OUT OF THE DARKNESS WALK IN BOSTON

Out Of The Darkness,


The day of the walk, I was spinning in my tracks. I found myself staring blankly into space, when the list of things needed doing was immense. The shirt needed to have our team name and my son’s name on the shirt. I took one-step forward and 2 steps back. Everything was so important I was almost frozen. The luminary bag had to be made, and again my hand almost could not do it. I felt useless with nerves. I went onto facebook and then got a wonderful email response from Carissa’s mom, which reminded me that I am not doing this! Let it go.


I wrote out the shirt with Joshua’s name, and Stu and Scott. I wrote our team name. My husband helped me make an amazing luminary bag and I eventually started moving forward. Turned out I did not have to look far for angels last night, the men I drove in with were almost all I needed. God truly uses those he wants. Tom and John have had hard lives, full of pain and turmoil. They are a bit rough around the edges, but truly I could not have asked for anyone better. Oh how they would laugh to be called angels.

We parked in the garage and walked into the city hall plaza area. At first I was let down at how few people there seemed to be. I think I thought the entire world would be there. I registered with ease and was directed over to the other informational tents. I got my map of the route, saw the tent for next years walk and then made my way over to one of the hardest parts.


THE BEADS
The table was laid out with colored beads, orange, blue, green, and white. The beads, I knew I would wear were white. It was the only color I knew what meant. As I walked up the to girl handing out the beads, she asked what color I needed. I said, “lost a child” and she picked up a set of the white and said “This is the color I hate handing out the most”. I nodded, and walked away with the beads in hand. As I turned to walk away, I looked at the beads and quietly talked to my son as I placed them on my neck. “ How could you do this to me”, “are you watching right now”. The button on my shirt with his picture gave a target for my pain. I looked right into his beautiful place and told him how upset at him I was. After they were on, I remember walking through the crowd looking for other colors. A lady past wearing green and so I knew she was struggling with taking her life. A family came up wearing ………… and they had lost a parent. It was wonderfully painful way at wearing your heart on your sleeve, and certainly helped to not have to ask each person. I found myself watching and saying silent prayers for each different pain represented by those beads. I hoped and prayed I would not see anyone wearing white like myself.. As I moved over to the staging area and sat on the stairs, I could not help but notice a team of peope sobbing. I could only tell that they had new pain. That this was so fresh. It must have been aunts and uncles and friends, but the one person I could not take my eyes off of was the one I was certain would be mom. I tried to see if she wore white beads, but at the time I was not at the right angel. She didn’t sob, she kept her sunglasses on and sitting next to her took me back to the first few months of Joshua. Although you could not see the lump in her throat, I could feel it. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was, but I remembered the words people would say to me in those days and how they fell on deaf ears. The heart is not even close to ready to receive condolences or even suggestions of getting better. In fact during that time it finds them repulsive as it lingers in the last place your heart was with your child, and does not want to leave. Can’t leave, and would feel guilty to leave. She was me. Behind her glasses her eyes were closed, as if choking pain the excruciating pain. I could not help but stare. Then finally she turned towards me and a single strand of white bead joined us forever.


Tom and John are my hero’s. I am not certain they will ever understand how much they affected my life! They were there every time we needed something, riding there bikes all around Boston. Water bottles, Ice for my knee and even pumpkin seeds for Jen. Each time I saw them I became so excited, and sometimes they just were off their bikes cheering for us at a random corner or pointing out the route. Do they even understand that they were commissioned by God to look after me? Someday when they meet HIM, I can’t wait for HIM to tell them that they were doing His bidding. That they were loving the most love, caring the most care and selfless in a way that can only come from GOD. I am so not worthy. Joshua must have been so proud of these two guys. I bet he never knew that his mom would love an angel. OR did he? Joshua loved Tom so much; maybe he knew something I did not. In the last days of this death Joshua was so worried that I would stay with Tom. Look what he left me.

John, began the Life Is A Highway page with me. He might not know it, but it was he that inspired my excitement as it began to work and touch total strangers. Suddenly this wonderful man kept uplifting me and making comments and participating. I was shocked to be able to reach someone for who did not know Joshua or me. I never had a very clear understanding of how this facebook page would work or even if, and he made it work. My goal was 30 people and with his initial help it reached 100 in no time, as he suggesting the page to friends. He lit a fire that was pivotal in this journey for me. I remember one day, telling Tom “There is this amazingly loving man on my facebook page and I don’t know him” "His picture is creepy but he seems great". We sat down that night to look him up and it turned out, he was my best friend from high school’s husband! He was sent to me, this I know. From the moment I saw him, I loved him like a big brother. He used the facebook page to care for me and help me be strong enough to walk! MY angels are all around.

