Meet My Mom. We’re Talking About Losing A Child (She Lost Two)

Do you follow any blogs or podcasts?

No. [laughs] I don’t even use Facebook. [laughs some more]

What is your working definition of motherhood?

I don’t know if I can make a definition. I don’t think about things like that. It’s different for everyone. For me, it was to help my children to become adults and doing what I could to help them with that. That has nothing to do with being a mother because dads do it too. Providing the basic things every day so that my kids could do other things. That might not be the right way.

Did you always know you wanted to be a mom?

Oh gosh, yes! That was always my goal in life, to be a mom and have lots of kids. I was going to have 6 kids. I’ve always liked kids.

You have three children. Let’s take each one in turn. Will you describe them?

Kyle [youngest]. What comes to my mind was when he drove the riding lawn mower all by himself. He started it all by himself. He was so proud of himself; I just couldn’t be upset. He always pushed limits. He loved anything with wheels. And eventually, gasoline and speed.

Megan. A simple phrase [describes her], “just do it”. She hated when people would lay around and not make a decision. She was always determined, even to the point when she drove down to grandma’s and grandpa’s. All three of you “ran away” at one point. She was the one that went the farthest and never turned around.

You? Describe you? I see you as having a hard time finding where you belong. You always seem to be searching, looking for something beyond. It’s not a bad thing.

Megan and I talked about that and had that in common. We talked about being more about the journey than the destination. There is always room for improvement, potential. The downside is that we appear unsatisfied and at times unhappy with life, which can be hard on the people around us.

Megan was always trying to improve herself, going back to school to get her teacher’s degree.

How was raising a boy different or the same as raising girls?

This is a hard question because of the way I was raised. I was raised in the boy world because Mom took care of all the “girl” stuff (cooking, cleaning, etc.) She didn’t teach me those things. When it came to teaching, I just didn’t know how to teach the “girly” things. You and Megan had some issues with your girlfriends that I had to talk with school about. Kyle’s social issues in elementary school sent him to the principle’s office. He pushed it too far. He was physically picking on a kid in his class.

What’s the best part of being a mom? The hardest?

Hardest? I had to cook every day. [laughs]

Best? Well, for you and Megan. It was watching you two graduate and become adults. You did well. You both had directions, sort of. I think pushing to go to college wasn’t right. Not every kid is ready for that or even needs that. I’m reading Code Girls about all these women who were going to college, taking all these classes, like math, science, but couldn’t get jobs in the fields they were studying. They were trying to break barriers. They were making accomplishments but not being recognized. In a way, I am comparing you and your sister to them. I took a lot of pride in how hard you two worked and your accomplishments for it.

Hardest? I had to cook every day. [laughs] And I wasn’t home every day because I was working. But that isn’t really a mom thing. In my generation it was the female thing. I don’t know. I just don’t think about that stuff.

Mine, today at least, is getting blamed for everything.

I stopped worrying about that a long time ago. Moms get blamed for everything.

You experienced something no mom ever dreams of having to go through: losing a child. You’ve actually lost 2 children, at two different times. Your son as a child. Your daughter as an adult.

Could you tell me about your son, Kyle’s, death? What do you recall from that day?

It started raining and wouldn’t stop.

It rained forever. It started raining and wouldn’t stop. When we were driving to the hospital, it started raining. The sound of the rain and wind is what I heard, the sound of the windshield wipers back and forth. Your dad and I didn’t talk the whole way there. It was God crying. Every day I sat with him [Kyle]. The sun came out the day we decided to pull the plug. It was the right decision. God told us it was time to let go. I still feel that way.

[At age 15, Kyle took his life by hanging himself. It was my mom that found him hanging from the garage rafters, managed to cut him down and begin CPR. On the way, by ambulance, to the hospital, he was resuscitated. After being airlifted to a larger hospital where he was intubated. He remained in a coma for 7 days. At which point, my parents had to make a decision about his continued care. After a week, he would require a feeding tube. This would give Kyle’s brain increased opportunity to heal, but with no guarantees that the healing would happen or bring about consciousness. My parents were also advised that removing a feeding tube without patient’s written consent was legally more difficult than the decision to remove the breathing support. With no guarantees about future recovery, they chose to extubate, hope his body could breathe on its own and be moved to hospice care. They prepared themselves for pending death and started saying their goodbyes.]

Can you describe the aftermath? Not just the days following Kyle’s death but the months after.

I don’t know. Life was so unreal.

Say more about that. What do you mean?

What I remember was just putting one foot in front of the other.

