Posts filed under ‘grief’
May 3rd- Words are all I have- Chris Ritchey
Words- text- communication through a written language. Reading was always difficult for you as a little boy you were at the beginning of a local failing school system. A system that had to show progress, so although you had the extra classes , they passed you through as completing their grant driven reading programs. It wasn’t until the 5th grade we found out , when I had you privately tested, just how bad the problem was. Three years of catch-up and a change to private education.
Those years were hard for you , you thought you must be “stupid”. However, you also developed a skill of communicating “visually” . Eventually reading caught up with your ability to use your art to communicate. You found a niche for your talent at Lorain County Community College https://www.lorainccc.edu/
and on the advice of the college you transferred to Cleveland Institute of Art
artwork Chris Ritchey
It was at the students art show at Cleveland Institute of Art , I was looking at some of your designs etc. I noticed a couple of mistakes in the text. I spoke to the your instructor that evening about the mistakes in the text. He looked at me and said :
“that is not a problem , we can teach and correct spelling etc. what I can’t teach is what your son has, his ability , creativity and talent. I will give a an assignment to the group – “come up with three different advertising concepts on a given product/ client within a week” – Chris, will come back within two days with 10 entirely different takes. I can’t teach that……
Eventually you gained a position as Art Director for Wyse Advertising .
Apparently , according to your boss at the time, you were poised to do great things in advertising … we will never know…. but Wyse were wonderful to you during that terrible time of your illness.
I do remember that first year you worked for Wyse you were asked to do the ad for them in the annual “Torchlight” Membership Directory
The monthly AAF-Cleveland Portfolio features the latest in industry development and trends, association insights and updates, and achievements of local members. “Torchlight,” our annual membership directory, is an invaluable “Who’s Who” reference manual of members, agencies, and services in Cleveland advertising.
The directory was in your portfolio and the ad………. text, words …….. “scan of the full-page ad that appeared in the Torchlight”
Artwork Christopher Ritchey
But there aren’t any words that were so important as the last words you wrote to me – even with the spelling mistake…….I carry them with me every day
Mother’s Day is coming, once again tinged with tears and bitter-sweet ———– I love you…………I need to finish writing the book if I can find the words
April 3rd – Trilogy Trigger- Chris Ritchey
Chris Ritchey- CIA
This past month has been particularly difficult, losing my dear friend Paula to the obscenity that is cancer, the “hell is other people” neighbors with their form of obscenity invading what little space we have. It is what is called “life” for want of a description. As another departed friend used to say “everyone has a story” and yet another ” there is no laughter in hell”, but then again you would have to believe in a heaven if you believe in hell.
Easter was this past weekend , another holiday I hypocritically celebrate for the sake of loved ones and friends . I have pointed out my views and Easter/Eastre has been noted – another pagan holiday utilized, blended, absorbed and morphed for convenience sake of whatever was the popular faith at the time https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2012/04/06/ahhhhhh-easter-eastre-resurrecting-memories-eggs-and-crabs/
To me all religion is another man’s myth dressed up for the masses of whatever century of which you happen to be a part.
Irony, not to be outdone this year, the weekend found Gavin’s 9th birthday and your Dad’s and Easter all falling together.
You Dad born on another Easter Sunday on the top of the kitchen table ( so the story goes) let alone being April Fool’s Day.
Triple play in memories flooded in- other Easters with Papa Teddy and Auntie Gladys coming down from Canada especially at Easter and Thanksgiving , they really were the closest thing to grandparents. Such love , such beautiful people. Your first Easter , you decided to crawl and Papa Teddy spent the whole time steering you away from the fireplace hearth, fascinated even then by flames.
Memories of you being taken to that “terrible to me now” church St. Mary’s Lorain https://www.parishesonline.com/find/st-mary-catholic-church-44052 by your godparents on Easter Sunday . Well…..up until the time you “shot the priest” with a pretend gun and something religious spilled as someone in the procession jumped and there was such a kafuffle apparently. I know you were never again taken to Easter Sunday services there.
