There seems to be a war being waged between my heart and my mind as to which part of me is able to process the loss of my daughter, Amy.
My heart is overflowing with a foreign pain it does not know what to do with which triggers my soul to weep every day in total devastation and despair. Yes, my heart is well aware it is beating to a different cadence.
My mind keeps rejecting the information. Forget the “stages”. Actually I dismissed the stages which were designed to fit our own mortality a long time ago. For those who insist on directing the stages to me, please explain to me how you bargain with a done deal. The window for bargaining with God or the Universe on August 4, 2013 is forever closed. Seems I got through that stage sooner than I realized. Only 4 more to go. Oh wait, anyone can tell that I am angry — two down and 3 to go. Oops, I am definitely depressed. Geez, who knew how quickly I was cycling through these stages. Denial? Not any more. Acceptance — not so easy.
Layers of grief … peeled away ever so slowly … over years I would imagine. Layers which come off when your psyche and your life are able to handle the truth. So put away your know-it-all timetable because it does not apply. And don’t you dare show up when you think the worst is over and the coast is clear, oh shallow ones.
When someone boasts in admiration how well a parent is handling the death of a child, I tune out because they obviously have not taken the time to tune into the facts. When someone tells me I am doing “good” my immediate response is still an urge to hit them. Will the day ever come when I am “good”? I don’t know and am still willing to settle for okay.
Many may wonder why it is taking so long for me to recover from losing my child while I wonder why it’s taking so long for them to understand the significance of Amy’s absence. My child is forever woven into my mind, body and soul. Amy’s life is a permanent tattoo in my life which no amount of time can erase. Why would I want to tuck her away like an old memory. The bond is eternal. However, finding a way to process her death, yes that ugly word death, is just unimaginable to me.
Yesterday I allowed so many emotions to sink in. Last week was awful and prompted the flood gates to open and expose what I personally keep trying to avoid. Frequently, I have to remind myself why I am writing — to document my own feelings — and that my blog is not tailored for approval of any individual reader. If I start to censor my feelings to provide a more stable and admirable impression of myself, then indeed it is time for me to retreat.
I will not apologize for owning my bitterness. I will not apologize for losing faith in so many who have run for higher ground or have written me off under their disclaimer of “she was never the same after Amy died.” You betcha. That is definitely a correct evaluation. Yet I would be remiss if I did not confess how distraught I am as I find myself experiencing these powerful emotions. My wise Amy would always tell me that there is nothing rational about emotions.
I will remain grateful for the true comfort extended from those who willingly walk through the valley of grief and despair with me. Those strong ones who allow me to crumble without judgment. Those who were paying attention to realize the significance of Amy’s life in mine.
Believe me, at the end of the day I realize I am in this alone. My mind and my heart — waging a war each day on how to break the news to me that Amy has ceased to exist in the way I ache to have her in my life. I no longer expect the door to open or to see her car parked in front of our home. The bedroom windows I notice each time I arrive do not lie or try to fool me that there is life going on behind the curtains. It’s just a room now.
It’s a done deal. Some day we will be together again. That is the only notion which gets me through another day in their paradise.
Always remembering Amy.