Warning: there is nothing inspirational, hopeful or uplifting about this post. I am sick and tired of living without Amy. So stop reading here if you are still waiting for me to snap out of it because I assure you it’s not happening today.
This morning I woke up at 5:00 a.m. By 5:05 a.m., I was sobbing hysterically. Oh my God, Amy died. As if I was just learning this horrible truth for the very first time. For all you people out there checking your calendar, oh yeah, I realize I have been trying to digest this saddest truth for 16 months.
The reality between my world and the most wonderful time of the year is almost more than I can handle sometimes. I wanted to write a blog this morning and scream “f” 50x all the while not caring whether it made it through the spam filters. Can you say “f” 50xs anywhere? That simple profanity sums up how I feel inside today.
After I went downstairs to make my coffee, I had the strongest urge to break every dish in my kitchen. I wanted to open up the patio door and start by throwing my favorite Christmas dishes out the door, shattering each one in a million pieces. But then my rational voice quietly reminded me that I would never ever want my sweet dog, Bailey, to step in the broken glass which inevitably would be left behind after my tirade.
While it is true that I am coping better at times, I chalk that up to becoming accustomed to living with the pain in my heart. Just to be clear, time has not helped me to learn to live without Amy. Her absence is shocking. I ache to see her every day. Nothing looks, tastes, or feels the same now without Amy.
There is still a gentle woman inside of me but losing my child has robbed me of any true hope, peace or joy. Yeah, yeah … some day that might change. The gentle woman comes out every time I meet another grieving parent. I had no idea this kind of pain existed in this world and my compassion is endless for those who live with this relentless painful void. I feel your pain as you bravely face another day without your precious child. There are no words to describe how desperately we want to hold them and tell them we love them just one more time. Nothing prepares us to deal with the unfamiliar pain which wraps itself around their absence in our life.
Yes, my daughter sends me beautiful signs which I am grateful to receive, but I am a greedy mother who wants more. I am able to feel her loving energy around me at times, which does give me fleeting moments of peace, but I still want my girl to come bouncing into the house.
Blame it on the anger stage .. Oh screw those stupid stages. How about we blame this temper tantrum on the fact that I am being forced to deal with the most unnatural event which has changed everything in my life. I have every right to be angry and want to flush this hand of cards my dear family has been dealt right down the toilet. I have every right to be a little weird at times because I do not know what to do with this painful void in my life. There are times when I am close to feeling okay, which is an improvement from last year. There, are you happy? I said something sort of positive. But then. Kaboom! The ambush comes out of no where.
Hmmm. What would Amy like for Christmas? Oh yeah, she can’t tell me and I should just accept this because after all, there are so many tragedies in the world. Yes! Yes! Yes! I agree, but while those tragedies make me weep with compassion, losing my child is the only tragedy which has forever changed my heart and my life.
You know I think I will scream if one person has the audacity to contact me tomorrow and say … I read your blog. For heaven sakes, don’t pity me. How about someone telling me “damn, you have every right to be angry,” Actually, after I confessed to my friend, Carol, how I am feeling, with tears in her eyes, she said “you have every right to be angry … go break some dishes.” I told her I am afraid if I start, I will break every thing in my entire house. So you think I am a little pissed off that I am spending another Christmas without my daughter, Amy? Forget Christmas, I am angry I am spending any day without her.
Who wants to be my voice of reason and tell me I should be counting my blessings? Don’t waste your breath because today I just want to be mad at the world and tomorrow I will get up and play the brave grieving mom again and push through another day in paradise.
Remembering and missing my Amy.
Btw: I am seeing a therapist. I am seeing a therapist. In fact, I saw her tonight.