March 5, 2025

Jacob, my son

To Jacob Wencl, my son 

I am deeply sad today, the 11th anniversary of your death.  This sadness resides in my heart and has lived there for eleven years.  I consider this and wonder how to rephrase it so that it does not sound like you are the reason for this part of my being.  

It is not something I blame you for, no, I honor you for this opening in my heart and soul.  Nothing wounds a person more than the loss of someone born from their body, and nothing blesses a person more.  

The time I spent with you is – was – beautiful and loving.  You were so smart and gentle.  You remembered everything.  You knew everything anyone needed to know and if you didn’t, you would read up on it. You were a big heart, gentle, smart, and a loving person without armor — such a rare individual.  

I have learned in the past eleven years that many others who have taken their own lives had a similar trait.  Often a person who has committed suicide is too gentle to survive this world.  We either need armor or we need to learn the skills of how to be healthy in mind and body in a world that is not kind to those who are vulnerable, gullible or defenseless.  You did not come here to be fierce, you came here to teach us how to be loving and peaceful.  At least that is what I have gathered by contemplating it.  

The loss of your physical self from our lives, has taught me as much as giving birth to you and raising you.  Spending time with you when you were in pain, going through treatment, spending time with you just hanging out and watching movies . . . you truly were and are a beautiful soul who graced us with your being here.  

In the past eleven years, I have learned so much about grief and how to live with it.  We as human beings will deal with grief at some point in our lives.  It is an inevitable part of being human.  How we deal with grief or anything that is thrown in our laps, gives us an opportunity to learn and grow as spiritual beings, not just physical.  

So today, the eleventh anniversary of your death, I share my heart with whoever will be reading this.  My heart is a vulnerable, loving, peaceful and sad heart and I have learned to protect it with boundaries, so don’t mess with me.  You couldn’t be fierce, but I can be for you.  I can share who you were for me and who you are for me and still be ok.  I can share this because I know it will help others to know that it is possible to survive and live with the death of a child, and that it is necessary to do deep spiritual and psychological work in order to survive it.  

If you have lost someone recently, (or still suffer from the loss of someone) get counseling, go to a support group, get bodywork, walk in the woods, write, spend time with loved ones, do yoga, or any other exercise that requires you to focus your mind on the present moment and your own breath in your body.  I have seen how people deal with grief – we all struggle with it at some point.  The moment we lose someone close, we have to face this as the opportunity to grow or not.  This growth is not something that happens all at once or in any specific time frame, it is a lifestyle choice that can be made, not made, or set aside for a period of time.  If we do not focus on self care at this point, a physical and mental decline can happen – and I am not judging . . . it can be a valid choice to make.  We can suppress grief, set it aside, stuff it.  Yet we need to know that if we do that and never take it out to examine its beauty and lessons, we tend to suffer more.

Dearest Jacob,  I continue to carry your love and loss with me and do my best to do my part that I was given in this life.  I miss you every single day.  I love you more every single day.

Mom