Has anyone seen my bluejay?

I have thought about this blog for months. Every time I had the desire to write it, my sadness overshadowed the urge to write. I didn’t want to open up to you, dear reader. I have had strong feelings and self doubt in sharing the journey thus far with you. Is it too much? Is it helpful? Do I sound too repetitive? I just didn’t want to share anymore. Until recently, the creative flow came back and I needed to express this current stage. Writing has been a part of my healing. I have referred to grief as being episodic with its highs and lows. Pushing the emotions deep down just makes me avoid healing myself. This is good for me. And, I know that most of you that are reading this, care about our family and have found the blogs comforting, even helpful with your own inferences with grief and of Ryan.

It’s been a minute. A lot happens in a year. We had the one year memorial for Ryan where we were able to honour him with speeches and slide show. This was important to us as his funeral day was not what intended with COVID restrictions and rules. Making a very sad day just even more awful for us. We needed proper closure with how we wanted to send him off. The one year mark came so fast. Thank you to those who came out to commemorate our boy and to those who joined online or sent love along to us. The day helped us with our journey and were pleased to be surrounded by so many people.

After the one year anniversary, came getting through Ryan’s 13th birthday and then Christmas. It came and went, a second one without Ryan. We enjoyed the moment of it giving Aidan a new used car which we all enjoyed watching his reaction to. This while entertaining and training a new member to the crew, our puppy Guinness. A second rescue dog from St. Maarten. It seems we have a lot of love in our hearts to give. He has been a lot of work but adds a different dynamic to our family this last year. In the spring, I made some personal changes with work. I went back to the company I left when Ryan passed away but in a new role. I am happy to have the challenge and routine. I resigned from my coaching position at the gym and took up my own training at home in our garage gym. I have put a lot of work and focus into myself with my physical health and wellness. That is my therapy and vice. Staying strong and well is so important to me as well as my mental health. And change is important too. A lot of shifts with the world. We saw the reopening of different things that were closed for two years. This summer, the three of us went to the Honda Indy to honour Ryan’s memory. That was high on the list of his favourite things to do. A little piece of him remains with that race and we will go back every year now.

After three years, we were able to see my family from the US. Three years is a long time to not see your loved ones. Especially when you have endured trauma and need the support of family interaction. Yes, people go years without seeing their families but when they are a mere 11 hour drive away, its very hard to accept being barred from the freedom of travel. Too long. Our visit was beautiful and calmed our hearts. We so needed it.

We have had the honour of seeing Aidan finally start university at OCADU. He climbed a mountain to get there. And a village lifted him up too. We are so proud that his moment finally came. He deferred his start by two years for a myriad of reasons. But the time gap seemed right. Erik and I are blessed with Aidan, he has become a very cool, kind and solid human that we love to spend time with. It’s hard to balance the love of the one lost along with celebrating your love for the one who is present. We don’t ever want Aidan to feel that we spend more energy on losing Ryan than being present for him in life. It’s not a competition but certainly something I try to balance and be aware of. The blog is about child loss and I do try to respect Aidan’s privacy. While he’s not the topic all the time, he is carefully included where it’s appropriate.

Countless other life things happened this year up to this point. And now, it’s exactly one month to Ryan’s two year anniversary of his passing. 698 days of him not here. That’s a lot of sleeps without him in his own bed, in his room, playing on his Xbox, in his coziest jammies that still sit in his drawer. It’s so surreal. Unfair. Heart breaking. Tragic.

‘It gets better with time, right?’ Let me tell you that this is a slap in the face statement. I have some really strong feelings about grief and this one is 100% incorrect. No it does not. Try to balance this all at once. Being forever traumatized, still in a state of panic that I lost my child, and in a horrific way, while trying to stay calm for the loved ones in my life, feel constantly sick to my stomach that I failed as a parent to protect my baby, miss my son with all of my being, and that there will be no more joyful moments that were to come for him. None of those feelings get better with time. Shock is what wanes. But then it is replaced with the pain of loss and absolute absence. Add in guilt and confusion as to why it all happened. I feel like I am stuck in a tunnel. The beginning of the tunnel starts the day Ryan died. It’s a small opening and gets bigger as time and life goes by. I can flow with the growth of the tunnel but easily get thrown back to the beginning when a memory or life event happens. Because that’s where Ryan is. Remembered as the 11 year old boy he was until November 13, 2020. It’s like a vicious cycle. He’s stuck there while we move along with the wings of time. As the tunnel grows, he is further and further away. I hate it.

