Category: grief journey

Over the past few weeks I’ve been talking to friends about how much I miss cuddling with someone. It’s something I like to do and did it alot with my daughter when she was alive.

We would watch a movie or TV show on the couch and cuddle and laugh. It was the some of the best times in our lives. There were also the bad, with her illness and all that came with taking care of a chronically ill child. But that’s a whole other post.

Today I want to tell you how, I believe, our loved ones come to us in dreams. I think that since I have been focusing on the need for closeness with someone that Brittany has been sensing that. Of course, through the eyes of God. I have read in several books that people who have died come and visit us in our dreams as a means to comfort us. I know this has happened to me with Brittany 3 times. This morning was the 3rd time.

It is usually very quick and to the point. And it is always what I need. I must have hit the snooze button 4 times and then eventually turned off the alarm. This type of behavior is so unlike me. But of course, it was for a reason. A reason that would make me smile and then fall apart and make my heart just ache with the reality of her absence.

I was standing in a room and she came running in, looking like should would if she was alive today. Her hair up in a pony tail, wet, wearing a pair of shorts and shirt I said in the dream she had worn to bed. She was rushing around getting ready to go somewhere.  I said to her “what’s going on” and she replied “I’m late mom, I have to go”, as she began to run out, I said “wait, don’t I get a hug?” and she came and gave me the biggest hug. And then I woke up.

I got up immediately and began to get ready for work. But the memory of that dream began to creep back into my mind. Then the flood came. The grief washed over me like a watershed. I was overcome by the loss of my girl and the emptiness that prevails in my life. You see the loss is more than the death. It is the emptiness, the whole in my heart, the void of love, the constant reminders that I not only lost my daughter, but the life I knew and loved.

Memories are such a wonderful things for us grievers. It’s all we have left. Some days those memories are enough to sustain us and some days they are not. Memories can also be the means to bring us to the brink of madness. The reminder of a life in the past, one that we no longer have, yet miss terribly. They also remind us of the life we have now and the importance to move forward. To keep the memories positive and to keep their memories alive in an honorable way.

I miss my daughter more than I could ever say in words. But I would never want those dreams to stop. Even as painful as they are – it’s all I have left.

Until next time

m

******* Warning – Difficult and Provoking Material ***********

This post will be sweet and to the point. People continue to amaze me at the level of misunderstanding and just pain ignorance on how to see thru the eyes of a grieving parent. I won’t go into details and I have belabored the point long enough. If the point has not gotten through so far – I doubt it ever will.

I hope with all my heart that no one has to go through this pain that invades my heart on every level of every minute of every day. I spend an incredible amount of time pretending for you. I’m done with it. I’m done pretending for the very people who could give a shit about what my life is like on a daily basis.

You all move through your lives pretending a life altering event can’t possibly happen to you. But I’m here as living experience that shit happens and it happens to me more often than I care to admit. I’m very tired of playing the “pretend to be happy” role for everyone’s else comfort. My life sucks plain and simple.

When I say my life sucks I am referring to life without my daughter. I have much to be grateful for and I am. I have some of the best friends a person can have. My friends in Michigan – you continue to amaze me by your generosity and thoughtfulness -even though I have been gone for 2-1/2 years. You still think of me and make me feel that I matter.

As much as I try to cover it all up with mindless activities – at the end of the day – I live alone with my pain. the most recent event was my birthday. It went pretty much unnoticed; well except for my good friends on Twitter that I’ve never met. Funny how they were the one’s I heard from first. Whose cards arrived before the others. To top it all off the only gift I received was from a dear friend in Michigan who I has consistently been there for me on every holiday, even St. Patty’s Day. Little does she  realize that it is those little gestures she makes by sending me the cutest packages several times a year mean more to mean that words can express. Why, because it shows she cares. She goes out a painstakingly picks out gifts she thinks I would love. Sometimes little does she know it’s the only gift I get on some holidays!

It’s not about the gift truly people, it’s about the time she takes. The investment in me and the love she extends to me. Even better is that she does it all because God leads her to be that type of person – a person of character.

Incredible that the show of love I get is from my long distance friends, most of which I haven’t met. I feel so very insignificant in my family life. Like I could be gone tomorrow and they’d never blink an eye. It’s the saddest and most disappointing love in my life. Ranks right up there with all the abuse, loss, grief and just plain smashed up life crap that has been consistently traveling my way since I was little.

