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A Place of Yes | A Grief Podcast
Jake Turns 20: Heather Reflects on 16 Birthdays Without Her Son
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Dear Jakey. Well, peanut, we made it through. Hard day, though. I missed you so very much and it felt so new and real all over again. It just seems so completely unreal to me that you're gone. I don't understand it sometimes. I mean, I know you're gone, but it still seems inconceivable. And it just seems like such an awfully long time to wait until I see you again. I was telling Daddy today that it made me nervous sometimes that he was never baptized. He reassured me that he'd be fine and I believe he'll end up in heaven too. But I get nervous anyways. I feel like I no longer can count on things to be real and I don't like to take any risks anymore. In all honesty, this is probably the hardest on your brother, but that's just the way it's gotta be. I can't risk losing anybody else and I'll be overly nervous and precautious and annoying if I have to be. But anyway, we made it through your birthday. It was unbearably sad at times, but I was glad to be with Daddy. We kept busy. We lit candles and we spend time at your grave. And Jaki, you are so loved. Between flowers, balloons, notes and gifts, so many people visited you at night. I brought home most of the cards to read and they're really just beautiful. And it made me so proud to be your mama. And we bought you a cake, an ice cream cake. It said, go, Jake. Daddy came up with the words, it will be our tradition. And we set the stage for years to come. Jakey, I miss you so much. We all do. I hope that heaven is all I want it to be for you. And I keep waiting to see you again. Each day brings me closer and I can't wait. Happy birthday, my love bug. Hope the balloons we sent reached you. And remember what they say, that Mommy loves you the most. Hugs and kisses, Mommy. Hi, I'm Heather Straughter and this is a place of yes. In each episode, we have honest conversations about grief. The messy parts, the unexpected moments and the ways we begin to heal through heartfelt stories and expert advice. My hope is to offer you comfort, connection and a reminder that you don't have to navigate this alone. Hey, guys. This is a little bit of a different episode of a place of yes. It's just me and my memories of Jake. But we are here to commemorate his 20th birthday. He On May 4, he turned 20 years old. I went back and read that specific letter because it was his first birthday after he passed, and we've had 16 birthdays without him. And I just keep thinking about how much things are the same, but I wanted to actually see if they were the same. And it's funny, because that letter to me, reading it, it didn't even. Parts of it did not even feel like it was me. So I just feel like it shows the passage of time and it shows how when you lose someone that is so integral to your life that it just is constantly evolving and we don't even realize how much it evolves. One of the things that really stood out to me when I read this letter that I didn't even remember was when I was reading the part about Brian and not being baptized, and just my worry and concern and my nervousness around that, it took me right back. And I remember that pit in my stomach that I had. And I was so almost obsessed with the idea that what would happen. Because I think, or at least for me, when I lost Jake, I. In those early days, I was so obsessed with when would I be able to see him again. And the only thing I could wrap my head around was that I had to believe in heaven. And I had to believe that we would all be a happy family again at some point in heaven. And because I was raised Catholic, and I don't know if they still have the same rules or not, but there was this. If you weren't baptized, you would be stuck in purgatory. And I'm going back, you know, almost 40 years ago when I would learn this in Catholic school. But it made me feel crazy. And I have since moved past that. I have since moved past my obsession with all of us being together in heaven again. And that. That kind of almost compulsive idea. But rereading that letter and having that be so close to the front brought me right back to that fear. And it almost made me wonder, like, should I be worried about this again? Should I be thinking about this? Because there was something so innocent, I think, in this idea that I thought I would see him sooner or that we would be together or this idea. And I guess the one thing that made me sad about it was that, you know, 15 plus years later, I am. I've just gotten a little bit used to life without him. And that's kind of sad. That version of me, when I reread it, seems so young and innocent. And in some ways, I find that heartwarming a little bit. Because I feel now, all these years later sometimes, that I'm just so used to being A bereaved mom. I'm so used to being, you know, sad. And I'm so used to having that whole ideal that I talk about all the time on the show about two things being true. But I'm so used to my life being that way, that my life is this balance of deep pain and deep joy. But when I read that letter, I didn't know all of that yet. And I just. It just felt really innocent to me. And I think there's part of me that is less innocent and more jaded as time has gone by. One of the things in this letter that actually did make me smile and brought back some really great memories was the idea that that first birthday, we got him an ice cream cake, and it said, go, Jake. I had forgotten that. And it's not a tradition that we had kept, even though I thought we would do it forever, because a lot of times we've ended up going out of town for his birthday to just sort of give ourselves some space. But I love that idea of, you know, we sent balloons off to heaven. And I know probably for the environment, you're not supposed to do that anymore, but we did it, and it was such a great memory. And we wrote him notes and just that ice cream cake. And I