Healing

My sweet pea,

I haven’t blogged in forever and certainly haven’t written to you here in awhile.

I haven’t been to your grave either.  I mean, I hate that place but I often think or wonder if it is being taken care of. Daddy tells me it is.

I’ve attempted and have about 8 posts in draft but I never quite finish.  Does life get in the way?  Do I have a few thoughts I need to expel and then I’m done?  Maybe those posts are just for me. I don’t even know anymore.

Last night, I was watching a movie on TV about a wife who lost her spouse.  They, too, were young when it occurred.  But, the movie was based on his love letters and trip he sent her on after he died to help her with healing.

I can’t believe how many times I cried watching this.

So many poignant things he said to her that made me think of myself.  At one point his “ghost” said “where is that girl on the bridge, the one before me who was full of life – where is she?”

I felt like it was such a message to me.  Where have I been? Who am I now?  I honestly have been working on that since you have been gone.  Part of me enjoys being in the shadows and being like everyone else – taking the boys to school and their sports, working daily, and hanging out with friends.

Before you I wasn’t like others. I had your intense care. Juggling it all and the boys on top of it.  Even me, who I was inside was different.  But now…that’s all changed and some parts of me are ok with it.

But then part of me knows you were given to me for a greater cause and I should be doing more with it.  But, I’m not.  I feel very tired.

I’ll be honest.  I’ve been stuck in anger the last 6 months.  Not angry about everything but angry you are gone.  Angry we got dealt a shitty hand. Angry I can no longer touch, feel you or hear your laugh.  See your smile.

Angry at you.

Yes, I said you.

You died and I’m pissed at you.  How crazy is that?  Pissed at a special needs dead kid.

At our anniversary dinner I admitted to Daddy that sometimes I scream in madness in my head to you – my dead daughter in heaven.  I feel so messed up that I have done that.

At the same dinner he said to me “what was so bad about that day?  why then?  She had seizures before and was ok – what was so bad about that day she had to die?”

No answers. So much lost.

So,  I’m mad, because you left so much pain and agony.  Pain that we feel every single day and there is NO going back. We have to stuff it deep down because no one wants to see the faces of grief.

You left us with this fucking mess.  This fucking emotional mess and I CAN’T FIX IT.

How do I fix this pain? I look at your brothers who still ask questions. I look at your Dad who I see the sparkle gone and the pain so intense some days.  And. I. can’t. help.  So it sits there.  We were stewing in it.

We struggled this summer- especially in the beginning.  We were both so mad.  Your loss becomes more real with each passing day. Add everyday life in there and man – a bad combination some days.  And we didn’t know what to do with it.

We took it out on each other. The boys felt it.  And we tried to hide it from others.

I feel awful for it all.  But this is real life.  This was our reality.

Luckily, Daddy and I have had good communication so we talked it out.  We both said how hard it is.  I told him that you made him a different, wonderful man and you helped him grow in ways he never would have had you not been here.  Where is that man?

He told me how much you were his world.  How he adored you and missing you is the hardest thing he faces each day.  He’s not sure if he’ll ever be as happy as when you were here.

I admitted my shortcomings to him and talked about how I’ve felt.  I’m in the same boat.  WE BOTH lost you.  He’s not alone, nor am I.  We said we love each other and want to be find happiness – whatever and wherever that entails -with each other.

But, the truth of the matter is…your leaving us made us angry.

Will we ever be the same? No. Have we changed because we buried our child – for sure.  There is no changing that. Life makes you who you are.  It is what you do with it.

So…we talked.  And we re-evaluated and starting working on it all.  And it’s working…so far.

You were the one to show us to take stake in the small things. Enjoy the today because tomorrow is never promised.  Re-evaluate what and who is important in our life.   Make sure you see the little things.

We had to remember to go back to our roots YOU taught us.

But, I’m told all of this we went through and will go through are the stages of grief. Nothing you can do about it.  Just pray you survive and work through it.  Feel it.  All of it, so we can heal.

But as I watched this movie and found tears welling up in certain parts I realized I don’t think I’ve had a good cry in months.  Eyes welling up – yes. But a good ugly cry – no.

At the end of the movie I laid in bed, tired from staying up too long and the emotional roller coaster the movie sent me on and tears just fell.  I couldn’t stop them.  It was a strange cry – no sobbing or shaking but just crying.

The fact of the matter is…I think of you every single day. But some days I can’t believe how strong the pain of the loss still is.

So as I lay there missing you and letting the tears fall,  I talked to you.  I blogged in my head. And after a bit I found my tears had dried up.  I felt at peace just telling you how unfair this all was.    I wasn’t angry, not super sad – just at peace like you were listening, and letting me know it was ok to feel.

And I went to sleep.

I know you hear me.  The other day I was walking to my truck looking at your beautiful memory sticker I had made for my vehicle.  And my thoughts went to you…how unreal it still all seems you are no longer here. How much I miss you…the usual things I think about until they dissipate.

And then as I was driving a picture popped up of your Kleefstra sister Anileth, who was dressed in a pink polo and pink bow, much like a picture I have of you. She looks so much like you.   I smiled.  You sent me your love through that picture.

Then later, I picked up the boys from school and the song “Roar” came on and the boys got quiet while we listened.  All of us knowing what it reminded us of but none of us saying it.  But, I knew it was a second sign that day.

You were there again…and I’m glad I’m open to seeing these signs from you.  Because it is all I have to help me through those tough days.

At the end of the movie the girl who lost her husband said she didn’t feel his presence anymore. She couldn’t feel him as if he was in the room any longer and it hurt.  But, she found herself, her passion, she found “that girl on the bridge” and moved forward.

I’m getting there. We are getting there.  I’ll find that girl on the bridge some day..hopefully.

I can’t say it enough – you are missed.  But we are feeling, working through it and moving forward the only way we know how…day by day.

Love and miss you always and forever my sweet pea.

 

 

 

4 thoughts on “Healing

    • I remember going through anger during the various times with Lydia…alive. I don’t think grief of the dreams you once had for your child only exist within the dead…also the living from time to time with special needs. Of course, we love them, of course they are teachers and we would move heaven and earth for them but the reality is that this isn’t the tough life we would have chosen for them and that sometimes is hard.

      You are one that inspires me. Your strength, your courage and your faith to keep on going – fighting for better for all of your children. But, I know, there are times it can be too much – we can’t be strong all the time. And I think of you often in that capacity. Hugs right back at ya…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s