In the beginning….

In the beginning I kept a personal journal where I wrote my inner most feelings about the loss of my daughter and the fall out that came in the wake of her passing. My on-line blog was very new, in fact, I was new to blogging and wasn’t sure I could or wanted to bare my soul to the public. Today I am very glad I chose to continue writing publically because I know it has helped others along the way. In that on-line journal, which transitioned into this journal, I wrote snippet’s rather than stories about my journey. This has truly been a measure from where I began and where I am today. It’s not perfect, but it is progress. Below is an entry from my personal paper journal that will give you a sense of where I was one month after the death of my daughter. I kept this journal for one year.

Day: Saturday, 11-11-06

The weather today: cloudy and cold

Today I feel: sad, glad, empty, desperate

Today I am grateful for: another day, a potential buyer

Inspirations, prayer, scriptures, and quotes: The Lord is close to the broken-hearted, he rescues those whose spirts are crushed. – Psalm

I said a special prayer for: Sheri, Trish, Clayton, Kellie’s son

Prayer(s) answered (comfort, peace, love and miracles): received help financially

Donations of the heart (acts of kindness, caring, sharing and forgiveness): Offering to help someone else during their time of sorrow. She seemed so sad.

What I would like to see happen tomorrow: Make it another day.

Reflections: Some days I feel like I’m just existing without purpose. Like a robot going through the motions of life. Problem is my life is so complicated and things are a real mess. It’s really hard to see any positives. My spiritual self is keeping me in check – but the mom in me does not want to go on another second – why? What’s the point?

I get a glimpse that maybe things will get better. Mostly because I’m around people – I can even laugh. But alone in my house – I’m left with nothing but sad feelings and unimaginable hole in my heart that causes much discomfort. No one gets that! No one! Only God – and I don’t feel that. I’m tired and it’s only been one month.

As I read through that page in the journal, I am struck by the words used to describe my feelings. Time is described as “seconds” – because it was how I measured my days. “Going through the motions” – reflecting on that I’m thinking it was a defense mechanism for survival. I could not see a purpose for me that was acceptable. I understood it was my faith that was lifting me out of the pain, though I couldn’t feel it. How could I – it had only been a month since I left my only child at the hospital, in that ICU bed, lifeless.

This blog has certainly evolved over the years and now I’m not sure what to do with it. I want to keep writing, but want it to be more about you, my followers, and less about me. So where do we go from here. I hope to hear from you about what it is you need to read or hear about. What would be meaningful for you so that you want to keep following? Should I blog through another book? Many questions, and I ask for your input. Because honestly this blog is really about you more than me. How can I help?

Until next time,

M

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4 thoughts on “In the beginning….

  1. Reading your blog has helped me more than most books which I have tried to get through. Maybe that is not fair to the authors of the well written books because I lost my ability to concentrate and comprehend after Amy passed away. Reading postings on blogs are about all I can handle now. I only read the postings written by other “knowing” parents because I admit I have a one track mind since Amy died suddenly 10 months ago. I search for the similarities in my pain and the light that reassures me I won’t always feel this way. Angry, bitter, jealous of the untouched, lonely, tortured … Those words are not conducive to healing yet seem appropriate now. Of course there are glimmers of light too, but not enough to lift me to an octave that frees me from this unimaginable pain. I remain grateful to those who support me and find that I am still capable of loving others too. My faith is shattered in a million pieces just like my life now. My hope that I won’t always feel this way comes from those who know this pain yet survive with grace and dignity. Those that are fearless warriors who live with this invisible wound. How can you help? You already have by sharing your authentic journey with the world so I could find it when I desperately needed someone who knows my heart and what I am being asked to do by living without my daughter. There has to be so many people who have already benefited from your blog and sadly there will be others who will benefit from your blog too — when the worst thing that could happen, happens to them. I hope your journey is always available so that at 3:00 am when another parent is lying awake in shock, crying in despair, that they will stumble across a new knowing friend via your blog. Thank you.

  2. I am blessed to hear that it is still helping and with that I am compelled to continue. In that I find purpose and something positive comes from a tragic negative. Bless you!

  3. I read your words from the first month afteryour daughter passed away and remembered what I wrote those first 30 days after my son passed away. They are very different. I reread my journal entries in my first notebook, which contains four months of feelings. Today, it’s been 10 months since my precious son died from a rare pnuemonia and I see that I am still in shock. The feelings of shock vary but it’s always streamlined with one specific phase: Oh my gosh, I can’t believe he isn’t here anymore! My baby isn’t with me!
    Every single night as I start getting ready for bed, a terrible form of anxiety comes over me and nothing, not even prayer will make it flee. I try to examine my feelings, ask the Holy Spirit to comfort me with peace but I can’t get calmed down.My doctor has even given me medicine for both anxiety and sleep but this anxiety is more powerful than medicine. This started happening after I started more mindful self-talk regarding the shock I feel daily. I know it’s related somehow and I know it isn’t simply one aspect of grief, I can’t separate my grief into boxes or steps or anything like that. I just feel some aspects more strongly at times than others. So if you would please address how you dealt with anxiety, specifically at night if you felt it at night, I would be eternally grateful. Your posts have been a blessing to me and give me hope that one day I’ll be able to handle my grief the way you are handling yours. Thank you, Sue

  4. my goodness Sue – I am blessed beyond measure that you take the time to read my blog. I am finishing my master’s degree and have not written as often as I need to. Hope to get back to it soon.

    I want you to know that during the first year I too struggled with anxiety especially at night. I lived in our home and when it was bedtime, I would have to walk past my daughter’s bedroom to get to mine. I found for the first few months I had to sleep on the couch because I just could not bring myself to walk past her room without going in a kissing her on her forehead and praying over her. I just couldn’t do it.

    I had so many emotions that ran through me during the early months and years. Anger, disbelief and painful sorrow. But the one thing I could hold onto was my faith. My faith and the hope that I know that I will see my sweet daughter again one day – has been the glue that has kept me together these past 8 years. Wow can’t believe it’s been 8 years.

    I’ve had some very supportive friends that have walked with me. Some who have now long gone onto living their lives and no longer in my life at that level. I have been blessed to have new people come into my life that always take me to the next level. That is how I do it Sue. I finally opened up to letting those who God chose to put into my path – letting them in and experiencing life in a new way with new friends. It has saved me.

    I will pray for you and hope that you continue on this journey – but with a hope that you will see your son again one day. That you live in the moments that will honor his life and bring joy to you when you stop and think of him often. It will happen. Just keep writing. It’s important to get all of that emotion out of your body and onto a source that you can see later on. You can measure your progress – it will matter one day.

    Mal

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