Soon after I went back to work, a co-worker told me that I need to get back on my horse.  What horse would that be? 

 

What is the color of this horse? 

 

What breed is this horse? 

 

Do I look like a cowboy or a cavalryman?

 

Is it because I am grieving my son still and will be for some time still yet to come that I am suddenly a purveyor of equine sensibility? 

 

Is this horse a Clydesdale - large, majestic, and strong?

 

Is this a pale horse that Death rode upon and Hell followed after the fourth seal is opened?

 

Is this a horse of a different color, much like the one that transported Dorothy to see the Wizard when she entered the Emerald City?

 

Could this horse be powerful and fast as a Mustang, where I can ride off quickly, to be far and away from the pain?

 

Why not a bronco, a horse that needs to be broken else throws his rider?

 

Could this be a horse that is caparisoned, being escorted behind a caisson carrying a coffin, riderless and boots backwards in the stirrups?

 

Honestly, it is from a misperception that I am to suddenly be past the grief, anguish, and pain from the death of my child; that this horse I am to be on is the answer to all my questions.  That like any rider from horse stories, the visual of getting back on the horse and try again.  I have gotten back on my horse several times.  This horse has thrown me, broken me rather than I break him. 

 

What is forgotten is that I, as the grieving parent, never asked for anything.  I was told numerous times “If you need anything call me.”  I appreciated the offer from friends, family, the students of Archbishop Ryan and other Archdiocesan high schools, the community, and the others that have supported me emotionally and spiritually since Tim was killed.  All I really, and honestly, desired was to know the aforementioned people did not abandon me.  They didn’t.  If anything the support from this extended family and modern children’s crusade grew.  The cheers and good wishes have hardened me to face the next day and be able to see the sun or remember that despite storm clouds the sun is still there.

 

So for the meanwhile, I plod along…leading this horse by the reigns stopping every so often to watch the wheels go round and round.

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Comment by JOYCE MASHER, 4 Amy 5158791808 on November 29, 2011 at 12:46pm

Martin, that was very very interesting and right to the point. you are very good with words. Maybe some day, or maybe there is, but a book needs to be written for people to read that have not gone thru this horrible thing in their life, but titled so it can be read by anyone. (maybe one of those DUMMIE BOOKS, OR CHICKEN BOOKS)

I myself, would never have gone out looking for books (I mean before losing Amy, even knowing she lost 4 other class mates ) about how one feels after losing a loved one, let alone a child. We, my hubby and I bought books, hard and digital copies of how to cope, grieve, mediums, psychics, and anything to help us. Some I passed to my family members so they could be on the same train of thought, and most seem to understand. Only those in our shoes really understand.

Maybe others don't want to read about sadness or grief or any self help type books, so I could be wrong. But I think if I could do it over, I would look for books to give to my friends or even a pocket type book, for a quik read on how hard it is with suggestions on when, where, how, or why we do what we do and it seems that all we need is time, lots of it to heal in our own ways. Help out when they can, but don't say things that hurt more than help.

I hope you understand what I am saying. I tell my family mostly and a few friends what we say to each other on here and compare myself to you all. This lets me tell them in a way that I am not different or crazy or not moving on, or as you were told, get back on the horse. One family member said, not realizing it, "well, its been two years" I said, it could be 10 or 20, it wont change much of how we feel now or then, it may not be as hard to handle, but it will always leave a hole in my heart. Yes there are good times and there are bad times, and yes we have good memories, but most of them make us cry more.

I dont mean to ramble, and I prob lost my train of thought, and want to thank you for all you say that helps you and us get thru.

hugs to you, yours and especially Timmy. I hope he has met my Amy, and all the others.

Joyce

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