I have always been know for my incredible resilience – but my friends the time is now and I am running on empty. I have to find a way to fill up my heart – a new way – maybe it’s with helping out with the youth group at church. Because now I know for sure – my life is not what it was and never will be. It’s a different life now and I can no longer hold on to the past – whoever and whatever that means.

Not much longer do I see myself continuing to fight a losing battle. Something good has got to happen and it has to happen soon.

I apologize for those of you who don’t know how to take this, but I do hope you never have to find out.

until next time

malissa

Over the past couple of years since Brittany’s death I have often wondered what my new purpose in life would be. How it might manifest itself. I have looked at many things to take up the time so to speak in my life. That way I don’t think so much about Brittany. That was my way of coping I guess. But now some distance has occured and I am now believing God wants me to move onward to a new place.

Not in a physical sense, but in a spiritual sense. A place where I can feel a sense of acceptance and a belief that I matter in this world. You see before Brittany died there was no doubt in my mind that I mattered. I had an obligation as a parent to nurture and love my daughter into a bright and successful woman and child of God.

That leads me to now and what has been going through my mind. It seems as though every Sunday as I walk past the kiosk at church where the student ministries try and recruit volunteers I would feel this “pull” to walk over and find out more. I know that that “pull” is God. So first I ignored that “pull” because I couldn’t possibly think that I had anything left to give. But God being God, began to nudge me a little harder, until one day I felt as if I “had” to go over and find out more.

So I did and then I did the usual – I put it off. I think for the most part because of fear of the unknown. Not wanting to fail. Thoughts invaded my mind that I might not live up to what ever God wanted me to do in this area. It was about a couple of months later that I began to feel that “pull” again.

I talked with a church friend and she thought I’d fit in better with the college age group. That because she saw me as a “strong woman of faith” that I would have more to offer this age group. So again, I let more time pass until I could no longer avoid God’s nudging. So yes, I signed up to help out with the group at our church called Access. They are a group of college age kids who are not really kids anymore, but are still needing the guidance of adults in the church.

So tomorrow I start my new role “my new thing” and I have mixed emotions about it. That’s what I do. This uncomfortable feeling I now get when I’m around people. Never had that before Brittany died. Always such the outgoing personality and social butterfly. So this volunteer project is a real stretch for me. One that I take very seriously and passionately.

I can say I am truly excited to get started and look forward to what God is going to do this fall as I begin this new thing called moving forward.

until next time

m

Tomorrow will mark the 1st anniversary date no mother should have to suffer through. It is the angel date of her 17 year daughter. This is someone I don’t know personally, but someone I know well. I’ve had her on my mind so much lately. I know what it is like to have the months before “the date” begin to push you to places you don’t want to go. To have feelings you don’t want to have. To cry so many tears you think you’ll drown.

The first anniversary is one of the toughest dates to endure. Months now will turn into a year and a year will turn into years and years will turn into a lifetime. Each month, each year that you endure the loss seems like a lifetime. Yet some days the loss is so fresh it makes you stop dead in your tracks and think “how could this have possibly happened to me?”. This reality shocks you back and you know that it is done.

The firsts are so difficult for parents who have lost a child. The first holiday, the first birthday, the first graduation, the first wedding, the first …..  But it doesn’t stop there – every holiday hurts – every birthday that passes hurts – every time you see a wedding, it hurts – every time you see someone who looks like your child or is the age or was the age of your child, it hurts.

The sorrow is deep and the pain is profound. It doesn’t go away. You can’t wish it away. Your only hope is that God comes into your life as He has mine and begins the process of healing. That has been my only source of survival. For without God, I have no reason to move forward. I see no reason to proceed. The pain and emptiness is too profound to continue without God.

At some point in the journey you have to make a move one way or another to a place where you can begin to see joy again. I can say it comes and goes now. It’s unpredictable this journey. It takes you places you cannot imagine and places you don’t want to go. On the other hand, I have made some incredible friends and experience the extension of God’s love through many people of faith. For that I am eternally grateful.

One cannot make it through such trauma without love and understanding. One cannot make it through this type of pain without the love and healing of God. God’s power to heal my heart is only as powerful as I will let it be. Meaning….I have to accept God’s healing however it comes. It may not come in the ways I believe it should or in the ways that I think are good for me. That is the true test of faith. To ride out the storm knowing God is in control. And I am not.

