I am still and I fear will forever be working through my grief.

Dear Karen:

I am still and I fear will forever be working through my grief. I know exactly where you are coming from, having camped out in hospitals, dealing with insurance issues, traveling back and forth to so many appointments and treatments. In addition, I was working full time (luckily from my home office) and my life was more than full. I had a daily, weekly and monthly schedule which revolved around James.

Upon losing James, I immediately became completely lost. James passed away at Indiana University Hospital in Indianapolis on July 31st, 2009 at 9:39 p.m. The next morning, I woke early to travel back home to Angola in Northern Indiana. I have no idea how I got home. I barely remember the drive.

The first week after, I threw myself into planning my son’s Celebration of Life. I was so very busy, I don’t remember much of that week.

The day after the Celebration of Life, I went into a very bizarre phase, like nothing I have every before experienced. All those who came to pay tribute to James had gone home. I was lost, confused, not sure what I should be doing. I walked around the house for weeks, dealing with feelings of guilt, fear, anxiety, severe depression and a general sense of having lost my entire world.

Every morning, I’d walk into my son’s room, hoping he would be laying there waiting for me to make his breakfast and get his medications together. Every afternoon, I’d go to his room hoping he’d be sitting there, playing video games, listening to music or reading a book. Every evening, I’d go to his room hoping he was feeling well enough to help me with dinner – he loved to cook and was hoping to one day become a chef.

Two weeks after, I made the decision to leave town for awhile, I had to have a change of venue, something new that didn’t carry so many painful memories, so I ran to Florida and stayed for a month. I was doing ok, still struggling to get through each day, but the change of view made me feel a bit better.

Upon returning to Angola, the same feelings I had previous to going to Florida returned with a vengence. The minute I stepped from the car, I was completely overwhelmed – like a tidal wave of sadness and pain had washed over me.

I have just this past Monday returned to Florida, I could no longer stay in Indiana as I was unable to function.

Last night, I had a meltdown over something very silly. You see, I was able to purchase some property in Florida when I had taken James there last year. We were planning a Cancer Camp for children and young adults on 45 acres of beautiful Florida land. James wished that he could help other people as so very many others came to be by his side when he was fighting his illness.

Upon James passing, the Cancer Camp idea has been put on hold and I am focused on building a Memorial Garden in honor of my son’s life. I had to have the satellite company come out on Tuesday because I have very poor internet reception here on this property. I was not paying attention when they installed the dish – right in the middle of where I was planning the garden!

I cried last night for 2 hours, wondering now what? I called a friend who reminded me that I am sitting on 45 acres of land for goodness sake, I must be able to find a spot for the garden. My friend is coming over today to help me find the perfect spot.

My point being, the grief will come and go and I think for quite some time if not forever. The importance of reaching out to others, will help you to survive. Many don’t understand Karen, only a few will and I think you will either know or quickly discover who those few may be.

There must be someone, at least one person you can count on for help. Once you discover who that person is, tell them you need them to help you get through this. Let them know about this site, so they can do some research and understand better what you are feeling and how to help you.

I have a code I use with my friend, I usually text him a message that says “Having a James Moment”. He knows that means I need him to call or come over a.s.a.p. Sometimes, it is just a brief conversation, a hug, some reassurance that I am still alive and I still have the power to move ahead.

Other times, it can take hours, maybe even an overnight stay. Sometimes we cry together, sometimes we laugh together, sometimes we drive around just enjoying the warmth and sunshine and sometimes we just sit and watch the sun set and listen to some relaxing music.

I am trying everything to survive Karen and so many people keep telling me I am doing the right thing. I cannot roll up into a ball and die. My son would NEVER have wanted that for me or anyone else.

Keep trying Karen, try anything and everything until you find what works for you. I wish and pray that you will find what will help you, as a matter of fact, I know you will.

All of my very best and lots of love and a BIG HUG!!!!

Scott