The days on the calendar which break my heart have marched on behind me for another year. Going forward each day holds its own challenges but those two days paired so closely together climax to a place of sorrow even I cannot describe.
Yesterday as I drove around doing my good deeds, the sinking feeling continued as I realized I am trapped in this new and final chapter of my life. Trapped because there is no way of filling this gigantic crater created by losing my child. Am I still having a grief hangover from the last few weeks leading up to once again facing some extremely devastating days? Is life truly large enough to contain this relentless bleeding wound? Will the stress of devastation eventually break me for good despite my efforts to live around and with the relentless pain of loss.
Year two turned out to be just as predicted by those who limp along ahead of me. Utter hell. During the second year, rarely have I been blessed with the gift of the same numbness of shock which kept me functioning during the heavy grief of the first year without my Amy. The quest to be the best version of myself seems almost laughable. Is there a secret need to prove to those around me that I can indeed do “this” knowing full well that every voice in my heart, body and soul is screaming that I cannot.
Year two did offer reprieves unavailable to me in year one. I ventured out more often for longer periods of time before the urge to retreat to my sorrow beckoned me home. In year two I truly noticed my earth children’s eyes that were begging me to return to a better functioning mother, which I did not ignore despite the relentless grief. The ramifications of a family tragedy are that there will be intense emotions, an abundance of tears, misunderstandings, and unfulfilled needs yet at the end of the day our love for one another prevails. I, as a mother, have a responsibility to my children here. No one ever needs to remind me because my heart knows. Our family knows better than anyone whom we have lost.
Year two has helped me to believe that I will see Amy again and that love never ever ends after our heart stops beating. No religion has reset me — if anything, I find my faith has failed me but I remain open to the spiritual healing of a Divine and merciful existence where my child now dwells and where we will be united again.
There were periods yesterday, as I discreetly tucked those thirty $5 bills into empty envelopes or inside of Amy’s favorite books, when the numbness returned and I pushed myself out of experiencing the reality which prompted the deed. I remember wondering whether I was under surveillance on the store monitors. What is that crazy woman doing? Have I indeed crossed the threshold of sanity leaving all normal reasoning behind? Can you be arrested for hiding money in a store with a note stapled to it asking people to remember your dead child’s 30th birthday while wishing them a good day?
Since I was not able to celebrate a birthday in the “normal” way with my youngest child, has death finally pushed me off into the deep end? Maybe. If Amy told me she randomly gave $150 to 30 strangers would I be concerned? Quite honestly, Amy would have done this. She gave more money away in her short life than anyone I personally know. The original seed for this random act of kindness came from another grieving family from Canada who did the same with $10 bills in memory of their beloved daughter. My grieving mom friend planted the seed and Amy’s generous nature put the seed in motion.
No one on this side of the veil has ever affected me in the same way Amy has. People guard their money and time whereas Amy always gave freely and generously which concerned me at times. Hey life, pay attention! I did learn a life lesson after the sudden death of my daughter. Isn’t that what others are shoving down my throat? Your daughter was taken away from you because there is a lesson in this for you somewhere? I detest that theory. Try it out for size before you ever entertain throwing it at me.
My husband and I read a passage yesterday that described how the fragility brought on by suffering a tragedy can be considered a gift because it allows one’s spirit to rise above it. The world can take that alleged “gift” of fragility and shove it where the sun does not shine. Or maybe this is a reincarnation lesson which I refused to learn in a previous life? Mission accomplished. I want to be on the team who keeps all of their children in my next life. Anybody listening out there where such things are decided? Trust me I would never sign up for this. Leave my children alone!
As we drove home from dinner last night, my husband and I discussed the sucker punch life bestowed on our family. Yes, I do know we are not the only family to lose a child nor are we the last in line. However, if you are reading this and a hostage member of this fucking tribe, I wonder if you can TRULY rise above feeling personally targeted by the universe or God. Despite those five stages of grief initially designed to deal with our own mortality, do you honestly ACCEPT the death of your child? After two years of living in a nightmare, I accept that Amy is not coming back, but my mind and heart rejects and cannot process the painful truth. It continues to feel all wrong.
Despite my earnest efforts to emerge from the jack hammered path which is now my life, I feel trapped in a time zone which is haunting me. Who knew a pain and loneliness such as this could plague me for two consecutive years? Could year three be any worse? I am not looking for an answer to that question as I prefer to be surprised. Time will tell but I hold little hope that it will be any better.
Don’t mind me. I am just a broken and lonely mother who is pining away for her youngest child. Yesterday was Amy’s birthday and today is my personal pity party. Today I am going to wallow and cry the tears which I trapped yesterday in order to complete my gifts to Amy to prove her short life left a lasting impact on me. I am so sad and miss my kid. Any questions?
Soon I will write a post devoted to the lovely ones around me who are always remembering Amy, but today I just need to fall apart for a few hours as more reality sinks in and I am once again reminded that time does not heal all wounds and not all wounds are the same.
Always remembering Amy.