by Shawna on September 24, 2023 July 5, 2024
It was Tuesday, September 12th of 2023. The rush of the 3-day massive yard sale of the previous weekend was over, morning chores were a breeze compared to when there were a thousand and one animals to tend to, and we had just delivered the last of the poultry we owned on our little homestead to a friend who purchased them. It was just getting to be lunchtime. Ray and I stepped outside on the back porch for a few minutes to get some fresh air and gather our thoughts so we could figure out what was next.
Neither of us were working at the time- Ray was in between jobs due a domino effect of unpleasant circumstances, and I had requested my part-time employer to take me off the schedule temporarily several weeks prior. As much as we both knew we needed employment and income, we both had an instinctual feeling. The past six months had been extremely rough for us, starting in February when our middle son, Codey, was first admitted to the hospital, peaking in March with his passing, and ending with neither of us working and feeling lost and out of place in our own lives. We were exhausted from fighting through each day. We wanted to run away. I think it was me who verbalized it first, but as soon as word was spoken about packing a bag and getting in the truck, both of our minds were made up. We were getting out of town, at least for a little while. Less than an hour after we got home from dropping off ducks and quail to our friend, we were in the Tacoma ready to just drive.
It wasn't the first time recently that one or both of us had the urge to run away from everything and everyone... but it was the first time we felt that urge and there was nothing in the way to stop us. No farm animals to tend to daily, no job that we couldn't get away from, our family would be just fine without us for a bit... but the stress, the drama, the heartache and turmoil that was our lives- we could run away from all of it, even if just for a little while.
I won't go into all the details of the snowball of bad luck that seemed to come our way after we lost our middle son Codey, but I will say that on the exterior we gave the image of handling our loss well and we didn't divulge our feelings and thoughts to anyone besides each other. We had been trying to keep on our strong faces and go through the motions of our lives, and yet it seemed like everything Murphy's Law could throw our way was getting thrown our way. We were at a breaking point, and something had to give.
So, we got in the truck and drove. Both of us felt pulled to go back to Tybee Island first- it was where we fulfilled Codey’s wishes for his ashes to be spread out in the ocean in April, and we wanted to feel close to him again. The drive across Georgia was at a leisurely pace, and we arrived in Tybee Island late in the evening. After checking into the small Inn where I made a very last-minute reservation during the drive, a short walk took us to the beach.
We stood there in silence, admiring the beauty and vastness of the dark ocean lit only by the sporadic lightning off in the distance. We both felt a bit closer to Codey again and had a peace come over us, even with knowing the time and tides had already spread his remains around the world. We probably spent an hour on the beach, but it felt like eternity condensed itself down into seconds. Not many words were spoken, and we didn't really talk much about what either of us were thinking... and to be honest, I couldn't put words to all my thoughts and feelings that night anyway. I was communicating with Codey, and I was communicating with God and the Universe... but for most of our time on the beach, I felt like each infinitely long second was relieving more and more weight from my heart and soul. The approaching lightning eventually chased us off the beach and back to our room for the first restful night of sleep in months for us both.
Tybee Beach Pier and Pavilion
But we didn’t stay in Tybee Island. And we weren't gone for just a couple days like the clothes in our bags suggested. We rode the blissful release of tension and stress all the way down the Atlantic coast as far as the road would take us. We were on a week-long adventure of living like we were meant to explore and experience the world. Each new day and adventure we took was exciting, beautiful, full of vitality… the very feelings and emotions our lives had recently been drained of.
We watched pods of dolphins play in the shallow tropical waters of the Florida Keys, snuba-dived to see the underwater world in the coral reef of the Gulf and snorkeled in the turquoise springs of North Central Florida. We parasailed and witnessed the world from the view of the ospreys and herons of the islands. We immersed ourselves in the sun, sand, soil and water, the basic elements of life on our planet, and absorbed life and energy to replace what was stolen from us. We finally felt alive again and found a bit of peace.
The six months after losing Codey transformed us into empty shells of who we once were. We were going through the motions of our day to day lives, but we couldn’t continue as if nothing had changed. Everything changed. We changed. And we no longer fit in the roles we previously had.