Significant life events that didn't happen because Ryan is not here for them are also hard. Big things and the small things. Like going to a concert or the Ex, things Ryan would have done. Ryan was supposed to start high school this year. He should have had graduated Grade 8. I see his friends and school mates in the neighbourhood growing up, no longer 11 or 12 when Ryan passed away. I cling to the school memories as that’s where he left off. While he was not a fan of academics, he loved the social aspect of school. And for the most part, his elementary years are full of cherished memories. There are so many but this one keeps coming to me. Silly but cute. When Ryan was perhaps in grade 1, he had period where he was having a hard time with his teacher and the principal. I was getting regular calls home about his behaviour. Between him and Aidan, the calls were frequent. I can vividly remember being at work and seeing the number flash up on my phone, who was it today? Two boys kept us on our toes. This particular call was in regards to Ryan. The principal was careful with her words as she had been told off by me the day previous. I had asked her to start the calls off with telling me with something kind about my child rather than call to complain everyday. But this day was different. Ryan had managed to get the zipper stuck on his winter coat and there was no way that they could get the coat off. The zipper was so badly stuck that they would have to cut him out of the coat. Could they have permission to do so?? I nearly fell off my chair laughing. Imagine you had to make that call? When I came home from work, there was the coat, totally ruined. Ryan didn’t care, totally oblivious. Just another day. Funny thing is we had practiced and practiced how to zip up the coat at home because I knew that Ryan needed to know how to do it for school. There are lots of stories like this. Memories that make me stop and think that time moves so fast. Don’t rush them. Your kids I mean. There is so much adult time and not enough childhood time in life. Kids grow up too fast, let them be as it doesn’t last forever. Stop to be present. I have many regrets as a parent to Ryan. Regrets that haunt me now. We are all doing our best but sometimes we are not.

On the topic of time, I write this with only concern and wonder of the other kids who were there the day it happened as well as the kids who were emotionally affected by Ryan’s death. This was life changing. My heart hopes that your child is ok and that they were given a chance to talk to someone about what happened because I am sure it has left everyone forever altered. Almost 2 years may have passed but this is something they will always remember. Forever. A story so sad they will tell it to their children. I have tried to imagine shifting the scenario like if it happened to another child and Ryan was there. What would we do? I mean no disrespect in this statement only concern. It is never too late to talk about it to someone. I have a hard time thinking that kids would just brush it off and move on. Or if they ever feel like they want to say more to us, we are always ready to listen. I also encourage you and those children to visit Ryan’s garden for a moment of peace, reflection and remembrance. Its helpful for your well being. Another acknowledgement to those who made that happen, it’s an important place to us to help keep Ryan’s memory alive and be a living part of.

While I am a firm believer in signs from the other side to the living, I have not seen a bluejay at all this year. Aidan had a beautiful jay feather land on his car while at the cottage with friends. Erik has seen flocks of them while working outside. While I write this, he has come in with 3 feathers for me from a fallen bluejay that came across his path on a dog walk. But not me. I have had other signs though. Most of them in my dreams which some say are actual encounters. Those are the best moments, I want to stay there forever and keep looking at his face. I had purchased something online and the seller included a small sparkly paper blue feather in her package. I reached out to her to ask why and she replied that she either puts feather or a butterfly in her packages. She said it seemed that mine needed a feather. And that a stranger felt my love from across the country. My heart.

We had a very significant moment at the Honda Indy. We took a couple of toy cars with us from his collection to leave behind at the race. Erik had two in his hands. He asked Aidan which one should we leave behind. As soon as he asked, Ryan’s favourite car, a McLaren, raced right past us on the track. The McLaren was one of the two cars we brought. Ryan clearly made the decision that day. He was there. With the heaviest of hearts, he made us fans of that event. And we will keep his tradition alive.

I speak only from experience with this now as I am no expert. I want you to know this. My grief experience is not your experience. Your grief experience, is not my experience.

There is no right or wrong when it comes to grief. Stages, processes, labels, timing, good days, bad days, all of it, there is no rule book on how to grieve. Don’t impress your grief story on someone else in their grief moment. Just be there for them. What I can attest is that I have had my share of death to last 10 lifetimes. I grieve my father differently than I grieve my Aunt. I grieve my friends who have passed all differently. You might grieve a sibling in a certain way that I can’t relate to. But grieving the death of a child, your own child, is unfathomable. It is only relatable to those who have also have suffered the loss their child. Full stop. Grief is not a game of comparisons. Remember that when someone close to you has to endure it. Being supportive, present and available is what’s helpful. Even if they can’t see it at that moment.

And so reader, as I end this blog, I’m not sure if I will write more in the future. My goal was to write 12 blogs in one year. It took me two. I am undecided on continuing so I will leave the remaining pages blank until I feel the need to put the feelings down into words. And when and if I’m ready, I know you will be there to read it. Until then, look for the bluejays. Smile at the rare sight and sound of a rev of a Lamborghini or a McLaren driving by. Because that’s what we do. Every.Single.Time.

Tunnel vision

One of Ryan's favourite places

McLaren