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This blog post tells the tragic story of the events leading to my daughters passing.

Grief Blessings's avatarUnimaginable Grief Unexpected Blessings

It took me a while to name this blog post. I already had in mind what I was going to write about, but most of the time the title isn’t a problem. It’s not about creating a show stopping headline – it’s about creating a message that reaches out and grabs the very person who needs to read this.

Four years tonight I sat in a PICU watching my sweet baby, who was almost 18 years old, lie quietly in a bed on a ventilator after suffering from a grand mal seizure. I wonder some days if I had known what was going to happen 11 hours later, would I  have handled things differently. I don’t know. But what I do know is that it wasn’t in my control. God was in charge of this outcome.

As I sat there watching her, I remember thinking how are we gonna get out…

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Denial and Avoidance

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Denial is one of the stages of grief. We have all experienced denial at some point in our journey of loss. It comes and goes, the cost of denial can be great. In the early days of grief we are somewhat protected by shock. You just find yourself going through the motions to get through the long days. But once shock leaves, denial can bring you to a place of avoidance.

I visit avoidance more often than I’d care to admit. Even today just entering my sixth year of my journey after losing my only child Brittany, I find avoidance creeps back in when it comes to facing my grief. I know there are some that believe that at this stage, I should not be dealing with these feelings, but I’m here to say that grief never leaves you, it just becomes part of who you are. You learn how to live with it. You can even have a good life. You can even laugh. But avoidance – it’s always lurking behind the curtain of grief that covers your life.

This time of year brings more avoidance for me. The date Brittany died, October 13th has just passed. This year I did something different. Instead of staying home and wallowing in my misery, I went to Florida and spent some time in a place I love to visit. What I found is while that was a good thing, it was also a bad thing. After I returned home, my grief was waiting for me. I tried very hard to avoid it, but it showed up and demanded to be recognized.

So what I’ve learned is that you can deny your loss, you can avoid your loss, but grief will have it’s day and if you want to continue to heal – you must let the grief come. It will irritate you until you can no longer avoid it. You must wrestle with it. Cry over it and then get up and dust off the pain and sorrow – then move on. Denying it or avoiding it will only make it worse. Let it have it’s day and then say “ok” enough of it. It’s time to let it have it’s way and then you can breathe again.

Until next time,

m

I want to go back….

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I want to go back…..

I cried tonight praying, rocking, sobbing…..I want to go back

back to the time when I laughed

back to the time when I loved

back to the time when my daughter’s life…..

back to the time when I could feel her love

back to the time when I lived

back to the time when….

I am severed forever from the life I loved. Finally I had made a good life for myself and my girl. Then without notice – ripped out from beneath me. My heart ripped out of my chest and thrown to the ground as if it had no meaning. My life tossed about as if there was no value. The meaning for my existence squashed and left on the road to die.

That is what it’s like to have your world turned upside down in a second. Everything that you knew was precious gone. Life taken for granted suck out of you like a blow to the chest. Time stands still waiting for the pain to go, the memories to fade, life to feel better…. I’m still waiting….

I spoke to God tonight again, asking why….I’m still waiting….

I don’t think anyone really gets this type of pain and sorrow. Unless you lived it. It’s unique this type of grieving. We are connected yet we are different. You go about your day pretending it’s all good and life is ok, but it’s not. It’s no ok that everything that mattered is taken from you. It’s not ok that no matter how good you are and how you live your life, crap still happens. Life happens. I can’t make any sense of it. Loss makes no sense.

I feel like a part of me is missing and while I can go about my day working and doing my job, there is a part of me, my personal life, that feels wrong. That cries foul. The void of her absence is always just a thought away. I cannot escape it. It haunts me. It’s raw emotion. There is phantomness to my pain. I ignore it, but it preys on me like a hunter.

This is when I know I am at my low and I pray. I pray hard. I cry hard. I sigh I grab my chest and I ask why….I want to go back, I just want to go back…..

Yeah it’s a hard day.

until next time,

m

Years Pass

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The 6th year has now come and gone and while it seems like any other anniversary date, this one was different. This time I chose to focus on me and not on the loss of  her. I spent some time at a spa in Florida and just relaxed. Took a walk on the beach and took in all the wonderful weather Florida offered. I sat and watched a beautiful sunset that took my breath away. You know one of the moments I have said I am looking for. Yeah this year was different.