I lost my son, my only son. Not that I didn’t love my daughters, but I always wanted sons. Then 9-11 happened. Our dog died. I don’t even remember much about 9-11. What I remember was just putting one foot in front of the other. It was all so unexpected and so hard. It was so long ago. Then through the years all your dad’s struggles [with depression] kept me busy. I had to keep him going. It is so hard to live that way. 

For me, I describe the time after Kyle died, and again, after Megan’s death, as walking around in a fog. In a fog, you can’t see very far ahead or behind. So you walk slower, you can only deal with what is immediately in front of you and you miss the expansive landscape around you. You do what you need to do to respond to that little bit in front of you which is usually the basics, like getting out of bed, eating enough food to have energy, taking a shower just often enough so you don’t smell. And even that is hard work.

Trying to stay out of the fog, I would keep myself busy. Having Jack [Megan’s son, my nephew], keeping him going, helps me to keep going. There are places I can’t let my mind go. I have to just keep going. Having grandma [my mom] so close by has been helpful. She is so steady. She has taught me how to keep going. 

I read one woman’s description, “Losing a child is the loneliest, most desolate journey a person can take.” Can you comment on loneliness?

Actually, it wasn’t so much loneliness but emptiness.

Actually, it wasn’t so much loneliness but emptiness. Parts of you are ripped away from you and there is nothing that fills that empty space. Having grandchildren brings more joy but doesn’t replace the loss. Mowing the lawn and driving to my friend Punky’s house is when the emptiness hits me, and I just cry.

In most articles I read in preparation for this interview, the word “trauma” was used to describe the loss of a child. It’s traumatic because, because it is often unexpected as well as being in violation of the natural order of things in which the child is expected to bury the parent. Would you use the word “trauma” to describe the experience?

No. I don’t know what word to use. I don’t have a word.

Emptiness is the word you used before. Perhaps that is what it is for you.

Yes.

People will say to me things like, “It’s over. You need to move on.” Did you have unhelpful things said to you?

Nobody knows what to say. No one knows how it feels. Most people were tongue-tied. It might have been because of the suicide. With Megan the most interesting and most helpful was Dad’s cousin wife. She came up to me and hugged me and said, “I have no idea what you are going through.” Then she gave me another hug. That meant so much to me. Days afterwards, especially after Kyle, they [people I would see in town] had no clue. They would just walk away.

They would physically walk away?

Yes. If I mentioned Kyle, they would just leave. The few people who would let me talk about Kyle brought me comfort. They became my friends, even if they hadn’t been so before. The Stephen’s Ministers at church, who were trained to be listeners and compassionate, and specifically appointed to me and your dad, just ignored us. I had opened up to one of those trained ministers, and they just brushed me off. All in all, that’s probably why I can’t walk back into that church. The people I thought so highly of just moved into the background.

How have you healed? Where did you find support?

It is hard stuff. Hugs feel good.

Having some good friends who would listen. That’s the biggest one. It’s how I’ve gotten so close to the Haugs [long time family friends]. Paul just loved to talk about Kyle. We talk about our kids a lot. So much is fluff, and it’s easier to just walk away. I’ve learned more about being there for people in need. It is hard stuff. Hugs feel good. Admitting to not knowing what to say or that you don’t know what it feels like, is helpful [to me].

Where did you find hope?

I find it within me and with God.

What does that mean? How do you access hope from within?

I don’t know how to explain it. I wonder if it the way I was raised. I heard, “pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” I know people hate that phrase, but it is what I was taught.

I hate that phrase. What does it mean anyway?

I don’t know. I saw people in my life, my mom, my grandma, work hard and get through the tough stuff. It gets me out of bed every morning. God is my beacon. He has given me everything. He didn’t give me tragedy. Life isn’t perfect but God is. He is the entity that keeps me going. Tomorrow is there. I don’t know what it is. Most of my crying, I do alone. When I talk to others it is usually the stories that make me laugh. I do cry with my mom. I share the grief with her. And then there is Punky. We talk about everything. She has lost a husband. I lost two children. I don’t know what keeps me going. Small kindnesses from neighbors. This winter, our tractor broke. Your dad couldn’t get the driveway blown out. So our neighbor, Clay, came over and did it for us. And he won’t take money for it.

Kyle died almost 20 years ago, and he was a teenager when he died. I was no longer living at home and Megan was in college. You had no grandchildren yet. A little over two years ago, both your daughters fully grown, living on their own and with children of their own, you lost another child – one of your adult children. Can you tell me about Megan’s death?

With Megan, it wasn’t as much a surprise. We knew Megan had been struggling for a long time. There was some surprise because she seemed to be doing better. Having John [her new husband] in her life was so good. I miss talking to her.

