Sundays will never be the same. The feel of every day is different now. When I wake up and “remember”, well that sets the tone of the day. I feel sad and lonely. But Sundays?!? 8 months later, it is the worst day of the week — especially Sunday mornings.
My son said “Mom, don’t attach too much to dates because the worst day already happened.” He is right, and it registers in my brain, but my heart didn’t get the memo.
Each day holds a new unknown potential to knock me out as well as a new way to brush me off and keep me moving. Who knew my computer could prompt a grief ambush when a tech is troubleshooting and sites the processing page which looks like an EKG with a flat line going on underneath. It brought me back to that day in the ER and for a moment I thought I was going to faint. An inner voice was coaching me to breathe, breathe, breathe. It’s your computer! Amy is not hooked up to your work computer. She is fine now. She has to be! I can’t survive this unless I believe that!
Or when someone who doesn’t know me or what happened is making small talk and looking at the pix on my desk and starts asking innocent questions. My first thought is don’t ask me about my kids. Not yet. I am not ready. Typically, I bolt out of the room before it can evolve to that.
Yes, she was never the same. How could I be? I remember calling my doctor the day after Amy passed away and asking her what I should do. Surely, I could not survive losing a child! I needed a miracle prescription because I have other children and a husband who need me now more than ever! Is there something you can prescribe to stop this intense, foreign pain which I never knew existed? Which vitamins should I take? Should I start taking a baby aspirin to prevent having a heart attack? Her response was: “while I have never experienced a significant loss or intense grief, based on my experience as a doctor, it will be one year of intense pain before you start to feel a bit better. My best advice is to get outdoors as much as possible. And while I have only seen one person die from a case of Broken Heart Syndrome, just go to the ER if you experience any unusual symptoms.” I had a panic attack as soon as I hung up the phone.
Yes, I have definitely changed. The normal day to day irritations have lost their power and I am unable to sympathize when others sweat the small stuff. My garden of family and friends went into an auto weed mode which makes life less complicated. It amazes me that I am finally comfortable with their absence. If only I could find a filter to protect me from the stupid cliches and comments, but I find as I surround myself with the strong and compassionate ones, I am dealing with those comments less and less.
The compassion I feel towards other parents on this same sad journey is overwhelming. Last year at this time, I didn’t know any of them. They have shown me who, indeed, are the strongest among us. Even in the midst of their own intense grief.
I know the strength it takes to be me and I am not even a good version of me at the moment. Still too broken. I wish there was a way to help my family and all of the other families that are living with this horrific pain. It really is a life sentence.
I have also changed in that I live in a deep grief fog which clouds my memory! I forget to pay bills, what I wore, who I spoke to and what I said. I have very scattered thoughts. I have a one-track mind and know I repeat myself a lot. I forget to close things, lock things. Hoping this change which is so untypical of me is not a permanent change.
I had an unusually busy week. Typically, I have to retreat to my bedroom by 8:00 pm to regroup from the energy it required to behave normally among those who are not in a heavy grief state of mind, which is 99% of those I come in contact with each day with the exception of my family. So having plans three nights in a row was challenging my already depleted energy level. Yet, I am glad I followed through with each plan as each helped me in a different way. There are people in the world who just make the world better — even for grief rebels such as myself who is always openly ranting about those clueless ones among us that compound my pain! Thank you Andi, Mary, Margie and Lisa. You each helped me in your own way. Two of you do not read my blog but I need to say it.
A big thank you to my Amy! She shows me time and time again that love never dies and she is still with me. I don’t know how I would go on if I thought our relationship ended on August 4. You are an amazing spirit my little one!