To my dear friend, know that I am praying for you. Know that God has his arms around you and will not let you fall. Remember your girl was a gift. A gift that can never be taken away from your heart.

until next time,

m

I have written before about the changes one goes through when they are catapulted into a journey they did not choose. So often we have a choice about what road we take in our lives. But when you lose someone or something dear to you – you are placed on a path that you would have not chosen.

There are a lot of experts who say people shouldn’t change jobs or homes after the death of a loved one. That it could possibly create more feelings of loss and grief. I think I agree with that, only if the circumstances warrant doing nothing. I know in my case I had to do something.

I lived in a different state when my daughter died. I had just divorced her father just two years prior and bought a house close to her dad and to her school so that she could be close and that her life wouldn’t be so disrupted from the divorce. If only more parents gave that a thought – I believe there would be fewer messed up kids from divorce. But that’s a whole different topic – maybe another time.

After my daughter died, I returned to my job which I loved at the time of her death, but when I returned I felt like an empty shell just existing. Going the the motions that I had to do in order to pay bills and keep going. As winter fell the vail of sadness overshadowed my life and I would often barely make it home from work. I remember times that I would get into my house and just drop to my knees and ask God how am I to get through this. Why has this horrible thing happened to me.

I could no longer afford to stay in my home since I was not receiving the child support I needed to help with the payments. All the medical bills that had been piling up and needed to be paid. My world was crashing around me and all I wanted to do was grieve the loss of my daughter -yet the financial disaster that was about to take place kept me from doing that.

My family felt like I needed to move back to my home state so that I could have people around me to help support me. Brittany and I had planned on moving back to Indy long before she died, so I thought it would be good for me to go ahead and move. So I put my house up for sale soon after she died and that’s about when the market died too. Needless to say it never sold. I had already moved back to Indy because I had a buyer and then it fell through.

I tried everything to sell it, rent it – but nothing. In the end, I lost everything. I mean everything. In one year I lost my daughter, my home, my financial stability – all of it gone. A path I didn’t choose. A change I didn’t ask for. But got anyway.

Today as I sit here writing this story – not all of it is told – but I realize that as the 3rd anniversary of Brittany’s death is looming, I am still battling issues that keep me from moving forward. All I have ever wanted since she died has been to grieve her death and move on. Yet it seems as though every time I turn around I face another blow related to her death. It’s as if I get thrown back into that very time and have to relive it all over again.

That is why moving forward and creating a change has not been easy for me. This is not the whole story, but just a short glimpse into the trauma that has invaded my life. An unwelcome visitor who keeps coming back over and over again. Change does not come easy.  But I will keep moving onward in hopes that one day things will turn around for me.

Because if it doesn’t – I may not be able to sustain this continue barrage of attacks. It has taken such a toll on my health and well being. And for the most part I do it alone. Because no one gets it. Not even my family. They don’t understand. Why – because they have not had to live it. I hope they never have to.

I’m not trying to be negative – but this is what it is. I’m a fighter and I have been through so much now that I can only believe it will get better. But listen to me when I say that it has been a long fought battle and I have kept up the game face, not for me but for you. I think about the movie “A Few Good Men” when Jack Nicholson says “You Can’t Handle The Truth” – my friends until you have walked this walk – you just can’t know the pain I feel daily. You just don’t know how hard it is to get up every day and pretend it all is ok.

Change does not come easy.

until next time

m

Dark Waters

From all sides the walls are moving closer,
to the depths I am moved to be with you.
When I look up I am blinded; for what I
see are sorrowful songs of brilliant hue.

In the past I have seen great things.
In the future I only see a void;
a darkness that rolls over my life.
Keeping me in a state of constant sadness.

Though you do not see it, it is there;
just outside your reach.
Can you feel it? Can you smell it?
It is there just waiting for you.

My hands hurt from working at the
misery of grief that envelopes my soul.
My legs hurt from running; running from
the darkness trying to find the light.

The light shines, but only at a distance.
It teases me and convinces me that it is there.
But, always just seemingly beyond my reach.
I stretch out my hand and can almost touch it.

Encounters of the dark over shadow the light.
Flickers of joy just beneath the surface waiting
to be freed from the darkness of my soul. Yet,
I cannot get free because you are not here.

You see, the light that I speak of was you.
Nothing compares to the light you brought to my life.
For three years my life has been dark; without
you. It’s as if I have drowned and am still alive.
I can see the light but it is reflective through the
waves beneath the surface of a beautiful water fall.

