Shortly before midnight in order to block out the celebrations, I climbed into bed, plugged my headphones into my iPad and listened to the Rain, Rain app, turned up my sound machine to white noise and finished reading The Girl on the Train. (Incidentally that is probably only the 2nd or 3rd non-grief book I have read over the course of the last almost 29 months and don’t you know the timeline covered my birthday, Devastation Day and Amy’s first birthday in her new dimension without us. What a cruel, cruel coincidence.)
Why would I go to such great lengths to block out the new year? Maybe because I still do not know what to do when the calendar changes to another year without my youngest child. I remember when 2014 rolled in how I was unprepared for the impact a new year would have on my grief.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to sit down and write a post on my blog and just lie. The lie would start with how happy I am and how I finally have tucked Amy into the “better place” in my heart and mind which gives me the peace I need to jump back into life.
My second lie would lead me to say, you know, everyone was right and “everything does happen for a reason.”
As the lies continued, I probably wouldn’t have time to write on my blog after last night’s big party with all of my friends after the best Christmas ever. I would be so sad to take that tree down and pack away my 30 year collection of sentimental ornaments while playing the last of the holiday music which I could not get enough of again. Darn that holiday season is just too short.
Instead I am exhausted from the reality of my life, relieved that the painful holiday season hype is over and totally depressed to live another day without Amy. I am so sick and tired of my own words yet if I don’t release them, I worry what will become of me.
I have heard from those who are farther along and willing to share their honest grieving experience with me, that I am still in the rawest stage of grieving my child. I genuinely appreciate their honesty because I confess I do worry I continue to struggle so hard in a world without all of my children here. Yet a part of me knows my heart realizes you just don’t get over losing a child any more than you graduate from grief.
As recently as today, I found myself really looking at a photo of Amy and thinking WTF — how can this be true? How have I lived almost 29 months without her?
I detest being a grieving mom and everything related to living without Amy. I have not had any profound aha moments other than I am 100% sure that the love that Amy and I share continues even stronger now. I am also certain that there is something unexplainable going on beyond this. There is just no way even a desperate broken woman could conjure up some of the amazing signs and connections which I have received. Unfortunately, I remain a greedy mother and it’s just not enough. Plain and simple, I want my kid back. How selfish of me to admit that even if she is in that better place, which I do believe she is, that I still want her here with me.
Always remembering Amy.