I know how you feel

By Jordan Rivers

Are you struggling to cope with the loss of a child? Imagine being able to understand the emotions and struggles of others who have experienced the same pain, without having to attend a support group. In "I Know How You Feel," Jordan shares her personal journey of grief and healing after losing her son, Jason. Through her raw and honest account, you will find solace, understanding, and hope for your own journey towards healing.

 

Learn how Jordan navigated the difficult customs and rituals surrounding death, and how she coped with the pressure to grieve in a certain way.  How she overcame the challenges of turning away from her religious practice that no longer brought comfort or understanding.  How she broke free from the pressure of society's expected "timeline" for recovery and allowed herself to grieve at her own pace.  Discover how the power of denial helped her cope with overwhelming emotions.

 

Find the strength to face an uncertain future without your child and learn to find joy and purpose in life again.  In "I Know How You Feel," you will also find a powerful message of hope and resilience, showing that it is possible to find joy and meaning in life again after such a devastating loss.

 

Don't miss out on this heartfelt and empowering book. Buy now and take the first step towards healing and facing the future without your child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Feb 15, 2024

Jordan Rivers

I started writing for fun when I was a kid but I didn't get serious about publishing until my 20s. After taking film and broadcasting in college I felt I'd found my true calling. I now write, direct, and produce ultra-low-budget movies. I've won two awards for my scripts; editor's choice for poetry and I'm published in paperback as well on Amazon. My first non-fiction book entitled, "I Know How You Feel..." is about my ten-year struggle with the death of my oldest son and how writing about it brought me back.

Book preview

iknowhowyoufeelcover.jpg

I know how you feel

Grief

Jordan Rivers

Copyright © 2013 Jordan Rivers

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Jordan Rivers

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

Printed in the United States of America

Dedicated to

Cpl. Jason Douglas Angel Fisher

May 23, 1975 to November 14, 2002

In the service of his country.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Preface

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

About The Author

Books By This Author

Preface

I’m not a counselor, psychologist or a licensed anything.  But I have lost a child.  At this writing, I’ve spent ten years living in denial.  If sharing my story helps anyone else in any way, then it is time to do that.  No matter what it brings up.  This doesn’t mean that I have all the facts down exactly as they happened.  It doesn’t mean that someone else may have a version that is different from mine.  To them I say, write your own book and tell your own story.  This is how I remember it.  This is how it has stayed with me all these years.  These are the words and the stories that still haunt and bother me after all these years.  To others who have lost their children I say: I’m here for you and I know how you feel.

CHAPTER ONE

I know how you feel.  The loss of a child is disorienting.  It numbs you with a cold that goes to the bone.  When you hear the news, something deep inside you says, No, there’s got to be some mistake.  Not my child.  Not my child.

Perhaps the loss of a spouse is just as tragic.  I couldn’t say.  I’ve never lost a spouse to death, only divorce.  He’s still out there.  With another life, but he’s still there.  Perhaps the loss of a childhood friend or a sibling maybe?  I’ve lost friends but no siblings yet.

However, nothing has ever touched me like this.  I only know that your child is not supposed to die before you.  You are taken out of the timeline when a child dies.  The parent goes first.  The parent goes first, damn it!  It’s what echoes in your head over and over.  Nothing seems real outside of that timeline you have depended on all your life.  There’s no middle ground anymore.  You are distraught or you are empty.  And you can change with the flick of a switch.

The world goes on.  Doesn’t anyone realize that your child is dead?  How can people be smiling.  Why does the world keep turning?  How can you go on with your normal routine?  How can life be so unfair?

I’m so sorry for your loss, doesn’t cover it.  You are hollow and it sort of echoes through you when people say that.  Society dictates that you thank them.  And you do.  And you should.  Death is a strange thing and human beings have a hard time with it.  They don’t know how to act.  They don’t know what to say.  And you can’t blame them because it has probably happened to you in the past when you’ve had to speak to someone who has lost a relative or a spouse and that’s what you say to them.  I’m so sorry for your loss.

But when it’s your child, that same voice that told you it can’t possibly be your child, rears its head once more and reminds you that there has been an error and you should simply thank the people and move on.  So, thank them.  They are just as lost as you - but a totally different kind of lost.

Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.  Denial gets you through the phone calls.  To your daughter-in-law Hollie who is married to your youngest son Josh and was the only person available to figure out how to tell you that your oldest son Jason has died.  Denial gets you through the phone call with your son Josh who was there but in a different company when his brother lost his life.

Denial gets you through the visit from the local base chaplain whom your mother has called in to comfort you despite the fact that you are a Buddhist and not a Christian any longer.  Denial gets you through the encouragement about ‘God’s Plan’ when you no longer believe in the Christian belief of Heaven or Hell and you are darned sure that your son - if he is dead - is sitting beside you watching this whole fiasco unfold in his grandmother’s living room since she decided her daughter deserves a visit from the military that killed her son.

Denial gets you through the days while flight plans are being arranged.  Denial gets you through the airport and security while you’re waiting for the airplane flight from California to Tennessee because that’s where the closest airport is to your child’s home in Kentucky.  Denial helps you sit on the four hour plane flight surrounded by people who have no idea what you are going through and would be completely uncomfortable around you if they did.  Denial gets you through the crowd after landing at the airport and walking toward your living son who refuses to look you in the eye for fear of bursting out in tears in front of everyone.

Like his older brother, Josh’s in the Army.  He’s a man.  He has to be strong.  He is trying with all his might to get from this moment to that moment and keep things moving because there is so much to do.  And you want to be strong for him in return.  But then you throw your arms around him and try to speak, but real words refuse to come out.

Don’t start Mom, is all he can say because he can’t let the emotions start - they will never stop.  You reign in because you don’t want him to be as distraught as you feel.  You want to spare your child those same feelings that are raging within you.  You promise yourself you’ll be strong.