Danielle and Annabelle were a bless-ed surprise. Suddenly as we walked past the common I saw two little girls beaming with pride for their mommy. My heart broke open. I did not have to look for them, because I walked straight into them. That was the part I loved the best.

This past few months I struggled to figure out what Joshua’s Life Is A Highway page would be about. The idea of a scholarship or foundation has run around our minds. Would it just end? How would I keep it going? What would I fill its pages with? Last night when I saw the walk in 2011 I knew. Paula asked where she could put her money and I said “into next year” and she got all excited about fundraisers and such. So Life Is A Highway Team for Joshua Amaral will walk again!!!!!!!!!!!! I can only hope we are all present just the way we were last night. I loved last night.

To those who walked with us, thank you from the deepest place in my heart. Jen you add such laughter to every experience, Tiffany you have a great motivated spirit, Mom well what can I say, you are my partner in this eternal struggle, Alicia and Paula your came in right when we needed you….Tom and John, nothing I could say could touch what I feel for the both of you. You are true heroes, and even better is the fact that you will not hear anything of it.


This walk was a practice run; the Facebook page is in its earliest stages. Next year will be bigger, better and more efficient and put together I imagine. We have a year to raise the funds and prepare for NY and so we will build on what we put together in 3 months and honor Joshua again every year.

This blog has not been edited. I decided to just put it up as is.

Blessings,
Amanda

Eternal Interference

I am sitting at Barnes and Noble in Burlington, hoping to do some serious research and reading about suicide and the loss of children. My goal for the day was to see what was out for books such as the one I am working on. The bookstore is incredibly busy and I was very lucky to get a table by the window. A few minutes after Dan picked up the girls, I wandered off to get the stack of books to peruse. I was so excited to find Chicken Soup for the Grieving Soul and thought I would save that for last. After a moment of beginning to read, coffee in hand muffin near bye and surrounded by books an older woman came over and asked if she could borrow the chair at my table. I said “certainly” that my daughters were gone. To my surprise she then sat down with me at my table. At that moment I felt God let out a little chuckle, both for my lack of social skills and willingness to come out of my box and certainly for the cozy little plan I had. As planned I started to go over book after book with titles such as “The Worst Loss”, “I was not ready to say goodbye” and all of these were manageable as they were research more than gut wrenching. I continued to make certain I put the Chicken Soup book at the bottom of the pile. Until I was ready.

When I finally hit the bottom of my pile I took a deep breath and dug in for a welcome moment of heart break. The words for each story of grief were so accepted into my heart. Mothers, fathers grandmothers,grandfathers loss and love. So many spoke my words, did the things I do. They have put hand over heart, let body grieve as it needed, practiced breathing, held onto life, ached silently at dinner parties, teachers conferences, knew loss like sometimes I thought I only knew it. Suicide...Suicide happens to others. Suddenly I came to a story called “A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS” about Adam a son who died at age 15. My throat begun to dry and a lump appeared. I suddenly realized that these stories were taking a toll on me and I began to contemplate how to keep my composure in the bookstore. As I looked up to give myself a break from the pain, I found myself staring up at the woman sharing my table, holding a blue book up to hear face and slowly pulling it back and forth contorting it and her eyes. I watched for a moment and quickly surmised the title of the book to be....”OPTICAL ILLUSIONS” and before I could stop it, that lump in my throat turned from utter gut wrenching torture to a laugh out loud that was noticed all around the cafe. A laugh I quickly tried to make look like it was from something I'd just read.

