Category Archives: about my son

Mother’s Day and missing my son

    Mother’s Day is coming up once again. I was wondering what was
wrong with me though, for you see I’ve been thinking about my son a lot
more over the past few days and feeling upset and missing him a lot, and
I didn’t know why. I keep “seeing” him in little boys I see with their
moms or teenage boys who are about the age he was when he died. This was bothering me a lot because I didn’t know why I was being so sensitive, and
also I can’t seem to get away from it. Then today I remembered that Mother’s Day is
coming up and now I know why. This happens to me every time there is a
holiday or an anniversary or a change of season or a special song on the
radio, etc. So much in life reminds me of him (or rather reminds me
that he’s not here).

For me, Mother’s Day is not only a day for all of us to remember our
mothers, but also a day of humble appreciation for the fact of having
been blessed with motherhood. My perspective is that bringing children
into the world grants us the ultimate responsibility of nurturing,
loving, guiding and molding new life. I’ve always recognized, respected,
and honored my role, taken it quite seriously in fact, with thoughtful
consideration, strategy and great care. This is not to say that in
raising four children I did everything “right” or that there were not
times during the utter chaos and drama when I’d find myself doubting the
how or why of my choices to bring four children into the world.
Regardless of the situation however, my maternal bond overpowered each
and every doubt. With Mother’s Day upon us (and this being the fourth
since my son has died) I find the meaning of this day especially bitter
sweet: bitter in knowing one of my children will not be able to pick up
the phone to say “Hi, Mum,” and sweet for the abundant love that
overflows from my heart for each of my children, including my son in
Heaven, and for the unique blessings that each has brought into my life.

All three of my children are now off and living their own lives, two of
them raising families of their own (and doing a superb job at it!). My
blessings continue as they have also given me four beautiful
granddaughters. Honestly, however I long to hear the voice of the child
who can not pick up the phone. The void that’s been left in my heart
feels immense and overwhelming this week and no amount of gratefulness
or positive thinking seems to be able to fill it the way it usually
does. Yes, remembering my blessings helps to ease the pain and dull the
longing but believe me when I say that it takes all my strength right
now. I’m sure many of you know exactly what I am talking about here,
too.

I am blessed with a good life and beautiful, healthy children. My own
mother thankfully is still with us, and I will make time to visit her on
or before Mother’s Day. For my son in Heaven, Carmen, I will set aside a
part of my Mother’s Day to be with just you, in the quiet stillness of
prayer, making sure you know what a blessing you were and are for me in
my life. I’m grateful for our 20 years even though an eternity would
still not have been enough time with you.


Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.

Our lifetime is the recipe for creating our eternity.

                                       

My son, Carmen, died in a car accident in 2008.  He was just 20 years old.  I have spent the last four years digging myself out from under the shock, trauma, and grief that accompanied his passing.  In order to do this I realized that I needed to create a new life because the one I had when he was alive did not exist anymore.  He was gone, the relationship severed tragically and instantly when his car hit that tree in Middleboro, MA.  I have begun a music career, moved to a new town to start over, taken new jobs, began new relationships, analyzed and reflected, and basically picked/packed myself up and moved on.  These changes have been good ones for me.  I have learned to smile again and to be joyful again, and I appreciate everything in my life.  I really don’t cry as much as I used to now that the reality of acceptance has set in.  I’m okay……..usually.

And then a holiday or an anniversary or his birthday occurs and I am thrown back into my despair and grief.  This happened yesterday.  Carmen’s birthday is Tuesday (tomorrow).  This would have been his 25th birthday.  Yesterday was awful.  I got up and started crying.  I was so upset and crying so hard that I had to call my sister to talk me through getting ready for work.  Birthday’s are especially difficult because I know I carried a child who is supposed to have a birthday, but then the day will arrive and there will be no child.  It will be an empty day.  Oh sure, I know maybe some people say I should just remember the good times, but I can’t just remember the good times without also having to remember that he is dead.  I am still processing the fact that he is gone, never mind thinking about the good times.  His passing is the most traumatic memory in my entire life.

So yesterday I kept crying.  I was angry too, so angry that he’s not here.  Angry about the stupid car accident.  Angry he was driving too fast.  I went to work though, but my eyes were so puffy from crying and I couldn’t concentrate.  I thought I was going to explode into a pathetic, slobbering, emotional wreck.  I could feel the tears and the emotion welling up in me so I decided to just clock out a few hours early.  I started crying as soon as I got into my truck.  I could barely drive.  I was supposed to be going home, but ended up at the beach instead staring out at the ocean.  I was going to just sit there till it got dark but I was getting cold and I couldn’t run the truck because I was almost out of gas.  I started the truck and went home. A very good friend of mine came over to keep me company.  He made me a sandwich and we talked and listened to music together.  He didn’t want me to be alone.  He went home about 10:30.  I started crying again.  Then, right before I went to sleep I was still thinking about my son, but all of a sudden I was able to understand something I’d never thought of.  It was like a light bulb went off in my head, and I had to write down what I was thinking. 