[My sister, Megan, also lost her life to suicide. It has been almost two and a half years. She was 37.]

You two had really become friends.

We found a common ground we could live with. We didn’t always agree on her parenting style, but it was hers. I saw her grow in great ways. She was such a great teacher. She was so loved by her students. To help Jack, I think I need to talk about Megan a lot. It helps him. We share both tears and smiles. I have gone into a mode of helping Jack grow up. I hope he can get through what could bring him down [losing 2 parents and growing up in a new family. Jack’s dad died from alcoholism less than a year after Megan died. He lives with his legal guardians, his aunt on his dad’s side, her husband and their four sons.].

Sounds like raising Jack is part of grieving Megan. It is what helps you with your grief?

Yes, kind of. It has also been about the Brouwers [Jack’s aunt and family] too and how their family is going through terrible grief. Sara lost her brother [Jack’s dad] first and then shortly after, her mom [to cancer]. I am “mothering” Sara too. It’s about helping people who have gone through some major grief. Their family is not that big, so they don’t have a lot of people surrounding them and helping them over the long haul.

What I hear you say is they are part of your family now.

Because Jack lives with them and is their family, they are my family too.

Do you spend time searching for “the why”, especially after losing a second child to suicide?

No. I would never get a good answer anyway.

Have you started any new family traditions or celebrations that have helped you both grieve and celebrate life?

I haven’t found any new traditions yet. Having Sara [cousin on Mom’s side] and A.J. with babies has changed things a bit. I expect they’ll be new family traditions as those kids grow up. Our holidays traditions have always changed because you work for the church. We have moved around your work schedule, so nothing has been written in stone.

What about the bonfire on Kyle’s birthday?

The tradition of a bonfire on Kyle’s birthday has happened every year since he died. We started that because of his friends. It was a way to gather them on Kyle’s first birthday [which was 4 months after his death]. We don’t have anything for Megan yet. It’s different. With Megan, Jack is the living part of Megan. That is where we put our energies.

After Megan’s death where do you find hope? Is it a fair assessment to say that hope is about raising Jack, helping Jack?

Yes. It’s like adding a generation. There were my kids first, now Jack. And then Addy is another layer down. The needs are different. Addy has her parents that provide for her needs. She doesn’t need us in the same way Jack does. It isn’t easy. But my upbringing tells me that I need to be reaching out to those in need. That’s Jack. That’s the Brouwers. They are here in front of me. So that’s what I tend to.

Megan always chided me, both in childhood and as adults, “Mom loves you more than me.” I told her she was delusional. Now I find myself wondering if there was some ring of truth to her sentiments. Megan is gone so her power remains in the memories. And most of the memories at this point have been harvested so that the chaff (the shitty ones) has been separated from the wheat (the saintly ones). And sometimes I feel like that as the dead person Megan is remembered with a halo and is loved with more veracity than me, the living child. Do you think your relationship with me has changed since Megan died?

We don’t have Megan in the middle anymore. [laughing] You would call her more often, and she would tell me what was going on with you.

I don’t feel like it has. You feel more distant. We don’t have Megan in the middle anymore. [laughing] You would call her more often, and she would tell me what was going on with you. I don’t want you to worry about being responsible for us [aging parents]. We’ll be fine. I don’t plan for the future. I live day-to-day. So, I don’t worry about what could happen. Anything can happen.

It is hard for me to say this, but I am going to anyway. I need reassurance. And I still need you as my mom. Do you think you can show me just as much love and attention as Megan’s memory? 

It’s hard to explain. Megan was physically closer. We were with her more. [Megan and Jack lived with our parents for 5 years.] I talk about you a lot. When you aren’t here, we talk about. I don’t always know what you need. So, I don’t know what to give you. I don’t have worldly advice to give. I can give to Jack and the Brouwers because their needs are obvious and are right in front of me.

Sounds like, to you, I live far away – both literally and figuratively. I live in the Twin Cities. And you don’t know exactly what I need. So, I am far away in that way too.

I think about you every day, all the time.

For as far as Megan was the “just do it” person. You have been the trailblazer. You have been independent. And [you] went off to this place and that place. I’m not good with phones. I am practical and hands on. If you were closer, I could do more for you. I think about you every day, all the time.

I know you love me. I never doubt that.

I do love you, honey.

To another mother reading this post, who has lost a child, what do you say to her?

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.

Attributed to Dr. Seuss (Theodor Seuss Geisel), American writer

Well, it may be corny, but it would be this: Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. I’m going to smile because Megan was born. Kyle was born. You were born.