To think that church would play such havoc in our lives bringing such anger and unkindness – due to you walking down that same aisle and the taking of any closure, denying our beliefs by your controlling “in law family”( Lombardi/ Vika and offspring) and the “bride” Angela Lombardi ( Ritchey) now Murphy
not to mention “their priest” Divis –
Sharing a laugh – but on whom?
There should have been overload in the confessional, one would think, although forgiveness is far from my heart. Ah! what meaning in this life today of a ‘mother’s curse” in days of myth and legend a powerful instrument met now with the word Karma??? Karma borrowed once more from an even older religion…. I wait ………
Gavin’s “birthday” or day of his birth – hoping against hope as you lay in that terrible Cleveland Clinic- the lab rat- being made to clinically die to “save you”. I had to leave you that night to be with your sister as a new life came into the world……….. torn once more………
Your Dad’s birthday – the years of playing pranks not just because it was April fools day but because your loved your jokes. The time you took out an ad in the paper selling the house . Yes! all memories , uninvited guests along with the ham, steaks, tulips and a missing space at the table.
And yet laughter and smiles, little boys and a girl looking for surprises, barely able to sit still as the grown-ups took forever to eat. Tales of other memories , other traditions , pastel eggs mixed in with camouflage eggs, a grandfather and his grandsons sharing a moment to remember. 
Yes all intertwined showing the colors and also the greyness of what we have become – I love you – we all do……..
Feb 3rd -Helpless- Chris Ritchey
Heart of Thorns- artwork Chris Ritchey
Another February , and the beginning of the scream , the weeks of feeling totally useless and helpless . Walking in two worlds – trying to remain calm, positive and supportive for the journey thrust upon your young life. All the while my chest collapsing, jaw clenching to stop the tears and terror I was feeling from showing. The weeks and months after you passed trying to stop from going mad, running from the “black dog” of Churchill fame.
The emotional incontinence – staying close to home – not wanting to drive incase the sight of a young man in black Ford 150 truck would split my reality. I learned how to hide, how to suppress the emotional nightmare with tricks of the grief-stricken. We, who have lost our son or our daughter learn lessons no one should have to learn.
The nights when the dying days visit – the mind tools kicking in to temper the ferocity of memory so sleep can come. Turning a corner , one would think, but like the damned cancer it is there lying quietly , building upon itself. I thought I was managing quite well in the last few months and then- not cancer- but once again wanting and trying to get your Nana through a situation caused by bureaucrats. Weeks and months of fighting , trying to make sense of a situation beyond my control . Holding on, trying to be the Loraine I once was …. A bureaucratic wall was thrown up
I couldn’t get through , your Nana’s physical and emotional well-being compromised by an officious, pseudo-listener “gatekeeper” . After months of dealing with her ilk and they, not knowing or caring how this situation was causing such distress to a 98-year-old woman- as the phone was hung up – and I sat stunned – bewildered not knowing where to turn next.
BFA project
Chris Ritchey
And then it happened – the trigger- those feelings of the dying days were unleashed , not in waves but with a flood- overwhelming logic – nothing could stop the torrent- hours and hours of raw emotion, tears that just wouldn’t cease, the sobs that wracked were back – brought forth from their hiding place. Worried faces of family , concern , the questions upon furrowed brows.
Then just as “anger ” at the cretins of your bride’s family kept me upright in those days of total despair and surrender… anger once again surged through the dark and made me strong enough to continue- to fight back against the ignorance – the “people” inflicting pain upon those I love.
Your Nana survived the bureaucrats, thanks to help from those that did and do listen . And I realized once more the wound has not healed- the scar is still only surface deep and it waits…… because there is nothing I can do – even in anger- to see you walk through a doorway once more , hear your voice laugh with you and enjoy you being you………
Jan 3rd- Relativity to Time – Chris Ritchey
Chris Ritchey CIA
Time and relativity – I admit the highest mark I ever received from Norman Niles- my Physics teacher was D minus! I hated Math and I detested Physics- loved Chemistry and History.
