Dear James,
There is a place, a space outside of this dark abyss that is speaking to you and offering you a hand. Neither one of us is religious so you know I am not speaking of some dogma based savior. I am speaking of hope, what can be, where this strength you get from your now greets your future and bends it to the possibilities that await you. You cannot see this now, I know. And I am asking you to trust this, this truth.
Through the years it was a privilege to be part of Annie’s life, to bear witness to your soulful connection with her and celebrate your profound love and the love of your son. It was incredible: the love you gave each other, the way you loved each other with so much admiration, respect and gratitude. When you both birthed that sweet boy, I was so glad for him–for I knew he was coming out of her womb and falling gently into a cocoon made of the softest, most loving stuff. You both gave this priceless gift to Jack. He came into this world of such thorough love and it shows. He is so exceptionally settled, kind, funny, charming and, most importantly, completely happy and comfortable in his skin. Annie going on does not and can never take this away from him. He will always nestle into this place in his heart. Do you remember your 10th anniversary when the party was over and 
you and Annie were dancing in front of your fireplace? Jack sat on my lap and he watched until he fell asleep. He did not question for a minute how much he was loved. He witnessed soul-full love between his parents and a healthy, honest, loving relationship. Nothing can ever take that away from him. You ask what is left? You ask how will she give him everything she wanted to give him? She did give it to him. The stuff that counts? He has it.
The breath in you is hard to take in. I know every single fiber of your being is in excruciating pain. I know it is dark, James. I know. I am hearing you when you say you don’t want to go on. I hear you, angel. And you know I am of the persuasion that says we have a right to say when we have had enough of this life. You reminded me. You are right. This life, this life on earth sucks. The moments of brilliant beauty are too far in between. And you are carrying the weight of loss that yes, I can imagine. You know that I do understand far more than most. Yet, my friend, not now. It is not time for you now. I will not presume to lecture you about how Jack needs you. I do not want you to resent the raising of him alone. I want you to hold on because there is still life left to be lived. There is still more that you must do here. The world needs you, and it is not time. Day after day, I know it is not feeling better. The missing is a vice around your heart. The memories burn harsh; they burn as harshly as they were beautiful while you were making them. They do not feel good. Please trust that one day they will again be beautiful.
Please don’t hold any advice, however well intentioned, that does not feel like truth to you. It pains me to hear people say you should snap out of it, to get back to work and that will make it better, to have that one good cry and it will all be better, Jack needs you so get it together. James, no one can tell you how long you should grieve, how many tears are ok to shed, how to grieve, where to grieve or what makes sense for you. You take as much time as you need. Take it minute-by-minute, second-by-second if that’s what you need.
photo credit: Deadly Knitshade
Reach out to friends and family that can provide you with whatever you need, whatever supports and heals you. I am here. Sunday waffles like Annie made? I will not make a single plan for any Sunday until you are ready for me to stop. If you need anything, I am here. We are all here. Tell us what you need. I am here for as long as it takes for you to find your feet again. Anytime.
You asked what should you do then? A few things. Jack does need you. I would never ask you to cover your grief. I do not think your grief scares him. I ask that you include him in your grieving and your honoring of Annie. I ask that you not shut him out. Hold him close and heal with him. Go now, go right now and crawl in bed with him and wrap yourself around him and remind him of how much you love him and how mommy will always love you both. Don’t worry about moving her things about, or creating a memory safe for him. Right now, just make a move in his direction and let him know you are there, that you understand his heart, that you are a family still.
Hope is waiting for you, James. I have your hand and I will not let go until you have found it again. When you are ready, we will pick up your shattered heart and put it back together. It is true. It will not look the same. But let’s dig out the pieces of grace, love, and compassion and make sure they don’t get lost. Let’s remember that anger and bitterness can so easily eclipse and steal these parts of us in times like these. You have such courage. Annie loved your courage. She loved you and I know, she goes on loving you. One day, you will be together again and will continue your soul journey. One day we will celebrate that you were lucky enough to know the other heart that beat so perfectly with yours. It still does, it always will. What you had with her will always be. Stay here with me, with Jack, with your friends and family and with the work you do so very masterfully.
With the softest of love,
Parker
{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
Wow! (I know someone else already made that comment, but I am so blown away that I just can’t think of a better word to express my reaction to your story.) I have a cousin whose wife died last summer in an accident that also left their youngest son severely disabled. With just a few modifications, this letter could have been written to him. Thank you!
I Good Searched you, after we became FB friends, because I thought your name was an author’s name. Hmmm, good to know I was correct. I can barely type this, your words had me in tears from the beginning. And I agree with the previous commenters, you have a wonderful gift with words. I am constantly reading and I so envy you, I wish I had your gift. =]
Some things are very difficult to recover from, in fact in the moments of heart wrenching grief and pain, recovery seems impossible. How does one heal a heart which now has a gaping hole where love once lived? How does one begin to process and move through the grief, while the paradox of mind numbing pain sears our memories? In the face of our deepest loss, we doubt we can switch the paradigm and move froward, instead of experiencing the paralysis of fear. Our fear holds us hostage and refuses to let us believe, that hope springs eternal, and the intensity of this loss, the grief and the excruciating pain will lessen in time. Some things just have to be worked through on our own… and quietly; without benefit of support from loved ones.
In seeking truth and sustaining perseverance, we can get to the other side.
Absolutely brilliant! I had to stop crying and gather my thoughts before I could actually post a comment. You are very gifted and I cannot wait to read your next piece.
WOW!
if i would comment on one thing, i would say i loved this sentence the most:
When you are ready, we will pick up your shattered heart and put it back together.
Thank you. Thank you. Ever so humbled you took the time to read. It truly means the world to me.
It was a real pleasure reading such a masterpiece.
I will be doing my best to comment on this post, but i do not promise anything superb for I see myself on my knees and speechless in front of such profound feelings and coming from the very bottom of the author’s heart. T. Parker’s ability to understand people, feel with them, have this much compassion and live along the dark ambiance these people are going through, is simply amazing. It is true as they say, “Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal”. ~From a headstone in Ireland. My condolences to James, and my congratulations to T. Parker Vollmer.
PS: Can’t wait to read to more of T. Parker’s writings.
I have tears streaming down my face. True.
Your powerful words of encouragement for a friend and the understanding of the many levels of grief. You are a gifted one Ms. Parker.