I see hope through the water, but the darkness is
still very present. Can you see it? Can you feel it?
It’s right here in my heart, the place were love
used to be.

until next time,

m

So often I have read about this idea of a “new normal” that one begins to experience after a loss such as mine. I do wonder who may have come up with that label. I don’t believe the word normal belongs in a sentence that would describe one’s life after loss. Normal doesn’t reflect what is really going on with one’s life at this stage.

I do think that you can move through into a new stage of your life. One that can be happy. One that can be fulfilling and rewarding. But normal – I don’t think so. 

Who defines what is normal? 

I know I don’t, probably never have. I can say that with all that has happened to me over these past couple of years, I know that normal is far from what I have experienced.

I also know that what I have experienced and what I am continuing to experience is God’s love and grace sufficient to exist in a life that has continued to remain somewhat meaningless to me. Please know that this is not a bad thing, I just see this life as a pathway to the next. I am working hard to do what I need to do to fufill my purpose for where I am right now. But where I am right now maybe not where I will be tomorrow. Remembering that I only have control over right now.

Right now, I choose to write about how I feel in hopes that someone else can identify with those feelings and know that they are not alone.

Life does get better.

It does get less painful. And, at times, can be rewarding. I find that in my job, I find purpose. It is when I am alone in my home or alone in my own thoughts that I begin to think about the future and where I see myself  in it.

Please know that normal will never be a part of anyone’s life when they have lost a child. Don’t assume that becoming normal again will ever be an option. So much of what I have read from many different parents echoes the same – “life will never be normal” – it just becomes different.

I have found that there are so many days that life can be rewarding and fulfilling. I love what I do for a living. It gives me such gratification to know I am helping to shape nurses to be health advocates for those who need one. But I also have an emptiness that resides in my heart and it is unbearable some days. But I don’t let you see it. It’s too painful and I know if you really saw it – you might cry. It’s a place I try not to visit very often. 

 As Mother’s Day approaches I feel that uneasiness start to well up inside me. It’s like hearing the rushing water of a white water falls way off in the distance. You find yourself having to stop and listen very carefully to hear it. As it is with grief. It’s calling my name again as it does every October. It’s quite unimaginable that I have had to endure this – seems like a lifetime ago. Yet sometimes it feels like yesterday. As I wonder about my life aimlessly looking for what I am missing – I understand it is her smile, her crazy quirky self and the biggest heart I’ve ever known! 

God has brought me this far.

I know He will continue to keep me in the palm of His hand until it is my turn to return to Him. I have a great deal of faith and a small amount of will. So life is out of balance for me and living a “normal” life just doesn’t seem appropriate. But a new life, one filled with hope for an opportunity to help others is what I know I am meant to do – for now. 

 until next time,

M

So often I have read about this idea of a “new normal” that one begins to experience after a loss such as mine. I do wonder who may have come up with that label. I don’t believe the word normal belongs in a sentence that would describe one’s life after loss. Normal doesn’t reflect what is really going on with one’s life at this stage.

I do think that you can move through into a new stage of your life. One that can be happy. One that can be fulfilling and rewarding. But normal – I don’t think so. Who defines what is normal? I know I don’t, probably never have. I can say that with all that has happened to me over these past couple of years, I know that normal is far from what I have experienced.

I also know that what I have experienced and what I am continuing to experience is God’s love and grace sufficient to exist in a life that has continued to remain somewhat meaningless to me. Please know that this is not a bad thing, I just see this life as a pathway to the next. I am working hard to do what I need to do to fufill my purpose for where I am right now. But where I am right now maybe not where I will be tomorrow. Remembering that I only have control over right now.

Right now, I choose to write about how I feel in hopes that someone else can identify with those feelings and know that they are not alone. Life does get better. It does get less painful. And, at times, can be rewarding. I find that in my job, I find purpose. It is when I am alone in my home or alone in my own thoughts that I begin to think about the future and where I see myself  in it.

Please know that normal will never be a part of anyone’s life when they have lost a child. Don’t assume that becoming normal again will ever be an option. So much of what I have read from many different parents echoes the same – “life will never be normal” – it just becomes different.

I have found that there are so many days that life can be rewarding and fulfilling. I love what I do for a living. It gives me such gratification to know I am helping to shape nurses to be health advocates for those who need one. But I also have an emptiness that resides in my heart and it is unbearable some days. But I don’t let you see it. It’s too painful and I know if you really saw it – you might cry. It’s a place I try not to visit very often.

