struggling

FYI –

All augers have found a home. Call Dean for further availability.

Haven’t posted here in a while. Been busy but kept up on reading threads. Been busy with my 4 yr old daughter and 2 yr old son. Shot a couple nice bucks bowhunting the last couple yrs but didn’t take the time to post because I was busy working and playing with the kids. Feb 11, 2014 my son, Ethan, passed away in his sleep. He’s had an autopsy and they’re doing blood work but we still don’t have a cause. Healthy, strong, happy boy – just died in his sleep. I have a turkey license but don’t really feel like killing anything. Has anyone struggled with this after the loss of someone close? I want to be in the woods – the seclusion I guess. Not sure I’ll feel like shooting a deer in the fall either.? Life doesn’t make sense. So many dreams taken away. Anybody find peace in hunting or just being in the outdoors?

Dave

For many more reasons than I want to post publicly, the outdoors is my life line. When the world feels like all is doom and gloom, I sit on a hillside, watch mother nature do her thing, and reflect upon the blessings in my life. Some days I walk away more confused, but I can scream my head or just sit quietly. Its the only place I feel close to god and can restore my faith.

I’m so sorry to read of your son’s passing. As impossibly as it may sound, I hope you are able to come to peace and find the courage to celebrate his life and the memories you have.

Dave,
I cannot imagine how hard it would be to lose a child, but one of the first places I would go would be the woods. You could go turkey hunting, but that doesn’t mean you’d have to even bring your gun.

Prayers sent for you and your family.

So sorry to hear about your son. I can only imagine the pain you and your family mst be feeling. Thoughts and prayers are sent from my family to yours.

I also find the solitude of nature to be very helpful to me. When life gets tough, just watching the sun come up in the morning makes things a little better.

Dave, I’m absolutely heartbroken for you and your family. There isn’t anything else I can write that can speak to the loss you’ve suffered, I’m afraid. I’m just very, very sorry.

Everyone’s approach to hunting is different and there is no right or wrong way to approach it after the loss you’ve suffered. It is understandable that everything looks differently now, so take your time and do what feels right to you.

I’m very sorry for your loss.

Grouse

thoughts and prayers to you and your family. Unfortunately I have suffered this loss too, with me it was not just hunting, I lost my drive to pursue anything. Its a cliché but time does heal. Killing is only part of hunting, maybe instead of a gun take a camera.

Very sorry to hear for your loss. Everyone is different when it comes to dealing with the loss of a loved one. All I can say is I think of those who have passed in my life when all is quite in the woods. Hunting is hunting and memories in the field don’t always have to be about the kill. I personally could never give up the outdoors and I don’t think the one’s that have passed would want me to either.

I have no experience in loosing a son. I was there for one of my best friends who lost his son at the age of five. With that, I offer my sincerest heartfelt apology to the loss your family has had to endure. I hope the autopsy can give you an answer soon. Not knowing must be just about as hard.

Life is a strange and twisted thing and it makes no sense why children are taken from us. Like most have already posted, your journey will be a tough one and one that you most likely will have to find on your own. It is very cliché’, but one step at a time. I’m sure the wind has been taken completely out of your sails and I am sure you feel completely lost and stranded. Try and look for the little signs that your son is leaving you. His favorite animal, color, shape, show, book. These signs will be there and you will see them, I truly believe it. My buddy see’s these things quite often and he knows that his son is still with him. It may be a cloud formation, a certain bird or butterfly. A simple sign or saying that you guys had together. But they are there and maybe they will be in Mother Natures world, where it’s just you and your thoughts.

The time will come when the wind will be at your sails again. You’re not alone and if you need someone. Send me a note, happy to help in anyway I can. God Bless you and your family.

Very sorry for your loss. I could not imagine what you are going though.
If you can bring your self to going out turkey hunting, spring is a magical time. Great time to go out and sort though you thoughts and if the time is right, harvest a turkey. You may have a something special happen.
Stay strong and keep you chin up as best as possible.

May the Lord bless him and keep him…

And May the Lord bless you and keep you
May the Lord make His face shine down upon you,
And be gracious unto you;
May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace

So sorry for your loss!!!

Mark

Wow. So so sorry for your loss. As a father of two myself, I can’t imagine what you have gone through.

I’m so sorry to hear of your son’s passing. I think it’s perfectly normal to experience a loss of interest in things you once enjoyed after such a tragedy. When my husband was diagnosed with cancer for the second time in 2010, I couldn’t watch Law and Order SVU anymore for almost a year. Just something about anything dealing with death made me uncomfortable. He underwent successful treatment and is healthy now, but the thought of losing him is an unbearable fear that I’m still trying to overcome.

I like to try to find peace within myself, and it’s definitely much easier to do that when I’m in the woods, either hunting or playing with bugs, rather than being surrounded by the distraction of people, electronics, or obligations. I have not experienced a loss like losing a child so I’m not really sure what to say, but that I hope you know a life lived with so much love never really ends, but goes on forever in the hearts of those who remember.

Thanks for the kind posts. It’s been very tough to understand and accept. This is the only time I had Ethan in my boat. We had so many plans for the future….miss you Buddy

http://wisefamilyfh.com/services.asp?page=odetail&id=1005&locid=0

Dave,

You have my deepest sympathy. I admire your courage to share something so emotional with us. I can only hope that with time you and your family will be Okay to not be Okay. I recently read this from a father who lost his son at a very early age.