This one week of just going, doing, and LIVING filled our empty shells with new versions of ourselves. The new versions of us are still struggling with the grief of losing one of our sons- that grief won’t ever go away, and each time it sneaks up on me I must live through it. I face it and acknowledge it. I talk to Codey sometimes, and I talk to the Universe and pray to God, and I find my way through those rough times. But these new versions of us are also driven to live life to the fullest, to travel our country (and eventually the world) and experience everything the world has to offer while we can. Ray says he wants to do all the things Codey had wanted to experience that he never got a chance to. I must admit, I feel like Codey is with us on each new adventure we take.
Dakota, Little Ray and Codey
We still have two other grown sons, little Ray and Dakota, and we love them dearly also. We trust that we have been good enough parents that they will continue to grow as young men and make good choices in their lives without us hovering nearby. They have their own lives that consume their time: little Ray with his own young family, and Dakota is just beginning his adult life with his high school sweetheart by his side. We also have grandchildren that Little Ray and Codey have given us, and we are blessed that the mothers of Codey’s children allow us to talk and video chat with them. Despite the major change in our lifestyle that resulted from the week we ran away from home, we hope that they know how much we still love all of them.
We decided while on this weeklong trip that we would find jobs traveling and start a blog together to capture the memories we make along the way in our new lives, both finding our way through the process of grieving as well as documenting our travels. I would do most of the writing, as Ray’s strengths are suited more for the photography and videoing. We wanted the blog to be motivation to others to get out and explore the world- to seize the day, live life to the fullest, like we have just begun doing. But we didn’t want to gloss over WHY we went from smalltime farmers with regular jobs to spending most of the year on the road. Almost ten months ago we created the website, and I started writing this first blog post. Ten months.
Nearly ten months ago I started writing about this trip around Florida, about some of the things we saw and did, the positive effect it had on us both mentally and emotionally, and the changes we decided to make in our lives because of it. I hadn’t finished it before we found a job that allows us to travel the country together, and learning the new job took priority. Even after learning the ropes and settling in with our new employer, this post has undergone some changes, edits and complete overhauls. I left it alone for months at a time. I almost deleted it and the website several times, as there were so many times it was just too difficult to put into words what I was feeling, or I didn’t know how to blog and write about this transition in our lives. Also, being in this unnatural position of grieving the loss of our son yet trying to start a new life and find some peace and happiness again feels, at times, just wrong in many ways. And then to document it online for others to read… As if blogging to manage my emotional pain and connect with others somehow makes me a bad mother/stepmother. I already feel like I’m responsible for not being a better stepmom to Codey, not doing enough or intervening enough before he had to be hospitalized… does this blog and writing about our lives after losing Codey make me an even worse mother and a bad person? I keep telling myself none of that is true, but I still struggle with that guilty feeling all the time.
Us in our uniforms for our new job
It has now been almost 16 months after Codey passed away and we are currently home for a couple weeks before going back on the road for work. While home, I was pulled back to the computer and this blog post to give it another good overhaul, finish what I started and buck all the unwritten and unspoken rules of what a parent should do and how a parent should feel after losing a child, and especially chucking the notion that I shouldn’t be writing about these things in a blog for all the world to potentially see. I know the public perception will be mixed, and there will be some who will be critical of the things I choose to write about. I know at times it will make some uncomfortable. I know some may judge me harshly based on what I write or how I write it. Some may avoid reading a post when the focus is on our grief journey and losing our son. Shoot, I’m hypercritical of my own writing skills and re-write paragraphs multiple times trying to find perfection, despite knowing there is no such thing as perfection. I have come to terms with all of that and accepted it, and accept that my writing will be imperfect, just as the thoughts in my head are jumbled and messy and imperfect.
But… maybe, just maybe, this blog will find someone in a similar unfortunate circumstance and offer them some solace that they are not alone in grieving the loss of a child and trying to find their way in a world that is the same, yet so different from before their loss. Or maybe someone will find some inspiration for their next travel plans from a future blog or social media post from us. Maybe someone will find motivation to get out of the house and explore a nearby park or hiking trail and be closer to nature or be more physically active.
Regardless of all the maybes and the what if’s and the imperfections, here I am, facing it all with no more reservations, my heart on my sleeve and our Codey always with us wherever this new life takes us. We will always love you and miss you, Codey.
This is Our New Life After.