Welcome again,
dear Kelly . . .
I thought I would start a new thread for you.
I am so happy that you have returned,
and told us a little bit about yourself.
You mention having a seizure disorder,
but I hope that you have realized by now
that this does not define who you are . . .
also,
that with this disorder
you have gifts that are unique to you alone.
You are valued
and as worthy of love
as everyone else,
and I am happy that you have at least one good friend
who sees your real beauty . . .
I think that if you look around
you might find
that there are many, many more people
who love you for who you are too.
Please come back,
explore the different forums and threads.
You will find
many ways to express yourself
and many ways to be grateful
with love . . .
sparrow
     ♥

everything counts... ♥

I don't know what to say. Simply saying "thanks" doesn't seem like enough. 
 
I wrote a poem in memory of my friend and I'm thinking about posting it here, but I don't know if it would need edited first.

Dear Kelly . . .
Anything from your heart
is always welcomed here
with love . . .
      ♥

everything counts... ♥

http://www.willjonesmemorial.org/- I'm only adding this link because it has a picture of my friend on it; it's a memorial site his family set up. I have it bookmarked.
 
Below is the slightly-edited memorial poem I wrote back in 11-25-08, including author's notes: 
 
**NOTE 1: When I mention "family" in this, I'm referring to my grandmother, my father and my mother. One of my cousins, though I'm not in contact with her much, has shown more compassion than the three of them have.**
**NOTE 2: The "pills" mentioned in the poem are anti-seizure meds I'm having to take five times a day; my first dose is at 6:00 in the morning.**
**NOTE 3:  I wrote this poem before I went into outpatient grief therapy at Circles of Care earlier this year. I'm only seeing my therapist once a month, though, so the therapy hasn't done much.  I can't speak about how I feel to my family, they don't want to hear it; I even mention my friend and they go into bash mode. I slipped and unintentionally mentioned Will's name on my birthday this year and they flipped out, so I've had to keep the pain repressed so they don't complain at me about it.**
"CONFESSIONS FROM AN IRREPARABLY-SHATTERED HEART"
IN MEMORY OF WILLIAM FRANK MACARTHUR JONES- 1978-2008 (REST IN PEACE, MY FRIEND)
KELLY CRUTCHER
###############################################################
My friend committed suicide. It seems a part of me has died.
I'm overwhelmed by pain and grief and see no comfort or relief.
Will took his life and smashed my heart. I heard the news . . . and fell apart.
Those broken shards will never heal. The pain? I'm trying to conceal
===============================
From those who'll never understand and didn't know my friend firsthand.
His memory will always stay; I think about him night and day
And play our favorite Clapton song, my way of grieving. Is this wrong?
I wish MY life would end as well; I'm going through a living hell.
===============================
I've prayed, "Please, Father, take me now. This grief is overwhelming. How
Am I supposed to just pretend like nothing's happened to my friend
And cast aside his memory, ignoring this catastrophe?
My family's vision is corrupt, 'cause all I hear is 'Straighten up.'
===============================
When anguish has me on the ground, I can't get up and look around.
What more is there I can say? I wish this pain would go away.
No help, no hope. God, I give up. Our Lord begged You to take the cup
You gave Him in Gethsemane. Right now, I wish You'd set ME free.
===============================
My strength and will to live are gone. How in the world can I go on?
I'm not alive; I just 'exist.' And they don't care!" I'm furious.
My G and E-Mail contacts care. My only friends; THEY'VE all been there
When I've been standing at that brink, to help me back: "Wait, Kelly, think."
===============================
My FAMILY, though, won't help at all. They've shot me down and watched me fall;
Rejecting every plea I've made. I've begged for help, but been betrayed.
I'm pushed so far, but then I break. There's only so much I can take.
I'm thinking maybe that's the road I need to take. This heavy load
===============================
Is far too much for me to bear, alone. I CAN'T! But they don't care.
They treat Will's memory with disdain. An overdose would end my pain.
I've thought about it in the past; back then, the yearning didn't last.
But now, my wish for death remains, and burdens me like iron chains.
===============================
The news was a horrific blow; what made it worse? I didn't know
Until a 9-11 mail. The words I read made my heart fail:
"Will. . . couldn't live. . . . He took his life." The news struck like a vicious knife;
Or like a fast, envenomed dart that spread its poison through my heart.
===============================
Since then, I've cried and haven't stopped 'til I'm so weary that I've dropped.
Don't want to eat, I've been too sick. "God, end this pain. Please make it quick."
I've cried myself to sleep each night and prayed for Him to end my plight;
Instead, this plea has gone ignored, no matter how much I've implored.
===============================
That blade won't budge. It's in hilt-deep. My only peace comes when I sleep.
At least, in dreams, I see my friend; it's almost like old times again.
The veil will part; the world will fade . . .and in its place; a peaceful glade.
The walkway's paved with shining gold. The sight's amazing to behold.
=============================== 
And Will is waiting at the end. My face lights up when I see him.
My joy adds speed, I sprint the road, and I can dump that massive load
Of anguish for a while, at least. The knife is gone; my pain has ceased.
"I've missed you, Will!" "I've missed you, too!" "I have a hug I've saved for you!"
===============================
We share a hug as we converse, and time will freeze while we traverse
The walkway to the glade and sit. Then butterflies will come and flit
Like iridescent, living gems to perch upon the flower stems.
We chat for days, or so it seems. I'm only happy in these dreams.
===============================
I finally hear "you need to wake;" but I protest. "Why must I take
that anguish and that grief again? Will, they don't care about my pain . . ."
"I'm sorry for the cross you bear; I also thought no one would care."
"And you were WRONG!" I start to cry. A teardrop falls from my friend's eye.
===============================
He takes me in another hug. I start to feel a gentle tug 
Compelling me to cross the veil. I fight against its pull, but fail.
He nods at me. "It's almost dawn. You need to wake; your life goes on.
Kelly, it'll be all right; I'll meet you here tomorrow night."
===============================
"I'll see you then. It's hard to wait." "We'll meet **for good** at heaven's gate.
Until that time, we'll meet like this; we'll meet right here and reminisce.
You need to wake. I'll see you then." A promise sealed. "Wake up, my friend."
We trade a smile, another hug, then I surrender to that tug
===============================
And wake again to take those pills. The thought of them, though, makes me ill. 
The knife returns; it's killing me. I wish the Lord would set me free.
I have the burden once again; this overwhelming grief and pain.
Is wanting peace too much to ask? I have to hide behind this mask:
===============================
'I'm fine; there's nothing wrong with me.' There's nothing wrong that THEY can SEE.
PHYSICALLY, I'm 'doing fine;' emotionally, I've lost my mind.
I block my grief behind a wall, and struggle to ignore its call
Like Montresor did Fortunato in Poe's "Cask of Amontillado."
===============================
Montresor succeeded, though; he had no heart, as readers know. 
I HAD one once, it didn't last; I read that mail and mine got smashed.
The wall comes down, the grief returns, that knife remains. My anguish burns.