So often I have sat and cried about the loss of my daughter and how empty I felt. I would gather her things around me and mourn for her. The emptiness I felt in my heart was palpable. The void in my life not seen by others – only me. No one sees that nor gets that. So I hide it. Well I try to hide it – it usually manifests itself in my withdrawal from social life this time of year while I work through it. It’s hard to explain that to those who don’t know that part of my life. And to the one’s who know my story – I’m sure it’s hard for them to hear it or see it too.

I must admit that looking at loss through a different lens can be a bit daunting. I wasn’t sure what to expect this year with my new plan. I still do feel like something is missing. I cannot put my finger on it but I do know I feel like I left something behind. So what was it? Perhaps I left behind my old ways of dealing with grief. Perhaps I left behind a sense of sadness and exchanged it for a chance at happiness. While that all sounds odd  – happiness when you are grieving the loss of a child or loved one, I do believe God gives us just enough space to go there. I know my daughter would be kicking me if she could, well maybe she is. The thought makes me laugh. As I know she is absolutely with me always in spirit.

She was a gift given to me for such a short time. I cannot spend time worrying about what if I had done this or that differently. Life played out as it did and I can only learn from it and move forward. Walking out my purpose one step at a time in faith that in time, knowing that I will receive a “well done” at the end of my journey.

until next time

m

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The space is still vacant – never to be lived in again. Locked away for the day when we meet again.

Grief Blessings's avatarUnimaginable Grief Unexpected Blessings

Vacant Space

There was a time when life was full
and we were always running the race
but now after these long 3 years
my life has become this vacant space.

There was a time when life was busy
and we were always running the race
always looking for more time to spend
but now all that exists is vacant space.

There was a time when life was so right
and we took it all for granted;
believing the joy would never end
but now all that exists is vacant space.

There was a time when I laughed at your jokes
and cried when you were hurting;
knowing that I would always be your mom
and you would always be my daughter;
but now all that exists is vacant space.

There was a time when you showed me
what it means to live beyond your ability
To imagine the world…

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The Box

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I have felt the urge to open the box. You know, that box I put neatly together nearly six years ago that would forever hold safely the memories of my daughter. I typically reserve this ritual for her angel date 10-13; however when the spirit moves you – you move. I got myself a cup of coffee, not sure why, as I have found it difficult to go through this exercise without large volumes of tears, tissues and drinking anything seems nauseating. As I sat down to open the chest that contains the remains of my daughter’s life I felt that this time something would be different. And I was right.

I first took out the photos I have of her and family, with her friends and the few picture of us together. They still make me smile. There have been some incredibly beautiful photos of her taken over the years. In two instances by my dear friend Cyndi at Inspirations Photography in Grand Rapids Michigan. Those I cherish so much because Cyndi was able to capture the beauty of my daughter in ways we had not seen. We knew of the beauty in her heart, as did some of her closest friends – but to capture it on film – priceless to a grieving mother.

As I moved through the chest I remove things and look at them like prize possessions. Then I arrive at the “box”. This box contains some of my most private memories of Brittany. They contain stories, emotional significance and most of all my connection with her.

As I remove the lid and see the first picture of her – the one we put up at her celebration of life – I am left with a feeling of wonder because she was truly a beautiful spirit and taken way too soon – in my opinion. As I lifted up the photos to uncover the next memory – her blanket. The one that used to cover her bed and at the hospital covered her body while she fought for her life. I grabbed it and buried my face in it hoping to smell her – but it was no longer there. That scent I had become used to when I opened the box in previous years – I cried tears of sadness into that blanket and then moved to the next item. Her stuffed bear that she received from her boyfriend Andy while she was at Cleveland Clinic weeks before her death. I hugged that bear and cried some more.

Then I saw a couple of the t-shirts I had saved because she loved them and wore them often. I brought them to mu face and again, her scent has faded and they no longer smelled like her. Things have changed. Something is different this time. I was hesitant to move forward in fear of finding that the last remaining connection I had with her would be gone.

