Drive to Work

On my way to work this morning I was thinking a bit more about Tripp than I normally do.  I think about him every morning, but I don't let my mind go back to those 5 days.  Today I was letting my mind slip for brief, little moments.  It was long enough to have the heavy sinking feeling creep into my being.  I was about 10 blocks from my school when "If I Die Young" by the Band Perry came on.  Lately, I haven't been letting myself listen to that song.  It is just too sad.  This morning I had let sadness in and I wanted to hear that song.  I knew that if I listened, I couldn't drive, so I immediately pulled over onto a residential street, put the van in park, rested my head on the steering wheel and cried.  I closed my eyes, listened to the words and let the tears stream down my face.  About two thirds of the way through the song there was a knock on my window.  I looked up and a man, dressed for work, asked, "are you alright?"  I sat up, waved my hands and blubbered, "I'm okay, I'm okay."  Over the man's shoulder I saw his wife and child standing on the front steps of their home.  I looked right at his wife.  She had her hands held to her face.  She looked concerned.  In that moment, I wondered if I should roll down my window and say, "my son died," but then what?  An even more awkward moment when the kind man was lost for words?  Once again, I didn't know what to say or how to say it.  I know that man doesn't read my blog, but for what its worth, I would like to thank him for showing me kindness in my dark moment.

Comments

  1. Dear Jordan,
    On Saturday I was in my car heading to a scrapbooking workshop, which I love. The same song came on and my thoughts went to Tripp, Hugh, you and a friend that left the world too soon. I thought about how hard everyday must be for you. I thought about how no mother really can imagine life without her children and I felt heartbroken that you had to experience it. My eyes were filled with tears and I switched radio stations. I wanted you to know that even when people don't write to you I think you are in their thoughts and prayers. Bo

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  2. ^ So agreed! :) ^

    And I'm very proud of you for letting yourself have that moment. For pulling over and letting your sadness and grief in. In a world where we are so often told to hide our emotions I think you showed incredible strength.

    I also am touched that someone would stop and check on you. I wonder if I would be strong enough to do the same.

    Thinking of you lots, always.

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  4. I think it is great that you let yourself have that time, those moments are important in the grief process. If we just push the sadness down, we never let it out and it shadows our happiness. I have been listening to a song on a cd I have that reminds me of the last couple months of my mom's life and of her passing. For a long time I would not listen to it because it was too painful and I did not want to feel that depth of sadness while I was carrying Jax. Now, I purposely listen to it a couple times a week and cry it out. It is like a reprive of therapy for me that I allow myself.
    For what its worth, I think you should have rolled the window down and told the couple your story. Perhaps there was a reason you were in front of that particular house, at that particular time when that man was leaving for work. Fear of a moment being awkward can mean missing out on something bigger or a deeper message sometimes. The man asked because he cared and if you had let him, he would have cared for Tripp too:)just a thought...

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  5. A few days ago I heard this song. I had never listened to the words, but when it came on it reminded me of this blog post. It occured to me that it was Day 4 in the life of my new baby. I thought of you. 4 days is an eternity, and I cried and cried for you and your loss. My husband came into the room and asked what was wrong. I told him that my heart was broken for your loss and explained that you lost Tripp on Day 4, and that Liam was 4 days old this day. He cried too.
    So if we were crying and hurting inside, I don't think I can ever imagine the pain you must be feeling. And I want you to know that I wish there was something I could do to take your pain away, or turn back the clock so this never had to happen.
    Just wanted to say again that I'm sorry. And that I think of you often and pray you somehow find peace through all of this.

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