I just heard this song for the first time tonight and I’m a puddle. Such powerful lyrics with a message that I know all too well.
Another thing that comes along with grief is lack of memory. Again, I don’t know if you just stop paying attention to everything or if you just don’t care anymore. I always prided myself on having an excellent memory. Parker’s has always been terrible (unless it’s driving directions or automobile related), so I’ve always had to depend on my own memory to keep everything straight. Sure I had a calendar and reminders on my phone, but once I wrote something down, I committed it to memory too.
I’m better than I was a year ago, but it’s as if the memory part of my brain broke and whoever put it back together again forgot a part. It feels like I can no longer store or process all of the ‘stuff’ that goes on daily. The fogs lifted a bit, but I still can’t see clearly.
This is why I needed to blog all of my Benny memories before Fletch was born because I was so scared I would forget or get the boys confused. I still so frequently call Fletch Benny and I’m scared that I will interlace their babyhoods and confuse them. I needed that written history to keep them separate.
This is why Fletch still sleeps in our room. I’m scared to move him into Benny’s room. Sure, the crib has been down for awhile (Darcy’s using it as a headboard) and sure it’s cluttered with baby crap, but it also holds my Benny memories. His name is still up on the wall and his clothes are still in the dresser. It’s the one part I cannot bring myself to change.
It was so hard cleaning out his room last winter. We really hadn’t been in there much since the construction started, but I needed to start sorting baby items. Well, mice had gotten in through the attic opening, so I knew it was time to take down the crib and do a thorough cleaning. We gave Darcy the crib as a headboard and were making good headway until we happened upon hid shoes. I was alone when that happened and just lost it and knew that there was no way I could touch his dresser.
I’ve gone through all of his old clothes from birth to 24 months and have bags full that will someday get made into blankets for us. I couldn’t put Fletcher in them, thank goodness we have friends that have hand me downs. His dresser still sits full with the clothes that were in there the day he died. Untouched now for nearly 23 months.
I don’t know what to do about it. I’m afraid if I move Fletch into that room then I will lose my Benny memories, or confuse them with Fletcher memories. Fletch could probably use his own space. My therapist says I should split the room and try to make space for both, but it’s such a small room and I don’t think there’s room for another dresser. Besides, I’m nothing if not practical and it will make me nuts to have a dresser that we don’t use in such a small space.
So instead the room sits empty. I have no answers. We made that room for Benny when he was born. He didn’t move in until he was 6 months old because it took us so long to finish, but it’s his room. I don’t want new memories in there to cloud my memories of him.
We hope to move eventually, but for the short term, there are no answers. Benny bunked with us for 6 months, I suppose that gives me roughly 3 more months to try and figure this out.
One of the things you commonly read about concerning grief is the lack of energy that you feel, how the grief can just zap you and leave you feeling empty. I’ve been feeling that way for nearly 2 years now.
I am one of the lucky ones that has a baby that sleeps pretty well (way better than his siblings slept). I have a very independent 6 year old that is willing to do just about anything to help me out. Parker would do anything for me. Why am I still so damn exhausted??
I used to have energy! I used to be super busy! I used to work 30 hours a week! I’m not sure if this whole thing has just forced me to slow down, if I just don’t care anymore, or if the grief is bleeding me dry. I used to be a machine, I was on top of everything, now it feels as if everything is on top of me. Most of the time it doesn’t even bother me, which is scary!!
It’s the ‘grief me’. This person that doesn’t get very stressed or bogged down. I used to love getting involved in the details, now I can take or leave it.
I’m not sure who this person is anymore. Pieces of me are fading away. Things I always wanted to do no longer interest me. I don’t think that I’m depressed in the clinical sense, just feeling meh about things. Maybe meh is OK for now. Maybe meh is my new black. I’m not sure it fits me, but who is ‘me’ now anyway? All of that changed when Benny died.
So for now, I’m just rolling with it. Maybe I’m not going to set the world on fire right now and that’s OK. At least it is right now in my ‘meh’ stage. Perhaps I should have had more meh in my life before. Maybe this is normal.
I love this article. It so clearly defines my feelings on this topic that I have shared many times.
Everyday I write a new post in my head. If they could just invent something that could interpret my tjoughts to the written word, I would be so relieved.
There is much going on, so much happening. I’ve forgotten how hectic life is with an infant. I’ve forgotten how stressful it is to get Darcy out the door in the morning for school. It’s time to sign up for dance and girl scouts and I just want it to all pause so that I can catch my breath. I want to enjoy this time with the kids, but it’s been go, go, go.
I need the release that writing brings for me. It’s akin to walking/training for the 3 Day. My aunt once asked if I attended church and I told her that walking with my ladies was my church. It bring me inner peace. So does writing.
A month ago I committed to training for the 3 Day and eating healthy. I have since started getting up early (perish the thought) abd walking 3 miles every morning. I have so much more energy and I’m bone tired at the end of the day. I’m sleeping!! I’ve enjoyed cooking and baking with all of our fresh veges fron the garden. I used to hate making dinner, now I could spend hours in the kitchen with Darcy whipping up our healthy creations.
Now I need to commit to writing again. I need to get it all out of my head so that I can sift through and process what is happening. To say that this has been a confusing road would be an understatement. It’s a hard balance between joy and sorrow some days and trying to figure out what I am truly feeling. Even as I type this with my perfect second son sighing besides me, I miss Bennett so much more. The common theme now is ‘why can’t we have both boys?’ Parker and I say it all of the time. It often feels like it was one or the other, as if we made a choice, as if we could, as if we would ever want to.
It feels so right, yet so wrong all at once. It’s hard to put into words. It’s as if Fletcher being here has confused things, sharpened the loss. I remember when Darcy was born that I felt like I lost my mom all over again. This feels similar. I want him back so badly.