This is what I was thinking:

I thought to myself how I had just spent the entire day crying.  Then I thought, well, when I am at the end of my life I will view this day along with all the other ones and I will probably regret the fact that I did not spend it helping someone else nor did I really bring joy to the world.  I spent it on myself, crying, and I thought about the future “me” who would be reviewing this and how disappointed she would be right before she passed on into infinity.  She would have to carry the memory of this day with her.  Then I had like a burst of clarity and I thought: My thoughts and actions in my life are defining the infinity I will exist in.  It is my responsibility in this life to create and manifest how I will spend eternity, and this will be defined by the choices I make in my life. 

It’s not just about now, this particular life we are living.  This is actually a preparation for our eternity.  This lifetime is kind of like being in the kitchen mixing the ingredients for how we want to spend our eternity.  Our lifetime is the recipe for creating our eternity.     

This bit of enlightenment opened up my mind as if a bright light were turned on.  I could see my future self reviewing my life and then passing into eternity.  I wouldn’t be punished or rewarded, however this life I’m living right now will determine whether or not I lead a joyful or miserable eternity because who I am and the decisions I make will determine my outlook. 

So then, I could sense my son wanted to say something so I wrote:

“Mum, please don’t cry again tomorrow.  Let today be enough tears.  You don’t know how many days you have left and I don’t want you to spend even one more of your days in tears.  You’ll regret it big time later on because each and every day is a gift and remember those days you spent crying and grieving, well those were days you could have spent smiling and being joyful.  Like, say you only have another 30 years left, Mum, do you really want to look back and see all the days you spent crying?  Is that what you want to see?  Enjoy your life, Mum.  When you look back over your life I want you to see happiness and joy, not sadness and grief. ”  I’m thinking that Carmen might be right on with this, and he certainly does have a perspective now that gives him wisdom I don’t have yet. 

Imagine an eternity of misery because I spent so many days crying or being miserable in this lifetime.  NO THANK YOU!  I own my eternity, same as I own my life.  These are mine.  My  future, throughout all of eternity, belongs to me.

I get it.  I friggin get it!!     Amen         



           

Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.

I know you hear my singing up in heaven.


          It’s been two years since I recorded my first song.  I actually wrote my first song in Sept. 2008, about a month after my son died, but it wasn’t until a year later, in Sept. of 2009, that I went into a studio to record it professionally.  All I did the year before I got into the studio was sing my songs outloud to my angel son in “a capella” style, crying, crying, crying, and more crying (oh, how the endless tears filled my days and nights).  I really had no idea what to do with my songs when I first began writing them because I don’t play an instrument.  Then one day I saw a program on tv that featured a recording studio not far from my home.  The recording studio is owned and operated by Joe Merrick.  The tv program interviewed Joe, describing how he handled all aspects of recording and mixing and everything else that goes along with creating a professional recording.  In that instant, standing there in my living room, I knew what I needed to do.  I immediately called Joe and left him a message.  He called me back the next day.  I told him how I’d lost my son in a car accident and that I had written some songs and wanted to record them and dedicate an album to him.  He said, “Sure.  Let’s get together and you can show me what songs you’d like to record.”

I went into the studio the following week, terrified and shaking.  I would have to sing my songs outloud, in front of someone I didn’t even know!  “How the heck am I ever going to do this?” I kept asking myself.  Although, to be honest it didn’t really matter to me “how” I would get it done. I was on a mission to create a way to share my songs for my son so everyone would know him and he wouldn’t be forgotten.  It’s kind of like when you are in love with someone and you want to proclaim to the world your undying love.  The love is so great and so deep you can’t contain it and you just want to shout  out from the highest tree top, “I LOVE this person!!”  I also thought that somehow, someway if I sang loud enough and beautiful enough it would be heard all the way to heaven and that my son would feel special and all the angels would be saying, “Look at how much Carmen is loved.”  I wanted to make him feel good and loved, being so far away from me in heaven, because I think he misses being home.  I hated the thought that he might miss me in heaven and so I sing all the time to him as a way to connect him to me. 

I had no idea what to expect at the recording studio, however, what I lacked in confidence I made up for in determination and sense of mission.  I certainly did not know that my songs could even be recorded or that my voice was good enough.  But, I really wanted to do this for my son, to let him know how much I loved him.  I wanted a living memorial dedicated to him and music was what I would use.  

I’ll never forget the first time I met Joe in the studio.  I was immediately put at ease by his easy going, kind of gentle nature.  He sat and listened quietly, and I closed my eyes and sang for my son.  It was such a difficult thing to do.  I opened my eyes and looked at Joe.  He said, “Mmmm.  Well, you know, I think I know where you want to go with this.”  Then he started to play his guitar to accompany the song.  Then he added a drum and a few more instruments.  The song is simple but perfect.