love that it said, go, Jake. I had forgotten that. So funny. Because there were so few things that he could eat health, like, safely, and ice cream was one of them. That we could put it. You know, he could swallow it. It'd be safe. And I. God, if I think of him as 20, it's so hard for me to imagine I am. You know, everyone in this family loves ice cream. So I gotta think that he really would love it. The fact that Jake's turning 20 is wild to me. And I think back, I think because Ethan, you know, he's 21 now, but 20 was very recent, and it was such a weird age. Like, it's an odd age to turn because it's this big. Almost feels like you're not a kid, even more, even though you're technically an adult. At 18, I feel like 20 feels a little older because you're not a teenager. You're not. You're not as. You're just older. You're out of this big segment of your life, but you're also still kind of a kid because you're not entirely on your own. You can't drink. There's still all these rules. So for him, it was a weird age. And I have such a hard time wrapping my head around what that would be for Jake because. Well, yes, when he turned 18, he was technically an adult, but. But like I said, 20 just feels more significant. It feels more, I don't know, grown up and I just, I can find myself getting a little stuck because I don't know, I don't know what that would mean for him. I don't know what that would mean for his health and his different, you know, disabilities and issues. I don't know what that would mean and I don't know what it would mean for him as who he was. Like, you can make so many assumptions of what 20 looks like, but I can't. And that's one of the hardest things because here is this like immensely important person in my life, my son, and to not know anything about really what he would be like as an adult is just crushing. So I feel like this birthday is. While I'm trying to be more upbeat about it, I'm also just kind of sad, like, because I don't have a picture. I don't have a. I just picture him as this adorable, chubby cheeked four year old that he was. And I can picture his like, smirk of like, his toddler smirk of like, mom, you're pissing me off. But I can't picture the adult version like I can with Ethan because I see that a lot. You know, it's so strange because numbers and patterns and percentages have always played such a weird role for me since Jake died. And it's, it's not something that I ever thought would happen or knew would happen. And I don't know if other people actually experience it. It might be something interesting to talk about with people on the show, but certain years have just felt different. They have felt more significant and more significant in a couple of ways. One, because of the actual number, like, you know, 20 being not a teenager anymore and all of that, but also 20, like that is, it's a long time, it's a milestone of sorts. And I also have had times where I've done the amount of time he's been gone and like multiples of that sometimes. So it's strange to me too, because when I think about the fact that the last time I saw him, the last time we celebrated a birthday, any of that, he was four. And now it's been 16 years. And the whole like, that's four times as long since I've seen him or since he his age. I'm probably saying that wrong, but there's that whole four times four or 16 thing that just is so it weighs me down sometimes because it feels infinitely longer than I feel like I can even comprehend. Whenever it's Jake's birthday, it's. You know, I feel like every year it sneaks up on me, even though I know that it's always May 4th. So it's. It's not that it comes as a surprise, but what is a surprise to me each year is that I never quite know when I'm going to be immersed in the idea of his birthday and when I'm really going to be locked in more. And sometimes it comes in early April, sometimes it comes right before his birthday. And this year, it's been a little bit of both, to be honest. Like, this year, I think, because I have been doing so much talking on this show about Jake and about grief and about loss and about feelings and emotions and all of those things that I think to some degree, the surprise is gone this year because I've just been so much more present. And in some ways, I really love that, because I do. I love. I love the openness of it, and I love the transparency, really. Like, I feel like I'm no longer looking at myself through what I think other people are or responding how I think they should. And child loss has a weird. At least for me, it's very easy to feel judged, or it's very easy to feel like other people think you should be doing it differently. And this year, knock on wood, I have not felt that heaviness. I have felt the sadness of missing my boy, and I have felt the sadness of another birthday without him. But I've also. I haven't felt, like, the gut punch, you know, when I reread that letter from all those years back. And it was so clear to me how fearful I was of so many things. And it did take me back to that, because those days were so filled with, you know, it's the thing that. When the thing you fear most happens that it just shakes you to your core. And I hadn't thought about that space for a really long time. And that letter brought me back because I was scared all the time. Like, I was scared when Brian drove to work. I was scared when Ethan was at school. I was scared, you know, at any point, like, I just could envision that something bad would happen. And it would be kind of crazy because. And this still happens to me sometimes, but I have much better control over it. And I see it for what it is, but I always. I feel like I see bad things happening. Like, you know, and some of it is, you know, we'll be in the car, and I panic, like, you know, I grab the thing, and Brian's like, we're fine. But in my head, like, I see a truck cut us off or something, and it's a little wacky. But in those early days, in those months, in the. I would say even years, I could see, like, I felt