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Through the Grief - A Mother's Journey

This is an accounting of the early months in my journey through grief .  It conveys some of the experiences and emotions associated with the tragic and untimely death of my eldest son.  It reflects how the loss of my son weaved through all aspects of my life and how the journey was a process that continuously presented opportunities to heal.  As through denotes "one side and out the other", this is my soul's voyage and how I learned to move through the grief and begin moving forward with my life. 

From my heart to yours.   Blessings on your journey.

Sgt Tyrell S. Williams. USMC
25 December 1976 - 11 February 2008
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In many ways, this was the easiest part of the journey. As Tyrell’s death was sudden, there was an enormous amount of preparation and a multitude of decisions to make; and all was to be accomplished in a very short time. The sheer magnitude of tasks propelled me forward and kept me in motion. I could focus on the immediate task at hand and this was often a shield to the tremendous pain that was rotting my soul. Most importantly, my focus was on how I could best honor my son. What I did during these next few weeks would remain with me for the rest of my life. As honoring my son was the most important thing to me, this spurred me on. It became the driving force of my immediate existence.  
After I received the call, I was paralyzed for a period of time. I could not align my thoughts and my emotions. There was a part of me that could not believe this was true, that did not want to believe it was true. I called Tyrell’s cell and it went to voicemail. This did not convince me, however, and my mind struggled to find a way to prove that my son was not dead; that a terrible mistake had been made.​

As I pondered the possibilities of how I could end this nightmare and find my son alive and well, it occurred to me that I needed to call my manager. It was early afternoon on a Tuesday and the day had begun as a typical workday. I can only imagine what it was like for her to receive the call. I was on the verge of hysteria, my sentences were choppy and my voice warbled uncontrollably. I found it difficult to breathe. I told her that my son was killed and I had to log off and I had no idea when I would be back. I could feel her kindness as she gently spoke to me and told me how sorry she was and to not worry about work. I was free to focus on what was important; and that was making the arrangements for my son.

an excerpt from the first chapter

The First Two Weeks