A few moments later I began again. This time opening the book right up to a story called “Legacy of Love'. I began to read of a young boy named Jarod ending his life and a quilt his mother began to make out of his clothing. So many times I have tried to figure out how to use Joshua's clothes and items now that he is gone. It reminded me of the guitar pic I wear around my neck. The more I read the more my body began to grieve for this mother, and odly seperate myself and my story and think only of her loss. That must be true empathy. I did not read it through my eyes, but through hers somehow. Again a lump formed in my throat. This time I felt a great force behind it and tried to stop the sobs before I lost all composer. Suddenly out of the blue, another older lady walked past my table, stopped and looked down at me. She spoke right to me and said “ I am going to sell my left leg on the black market” and without looking up at the time or even realizing that she just broke me from once again almost bursting into tears I replied “ oh yeah, how much do you think you could get for it”??? To which she said “25 cents” and we both laughed and laughed.

After that I got up and moved a bit away from the table and called my mom to tell her the odd day I was having at the Bookstore and how each person arrives at a moment when I need it the most. We joked, maybe I should stop reading this book, or maybe I should move tables or move the chair that continues to be occupied at my table?? As I finished the call I turned back to check that my things were all still where I'd left them and noticed a middle aged gentlemen of Indian decent occupying the chair. I chuckled, hung up and went over to sit and see what it was he had in store for me. Do I pick up the book again? Or do I just sit here? I then laughed at myself again. I think he might of sensed my anxiousness because he abruptly left! The book still sits in my lap and I contemplate picking it up again. Just a second ago a young girl just approached and asked if she could borrow my chair? I immediately said of course and wondered for a moment if she would as well lend me the gift of easing my pain as I delved so much into peoples pains of loss? Instead of sitting with me though, she picked up the chair and walked off. The end for my open chair day at Barnes And Noble.

Joshua has been gone for five years after taking his life. What he left for me in his stead was an eternal presence that I daily am accompanied by Angles who make the suffering, suffering I am so willing to do, just a little easier. As much as my body grieves, as much as my tears never end, as much as some-days I cant get out of bed, and often have to force myself to breath, I would not trade this journey. It was meant for me.

Blessings,
Amanda,.....Joshua's Mommy

To My Husband

To My Husband,

Joshua left us in 2005, you had 3 amazing years with him and I honor you. I remember so many times when you and he horrified me, excited me and truly made me wonder what in the world you were both thinking? As my memory comes back more and more, I am flooding by pictures of you and he and the times you had together. Here are some of my memories. Thank you loving him so much.

Embarrassment is the word that comes to mind when you, he and I were out! I think it’s why I stopped accompanying the two of you places. The grocery store, movie store, restaurants all places where you two would be such boys. How much fun you had tossing groceries and NOT having them land in your carriages. Now how I wish for such days. I doubt embarrassment would be the word. Oh how I wish I embraced the crazy times.


As I sit here in my kitchen and write, I am not far from the picture frames that you encouraged Joshua to build with you. They are so beautiful, with carved grapes. I will never forget how proud he was to make them and how gracious you were with him. So many people now have a frame.

The hat I don’t truly recall. I don’t remember when he started wearing it. I only know that he was with you in Rockport at your apartment and spotted it. A hat that your grandfather wore so many years ago, and that my son happily took and made his own. What must you have been thinking when he never, ever, took it off again?

The dirt bike story, as of course you thought he needed to be ruffed up a bit is one of my favorites. Looking back, it was not a great idea. The bike had too much power for someone his age,  and the location was also not great for a first time. I will never forget how banged up he got, and how the both of you looked when you can back. He with a sheepish grin as he showed off his bruises and yanked off his work boots and you wondering how I would react to see Joshua so bruised.


Wolfboro was hard. It was so far away. My apartment in NY seemed like the ends of the earth from him. I remember one night looking out of the window into the cul de sac and seeing your white bronco pull up and Joshua get out of the drivers seat. I laughed until I cried. How old was he? 14 maybe. How far did he drive? I wondered.  And then the next morning when he asked for coffee, the tiny spot of coffee we placed into the sugar bowl. Such a laugh.


And then we went from silly to having all the lights turned out. Joshua was gone. On top of losing him you lost me to hospitals, medications that made me sleep for days on end and  loneliness. Why did you stay? Why did you care for me? How did you do it? When the day came in 2007 when I "woke up" from the coma I had been living in for tow years. It was you I saw. You who had bathed me, fed me, loved me, took me for drives, took me to the cemetery. You who loved me back to life and kept Joshua alive between us.  I never knew I had met my guardian angel...



Thank you so much! I owe you my life.
Happy Birthday My Amazing Husband and Friend.
Your Wife,
Amanda

$1,000 Reached...I can walk!