like I could see these bad things happen. And it took me a long time to figure out how to control those thoughts, how to figure out how to not live in fear all the time. And I think it's. It's. For me, it's really been work because, you know, I said this already, but it's the thing that you are most scared of. And I think as a parent, it is. For most parents, I would imagine, it's losing your child. It's just not supposed to happen. It's not the way things are supposed to work. And I was naive enough, I think, to think that the worst thing that happened was when he got sick, when he had that first seizure. And in some weird way, I thought that protected me from anything else happening. And then when Jake died, it blew up my world because it became very clear that more than one bad thing could happen to people and that you were not protected because something terrible had happened. So I think those. You know, when Jake died, it just made me think that everybody in my life could die. And I lived a little bit like that and. But it was also a different time where you didn't talk about grief as much. So I kept so much of that inside because if I would say it, sometimes people would do that, like, oh, you got to get over it, or, you know, don't worry so much or everything will be fine. And those are the worst things to hear when you're living in this place of fear. And when the worst thing did happen. So don't tell me it can't happen again, because I know that it can. I think, you know, the whole idea of fear, it's been interesting. So taking. Going back to that place of where I. And remembering how I felt back then. I don't remember when it changed, and I don't think there was a moment. I think that I. I think there were a few things I did that were very conscious decisions that I made. And one of them was that I had to get my shit together, that I had to be a mother to Ethan and that I had to be present. And I also was so worried for a long time, and even currently, you know, that I have to be the person that he needs me to be because he's already had his life thrown upside down too, right? Like my life and Brian's life totally blown up. But so was the poor 5 year old who called 911. And I think that there was a point when I realized I need to get out of bed. I need to be an excellent mom to him. I need to be room mom as much as I can. I need to go on those field trips. I need to be present. And I don't think I knew it exactly then, but I can look back now. And it was for him. He was my reason, but it was also for me. It was for my own mental health. It was for getting into a routine and into a practice of, you know, the whole, like, fake it till you make it. And at one point I was no longer faking it. I was actually doing the things that I needed to do to be a good mom and to be a mentally, well, human and to participate in life again the way that I wanted to. But I do think that it was pretty gradual because I think it was in those times I just was faking it until I wasn't. One of the first things that we did. And I actually. It's one of those memories that I sometimes wonder if. If they're as accurate as I remember it to be. Like if it happened the way I think it did. But I remember pretty, pretty soon after Jake passed having that. And I've talked about this before, but just that like, compulsion to do something with. With what we learned once he got sick, with all of the things that, that he taught us about his. You know, he. He had so many challenges, but he had so much perseverance and so much resilience and all of those words. And I rem. Came up with the name Jake's Help from Heaven. It being this really literal idea of like, okay, Jake is in heaven and he is going to help us and we have his name in this. And that means I can talk about him all the time. And I remember on a really basic level thinking that it was, you know, everyone's like, oh, that's so great. You're doing something and you're helping others. But I remember almost feeling guilty about it because I was really doing it for me. I was doing it to have purpose. I was doing it to be able to say his name and talk about him because I felt like people didn't want to talk about him. And this was a way of which I could. I felt like, you know, even at his funeral there'd Be, you know, I found myself comforting people even at my funeral, you know, and I was like, what is happening? Like, you know, people are crying on my shoulder where we're at the wake and. And my son is in a coffin behind me, and people are sobbing hysterically. And I remember being pissed off, but also just being like, what is wrong with this world? Like, why can't we figure this out? Like, why am I comforting people instead of them comforting me? And I just, I think, intrinsically knew that it was going to be so difficult to talk about him without feeling the weight of other people. So I feel like I made a way for me to do that. And I think that was a big part of my own evolution, healing, whatever that word is, and also processing some of that fear. And my own thing was just having this venue in which I could talk about him. And then came the other piece, which was what people would say, like, oh, you know, you're doing such a good thing and you're helping others. And now I'm so proud of that. And I'm so proud of. Of the work that we do and the families we meet that are like ours. And I'm so happy that we get to do that. And I'm so happy that I started this podcast and get to talk to people. But those early days and early years wasn't about where, like, I didn't. I wasn't who I am now then. I was just this much rawer version of me that was just trying to get through the days and somehow knew that if I could talk about him, it would help. And it definitely did. I would say over the years, there has been a recurring theme that I have really struggled with, and it's answering what should be a pretty basic question. And I think for a lot of families is a basic question, but it's the. How many children do you have? And over the last 