Category Archives: General Grief

Hard

I cannot sleep. I cannot get comfortable. I still have pain in my right shoulder from the accident and can’t quite find a good way to lay tonight. My mind won’t calm.

My father is in the ICU. I’m going down to see him first thing in the morning. I have no idea what to expect. I have no idea how to feel right now. Expect the worst, hope for the best? I’m headed back to same hospital where I uttered the words ‘I love you’ to my mom for the last time some 22 years ago.

I just keep thinking this can’t be it. He will rally, he always does. I hope I’m right. But then I begin to wonder, what if he doesn’t? It wouldn’t be the biggest surprise, he hasn’t taken care of himself for years. And then selfishly I just keep thinking, please not now, so close to Benny’s anniversary. Please pull through. I’m not sure how much more I have in me.

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Good Things

I remember thinking (rather naively) as a child that it seemed whatever my parents wanted to happen, would happen. I thought that they somehow ‘willed’ whatever they wanted and the ‘Universe’ took care of them. As a girl of 8 years of age, I thought this was how the world worked. I was priveleged. I felt deserving. Life was good.

My mom died when I was 16. It wasn’t an accident or unexpected, but cancer. She was sick, then there was surgery and chemo and radiation. Then remission. Then months of uncertainty that led to me being in a hospital room seeing the words ‘DNR’ and knowing exactly what they meant. The cancer came back and we were given months.

I was so many things during that time that it’s hard to even write about it all. I was relieved that her suffering would end. I was terriffied of losing her. I was scared of what life without her would be like. I was sad beyond anything I ever imagined possible. I was lost. I did not know what happened. What had we done to deserve this?

When Benny and I were struck by my car, I remember thinking it couldn’t be real. It was like watching something happen to someone else. Saying good bye to him and telling his sister was beyond awful. Imagining our lives without him was heartbreaking. Planning his memorial was surreal. Living the last 5 years without my son have been HARD. Again, what had we done to deserve this?

This past year has been tough. No, that’s false, this past year has been shit. Not losing-a-loved-one-shit, but shit just the same. My¬† patience has been tested time and again and Murphy’s Law seems to befall us more than most. WHY? What did we do to deserve this?

When the bad things pile up it gets harder to see the good things behind them. I know that they are there, but man I am having a hell of time finding them right now. When I go dark and really sit around and think about it, maybe I only deserve bad things. Otherwise, why would they keep happening?

I am in my new house surrounded by all of my stuff again (finally) and this is what I see. I think the road to get here has finally taken it’s toll on me. All of my attempts to brush off the last year as part of ‘the journey’ is crap. I’m tired of making lemonade, please pass the grapes so that I can make some wine instead.

I just want good things to happen. I want to be 8 again and believe that what I ‘will’ will happen. I want to feel worthy of good things again. I probably need to change my way of thinking, but for right now, pity party, table of 1 please.

 

Sounds of Silence

It has been nearly 5 years since my son’s death. Five long years filled with a flurry of activity. Five years full of hope, sorrow and gratitude. We have been constantly in motion.

After Benny’s death we felt like we needed to live life to the fullest. Nothing makes you think long and hard about life than the death of someone young. I mean, my God, I’m going to die some day. It’s inevitable. And that day can be tomorrow or 50 years from tomorrow, but it’s going to happen.

We did a lot in that first year. We renovated our home, we traveled. We went to Disney World, we went cross country. It was important for us to be able to spend time with Darcy and try to figure out our family as just the three of us. As soon as we were close to even glimpsing what that was I was pregnant.

It was a boy. Another little blonde haired, blue eyed baby to remind us of what we lost. At the same time, he was a little reminder of hope that not all was lost. Besides sleep, we lost lots of sleep. And patience and probably a bit of sanity over this very demanding and loud little person.

And by the time he was old enough, there was the hint of another baby. And we decided to take over another business, oh and sell our home. My daughter’s birth was the quiet before the storm that brewed over the last year that turned our family’s life into complete chaos.

Four moves later, a year into a new business and the baby finally sleeps (a little anyway). We are finally home for good in the middle of the woods and the silence is deafening. Things seem slower, calmer for the first time in years.

We made the choices that guided us through our grief over the last 5 years. Some would say that we’re running from it. Possibly. Maybe it’s just our process. Maybe the keeping busy is our way of living life to it’s fullest.

Right now I’m going to enjoy the quiet. I’m going to savor every chance to sit on my deck and listen to peepers. I’m going to enjoy my opportunity to shower more than a few times a week because my kids are growing older. I’m going to spend some time looking at my grief from the lens of a now veteraned bereaved woman and try to figure out what it all means.

Things finally seem to be settling down. It might be time to take that for what it is and let it be.

Sounds of Silence

 

Don’t Look

I’m scrolling through social media, just trying to unwind or kill a couple minutes. I love the pictures of my friends baby, or the cute animal videos. It’s nice to just lose myself for a few minutes amongst the chaos.

And then there it is. A video, a picture someone posted without thinking. It’s a picture of an awful car accident that they took as they were driving by, or a video of a lifeless baby. It’s been shared by countless others and I can’t blame them for sharing it to.

It still makes me cringe. I cannot look. I do not want to view someone else’s worst moment. I have enough vivid memories of my own.

I don’t know why we feel it’s ok to share these images? Have we become that apathetic? I would be horiffied if any one of the people that were there with us in the street whipped out their phone and took pictures or started filming. To my knowledge that didn’t happen, but what if it did? What if it was shared? Would it humanize it a bit more?

I’m sad that we feel so little for others that we feel it is ok to do this. Please think before you post. That is someone’s child, mother, brother, friend.

I Finished A Book

This may seem silly or trite to some, but last week I read a book. A whole entire book. From start to finish. I even read the novella that followed.

Yes, it was a book that I’ve read before and yes, I was technically on vacation. But I did it! I actually read an ENTIRE book!

This is a huge deal for me. Since Benny died four and a half years ago, I haven’t been able to finish a book. At all. Which is a big deal because I used to be an avid reader. I would stay awake until the wee hours of the morning following some characters on a journey. I have always loved to read.

It’s killed me. I have not been able to finish a book. I would start, but not be able to finish anything. My nook account has been collecting dust instead of new titles. I now troll Facebook or Pinterest until I’m sleepy.

I don’t have seem to have the focus to be able to read. I don’t have the follow through to be able to finish what I’ve started. I’m distracted. All of the time. I’m on edge.

It makes me mad when I start to think about all of the other things that I’ve lost through grief. Friends, family members, peace of mind. It’s amazing how much it has shaped my life and who I have become. I’ve lost so much of my former self.

This made me happy. Gave me a glimpse of something possible. Even if it’s the only book I read all year. I still read a book.