~Found this online, and thought it was very fitting ~
Walk in my Shoes
If you walked in my shoes
Lived with what I have lived through.
Then you would finally know firsthand
There is no peace from where I stand.
In a world that thinks I'm over it..
Or believes I somehow will forget
There are no words that can express
What I have learned to keep suppressed.
The loss of my child has left me numb
I haven't a clue who I've become
I've learned to mask this pain I hide
To bury it way down deep inside.
Others don't see the tears that flow
They cannot know how I've wished to go.
How each day has been met with grief
And years have brought me no relief.
Imagine lighting a candle for your daughter or son
Living a life where you feel you're shunned.
All you have left are your memories bittersweet,
And tomorrow you wake to another repeat.
So until you have walked within my shoes
Lived with what I have lived through
Do not tell me how to feel...
Do not tell me I should heal.
Lyndie Sorenson
August 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
My Son
Michael Joseph Niemann III was born an old soul. From the beginning, my husband said he looked like an old man, haha. He liked his boy toys, and kid type fun. But, as he got older, he liked to know how things were made, where things came from, and why things were the way they were. He loved to watch the History Channel, Discovery Channel and others like it. He loved to clean and organize things too.
Early on, we knew that Michael was special. He had a debilitating disease, that there was no cure for. Rather than spend time at the doctor or in the hospitals, we lived life, and helped him live his. He was comfortable, happy and always fully in charge! He knew what he wanted, and always made it known. And in turn, we did what he wanted to do, and had fun doing it!
We went to Disneyland when all the kids were young, spent weekends at the beach, drove to the mountains, took the ferry to Catalina, traveled to Yosemite for our first family camping trip, spent time in San Fransisco, fed the seals in Morro Bay, and so much more. But, for Michael, the most fun was the adventure of getting there. He loved road trips! He loved the bumps, hills and curves.
And, when we weren't traveling or out having adventures, we spent family time at home. My favorite recent memories were weekends, last winter. We would light a fire in the fireplace, turn up the stereo, and have Family Game Night on the Wii. We would all take our turns doing our fitness tests, and would play bowling and our most favorite game - Just Dance.
Michael never felt sorry for himself, and never wanted sympathy or special treatment. He figured out ways to do anything he wanted to do, and was very determined to do things for himself. He would always tell me that he "has a good life". He was never sad, or mad because of the life he had.
Though I wish we had more time, to do more things together, I would not go back and do things any different. His young life was short, but it was full and meaningful. I am very blessed to have had such a special son. He brought joy to our lives and had a heart so full of love.
Early on, we knew that Michael was special. He had a debilitating disease, that there was no cure for. Rather than spend time at the doctor or in the hospitals, we lived life, and helped him live his. He was comfortable, happy and always fully in charge! He knew what he wanted, and always made it known. And in turn, we did what he wanted to do, and had fun doing it!
We went to Disneyland when all the kids were young, spent weekends at the beach, drove to the mountains, took the ferry to Catalina, traveled to Yosemite for our first family camping trip, spent time in San Fransisco, fed the seals in Morro Bay, and so much more. But, for Michael, the most fun was the adventure of getting there. He loved road trips! He loved the bumps, hills and curves.
And, when we weren't traveling or out having adventures, we spent family time at home. My favorite recent memories were weekends, last winter. We would light a fire in the fireplace, turn up the stereo, and have Family Game Night on the Wii. We would all take our turns doing our fitness tests, and would play bowling and our most favorite game - Just Dance.
Michael never felt sorry for himself, and never wanted sympathy or special treatment. He figured out ways to do anything he wanted to do, and was very determined to do things for himself. He would always tell me that he "has a good life". He was never sad, or mad because of the life he had.
Though I wish we had more time, to do more things together, I would not go back and do things any different. His young life was short, but it was full and meaningful. I am very blessed to have had such a special son. He brought joy to our lives and had a heart so full of love.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Waves
Grief is a strange thing. Death is so final, it’s hard to grasp the
concept. It’s hard to accept, and to deal with. You don’t know where to
begin. Most days, it seams, I just don’t deal with it at all. I just
prefer to think of Michael as still in the hospital, or just somewhere
else. I can’t think of the realities of it all. How did it get this way?
How did I let things get this way?
I miss him so much. I miss our little talks. I miss him telling me all about the show he just watched on some strange animal, or how they make something. The pain of loss hits me so hard sometimes, that I forget how to breathe. I feel sick to my stomach. I ache all over.
And, there isn’t anything I can do about it. I can’t simply go pick him up somewhere, or go visit him. Yes, spiritually I can talk to him, and I can go to the cemetery to visit. But, it’s not the same. He only answers back in my head, the words I put there. I want to hear his words, his thoughts, his feelings.
Everything happened so suddenly. There is so much more that I want to do, so much more I want to say, so much more I want him to know. It’s all so unfair.
More than anything I am feeling is the pain of my girls. They lost their brother, their friend. I hate the pain they are going through, every day. Alexis lost her other half, a part of her. And, there isn’t anything I can do for her or Harley, or anyone.
I am just so lost.
I miss him so much. I miss our little talks. I miss him telling me all about the show he just watched on some strange animal, or how they make something. The pain of loss hits me so hard sometimes, that I forget how to breathe. I feel sick to my stomach. I ache all over.
And, there isn’t anything I can do about it. I can’t simply go pick him up somewhere, or go visit him. Yes, spiritually I can talk to him, and I can go to the cemetery to visit. But, it’s not the same. He only answers back in my head, the words I put there. I want to hear his words, his thoughts, his feelings.
Everything happened so suddenly. There is so much more that I want to do, so much more I want to say, so much more I want him to know. It’s all so unfair.
More than anything I am feeling is the pain of my girls. They lost their brother, their friend. I hate the pain they are going through, every day. Alexis lost her other half, a part of her. And, there isn’t anything I can do for her or Harley, or anyone.
I am just so lost.
A Place for Me
This is where I will be posting my thoughts and feelings about what I have been going through, in the past several months.
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