However ” Events that occur at the same time for one observer could occur at different times for another.” https://www.space.com/17661-theory-general-relativity.html
Black Holes I never understood – more a case of not wanting to be bothered- BUT and there is always a but I feel I am ( as well as probably many others of my kind) lost in time .
A mother who has lost her child – there are no words or labels for us – not a widow, an orphan, etc unless you consider “tethligons” (Sanskrit word which means ‘against the natural order’)which, for me ,conjures up some sort of terrible monster- but then losing your son or daughter makes you feel like you are in the world of monsters – caught , crunched between the teeth of the monster and then spat out – only to be caught again
Most of humanity live in a 3 dimensional world – and then again….
We can portray our reality as either a three-dimensional place where stuff happens over time,” said Massachusetts Institute of Technology physicist Max Tegmark, “or as a four-dimensional place where nothing happens [‘block universe’] — and if it really is the second picture, then change really is an illusion, because there’s nothing that’s changing; it’s all just there — past, present, future.
The diagnostic box- self- portrait Chris Ritchey
My universe, Christopher, since you have been taken away has left me in a world where I float, for the most part, between the time before, then and now- New Year’s Eves have come and gone but every day and night I am elsewhere lost in time, as it no longer registers or is linear, the time that has come in between observed only by others in the 3rd dimension . I wake never knowing the year…………………. my 4 dimensional world apart from the normal .
Struggling toward some knowledge of the “physics of it all” and once again a barely passing grade. There are glimpses of understanding but the are illusive , on the edge of conscience , just out of reach –
but they are there – if only my tired brain could grab them – the tools of science notwithstanding in their cold calculations .
I continue to love and exist in this dimension – nothing changes our love or missing of you……….except they grow in strength no matter the time ….
Tree of Love- Gabriel Miller- moonbeam and light 2017
A few weeks after my son passed, a good friend also felt that same terrible pain of losing her child. There isn’t much you can do or say after those initial weeks to those that have not felt what it is like to be absolutely “gutted” and whose world is no longer together. You are expected to get over it – move on- people can get impatient with your grief, you are a dreadful reminder that a loss of a child can happen to them . You have no outlet for your love that continues to grow. In the following May after Gabe’s passing from this world, Gabe’s father and mother planted a tiny tree ( supposedly a dwarf variety) in the area known as Settlers’ Watch.
Through the seasons the tree was tended with care and love ; the little tree grew . Every year Gabe’s mum and dad light the now the not so little tree- 2015 found it a bit of a stretch for his dad.
This year more than a stretch was needed
and night fell on a snowy Christmas
The little tree, no longer small – grown tall- fed with love and watered with tears shone through the darkness and cold reminding us of a little boy
a sweet child – the light of his mother and father’s very being – the love that is his alone -lights for just a little while the cold dark nights.
Gabriel Miller August 17th-2009- December 31st 2009
Photos Lisa Miller – Lorain 365
Figgy Pudding – A celebration tale – Chris (tmas) Pudding
Traditions in this house took a 180 degree about-face when my son Chris died. I could no longer have Christmas in this house- Oh! my mum has her “Christmas Grotto” in her little living room and Gavin and Braedyn come a decorate her little tree and hang the ornaments.
There are no longer twinkling lights inside or outside this house in celebration of anyone’s birth- the beliefs of my childhood torn asunder.
I have “visited the holidays ” at my daughters for the sake of her and her family and the boys. Traditions changed from my “English Christmas of yesteryear” – now Christmas Eve finds lobsters in the pot – named for those that are not very nice.. and laughter yes, but the traditions of my daughter’s youth and of this house have gone the way of so many things. Yes! I visit the holidays – peace on earth and good will toward men – has a sour note…….. ( too many religious hypocrites, sadness and questions added to the mix of my life)
But Christmas is for children and like every other grandparent last week I smiled, laughed and cried as the kindergartners at Braedyn’s school put on their holiday program . As all the children wore their Santa, Reindeer, Snowflake and Frosty hats little faces all a glow , voices were exuberant in their renditions and they joyously proclaimed the fun that was coming . My eyes and heart fell on Braedyn singing along
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding,Oh, bring us some figgy pudding,Oh, bring us some figgy pudding, And bring it right here.Good tidings we bring you and your kin;We wish you a merry Christmas And a Happy New Year!