Over the course of the next 4 months we recorded 7 more songs, which Joe tells me is a remarkable feat, especially considering the fact that I had no experience with recording a song, never ind a whole CD.  Joe was the remarkable one though (to me) because he could listen to my songs and arrange the music so beautifully that I was often moved to tears at what was created in the studio.  It meant life to me.  Life for the memory of my son.  I just knew I wanted to get the album done before my son’s 22nd birthday on January 29th, 2010.  We finished the CD, and I named it Whisper On the Wind, which is the title of one of the songs.   

I created a YouTube channel and made a video of that first song in Oct. 2009.  I wanted to broadcast to the world how much my son was loved and how much he meant to me and to everyone who knew him.  Two years later, his video has almost 35,000 views on it, and I think I can rest assured that my son will not be forgotten.  His life lives on in all of my music, which is always dedicated to him.  Our paths are forever joined, my son and I, not only because he is my son and I, his mother, but because we share this musical journey, one that now fills me with purpose and brightens my life.  My music has become an extension of my son’s love for me, and as I walk this path without him in the physical world (a path which is often filled with lonliness and pain of missing him), I simply discover a new topic to write a song about and my heart is once again filled with joy and love and the energy of my beautiful angel son, my baby, Carmen.   I would give my life if I could undo that car accident which took my son’s life in 2008, but in the ashes of my grief I found my voice and a reason to go on.  

You can listen to all my songs on my website.  My music is all available on CdBaby & iTunes. 
This is the link to purchase my CD dedicated to my son, Whisper On the Wind:  
 http://www.cdbaby.com/AlbumDetails.aspx?AlbumID=SharenWendyRobertson

And on iTunes
Whisper On the Wind

You’re My Angel on YouTube  (original song by Sharen)

        

Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.

Why I’m Still Here

Can’t sleep…thinking about my son and the car accident that took his life.  It will be three years ago on Sunday since I lost my son. I have been thinking so much about his accident and having lots of PTS. I keep seeing the accident, replaying over and over again, and it catches me off guard and I loose my breath and shake and cry……..the other day the images were particularily vivid and real.  I saw myself grieving over the news of his accident…….slumped over, legs buckled, unable to stop crying and just wanting to die and be with my son. It’s not unusual for me to see myself crying over the accident, but this time I saw my son in all his angelic form with wings leaning over me and supporting me, arms wrapped around me…holding me up so I didn’t completely slip away and die. My tears running down on his arms.  Now I have this “image” cemented in my brain as if it is real and as it gets closer to Sunday, I will have this gift from my son to remind me  that his love and support are actually why I am still here at all and to show me that I’m never really alone.

Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.

Memorial Day, song for our loved ones

Today is Memorial Day 2010, a day to remember those who have served and died in the armed forces.  The day was rather melancholy, I don’t know why.  I didn’t feel much like my usual hyper-active self.  I chatted on Facebook with a childhood friend who is over in Iraq working as an electrician.  He says it was over 100 degrees and there’s no shade anywhere, just sand and sun.  I haven’t talked to him in oh, probably 30 years.  It was weird, yet familiar and pleasant.  I wonder if I’m sad today because I can feel all the other saddness of other parents who have lost their children.  With so many people remembering their loved ones, I think it just made me miss my son.  I just watched an old movie, Signs, with Mel Gibson, and I couldn’t stop crying.  I can’t watch anything anymore because I’m so sensitive.  My dad was a veteran and he died in 2008, three weeks before my son, Carmen.  I haven’t gone to visit him yet at the cemetary.  I wanted to go today because it was Memorial Day, but I didn’t feel well, so I’ll have to go some other time.  I did visit my son twice today.  I go up there and even though it’s been almost two years, I am still hoping that his grave won’t be there.  Then I take the corner to go down the avenue where he is buried, and sure enough, he’s still there.  I drive up really slow and look out my window at his headstone, yeah, that’s him.  He’s still here.  I wish it was all a dream and that he’s really not dead.  “How can my son be dead?”  I ask myself.  But there’s no answer, it just is and I have to accept it.  I try to pretend that he’s just away right now and that he’ll be coming back home or that he’s going to call me, but then I remember that I visit his grave and so it isn’t like I don’t know where he is already.  He’s up there, in the ground.  Not his spirit, but his body and the humanness of him.  It’s buried about a half a mile from my house.  I miss touching his face and reaching out and putting my arm around him.  I miss hearing him talk and laugh and yes, I miss argueing with him.  I miss teaching him and sharing with him and cooking for him.  I miss everything that made him human.  Now I have to grieve what I’ve lost and yet I also have to learn to be in this new spiritual relationship with him; one where I can’t touch him, or have a conversation with him, or see him and yet continue believing and feeling him near me.  He’s an angel now.  He’s a bright white light of energy.  He doesn’t even look like Carmen anymore.  I am so grateful that I was the one who got to mother and love him.  I grew him in my belly and pushed him out into the world (I almost died during labor, too).      

I wrote this song a couple of months after my son died.  It is the first song I ever wrote.  I hope someone finds comfort in my words. 

      “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE GONE”


Sharen Wendy Robertson owns the copyright to all posts on this Blog.