When I think about the fact that it's been over a year since I wrote my last blog post, I'm a little "shooketh" as my family likes to say. Rewind back to May 21, 2018. I posted my first Instagram post that simply reads "The 7 of us" under my initial IG account @7poppies as the beginning to an online journal of sorts (I now use @iamthegraceseeker almost exclusively). Thirteen people liked it. :) The photo was this most precious of treasures.. This was the last photo that we ever took together - 1 day & approximately 12 hours before we lost the boys.
The crash occurred on November 26, 2017 at 1:02AM.
Deacon always preferred driving at night to avoid gridlock because we live in north metro Atlanta and traffic is ridiculous, especially during the holidays. He and Garrett were both students at Georgia Southern University where Deacon was a junior and Garrett was a freshman. We had just wrapped up the best ever Thanksgiving week and they left that Saturday night to drive the four hours back to school before classes started on Monday.
I've told this story a million times and I don't want to overwhelm you with the details if you've heard it all before. If you haven't, and would like to, I will add a link below to a podcast interview that I did in 2019 where I tell the full story.
For the short version: halfway through their drive, a wrong-way driver under the influence of drugs hit them head-on, on the interstate, killing both Deacon and Garrett instantly.
We were not notified until over twelve hours later due to the car erupting into a massive fire. It took authorities that long to ID the vehicle, and then later, my (and their father's) DNA would be required to identify my boys.
When I think about the fact that it's been over five years since my boys died, I'm beyond shattered. I started writing in May of 2018 in order to search through the cobwebs of grief to find some semblance of sanity within this existence. Did I find it? Depends on who you ask, LOL. Who knows if I found it or if I ever will. I can tell you that along this journey I have stumbled upon many other things. To name a few...
Exhaustion that hides within the steel coated layers of my previous perception of exhaustion.
Kindness from strangers who live half-way around the world and hear of our story from a friend of a friend of a friend.
Love from friends whom we spoke to last week or 15 years ago.
Hate from friends who work 10 minutes away.
Advice from well-meaning folks who live in the dark.
Sisters who manifested over wine, writing, and tears.
Tall f-ing mountains that turned out to be volcanos.
Grace. So much grace.
This blog is about all of these findings: both treasures and trash. And, both are necessary.
My friends, try to remember when you see a comment, post, or story by a fellow griever that you might perceive as sad or "stuck", there is no time limit in grief... especially Traumatic Grief.
I'm going to say that again. THERE IS NO TIME LIMIT IN GRIEF. While we are on that subject, we will also never be through it ,or over it, or "better".
I carry my grief with me.
Sometimes, it's a backpack.
Sometimes, it's a boulder.
Sometimes, it even carries me.
SEEK. Beauty. Love. Kindness. Courage. Grace.