I realized not one of them, including my own grandson, probably had any idea what figgy pudding was . For the cooks among you there are two versions – Figgy Pudding and Christmas Pudding – http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/warm-sticky-figgy-pudding-recipe-1918585
Traditionally we and my family, through the generations, used the Christmas Pudding and this is the recipe that is close to what we always served.( although instead of glace fruit – which I hate -we add dried apricots , shredded carrot and a shredded Granny Smith apple .) http://allrecipes.co.uk/recipe/33519/delicious-christmas-pudding.aspx
Every year my mum and I faithfully made the “real” fruitcake -( not that terrible American facsimile that is tossed like rotten pumpkins) and Christmas Pud. It was tradition and Christopher’s job from about the age of 7 was to bring in the lighted pudding to the table – he loved lighting the pudding but never ate any. The only ones eating it were my mother and I and my husband would “force a little down”. Christopher was the last to light a pudding in this house.
However, as I looked at all those little faces – I said to Nikki:
Gavin and Braedyn have no idea what they sing about with this song . They have never seen a Christmas pudding !
I decided then it was time to hand the tradition over to my daughter and grandsons. We had missed out on “Stir Up Sunday” but better late than never http://metro.co.uk/2017/11/26/stir-up-sunday-what-is-this-christmas-pudding-tradition-all-about-7109142/
All the members of the family, especially the kids, need to take a turn to stir the mixture and everyone should make a secret wish while they stir.
Gavin had gone hunting with his Dad but Braedyn and his mum were game – so over the river and through the snowy streets they came today . Ingredients all measured out and we have a new pudding maker in the family under the watchful eye of his Nana .
We all made our wishes , there were smiles and a few opinions as to how much brandy went into the pudding and now they – the puddings ( we made too much mixture so now we have two) bubble and sing on the stove for the next few hours. I am not sure about the traditional pudding boiling away on Christmas Eve this year with the lobsters in the pot – but to each his own………..
March 3rd -It’s OK- Chris Ritchey
Reaching out- art work- Christopher Ritchey
It’s OK – (okay) the origin of OK has many theories https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/explore/what-is-the-origin-of-the-word-ok
but basically translated – Ok (okay) means it is alright, it is fine or will be OK – will be alright – will be fine.
When something traumatic happens either in real life or in tv / movie land – invariably , along with the hug and the patting on the back http://www.saywhydoi.com/the-back-pat-why-do-we-pat-on-the-back/ comes the words – “it’s OK”
No it isn’t OK really …. but like shaking hands when you meet someone it is something those who try to comfort do.
I found myself yelling at the television as yet another traumatized mother – having disaster over take her family – and the well-meaning friend , the “it’s Ok” tripping from their mouth for want of something to say – throw away words ….
but I am here to tell you when you lose a son or daughter nothing is ever alright, fine or okay in your world ever again.
OK! well I maybe be making a mountain out of a molehill… and bitching about the human condition when we are at a loss for words and trying to be kind and give comfort but it cuts me to the quick when I see and hear those words spoken
The flawed Hand of the Healer by Chris Ritchey
AND it is not okay that my wonderful, talented, loving son with his whole life ahead of him- is nothing more than a memory- and in some cases not even that – whilst the dregs of mankind and other sons cause terror and destruction to the world’s children.
AND it is not OK that once again I am losing from my life a sweet, caring , selfless , sparkling wine of a woman to the obscenity of cancer- another family waiting and watching as she leaves us slowly. It is not OK that she is leaving whilst the cruel bitches of this world thrive………
It is NOT OK Chris that I am here and you are not…….. I love you
March 3, 2018 at 12:20 pm 1 comment