15 plus years, it has really just. It has just sucked for me. Like, I have never found an answer until very recently that worked for me. And sometimes I would answer honestly, but then I would find myself in the uncomfortable situation of almost apologizing that I had lost a son. Because when you say that you have a son, that passed, oftentimes people, you know, they don't know how to respond, and it becomes awkward. And there reached a point a year ago, not even that long ago, where I just was like, I'm not putting myself through this anymore. And I decided very kind of adamantly and honestly, awkwardly for people around me, that I was just not going to acknowledge that I had a son who died. So we were traveling in Chile last November, and every time someone referenced us, Brian and I, having kids, I did not answer. I did not acknowledge Jake. And it got to the point, honestly, where at a certain point, Brian was looking at me like, what is wrong with you? And what was weird, even weirder, was that there were people who knew my parents and who knew our story, so they knew that I had a son that passed away. But long story short, that question just crippled me for so long. And what I can say is I almost had to get to that space, like, that space I was in in Chile. Because what I do know wholeheartedly is that when I came home from that, I felt awful. I really. I felt like that pit in my stomach was back. Like, not the same pit that was there when he first died, but just that, like, it felt awful to deny his existence. Everything that I spent so much of my life talking about and knowing that makes me feel better, saying his name and all this stuff, I just stopped doing it, and it felt awful. And I knew at that point it was kind of. I don't want to say an epiphany, but it was kind of like this moment for me where I knew I was no longer going to be the one that made that question awkward. I was going to answer it. I was going to talk about Jake, and I was going to let people know he passed away. And there was something in that that lightened the load for me when I made that decision. And I think. I don't know that. I want to say it's like maturity on my end, but it's this acceptance that I am not responsible for other people. And I think every griever, one way or another has to come to terms with that. And some people, it comes much easier, too. To me, it has not come easy, but it's that acceptance that I don't have to answer and I don't have to make anyone else feel better. And if making other people feel better is denying his existence, then that doesn't work for me. So it's been an interesting road, but I feel pretty good about it now because I feel like that weight is off my shoulders. So just recently, we spent a couple weeks in Ireland, and I knew that I was going to answer the question, should it come up, about how many kids we had. I knew I was going to answer honestly. And it was pretty interesting because there were several people that we spent some time with, like, not as travelers, but we had know a tour guide or we had a couple of people who were guides and drivers that. That spent a few days with us. And with three in particular, it came up, you know, tell us about your family. You know, just the small talk that comes up. And in each of the. Each of these exchanges, I. We talked about Jake. We. And we talked about the fact that he passed away when he was 4. And there was something. Well, there were several things. There was this really beautiful feeling that I had within me that came from not lying and not denying and not being awkward, like just saying it. And there was also. And this became actually my latest sort of obsession because three of the people that we spoke to, every single one of them responded in such a beautiful way. And it made me think that if we cannot be awkward around death and if we can instead be supportive and open and all of those things, you know, we've talked about this on the show. Like, grief is love, and if. And it's humanity, and it's all of these things, and if we can be there for each other, how great it is. So these three people, Dee, Connor, and Robert are their names. And they, each of them independent of each other because they didn't know each other, touched both Brian and I so much. You know, both. There was the simple responses 1. You know, I think. I do think all three of them, in one form or another, said something like, God bless Jake. And it was not in a way that was religious or made me feel uncomfortable. It just made me feel seen. And it made me feel like Jake was seen. And it was like almost like a moment of silence in honor of Jake. And it was just beautiful. But it also led to these conversations. You know, Connor shared about his brother who had passed away, and Dee shared about how she still struggles with losing both of her parents. And all of a sudden, we were more than just tour guide. And I don't know what's the person on the tour, Tour person I don't know, or person in a car. Like we were actually connected. And it was this. I don't know, it was so beautiful. And it just. It has made me want to always answer authentically, transparently, honestly, all of those things again. And it makes me sad that for so long I struggled because it's not my struggle anymore. So I think sharing what I shared about Ireland is a perfect way to wrap this up. I wish Jake was there with us. I wish that he could be here. I wish that he was one year away from 21 and could have shared a Guinness with us. But if you made it all the way through this episode. I hope that you can give a moment if it so moves you two. Cheers to Jake. I know we cheers to him all the time, but it means the world. So if you think of him, cheers to Jake. Happy Birthday, Jakey. Thank you for listening to A Place of Yes. I hope today's conversation brought you comfort, connection, maybe even a little bit of hope. If it did, I'd love for you to subscribe and share this episode with someone who might need it to see you next time on A Place of Yes.