Labor Day weekend. Who cares! So what! Another day in paradise…yeah, right?
I have turned a corner alright and I wish I could skip this part because this seems to be the road where I actually feel my life without Amy. By now, everyone who loved Amy has either accepted her death and moved on or is dealing with their own painful reality in their own way which makes me miss Amy even more. It occurred to me recently that Amy would have been the only person who would have willingly helped me through this new horrible chapter in my life. It’s no wonder that I have never felt so abandoned and alone.
For those who have never lost a child, I imagine they are saying to themselves “how sad” … for those who tragically can relate, they can almost touch my pain. While most know how to “love” a child; most do not know the pain of losing one. Of course that’s how it should be. The scales will forever be tipped in the world’s favor. I lose. Fair or not, it’s how my heart receives this devastating loss.
I don’t even read or listen to clichés any more. Meaningless letters put together to form words which hold no comfort or hope as I finally look at how my life has changed without Amy. Despite my mantra, remember Amy, the mere mention of her name now makes me sob. Screw the stages as what stage is the place where the reality has me spiraling into a dungeon of pain where I have never visited before. I think I would rather be angry than broken and vulnerable.
Some may be saying, thank God she is going to a counselor soon! You know, that just pisses me off. If only my choice to go for grief counseling would magically fix me. Now I get to sit back on a chair or sofa and retell my sad story of what happened to my daughter and my life? Well, I can’t wait — not! News flash — I have always sought ways to help myself and if any one of my friends would ever post a comment, they would attest to that.
Life was not supposed to turn out like this. And Heaven knows I realize there are others who were sentenced to the same life so I am not trying to sound like a martyr. But so freaking what if I do!
There is a homeless lady who I pass most work days. I never noticed her before Devastation Day because I didn’t walk the same route to my office. I admit to crying most days on my way from the parking garage to the office in an attempt to release the tears. Something about this woman touched my heart immediately. She doesn’t beg; she never begs…she just smiles with that big beautiful toothless smile and says good morning to everyone who passes her. There is a connection with Amy and her. I just know it and I also know she notices how sad I am. I didn’t see her all week until yesterday and I admit to worrying something had happened to her. It’s not as if she was on vacation. Anyway, yesterday I was so happy to see her that I must have smiled from my heart which made her so happy. I love this woman. I really do. Last night as I walked to my car in the midst of my deep sorrow and despair, I got this push, which could only have come from Amy, to make her a shawl. The practical kind voice in my head reminded me to wait for the weather to turn so she wouldn’t have to carry it while the days are so warm. Oh Amy, you are so wise.
Maybe time will soften me and the pain. Just maybe some day I will surprise someone who stumbles across my words and they will think that you can heal from losing a child if this lady did. But, today is not the day I am spouting out hope because I feel worse than ever, but no worries as I will do what I do every effing day and paint on my face and go out into the world with my invisible unicorn tucked away because God forbid I make anyone uncomfortable with my reality. Especially on Labor Day weekend. Maybe I’ll make potato salad. That sounds Labor Dayish. Whatever.
Remembering you always, Amy.