I need to rest

I just miss you…that’s all.

Ok, it is more than that.  Your absence seems to make it all exemplified and complicated.

Nothing seems right.  Nothing seems to be going well.  Everything seems to be messed up. I feel like I’m failing all over again.

My demons haunt me.  The ones that wonder what I should have done differently for you. The ones that wonder what I’m doing wrong now as a mother.

I yell at the boys and wonder if because I’m so sad and missing you so much that what I’m saying is a reaction.  Nothing else, just reacting to you being gone.

I try to tell myself no, that I’m ok in reprimanding, fixing, and yelling – but it is hard. Hard to know what I do is right anymore.

I look in their eyes and wonder what they’ll say years down the road “mom and Dad were mad a lot.  I think because of Lydia but it was hard to tell”


“I hated that she died, everything changed – they sure tried hard to make it look good but we knew better.”

or will they?  Am I just so hard on myself I can’t see the positive in what we’ve done.  All negative thoughts – where is the positive?  I’m trying hard to find it but it is hard right now.

I try to control the things I can and tend not to care about the things I can’t.  My house is clean because somehow that is the only thing that I can make right. But when the house or anything else is unruly and too far gone I don’t care.  I walk away.  It becomes too much.

I feel inadequate as a person with all these titles I’ve been given – mom, friend, daughter, employee.  It all seems impossible right now.

It is hard to live life and grieve.  But, yet, few understand the grief of losing a child.  I was once that hypocrite that believed you needed to be strong and march on and now only do I realize that grief doesn’t have a timetable, no rhyme, no reason.  It is random and extremely painful.

I’m angry.  I’m angry you are no longer here.  I’m angry your gone. I’m angry I can’t make anything right again.  Because as a mom our job is to make things right.

Running away isn’t an option. Giving up isn’t an option – there are too many that depend on me even if I’m not 100% at what I’m doing.  But,  I want to run away.  I want to escape from this madness.

My office is surrounded in pink. And you.  And some days when the boys are testing me to my limit I will walk past the office and look in at the signs that hung in your nursery or the flowers from you funeral and I’ll ask for your help.

I’ll give a smirk as I peek in and talk to you in my head.  I mean I handled the gamut of shit when you were here, right?!   Special needs is not for the weak so why can’t I handle life now?

The other day a friend said to me “you have a lot on your plate and you’re also in a tough time of the year – be easy on yourself – you are grieving as well.”  When I was talking about all the “other shit” on my plate I was angry but when she mentioned you I started to cry hard.  She is right.

You are in the forefront of my mind these days.  And your Daddy…oh your Daddy.  We went to church on Sunday.  After communion he just held his head low with hands crossed praying what seemed like forever. I had to look away because I started to cry.  I feel so bad for his pain too.  He found you gone.  I can’t imagine what that must be like for him to remember.

The reality is we bury the pain of missing you deep, deep down.  We shove it so far so it doesn’t hurt as bad.   The other day we were talking about a retreat for parents who have lost their child.  He asked me what good it would do.  And then I said “have we REALLY dealt with this?  Wouldn’t you say your pain is so deep you push it down because it is hard to face?”  He quietly shook his head and agreed.

I wonder if I’ll ever be fixed. I wonder if I’ll ever trust being a mother again. I wonder when I’ll stop feeling like I failed you and our family.

Loss is greater than burying you.  It is greater than visiting your grave.  It is greater than not having you in our lives.  Loss is all the messy, emotional crap in our heads and heart that make it even hard.

Not only do I live with the pain of you being gone but I live with these demons of personal failure with my children.  My job as a mom was to protect you and keep you here.  I didn’t do that.

I’m hoping some day I find some semblance of peace.  Missing you is hard enough.  I need my brain to rest.

To let go of the negative thoughts that harbor me from being all I can to everyone around me.  And being happy. Truly happy.

One thought on “I need to rest

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