Seriously, I still can’t believe it! Yet it’s my first and last thought of each day sandwiched in between countless other thoughts and memories of Amy. As soon as I open up my eyes it hits me: Oh My God, Amy died!
There is knowing and then there is knowing. How far do you allow your mind to wander to the dark place where the truth lives? I can only speak for myself but I cannot stay in that dark reality for very long.
There are times in the early months and even as recent as a month or so ago, where I found myself in the red zone of grief. That’s my term for beyond hysterical when the reality sinks in so deeply that I don’t even recognize the wounded cries which are part of my deep sobbing. I believe this is my soul crying.
I have tried to write this post for 5 days and then I say “ef it,” I am tired of hearing myself moan and groan. Keeping it in, recycling in my fried brain, isn’t helping either as I wake up at night every few hours crying. I keep trying to shift the anger. I now talk about wanting to release the anger because it takes so much energy to be pissed off. Then yesterday happens and all of my good intentions to shift my thinking fly out the window after some woman asks me how I am and then continues on to say she was not talking about “that.” Has my daughter’s death evolved to “that”. Almost 24 hours later, I am still replaying the exchange in my head. Seriously?! To quote my friend, “things that make you go hmmm.”
Let me remind any one who wants to have a timeline for my grief or think I am a martyr that I have not seen, hugged, kissed, texted or spoken to my youngest daughter in 357 days! Wanna try doing that? Of course not, so can you cut me a break and just don’t talk to me if you are going to say something stupid which hurts me.
Every week I say I am not going to dump my thoughts onto this blog again. In my fragile state, I am not always equipped to walk among those who get a glimpse into the mind of a broken, grieving Mom, after I have exposed my vulnerable thoughts.
I actually attempted to start a brand new blog where I could really say what’s on my mind and not risk offending anyone, but it was too difficult to figure out how to launch it. Many who know me personally know that I have always spoken my mind, sometimes too freely, but I assure you I do hold back on these postings a bit as it’s never my intention to hurt anyone. A few times after one of my rants, someone has asked me if they personally prompted my post. No, yes, maybe, I don’t know — would be my honest answer. This blog is my punching bag. Please stop reading it if you are tired of reading my words. But before you do, let me ask you how long you would like to go without seeing one of your kids? Then judge me.
I love people, yet I struggle to be around them sometimes. My mind is so short circuited from the grief that sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to retreat from the world indefinitely. Grieving the loss of a child is excruciating! No one truly knows unless they have experienced it. That’s not my opinion; it’s a fact. And make no mistake, grieving parents do not choose this pain — it is the mind and heart’s reaction to the lose of a child. The loss of the unique intimate loving familiar beautiful connection with their child.
A woman who lost her son 24 years ago told me living life after her son died was a baby step process. In my opinion, it’s a baby step cha cha with not much forward progress in the beginning because you are so dazed and confused. Another mother, 8 years on the other side of Devastation Day, said the 2 ton elephant sitting on your heart loses weight as the years go by. I read or heard recently that it takes the mind and heart 9 years to process the loss of a child. Everyone’s experience is different — again I am not making predictions — just sharing what I have heard.
Imagine your life as a beautiful stained glass window which you took years to carefully design. This window was your own personal creation. Then one day, life sucker punches the window and it is shattered into a million pieces. Not only is the window destroyed, but you are hit by all of the glass and bleeding in places which are not visible to the human eye. Millions of sharp pieces of glass are imbedded into your body.
Reality is that you cannot fix the window and you will never ever have the same beautiful window again because a treasured piece is lost and there is no way to replace it. Reality is that you, yourself, are too injured to do much about the broken window, except miss it. Over time, when your energy returns, you may be able to create another window but make no mistake, it will never shine as brilliantly on a sunny day or give you the same peace.
My heart was designed to love 3 children. That love continues but the ache is unbearable at times as I don’t get to continue my life with one of my children here with me as part of this world. Yes, Amy continues to love me but dammit I want her here in her physical form, loving, laughing, crying, slamming a door when I say something she doesn’t like … Who can blame me for wanting that?
Always remembering and loving Amy …