It’s only Wednesday morning, but this has been a crappy week. At the beginning of each day, there is a feeling of trepidation the minute I walk outside of my front door into the world of ambushes. Some days it’s as though I am moving in slow motion as I watch the people move around me. I admit that most days I would rather just hide away in my house with my dog.
As I sometimes notice people walking by me with a zip in their step and with a sense of purpose full of so much energy, while smiling or talking amicably, I find myself wondering … did I do something terribly wrong that would have prompted this painful existence which I now struggle through each day. I haven’t done any prison time for breaking the law, yet I continue to feel punished because I am existing in a world without Amy. Please don’t tell me I am not being punished because it all feels like harsh punishment to me.
As I write these postings, more frequently than I plan, I realize how angry and screwed up I must sound to the blessed average Joe. And I cannot say enough how I am not twisting anyone’s arm to read my postings as I show the most unattractive side of my thoughts and experiences on the other side of my personal hell. When I write in an effort to release the grief poison, I find there is so much venom and anger in my thoughts which I need to purge. I am sad that I cannot be a better version of myself now that the worst thing that could happen, happened, but I cannot pretend and can only write about my own personal journey. Believe me, by now I have figured out that my angry mask is just a façade for the pain which leaves me feeling so very vulnerable on the other side of Devastation Day.
Then I continue to wonder if I may have lived during other lifetimes and karma of some sort is why I have lost my youngest child. But that makes no sense because what did my husband and sweet children do to warrant the pain they exist with as a result of losing Amy? Surely we weren’t all guilty of a horrible deed??? Oh yeah, right! I forgot! This is between God and Amy and has nothing to do with me at all. Tell that to my broken heart!
I admit that my thoughts of others are not always kind and yet I am still capable of love for many people who are in my life now. If only Amy could have a meet and greet with all of my new friends because I know she would first give you the biggest hug and then proceed to thank you for supporting her Momma, as she sometimes called me.
While none of these kindest of kind people can fix us or save us from the unimaginable pain, you do indeed make a difference. Oh I wish my blog was dedicated to all of you wonderful loving and caring ones, but sorry guys, despite your compassionate efforts, your team is just not getting enough of my attention as the world continues to beat the living daylights out of me. But maybe someday when I arrive at a more peaceful place in my head and heart, I will be able to properly thank all of you. I am so blessed to have these sturdy ones in my life and I promise I notice you all and remain so grateful.
Before leaving work one night this week, I did my regular bathroom pit stop before the long ride home, when I overheard a woman chirping to another woman about how she had just learned of the death of a young woman she knew. As I froze in my stall, I wanted to scream to the universe, please don’t make me listen to this exchange. Is nothing sacred that the death of a young woman, or anyone for that matter, who was so important to someone else is being reduced to a woman shouting the news while sitting in a bathroom stall to the woman sitting in the next stall??? Isn’t that the type of information you share while speaking in a low reverent voice? I swear this world is really effed up and it only supports why I find it so difficult now.
I am so confused. I want to love but some make it so difficult. They snap me right back into a place of despair. It makes me want to just give up on putting myself out there and just stay hidden inside of my house with my most loyal friend of all, my dog, Bailey.
Last night I took a knitting class. On the way to the class, I decided to pretend that I was living a normal life and just wanted to learn to knit which was inspired by a knitted comfort shawl that was made in memory of Amy. I decided I would not wear my heart on my sleeve or mention Amy at this class.
The other woman who signed up for the class did not show up so I had a private lesson. Uh Oh — this is really going to be a challenge to act normal when it’s just one on one. As I sat with this personable woman for over 2.5 hours, while learning to knit and pearl, I never gave up one piece of personal information about myself while she chatted amicably and shared bits of her life.
She talked about her son who was a switch hitter and although he was right handed, he batted and threw left handed — just like Amy — but I remained quiet.
She talked about her daughter — and I remained quiet. She then mentioned that she loved to sew and if I had a son or daughter and needed help making items for their wedding some day … I remained quiet.
During my class which was being held in a store in the middle their large yarn department, a beautiful little 7 year old girl wandered over to our table and started asking me questions about knitting. She had hazel eyes — just like Amy and an amazing wisdom about her — just like Amy. She shared that someday she was going to learn to knit and make something really great for her sister, who was 14 — you see she had an older sister whom she loved — just like Amy.
After the class was over, I thought to myself, how the hell did I sit there that long at the end of the day without crying? Just as I was about to exit the building a song came on the radio in the store. A song which took me back to a time when life was good and Amy was here. By the time I went through the last automatic door of the store, I was sobbing and cried most of the way home which just confirmed there is no escaping this grief and loss and there is no pretending that I am a normal woman.
I long for a time when Amy was here and October was still one of my favorite months of the year. A time when I had a zip in my step and could never imagine how life could change in a blink of an eye. A time when I never poured out my aching heart on a blog and asked others to remember Amy … I miss Amy and my old life.
Always remembering Amy.