The Pillow - Grief, Marriage & Hysteria

Nope, just a stock photo, not John's room.

On the day we lost our son, mere hours after, the pastor pulled us aside for a few moments and shared with us that this type of loss can destroy a marriage. I think he may have even given us the divorce statistics.  I don't remember.  I think he prayed with us.  I don't remember.  I do remember thinking, great, devasting loss and a now a huge chance of a failed marriage besides.  I will admit to wondering about the timing, but I thank him for explaining it to us right away - because as the days went on, we definitely saw how grief can wipe clean everything in its path and leave the survivors hanging by a thread.  And while most of that day and the days after are a fog, his words stuck.  It was a kindness.

After 16 months, Brian and I still handle the loss very differently. We need to respect each other's journey and have a lot of grace for each other. We aren't typically the couple that argues or has strife at all, we both hate conflict, but this type of loss will bring out a side of you that you cannot believe you have.  And it's always the ones closest to us who are on the receiving end.  I'm pleased to say our inner Jekyll and Hydes haven't come out very often, but when it has happened...wow. {I'm envisioning an alien movie - where said alien busts out of some sort of unsuspecting host, all teeth and claws and slime and making some sort of horrible screeching sound}. Okay good, I think we are on the same page.  

For example, on the day John died (how can I even be saying those words?), one of John's sheets went out the door with him, and the other one was on the floor of his room. Did you know he had to be brought to Anoka by hearse for an autopsy and toxicology?  If you can help it, and you are sent an autopsy report, please don't ever read it.  Yes, of course I did.  It's much worse than having an alien burst from your flesh.  It graphically describes the taking apart of your child, down to what they found in his stomach from Friday nights family supper to what his brain weighed...oh, I could go on.  I'll spare you.  But right, I'm not okay and there are a lot of reasons for that. Anyway, while his bed was disheveled, there was no mess, but for a few drops of watery blood on one pillowcase, and that was only after he was moved around and checked over by the first responders or the coroner. He looked very peaceful when we found him.  Snuggled up on his back with the blankets pulled up under his chin.  He looked like he virtually got comfortable and then, boom, he was gone. TMI?? Sorry. It tells a story.  I was comforted by that peacefulness.  I know that isn't always the case.

I remember my mom telling me that when she found my grandmother in her bed, it was quite a different story.  Some things stay with you forever.  However, after they had moved him around, he looked a bit disheveled, the covers were off, his shirt was askew, I could see his belly button, and he all the sudden had a little blood on his face and his pillow.  It upset me greatly to see him "changed" after the people had been in his room.  I do remember asking them what they had done to him. Sorry guys, I know you were just doing your job.  {Tears are falling}

Well, that sheet on his bedroom floor was so distracting for me.  I had a burning desire to pick it up and take it to the laundry room.  (I had a large desire to clean up my house too, but I let that one go). I wanted - needed,  to change the sheets and make the room look normal.  (Thank goodness I had cleaned his room, or they wouldn't have even gotten to his bed.  He was what I call an organized messy.  And yes, at 24, I still occasionally cleaned his room, for my sanity.)

I believe I voiced my need to pick up that room and I remember being told I shouldn't worry about it. But I was. I was overwhelmed with worry about it.  I think looking back I was worried that his girlfriend and his sister would be traumatized by his room not looking normal and I knew that Morgan would want to sleep in his room - it's a small house.  Well, my sweet friend Brenda either asked or I shared with her how it was bothering me, and she didn't miss a beat.  Let's go do it, she said.  Was it irrational? Maybe.  But not to me.  I NEEDED to do it. {Honor those requests by your grieving friends}.  How did this factor into what Pastor said?  Let's get there.  So a few days later, I found that pillowcase in the laundry room, the one with the blood.  Why didn't I throw it away? Excellent question. I was not thinking clearly.  I'm still not most days.  Because it was John's?  Anyway,  I threw it and his pillow in the washer.  (FYI, if this ever happens to you, keep the clothes they wore the day before, don't wash them.  Trust me, you will go looking their smell - protect it.  I wish I had.  I washed his clothes without giving it a thought.)

