Less than one month after Corrie graduated to heaven, I wrote about my middle school season.
Being a writer and English teacher, I’m full of metaphors and symbolism. I wrote about the seasons, and thing I mentioned was:
Some seasons we want to end quickly.
from the original post “my middle school season” posted june 14, 2020
I wrote of the seasons and times in our lives we wish to last longer and those that come:
“… unwanted like a fear that you will have to walk through a forest in winter at night.”
FROM THE ORIGINAL POST “MY MIDDLE SCHOOL SEASON” POSTED JUNE 14, 2020
grieving seasons
Seasons are not only those times of year when red, orange, and brown colors tinge leaves on the trees, but the changes we face for which we are never prepared.
At some point in our lives, we all face loss that cuts to core of us. It splits us. There isn’t a language. No language has the words, as Mark Twain once wrote in the loss of his daughter, to express what grief and loss do to the human spirit. Then we are on a journey with grief for the remainder of our lives.
As I’ve written before, grief is not someone always crying in a corner anymore than it is a person tucking the pain deep down and acting as if nothing ever happened. It is a journey. It is growth and change with its own seasons. Instead of being in a middle school season with my grief, I told my husband I’ve moved to a high school junior in my grief. Just as a junior is about to take the SAT and apply for colleges, I’m making goals, learning self-care, and taking steps to enjoy life again.
understanding where hayes is with his grief
But I also have to recognize where those I love are in their grief about Corrie.
I’ve always known my son’s grief would appear as he grew older. He understood when Corrie died, but the sudden displays of grief from the adults in his life while he was with his grandparents were tucked deep inside him until he recently shared the very detailed memory.
Hayes, my son diagnosed with autism 1 at age 5, was two weeks from turning 10 when Corrie died.
He’s now a visual spatial intelligent, but struggling 12-year-old. His intelligence appears differently than my daughter’s, and he’s good at disguising it from other kids and adults if he doesn’t want them to get to close to who he really is. He will struggle with academics if his focus, like other kids his age, remains elsewhere. Sometimes, it’s like the age old cliche, pulling teeth, to bring his attention back to studying or completing a task.
I’ve written a lot about my son’s early years, and made myself the promise, as a mother and writer, that I would respect his privacy as he grew older as much as possible without revealing the thoughts with which he entrusts in me and his specific personal challenges with his sister’s death, father’s cancer, and confidence. So I write in a more general terms of what Hayes, my son’s name in my writing, faces as he enters middle school as a grieving older sibling.
Each of my children and my miscarriage has an animal or insect to symbolize them. Hayes was the only one who ever chose his because of his love of elephants from an early age. So he knew he was–and is–just as important as Corrie after she earned her wings, I designed an elephant tattoo with his name that I have yet to get.
Elephants are very special animals, and only one of five animals to grieve.
In fact as a side note in my junior season, I’ve learned to grow plants and have more respect for animal life than I did before. The blue-green hummingbird visited me in one of my dreams about Corrie, and that is how it became her symbol. The pregnancy I lost became a lightening bug.
While the elephant is still Hayes’ favorite animal, he has entered his true middle school season. Not only is he in the sixth grade, he is dealing with emotions close to the scene in Dumbo when baby Dumbo is just outside his mother’s prison. There is anger and depression in a hot pot.
Because here is the truth: Everyone wants to get out of middle school. Unless you had a 5.5 time during your adolescence, this could be a kid’s Alcatraz. If you think I exaggerate, ask a kid in middle school during the year who is trying to get out.
Out of work.
Out of the way.
Out of class.
Out of sight of that one kid or teacher.
from the original “Middle school season” post
Anger and depression are what almost everyone experiences when they go through the loss of a loved one. Siblings are often the forgotten mourners. You can Google forgotten mourners, and you’ll find sibling survivors or siblings of lost children. (Here’s a good read.)
“Because of this, there is a depth of understanding that exists between siblings that isn’t found anywhere else. Siblings are also the only immediate family member that you should have for the remainder (or nearly the remainder) of your life.”
quote from “forgotten mourners” by cynthia anderson
As adults, we have to learn to adapt, otherwise we stay in bed, understandably, disenchanted with the world. Grief looks differently for a child, who one day had their best playmate and frenemy, as they grow into a preteen, teenager and young adult.
Hayes has an amazing wonderful team of teachers, family and doctors working him, but it does not take away from the loneliness and desire for his sister, Corrie. Hayes should never feel like he has to take care of his parents or be strong for those who love him most. He is only twelve-years-old.
at a critical stage
One year ago, I was at my angriest and most depressed since Corrie had died. It came after seeing Hayes with COVID-19. I know what the uncontrolled combination of extreme anger and sadness can create. It can become volatile if not addressed soon enough.
My son could easily be at-risk as a young man if I, as his mother, his father and the rest of our family do not take the necessary steps to support him while also raising him to become an independent young adult.
One of the first steps I ever took after I read a book for grieving parents was not to make Hayes go to the cemetery with me to work. I honored that.
Then I asked him: “Do you want to take a first day of school picture with your sister’s portrait this year?” At first he said, “No,” but then changed his mind. Because I saw he felt uncertain, I did not take a first day of school picture.
He is easily in his middle school season. I know the journey will not be easy, and that my time facing challenges will continue. But I love my son just as much as I do Corrie. The thing I want most out of this life is to ensure he grows up to be a happy and successful adult.
Corrie's Season 