines and is searching for a new area to explore, invade, and take over. This pain/ grief has become an entity within itself. A creature that is clawing at my insides with such a razor-sharp fury that it leaves me clutching my fists to my stomach in agony. I lay on the cool tiled floor of my bathroom, breathing shallowly, and waiting for the pain to ease.

Last week the pain found its way to my right side. No more was I allowed the brief reprieves that I had earlier. I now had a constant reminder that all was not right. Everything I ate, no matter how bland, gave me pain. Cold drinking water would put my stomach into spasms. Nothing would stay down.

Doctors will evaluate the symptoms, test results and come up with a diagnosis and plan of action.

I need to gain control of my grief or it will manifest itself in another part of my body. I will never quit grieving for Austin, but I don’t want to be a victim of grief.

The Love of a Brother Never Dies.

THE LOVE OF A BROTHER NEVER DIES.
IT STAYS STRONG AND ENDLESS AS TIME GOES BY.
SOMETIMES LIFE TAKES A TURN FOR THE WORST,
BUT A BROTHER'S LOVE CONTINUES ON ALWAYS FIRST.
WHEN ONE MUST GO ON TO THE HEAVENS ABOVE,
NOT EVEN THAT CAN STOP THEIR LOVE.
A PHYSICAL BODY DOESN'T HAVE TO BE THERE.
THE SURVIVING BROTHER FEELS HIM EVERYWHERE.
HE KNOWS HE HAS A GUARDIAN, HIS OWN PERSONAL ANGEL.
IT'S HIS BROTHER, HIS FRIEND NOT JUST A STRANGER.
A BROTHER'S LOVE IS FOREVER WITHOUT END.
IN LIFE OR IN DEATH ON EACH OTHER THEY CAN DEPEND.


JANDA
SETH'S MOMMA (08-05-07)





This was written by Janda, a dear friend "in grief".

We were a team; Ryan, Austin and I.

Ryan, my first born son is now an only child.

I hear his voice on the phone and I hold my breath, I simply can’t breathe from the fear of losing him. My heart aches from the sheer gratitude of having him for a son.

We were a team; Ryan, Austin and I. Through good times and bad times. Whether we were living near or far. Each son would call me to update me with what the other was doing…

Ryan called me one night and said, “Mom, Our dog died tonight, I am on my way back to college. Could you go pick Austin up and have him spend the night with you? I don’t want him alone tonight.”

Austin told me Ryan got a tattoo in anger at me over my change in religion, “Mom, don’t worry, he wanted to hurt you, but he’ll get over it. It will be okay.”

Dropping off my sons at the airport in Philadelphia, Ryan turned to me and said, “Mom, last night I left my hat at a strip club. Could you pick it up for me?” Later, Austin called me and said, “Oh, Mom, I can’t believe Ryan said that to you! He shouldn’t have!” I laughed and I did pick his hat up for him. That was typical of the boys…Ryan would tell me anything, Austin would protect me.

I know, I know....you can't reason with the drugs.

I know, I know....you can't reason with the drugs. I felt hopeless with Austin and I am afraid he felt hopeless, also. But, geez, those drugs are so powerful, they take over the mind, the body, the soul and they don't let go until all the ambition, hopes and dreams are gone, and the life is sucked out. I don't think I could cope with dealing with the lying and excuses and begging for money again. Even though I understand that "it's the addiction", it is still maddening and frustrating, beyond belief.

Boy, I wish drug addicts were rational....I would do anything to have Austin back, the son that he was without the drugs. But it would be wrong of me to want him to live his life in that hell of addiction that led to his death. And, honestly, it was hell for me, too. To see my baby boy being tortured by drugs, to wonder every night where he was, to worry that every time the phone rang that he may be in jail, hurt, or finally, the unthinkable...

I know, without a doubt, that Austin is set free now. He is happy and joyful. He shows me his presence when I need him most. Right or wrong, that is the reality I choose to believe, thank you very much.

What you disturbance ride had storm fades passionate complete spirit

What you disturbance ride had storm fades passionate complete spirit

I have never been able to type without "hunt and peck", I have taken numerous classes and have given up, that is just part of being dyslexic! So I thought I would close my eyes (and let Austin type through me) and using Microsoft word..just type. It was gibberish, then I did spell check, a little better, then synonyms..and this is what I got!

What you disturbance ride had storm fades passionate complete spirit. maybe it means nothing...but maybe it does.... Maybe...what I saw as Austin's disturbing ride ending into a storm, actually transcends to where his spirit is passionately complete.

What do you think?

I remember...

Even with knowing and believing (I really do believe!) that Austin is still with us and surrounds us with love.....it still is so painful to live without him. I miss being able to reach out and touch his cheek, smooth down his hair, lay a hand on his shoulder... I was supposed to have a lifetime of touches, not just 24 yrs! You know, I just remembered something about Austin when he was little......I would say he was "skin-hungry" because he was always wanting to hug me and be picked up and was always up close to me, with his arms around my neck, very loving. Maybe he was trying to get a lifetime of hugs in a few short years.........

I remember….

Austin sitting on the kitchen counter, with his Striderite shoes and socks on. A diaper and t-shirt. Blond curls. Baby teeth. Beautiful smile. I remember his sturdy, little legs. Sturdy. I can hear the sound of his shoes hitting the cupboard doors. Even as a baby, he wore EEE shoes.