Missing Pieces: Garrett's Journey to Finding Light; the Weekend March 3rd and 4th

March 13, 2018

I never thought I would be writing a blog series about my son Garrett is this manner.  Garrett has suffered a psychic blow and is very sick.  Mental illness runs in the family and it has blown a hole in his mind.  This blog series are my raw reactions, responses, and feelings after each nightly visit.  It is my therapy, my coping mechanism to find a way for myself to be healthy enough for my husband and my 8 other children.  I have created this based on the questions that many people have about Garrett.  I wanted to answers them here....or at least show you what is happening.  

 

March 3-4: The Weekend

 

Weekend: March 3-4

Instead of making this a play by play, I thought I would write about the tone, the feeling, the pain that I saw on Saturday and Sunday.  

 

Saturday and Sunday: The gentle rays of soft light peak through the slits of the blinds showering a striped pattern on the wall and one of the soft stripes of lights lands on back of an empty chair.  The chair sits empty in a room filled with creations: sculptures made from paper, tape, paste, and clay. Creations of birds, animals, cartoons, drawings, painted on canvas from colorful bright paints, others are soft wisps of pencil and charcoal creating and suddenly you see the form of a dog appear in playful motion leaping in the air.  The creator has captured joy through the strokes of his hand.

 

The black and light shadows from the window next fall on the set of the final scene of his movie: it is a mountain made from clay, cardboard, paints,  with caves, tunnels and finally a hidden volcano that has sat silently smoldering and smoking gathering pressure never knowing when she will blow. The creator intention for the model won’t be realized for years now…

 

Finally, the last of the light and shadow stretches falls on his face--Garrett’s face--his grimacing pain-filled face.  He wraps his arms around his legs and squeezes tightly onto his thinning body as he gently rocks back and forth trying to find comfort from the dark thoughts that now plague his mind.  His body shakes from lack of sleep, lack of food, and lack of water. His nightmare in his head has told him that he can’t partake of food again...he will die if he does. So he sits in fear waiting for the next hour to tick by.

 

This image was repeated through Saturday  and Sunday. He would occasionally meet up with his siblings and tell them horrifying things like, “he killed Christ because of his sins--and that is it all of his fault.”  He was not himself and I gave him more sleeping supports to help him rest. I laid with him all night Sunday to help him sleep, and all that would happen would be me jerking awake with him laying there shaking and staring up at the ceiling until finally the break from night to light of dawn gently started to glow.  I told him to stay home and that I would return with answers…...

 

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