Shortly after Amy’s sudden passing, I noticed many started referring to Amy as an angel which quite frankly irritated me. What parent wants their child to be that definition of an angel? Yet, in many ways I understand that others might assume the reference to the vision of an angel may be comforting to me.
What I realize now is my Amy was without a doubt an earth angel. She loved with a pure heart and her generosity of her time and energy far exceeded anyone whom I have met on this side of the veil. After meeting many other grieving parents, I have been struck by the selfless similarities Amy shared with their beloved children.
This week I had a session with a well-respected medium as well as a Reiki session with another gifted intuitive. Both mentioned the young adults whom Amy has connected with on the other side. During my Reiki session, the woman told me Amy had an entourage of 7 young adults with her surrounding me (2 males; 5 females) — all whom wanted to thank me for comforting their parents in some way. (Just as an fyi: I am so far beyond worrying what others may think of the fact that I have gone in this direction to seek connection with my youngest child. The specific validations I receive has been nothing short of amazing so all narrow minded unenlightened egotistical doubters, please talk among yourselves and do not share your opinions with me.)
Amy never fails to bring up the fact that I have been writing through the pain of losing her. Initially, she acknowledged my words but has now wanted a bit of credit for writing through me.
No one expected me to vocalize the painful part of child loss and to shine a light on those who have hurt me by dishonoring the significance of Amy’s sudden passing or her continued absence in my life. In my devastation, maybe I was expected to be seen but not heard and take this one on the chin wearing my big girl pants. If I allow myself to dwell on those who have twisted my reaction to losing Amy or lashed out at me for my inability to support them as they believed they were entitled to be supported … well moving on from them is necessary yet has hurt nonetheless. Life is so darn complicated.
When I gather with other mothers and the topic of children and grandchildren come up, despite being blessed with two wonderful adult children who are physically here with me, I become uncomfortable. Not because I am unable to dig out a few comments from my brag book but more so how do I easily talk about my children when one of my cherished children has become a memory. Someone is missing in my life and it not only shows in my eyes, but in my ability to be totally present. How do you pretend everything is fine and dandy when its not?
Sometimes to witness my friends and family talk with such ease is more than I can manage. Often times after an encounter with a dear loved one or friend, I find myself crying in the car out of utter frustration and sadness at the realization that I no longer fit into their world. Some of the wires which out of order death disconnected have disintegrated.
Sure, I can read blogs of hope, meditate on the good in my life, try to ignore how punished and banished I feel by losing a child, and pretend when we meet that I bring the same blessings and hope in my heart as those who have their complete families.
I can live a lie or just accept that others will always shake their heads as they evaluate me with their skewed perception of what is inside of my head and heart. Yes, “she was never the same after Amy died.” Quite frankly, I am sick and tired of the reminders …
Always remembering Amy.