There are no words in the dictionary which adequately describe the pain which I have been dealing with since my daughter collapsed and died. There is no easy way around, over or through it. As I have said many times, time does not heal all wounds and this is one of those wounds. My only hope is that time will eventually soften me as well as this unimaginable pain and I can aspire to be “okay” again for longer stretches of time. Based on where I am standing now along this freaking journey, feeling good is probably a stretch, but time will tell.
I keep myself compulsively busy. There has not been one day that I gave in to just retreating to my bed. Yet, so what! No matter where I go or what I am doing, there is no escaping the sadness and the sorrow. It hurts to live without her.
No one chooses to be embedded in this sorrow. I would imagine those around me who are not affected by my loss would be growing impatient with my inability to “snap out of it”. “It” being get over the loss of my daughter?!
When I was going to a shrink and sitting on that white loveseat for 8 months, I remember asking her “what can I do to help myself get through this.” Notice I did not say “get over” as even during the earliest days, I knew that was not an option.
Her response was that I was doing everything right. Huh? I suppose every doctor/grief counselor’s prescription for grief is a little different. If I asked my pastor, who has been MIA in terms of support, I imagine he would say, Let Go and Let God. God had a plan, etc. Whatever. Despite being able to walk over to our home, he hasn’t reached out personally to us since he had us come to him to plan the funeral. In all fairness to this priest, I never depended on him to help me yet these are unusual circumstances and we sure would have benefited from a little religious comfort/guidance. My faith is gone but I truly hope it returns some day. Maybe I need to go in a different direction. I miss that invisible security blanket.
My anger and frustration is apparent in every post I write. After each post, I wonder to myself if maybe my next post will contain more clarity, acceptance and wisdom of why bad stuff happens to good people. Not so much why it happened to me, but why it happened to Amy? You could search the world and it would be difficult to find many who had her pure heart. Again and again I can’t help but wonder if maybe she was indeed too good for this world. When someone passes away, it’s easy to make them into a saint, yet she truly had a rare kindness, compassion and wisdom that most of us lack. She was not perfect; who is? However, her heart was perfectly pure.
I hold the people in my life to high standards. That’s just the way I tick and maybe that is why I struggle with those who have hurt me or disappointed me during this nightmare. In all fairness to those who step outside of their own personal comfort zones to help me, well, all I can say is that you have given me the energy to get out of bed each day and face this foreign world which screams at me every other minute that my daughter is gone.
Today is the 10 month anniversary of my living hell on earth. That may seem like a strong statement to those who have never experienced this kind of pain so I will excuse you if you feel compelled to roll your eyes and click your tongue wondering why is this woman still whining about losing her daughter … let’s hope God or the universe never gives you this “life lesson.”
10 months later — not much has changed from 8.4.13.
Still crying every day — check.
Still not listening to music — check.
Still having grief ambushes — check.
Still not sleeping well — check.
Still dazed and confused — check.
Still feel like I live in a foreign dimension — check.
Still want to throw myself on the floor and sob from the reality — check.
Still have to self coach myself to get out of bed each day — check.
Still reactive to those that piss me off with their lack of depth and self serving egos — check.
Still grateful for my husband, son, daughter and family and friends who love me even when most times I feel unlovable — check
Still eternally grateful to those who are helping me with my Amy projects — check!
Still grateful to those who to take the time to put something at the cemetery for my young daughter — check!
Still grateful to those who still want to spend time with us — check.
Still discovering the amazing compassion that some of my family and friends are capable of — grateful check!
Still blown away by the kindness which comes from those who do not know me yet reach out to me — grateful check!
Still finding unbelievable compassion for those who carry this same loss in their life yet want to help me too — heartfelt check.
Still want my Amy back — CHECK!