Dear Kelly,
Thank you so very much for posting your poem. It certainly did come from your heart and it reached right into mine too. It's beautiful and so profound.
Will has such a lovely face...I warmed to him immediately I saw it.
 
With regard to your family not understanding. This is a big lesson some of us have to learn. Maybe they are being protective of you (or themselves...they may fear death too much and are projecting their fear on to you) but one thing is clear, you do know people who do understand you and who care about you. Concentrate on them. Try to accept your family as they are. Not as you would like them to be I know, but you can't change them.
We don't choose our family, but we can choose our friends.
 
It seems to me that you and Will still have a strong connection, and he will be there for you for as long as you need him. Also, in the poem, he kept sending you back. He now knows that taking one's life is not the answer, and he doesn't want you to take yours. He is trying to support you enough to move you forward in your life, and find joy again.
 
I am so glad you found the Forum. There are plenty of loving and understanding people here.
 
Blessings and Hugs,
Jude

Love is the only way

Dear Kelly Welcome to Gratefulness
 
Your poem is very moving,poetry is such a good way to ' release some of our feelings'
 

'I'm fine; there's nothing wrong with me.' There's nothing wrong that THEY can SEE.

 
No one can see a broken heart ,but in time I pray you find some release from your pain.
 
Do take care as each one of us is a 'gift' to this world.
 
Sandra xx
 
 

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love~and be loved in return♥♥  


 

Dear Kelly,
 
Thank you for sharing with us this moving, deeply felt and sincere poem!
Just because several family members don't understand your grief does not mean that they don't love you!
Brian still IS your friend and very close to you.  I am glad you "meet " him in your dreams in such a special way!
 
Much love to you and warm hugs,
Edda

Peace and joy!

Edda, where you put "Brian" in your message above, I think you meant to put "Will." It's okay, though. I've had times where I've typed the wrong name too.

Dear Kelly,
 
I am so sorry! I can only claim fatigue after a long day at the hospital! I don't even know a Brian so I didn't confuse your friend with anybody! Mea culpa, mea culpa!
 
Much love,
Edda

Peace and joy!

It's okay. I get mixed up when I'm tired too. One time Mom called my father on her cellphone and passed it to me; I was going to talk to him but my brain suddenly went blank and I had no idea what to say. I wound up turning the phone off and passing it back to her.
 
In one of my above messages, where I mentioned "saying his name on my birthday this year"; people might think "this year" as 2008 because 2008's mentioned as the last date in the poem, but I mentioned his name on my birthday in 2009. I think I got confused. Sometimes I'm not sure how to clarify stuff to myself. :)

Dear Kelly . . .
Thank you for sharing your heartfelt poem.
As it did for Jude,
it did for me
and 'reached into my heart' too . . .
Will was so very special to you,
I can see that,
and he remains with you always,
though in a new way.
Someday
I think that as you heal
you will discover ways
that Will has blessed you with his life
and has made you a better,
kinder,
more loving and understanding person
with much love . . .
sparrow
     ♥

everything counts... ♥

You're welcome.
 