Next I moved to her glasses. I have written about this glasses before. They had a powerful connection in the early years. You see Brittany had her glasses on while working at her desk. Sensing something was up, she removed them and placed them safely on the desk, and then she must have begun her seizure. So the last thing she saw was through those glasses. The first time I picked them up – there was such energy with them. Now, it is gone and they are just simply a pair of glasses. This made me so sad and I cried a river. There was too much change going on here and I almost closed the box again as I couldn’t take it anymore. But I pulled myself together as something else caught my eye.

After Brittany passed, the Child Life team came and took pictures of her and they took a casting of her hands. Her father and I have one of her hand prints that is cast in this plaster casting. I painted it a long time ago in a color that would represent a life-like skin color and put it away. I reached for it and set it out. I looked at it, like I’d never looked at it before. Then I placed my left hand on top of her print and there it was – the connection – knowing it was an extension of her. Each finger was just like hers at the time of her death. I sobbed.

After reading a few cards, the newspaper stories about her passing I realized that again – she was such a gift from God. That for a short time she was the best thing that ever happened to me. She made my life complete. And now that she is gone – it no longer feels complete. It’s empty in a way that I cannot begin to explain. I know that only mothers who have lost their children understand it. There is no filling it back up. That is not possible. The one thing I do understand is that love has been taken from me so many times; my heart has been broken by loss more than once. While I am able to keep moving forward and building my new normal; there is a price.

Love doesn’t come easy for me any more. I don’t trust it. Each time it as visited me it has left me broken in pieces and my faith in love is once more reduced to the thought that it is not what I am supposed to be doing with my life. It would seem that the normal life would contain love, joy and happiness. I’m not saying it’s not going to be mixed with time of sorrow. But for me – maybe I was never intended to have a normal life. I haven’t had it so far and maybe I need to quit trying to find it. Because it’s not there. It’s not what I am to be.

Today, I am in a succesful job which I love. I have done great things with my career. I have continued this blog in hopes of helping other grieving moms – but love – I find that to feel odd, not normal and just plain painful. Love to me equates to loss. It has been repeated over and over in my history. It is what has made me a strong person. Why I am so successful in my business life. But my personal life…. I’m in a place I don’t know how to move forward. That means I’m stuck somewhere. I will need to continue to process that.

until next time

m

FMLA – a necessary amendment

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http://www.petition2congress.com/3937/modify-family-medical-leave-act-1993/wt/?src=widget

Please sign this petition if you believe grieving parents need protected time off after the loss of a child.

Until next time,

m

What You Don’t Know

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I woke up this morning compelled to write about something you may not know. If you have lost a loved one, particularly an only child, then you might have an idea of what I am going to say here. If you haven’t, then you might find it helpful if you know of someone who is in the grieving process. Let me quickly define that for you: it’s a lifetime of grieving. You might think that might be a bit extreme. Well life gets extreme some days and there is this little caveat about grief. Life happens and in the midst of life at any given moment we (the grievers) are back at the moment of our loss. This is how it works.

As time passes, the loss becomes part of you and you learn to live with the consequences of it. For the most part you can go about your day-to-day life and have some happy times, some laughter and even some joy. But there are dark times and there are moments when all of a sudden you are back revisiting the empty place in your heart where your loved one once lived. And I mean lived. Not saying that they are not there today, but it’s different.

Conversations take place in life and reminders are sent, unconsciously by others, and it’s as if you can no longer hear anything else that they are saying. All that you hear is deafening sound of grief hitting you like a tsunami and once again you are at your knees asking why. And again, you get no answers, you get back up and you dust yourself off and get back into the conversation. I welcome the times when there are periods of time between these moments. They are exhausting to me. They knock the wind out of me. They make me feel incredibly lonely.

I miss my daughter so very much. It’s a pain that I cannot describe, but I try and perhaps one day when I get it right, I will no longer feel the need to write. I don’t think that day will ever come. So I write for me and I write for all of the grieving mothers and fathers out there who may not have a voice. Who don’t know the that the power of writing can be healing.

Today the band-aid has been ripped off again. When that happens, the pain is just as powerful as the day she died. Thankfully that doesn’t happen too often, otherwise I’d not be able to stand it. Tears sting my face as I write this today. October is coming and the freight train of grief is on it’s way. I’m getting my armour on and will be ready. It’s coming and it’s loud and I can feel it in my bones.

Until next time

m