As October gets closer, I feel that uneasiness start to well up inside me. It’s like hearing the rushing water of a white water falls way off in the distance. You find yourself having to stop and listen very carefully to hear it. As it is with grief. It’s calling my name again as October approaches. The 3rd anniversary date of my dear Brittany’s death. It’s quite unimaginable that I have had to endure this – seems like a lifetime ago. Yet sometimes it feels like yesterday. As I wonder about my life aimlessly looking for what I am missing. Her!

God has brought me this far and I know He will continue to keep me in the palm of His hand until it is my turn to return to Him. I have a great deal of faith and a small amount of will. So life is out of balance for me and living a “normal” life just doesn’t seem appropriate. But a new life, one filled with hope for an opportunity to help others is what I know I am meant to do – for now.

until next time,

m

I have decided to re-post this topic. I find that it’s worthy of being repeated, not because of me or for me, but because there is so much anger in the world and somehow we must find a way to channel in a positive way. And because I am under the weather and don’t have much energy to write something new.

So enjoy the repeat of “Anger Resurfaces”

Until next time

M

 

 

The past few days I’ve been reading about thinking positive. Believing for good things to come my way. To have faith that all things will work out. I’ve been reading about faith and about how to give all the “stuff” I carry to God and live a life of love.

Then I spiral back to the current moment while sitting in a place I don’t like, hearing about a topic I don’t want to hear about – suddenly I get angry. The topic is something that brings back the bad memories of the death of my daughter and the ramifications of her death. I hear something and I find myself hanging my head and thinking “I hate this” – I can’t push the memories back. It’s like it’s as if I’m thrown back for one quick second to that “time” in my life when all around me my life was crashing and I didn’t seem to have any control over it.

The anger of my daughter’s death has so many different pathways to a variety of topics. It’s all very fractured and leads to different types of responses. For the most part I am able to push it back to the dark place where I keep those memories. I’ve tried talking about them and writing about them – but they are still there. Because I am still angry over the lack of attention she received. The lack of financial support. The battles with insurance for nearly 17 years. And finally the eventuality of my financial collapse in the year following her death.

The lack of attention from her physician during the final year of her life. Fighting for every moment and every test to get her help. The help that came too late. The words “there is nothing else we can do” – the words that still ring in my ears more often than I will admit to. Those words coming from a doctor at the Cleveland Clinic. Then two weeks later those words again “there is nothing else we can do” “her heart is failing” – how do those words ever leave your memory?

I have finally realized that my anger comes from not her death so much, but the events leading to her death. The lack of accountability to her from her providers. The constant work that was required to keep her going, to keep her as healthy as I could. I worked so hard to have her, so hard to keep her and still it wasn’t enough.

How do you live with that type of pain or anger? I live with a broken heart. One that only God can heal, but it will always have the scar that bares the pain and loss of losing my only child. One that I wanted so badly and after many infertility tests and drugs was blessed to have. Then to have ber nearly die at the age of 11 months from encephalitis. But she lived, but with some minor disabilities. That is when the work truly began to keep her going. I worked so very hard. I think that is why it still hurts so badly.

Again I sit in a class and hear stories about the very thing that I battled for 17 years and I think how am I suppose to do this? How am I to wrap my arms around this topic and feel passionate about teaching it. Then someone said to me today that God has placed me in the very position to teach people to help parents and others in ways that will possibly prevent the battles I lived so often for so long.  Wow.

I must say I don’t understand the will of God, but I can only accept what happened as His will. Then I have to move on and not be angry anymore. It is not serving any purpose but only to destroy my soul. I don’t believe that is what God wants for me. I have a purpose to show the world the God I know, the God I love and the God I fear.

My survival is directly related to my fulfilling the purpose that was meant for me to live. My job now is to find that out and to stop being so angry. I won’t deny that it is easier or less painful now because it is not. It’s just different. It has become a distraction nonetheless and I have to find a way to move through this part of my grief. It is the only way I can move to the next level of healing.

Anger is normal, but not when it keeps you from experiencing life. The life God intended you to have. And as I always say – my life is a work in progress. Sometimes that progress takes a detour. And only God can get me back on track. So I will get quiet and spend some time with God seeking His guidance and His confirmation of where and what it is I am to do.

Until next time

m