I'm not sure if nonstop crying jags are a sign of "healing" or not. When that happens, I feel like I'm going crazy instead of healing. My family's seen me losing it a few times; they ask me what's wrong and I can't tell them because the few times I've told them, they start yelling and start their garbage: ("get over it", ect. ) again. 
 
Last time they asked me what was wrong, my response to them was a string of language I won't repeat on this forum, as well as "You know what's wrong. Now get out of my room and leave me alone." If I had said anything else, I'd have had to listen to more bashing. 
 

Dearest Kelly,
 
I am so sorry you don't get more understanding and support at home. Some people just don't get it! Tears are healing but sadly you can't entrust them to your family.
It helps to be able to express your feelings. We are with you and want to support you. Feel free to come here and share your feelings whenever you have a need to do so.
 
Much love and warm hugs,
Edda

Peace and joy!

Dear Kelly,
Grieving takes as long as it takes, and on the whole I think crying is very healing, so allow yourself to cry.
 
It's a shame your family don't understand, but accepting that they don't is a good step forward.
Try not to get angry with them as this will alienate them more from you. Keep your feelings about Will for those who do understand.
 
I agree with Edda. We all want to support you.
 
with Love,
Jude

Love is the only way

My grandmother made a crack earlier this month and it made me angry enough to want to kill her.  At the time she made it, she was talking to another friend of ours, a member of our political club. I don't remember much of what she said, but I heard her words bashing Will's memory:
 
She said "Well, the boy was on drugs. . ." and I exploded. I whirled on her, screamed at her to "SHUT THE (insert word I won't type here) UP" at the tops of my lungs, then ran for my bedroom and slammed and locked the door.
 
Later, she asks me why I reacted like that!
 
Her reaction to my grief ever since I got that e-mail has been "Well, that boy was nothing to you; the boy was on drugs, you need to 'get over it' and 'straighten up'. She may not remember saying those things, but I heard her say them to me. I didn't know anything about Will being on drugs until after I got the e-mail telling me he'd taken his life.
 
Will had stayed with us for a few weeks back in 2007; during that time I'd seen him smoking what I thought was a cigarette out on our back porch. I only saw him do this once. I don't smoke myself, but I don't have a problem with it as long as it's done outside.
Our neighbor came over the next day and mentioned he'd smelled marijuana smoke.
Afterwards, Will told us he was moving out; he was going to try and get a job at a thrift store over in Melbourne. We took him the next morning and dropped him off in front of the store. I remember Will and I told each other "I'll see you later;" I wished him good luck and we shared a hug before he went inside and Grandma and I left. That was the last time I saw him; that day's branded into my mind.
 
So what if he was smoking marijuana? It doesn't make one lick of difference to me; he was my friend.

It doesn't make one lick of difference to me; he was my friend.

 
Dear Kelly,
 
Of course it makes no difference to how you feel.
 
People have strong feelings about drugs, You can't change how they feel, but you can change how you react to their comments.
 
No-one can take away your feelings. Be patient.
 
Blessings,
Jude

Love is the only way

Yes, Kelly, he was your friend. It appears he was a troubled friend, but he cared about you!  And that is all that matters to you!
It might even be that his problems helped him understand you!
 
I can understand that you got mad at your grandmother. Sadly, you can't make people understand. Even if Will was addicted he still was a valuable human being in need of help!
 
I am so very sorry that you feel so alone in your grief right in your own home!
 
I keep you in my heart and prayers,
 
Much love and warm hugs,
Edda

Peace and joy!

Everyone, your prayers are greatly appreciated. :)  I wanted to share something that happened to me last year between the time I got the e-mail about Will and Christmas. I can't remember the exact day it happened, though:
 
I felt like I couldn't go on anymore and I started making plans to follow my friend. I'd been trying to gather stuff that was poisonous; I was storing it in a glass jar; hiding the jar behind a pillow on my bed.
I screw the lid shut, hide the jar and turn away; and the next thing I know, the jar rolls out from under the pillow and smashes in the floor. I didn't jolt the bed or do anything to cause the jar to fall and break; when it broke, I was walking away from the bed.
 
My first thought was "D---, now I'll have to do it all again!" and I started crying again. A second after that thought came to me, I felt a pressure and warmth on my back and on my hand; it felt like someone had an arm around my shoulders and was holding my hand in theirs, but I was alone in the room.
 
A second after I felt this, my grandmother came into the room, saw the mess, got it cleaned up (the glass AND the stuff) and went back out.

im so sorry you have beeen having such a bad time.  i will be praying for you.  i totally get where youre coming from and how overloading it all is.  just remember we are praying for you.  take things gently. and try to be gentle to you.
 
dancing dolphin

Dearest Kelly,
 
Thank you for sharing this story with us! I am glad the jar broke!
I think Will made his presence felt and was giving you a sign not to do anything to follow him!
 
Much love,
Edda

Peace and joy!