Joshua’s 5th Anniversary came and went. It was harder this year! Annabelle witnessed many breakdowns on my way to Lanesville. Again he was not there. Many blessings were found on this day. The first being a wonderful hand made sign on the Joshua Tree. What a sweet person Phil is to have done that. It added so much to the day. Then came the 3. They have come faithfully since his death and they went to school with Joshua. They grieve him truly. This year as Annabelle and I stood on the path she looked over and asked who these 3 people are? I said “they were Joshua’s friends in school and come each year and sit with me and talk”. Her reply was touching, difficult and wonderful all at the same time. She pondered a few minutes, seemingly hoping it was going to be ok if she said what she had to say and then her little voice said “ they do not look Joshua’ age”. My heart grew still and silent as I saw this scene through her eyes and I looked down at her and said “Annabelle, Joshua has stopped aging and they have not”. She quickly understood and we simply continued to gaze at them. My mother came and sat a while, Annabelle and I played Joshua’s favorite card game (phase 10) and simply spent time with him. It was a wonderfully, wickedly horribly awesome day.

Today I reached my goal for the walk. A thousand dollars seemed so far off! 800 fans on the Facebook page also seemed impossible. As I logged into my page I saw the meter rise up to the thousand-dollar mark and little stars like fireworks burst from the top and made a crackle noise. My heart leapt for Joy and then sank with dread! I thought huh? What are you getting all excited for? You just raised money in honor of your dead son. It was hard. This has been difficult; the financial aspect has overshadowed the purpose of the walk for me. It has also even overshadowed his death a bit. I honestly wanted to stop raising funds half way through. I did not want to get tied up in this. Luckily when I came back from my visit to NY after the anniversary of his death, I was filled with a new vigor for all it would take to walk. I should expect an E-ticket in the mail soon.

As I gave pause to the Facebook page and what It could be after the walk, I was excited to remember a conversation with Alison at Joshua’s grave. She suggested thinking bigger. That the walk and the page is only the beginning of a foundation. I realized how passionate I am about Teens and schools and how they handle teens depression and suicide. I would like to grow this into a foundation that can help schools. The walk is just the beginning of a life of service for my son. How to go about doing this, how to apply for a nonprofit status and all the work it would take, is not at all in my knowledge bank. I could certainly use a mentor. But I know if I wait and wish for one, they will come.

Blessings!

The Attic

This Thursday it will be five years. Five years since Joshua took his life alone in an Attic in Wolfeboro NH. There are many places in my mind I do not allow myself to go. They are blocked to the process. Today his lasts are on my mind. His last written note, last comments on the computer, his last meal, last hug, the last time someone told him the loved him. And those led me to his last moments. It is my nature to explore every detail of anything I want to know more about. When I was feeling better I went back to the hospital where he died, I got the police report and read a gut wrenching story of a police office trying to get my son down from where he hung and as of yet I have never had the chance to go to the place he took his last breath. For some reason I can faintly see it in my head, but after struggling for years to connect with this scene, I might have made it up in my mind. I know there are stairs and a landing, but that is from the stories I have heard about how the grandmother found him. Today as I look through the guest book at all the people who came to the service, I am astonished at all I do not remember or know. I so badly want to spend time in that attic, to see where he died. I spend days at the cemetery because that is the last place I saw him, just once I would like to see the place where he drew his last breath.

What I think of this is that, this is about Joshua, about making peace with his death. This is not about people. Not about hurt feelings, not about drama and anger. It might have been once. This is about Joshua. About honoring him. I have taken all the steps I can, and this final piece has always eluded me. When do I get a chance to see this place? To touch this beam, to know my son in all the ways he was hurting. When do I get to kneel and feel his presence? The only way I know how to be a mother to my son, is to understand every aspect of his death and to take it on as much as I can.

What I know is that I do not know everything. There are questions surrounding his last day, surrounding his death. The more people run away the more I know, there will be things in the future that I will find out. This scares me beyond belief. For now though, I feel that God is giving me all I need in the time he has for me.


So for now, this year being his fifth, I am more aware of all the things I could not face and I am more aware of the things I do not have, did not see and need to still do. There are so many things left out there of Joshua’s for me to see. Oh my heart bleeds for this boy and to hold and understand everything he touched!

Frustration!
Amanda