So, the pillow was made of down feathers.  Have you ever tried to wash a kingsized down pillow?  Yes, bad idea.  It weighs a hundred pounds when soaked with water.  So, I started the machine and I came upstairs.  A while later, Brian said, "I don't know what's going on in the laundry room, but the washing machine is making all kinds of noise". So, I listen, and that machine is banging around so loudly it sounds like it's going to explode.  I run downstairs in a panic and immediately smell burning rubber - I stop the machine and try to pull that pillow out.  Folks, I might not be a weight lifter, but I've always considered myself somewhat strong.  Well, I could barely get that pillow out of the machine.  And when I did it was so full of water I didn't know what to do with it, so I slid it into the garbage can and hauled it upstairs. 

So here I come, trudging up the stairs with this heavy garbage can, and Brian says something brilliant like, "What were you doing?" with a slight tone.  And I completely LOST MY CRAP.  I went from a somewhat normal person to an unrecognizable and hysterical person {alien}, one neither of us had ever met.  I yelled and cried and told him I was trying to wash John's pillow. It was a side of me I don't think I've ever seen, nor do I want to revisit.  He quickly grabbed the can and asked me what I wanted to do with it?  Should he get the pillow cleaned?  Throw it away?  He would do whatever I needed.  I needed a hug.  And he was happy to oblige.  Yeah, we threw it away - and the pillowcase, and the sheet.

I apologized and we both recognized that it was my grief and devasted heart speaking - I was trying to do something normal and useful, to take care of my son, in a completely unnormal situation.  There is a reason people hang around for a while.  We were a disaster.  Brian horribly sprained his ankle, still had a crop to take out, I had a rash on my chin from all the "wool coats" I hugged that week.  We could have used a full-time physician and nanny. The washing machine survived.  And so did we.  And so has our marriage.  But we found that our grief manifested itself in ways we did not expect and it still does, and we had to give each other grace and patience. 

We deliberately met with other couples that had lost kids, and it was such an encouragement.  They are still together, they are closer than ever, and we too are finding that it has brought us even closer, to each other, and to our Heavenly Father.  I couldn't get through this without Brian, and not having him to lean on and talk to would be unbearable. The people in our lives that have also lost children have saved us, they are our lifeline. It's so important to have someone to talk to that has experienced it. If you haven't gone through it, you just cannot understand.  

Brian and I, like I've said, are different in the way we handle this loss. He needs to talk about John several times a day and out loud.  While John is always on my mind, my personality is very different in that respect.  I keep John safe behind my walls, and I spend my days trying not to "go there", not to let myself believe the loss unless I choose too.  {Um, that's called denial.}  Whatever, it works for me. If I don't guard myself, I can't function. Depression and sadness would overtake me.  That's why triggers are so hard. I spend my moments trying to hold it together, and when something ambushes that facade, I might as well go home.  But Brian is different, and that's okay - I let him discuss it as much as he needs, unless . . . I see that he is spiraling downward, and then I change the subject or remind him that he is starting to exhibit signs of high blood pressure, with his blessing of course.  We have found a rhythm that works for us.  And it looks a lot like respect, kindness, and survival.

He loves to crank the praise and worship music pretty much day and night and finds much solace there. I have a hard time with music, especially if it's sad, is about loss, or if it's a song from John's funeral. But, we have learned to respect each other's needs and differences in that arena as well.  Maybe I'll put on headphones and listen to a book, while he listens to sad song after sad song - or he'll have an afternoon of music with his new BFF "Alexa", while I'm out running errands. We make it work.  He tries not to play "Come As You Are" when I am home.   

For the most part, we have always understood what makes each other tick, and we respect that.  So, keep that in mind as you journey through loss.  It doesn't have to end in divorce - you are stronger together.  Be honest with each other.  Share those feelings.  Talk to someone. Find some people who understand.

We have had some really deep and dark conversations.  Be honest. The kind of conversations where we share our darkest "what if's", where we blame ourselves, others, our gene pool, the weather... where we wonder what we could have done differently if we somehow caused it, we wonder what our future looks like, what John would be doing today, how John would be doing today, and we are great at talking each other down, encouraging each other, and praying for each other.   So please,  don't give up.  Do whatever it takes to make it. Keep talking, pray with each other and for each other, and keep God first.  Be kind to one another.  Keep talking with Him.  He understands.   ❤️