 

Quote:

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The funeral director told us it was time to close the casket and suddenly I gasped for air and tried to hold back my tears – but nothing could stay my sorrow. This was it. I wasn’t ready to look upon my son for the last time – to say goodbye to his little body, his sweet face … this little boy I used to cuddle, hug and laugh with. My youngest son, Wyatt stood beside me and watched me in grief and sorrow tuck his older brother one last time.

I carefully pulled Mitchell’s favorite blanket up to his chin, like I did every night, and said “I love you little boy … my sweet son. Oh, how I love you.” I cried a father’s tears … and until that moment I had tasted no deeper tears. I had never known so great a sorrow as to say goodbye to my child. Sweet Mitch trusted that I could keep him safe from harm. He thought there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. When he looked at me he saw superman. When I looked in the mirror I saw a broken man. But I tried. God knows how hard I tried. But I was only human.

Months later, my oldest son, Ethan, came into my office while I was writing an entry for Mitchell’s Journey. I was unprepared for the interruption and my eyes were red and filled with tears. Ethan asked, “Dad, are you okay?” I immediately tried to be superman and put on a brave face, wiping my eyes and said, “Yeah, I’m okay” … as if to suggest all was well and that I was simply rubbing my tired eyes. But Ethan was discerning and knew better … I could tell by his expression he knew I was grieving.

In that moment I thought to myself, “What good do I do my children when I pretend?” I realized I do him no favors when I am not being real. I paused a moment then looked Ethan in the eye and said, “Actually, I’m not okay. But I’m okay. Do you know what I mean?” Relief washed over his face and I could tell he not only understood but that he was glad I was being real … as if it gave him permission to be real, too. I wanted my son to know that it is okay to hurt … that you can be “okay” but “not okay” and that’s okay.

---

 

^^^^

Very Nice.

Thanks John – I shared the same experience as that father in the first half of your message. I covered Ethan up with his blanket, said good bye, helped the funeral director cover the casket and carried Ethan through the church for his funeral service. We aren’t built for this type of pain. Enjoy every minute with your children!! My daughter is helping me by ok…I’m blessed to have her…

You’re in our Prayers. I have no Idea what you’re feeling. I know I couldn’t handle it if my little man wasn’t around. There is no other love like it thats for sure. Stay stong!

So sorry for your loss Dave you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.

 

Quote:

---

The funeral director told us it was time to close the casket and suddenly I gasped for air and tried to hold back my tears – but nothing could stay my sorrow. This was it. I wasn’t ready to look upon my son for the last time – to say goodbye to his little body, his sweet face … this little boy I used to cuddle, hug and laugh with. My youngest son, Wyatt stood beside me and watched me in grief and sorrow tuck his older brother one last time.

I carefully pulled Mitchell’s favorite blanket up to his chin, like I did every night, and said “I love you little boy … my sweet son. Oh, how I love you.” I cried a father’s tears … and until that moment I had tasted no deeper tears. I had never known so great a sorrow as to say goodbye to my child. Sweet Mitch trusted that I could keep him safe from harm. He thought there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. When he looked at me he saw superman. When I looked in the mirror I saw a broken man. But I tried. God knows how hard I tried. But I was only human.

Months later, my oldest son, Ethan, came into my office while I was writing an entry for Mitchell’s Journey. I was unprepared for the interruption and my eyes were red and filled with tears. Ethan asked, “Dad, are you okay?” I immediately tried to be superman and put on a brave face, wiping my eyes and said, “Yeah, I’m okay” … as if to suggest all was well and that I was simply rubbing my tired eyes. But Ethan was discerning and knew better … I could tell by his expression he knew I was grieving.

In that moment I thought to myself, “What good do I do my children when I pretend?” I realized I do him no favors when I am not being real. I paused a moment then looked Ethan in the eye and said, “Actually, I’m not okay. But I’m okay. Do you know what I mean?” Relief washed over his face and I could tell he not only understood but that he was glad I was being real … as if it gave him permission to be real, too. I wanted my son to know that it is okay to hurt … that you can be “okay” but “not okay” and that’s okay.

---

 

Damn, I can’t even stand to read this and think about it. I am not sure I could survive such a loss. There aren’t any words…………..

I sat here for minutes with my fingers on the key board and nothing on the screen. I am still not sure this is what I want to say. I can’t imagine the pain. My thoughts are with you and your family.

I am so sorry to hear this Dave…… I cannot even imagine what you and your family are going through these last couple months. It is always toughest when we lose someone suddenly, especially a seemingly healthy young child like Ethan… time will ease your burden, but you will never forget your son, you will always remember him at 2 years old and yearn for what might have been….. you will find that when you have solitude, you will think of things, that otherwise escape us, in our busy days… you will get back in the woods, when it is time, don’t rush it. Ethan may be gone in body, but his spirit will live on in you and all those who loved him. So sorry for your loss.

I have a 2 yr old and I just want to take a minute to say sorry for your loss. Prayers sent to you and your family!

Thank you all for your kind words. I’m looking forward to being in the quiet woods with nature this week starting wednesday. It will be a time to reflect on the memories of the last 2 yrs with my precious son Ethan.

Here at work it seems like life is moving too fast again and Ethan is forgotten so it will be a peaceful time for Ethan and I.