As I struggle through another weekend, I am always reminded how everything has changed. It’s almost as if I was reborn, kicking and screaming, into a new horrible world. Yes, like it or not, that is my world living in the valley of grief and despair.
My blessings come in many forms. My children on both side of the veil remain my reason for being. Sorry, as many of you may want my religion to be sustaining me now and then you can all scurry back to your lives with no worries about me and my family since God has it covered. Proceed back to your lives because seems my time in the valley may be permanent.
Do I believe that Amy is in paradise? Yes! However, there is nothing that resembles paradise here from where I am standing now.
On Friday night, I watched my first movie since Devastation Day. The movie set me back months as the young beautiful woman, with the porcelain skin and spiral curls, dies. Amy also had spiral curls and porcelain skin, but there were other similarities which reminded me of Amy too. Love could not save her. My love and prayers did not save Amy. God welcomed my sweet girl into paradise, which as a mother I am eternally grateful, but the trade-off on that day was my world became a living hell.
God’s love and my faith have not saved me but I assure you I remain open to healing so no one needs to remind me He is carrying me now. Maybe He is because how else am I still here? But I do not feel an over abundance of His love on the other side of Devastation Day and that is not a willful choice.
When someone throws the God card at me, I get angry now. I was a squeaky clean, do gooder, who never took the easy road. I valued and honored my family, marriage and my children and absolutely trusted and loved God. I get pissed off when anyone insinuates that my faith must have been weak prior to Devastation Day, especially if you did not know me, because while I stumbled many times, pleasing God was a priority on my list. I watched others stray and call me a Pollyanna because my morals and standards were too high. Even Amy referred to me as Saint Dee because I set the bar so high. While never ever perfect, good just had to prevail over evil in my world. Doing the right thing was never a choice, it was the way. Some of my choices were not popular but always a direct ramification of a situation that I was powerless to fix or heal from. I am living with one of those choices now.
God always made sure I remained on the less traveled path in this fast paced world, which in many ways kept me close to Him. However, here I sit in a puddle of pain while those who operated under a “if it feels good, do it” mentality, have all of their kids. This guilty thought screams my imperfection! What was the point of always listening to my conscience and worrying about displeasing Him? What was the point of my earnest daily prayers and living outside of my comfort zone? These are the resonating thoughts in my valley of grief today.
I don’t care if you are still shopping the last weekend before Christmas. I don’t care if your house is decorated or if your tree is up. I could write I don’t care all over each bill I write out whether on time or late. I don’t care if your car doesn’t start as long as you arrive safely. I don’t care if you are overwhelmed and busy as long as you are healthy. I just don’t care about the stupid shit anymore. I just don’t care.
Remembering Amy and Christmases when we were all together.