I have heard that the first year is the hardest. And the second year isn’t too swift either. And I am told by other grieving parents that my life will never ever be the same as I do my time here without my daughter, Amy. Here’s the thing. Every day pretty much sucks right now. Maybe I should have used a better word but I speak from my heart and sucks describes what it’s like to live without my daughter.
My personal journey of grief has not been filled with many aha moments. My family has always been my #1 priority and that has not changed as my husband, son, daughter and I support one another through this horrific nightmare. I would be lost without their love as well as the consistent loving support of my Mom and sisters too. Aside from seeing the beautiful stuff some of my friends are made of and meeting some very special and compassionate grieving parents, these past 7 months have been hell. Utter hell.
When I started this blog, I made a choice to show my raw journey on the other side of losing my youngest child. In order to do that I will not be the grieving mother that others will admire or look up to because I refuse to say what others would like me to say, i.e., my faith has pulled me through, or God had a plan, or worry if my own personal pain is making anyone uncomfortable.
I have to stuff my pain each and every day when I go to work. Don’t get me wrong, work helps, but it’s hard to be so fragile and have to wear my poker face. Yet, I realize that I would be sinking into a deep depression if I didn’t have my job and that I am extremely blessed to work with some very kind individuals who have supported me from day one.
Believe me, I have not lost sight of my blessings and am grateful for my loved ones and the friends who were able to stand tall in the pocket with me and be with my depressed and sad self. As difficult as it is to be me, I imagine it’s not easy to watch me mourn my daughter.
It’s been a rough winter and while I need to hibernate, the weather has complicated my grief. Couldn’t get outside much with icy sidewalks and roads. Getting to work was a challenge and plans had to be cancelled.
Every day, I continue to cry numerous times. It’s all part of doing my time here because my loss is devastating and the pain is unbelievable. I am blessed to be the mother of three incredible children. They each own a piece of my heart which I gave freely to them. I have watched others on their life journey find and define themselves with many roles. My ego was filled by being a mom. The rest just didn’t matter that much. Everyone has their own motor and mine is my role as a Mom. My motor is broken because it’s missing one of its major parts! No wonder I feel so incomplete.
Tonight my husband brought home a prayer shawl for me which was a gift from one of his kind co-workers. This compassionate man thought this shawl, which was lovingly made by someone in his church. might help me. Let me tell you how I felt the power of those heartfelt prayers incorporated into that yarn the minute I draped it around my weary shoulders. Never heard of a prayer shawl before, but what a beautiful gesture from one human being to another. I would like to pay it forward by possibly making a prayer shawl for someone else. I know how to crochet, but not sure I am able to pray so that the recipient of my shawl would experience the same comfort I have from this one.
I am less angry. Today, anyway. Much to my surprise, I even defended God this week. Yet, I continue to struggle with my faith.
Some people continue to get to me but I will be the first to admit that most of the people in my life are good. The ones that are unable to be there for us are long gone. No problem. Really.
Last night my husband and I went to cemetery after hours because we just needed to go there. Not because Amy is there, we know she’s not. We watched her beautiful spirit soar to her new dimension right before our very eyes at the conclusion of the graveside ceremony back in August. So did many others. There was a double rainbow that day too. All comfort signs from Amy until we see her again.
My heart misses my girl so much and my life is forever changed. Just like I had no choice on that day, I have no choice but to do my time until my number is up. In the meantime, it’s a one step at a time journey. Grief ambushes are everywhere and each day seems to present a different challenge.
I am not afraid to feel better. I am open to having a tear free day. I have heard there will be good days again but before that happens, you just have to do your time. Grieve, cry, yell, curse, laugh, live, love, be grateful, grieve, curse, cry until I see my sweet girl again. My life has been hijacked by this tragedy and it will never, ever be the same — that’s the simple truth. No one knows what my family is being asked to do except those who have experienced this same tragic loss. I had no idea. Wish I still had no idea.