Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Another 24...
I am so deeply saddened this day- for reasons I simply don't understand. I want to hold my tiny child. I want to kiss his sweet face and stare into his perfect green eyes. I want to hear his laugh and feel the softness of his little hands. This yearning is so consuming and so terribly inadequate for an aching heart.
The countdown starts today... one month until what would have been my David's 4th birthday. The thought of his birth reduces me to tears. I can feel the emotion swell behind my eyes like a million forceful rivers pushing against the dam. The very thought that I cannot hold him shakes me to my core. It crushes my weakened spirit that all my efforts to remember him will not produce anything to pacify my tattered heart or appease my desperate need to be close to him today.
The numbing pursuit of any emotion other than loss, always, always comes up short. I am always left unsatisfied. It leaves me alone to scrutinize over the painful details of his death. I have no release. This, the aftermath, forbids me to remember our happy moments and robs me of the six months that he brought so many treasures and so much fulfillment to my existence. Nothing helps to satisfy my unrealistic need to separate loss from love- this juncture can not be undone and I long to embrace the joys of his brief life, so taken for granted.
I need peace, I crave something- anything peaceful.
I now know that I am bound eternally by this imperious pain to remain broken, to walk this unending road, to accept this trial. I must submit to my journey- as pieces of something once whole- I submit. I am not allowed options. I can choose only to sweep up the fragments of the person I was and carry them with me on my path...so I shall.
The countdown starts today... one month until what would have been my David's 4th birthday. The thought of his birth reduces me to tears. I can feel the emotion swell behind my eyes like a million forceful rivers pushing against the dam. The very thought that I cannot hold him shakes me to my core. It crushes my weakened spirit that all my efforts to remember him will not produce anything to pacify my tattered heart or appease my desperate need to be close to him today.
The numbing pursuit of any emotion other than loss, always, always comes up short. I am always left unsatisfied. It leaves me alone to scrutinize over the painful details of his death. I have no release. This, the aftermath, forbids me to remember our happy moments and robs me of the six months that he brought so many treasures and so much fulfillment to my existence. Nothing helps to satisfy my unrealistic need to separate loss from love- this juncture can not be undone and I long to embrace the joys of his brief life, so taken for granted.
I need peace, I crave something- anything peaceful.
I now know that I am bound eternally by this imperious pain to remain broken, to walk this unending road, to accept this trial. I must submit to my journey- as pieces of something once whole- I submit. I am not allowed options. I can choose only to sweep up the fragments of the person I was and carry them with me on my path...so I shall.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
How do I know though? HOW do I KNOW?
Sang and I went to David's grave this past weekend on our way out to dinner. It was simply awful. awful. awful. I've lost my faith that all this mindless motion that I create can keep me distracted, can keep me busy.
I feel more insane this week than I did the week David died. I never questioned the "process" before. I hated it but I never had the whole "how can I change this?" feelings. Now I hate the process and I don't care to even entertain the idea that it's going to produce any other result than my son being dead. I am here, right here at disbelief and denial- isn't that step 1 in the process?
How I have come here? Where did my progress go? Who can help me?
I stood there, in the rain, and instead of seeing a headstone and thinking about my beautiful greed-eyed boy- I thought about a box holding baby bones. My child is a box of baby bones and I don't want it to be that way. I cried and I didn't care that I was losing control. It was all slipping away from me, my sanity and my composure.
I asked Sang 'how do you know? How do you know that he's there? I don't feel him!" and Sang just listened, I think perhaps unsure of how I landed myself back here at what appears to be 'square one'. But seriously now... How do we know? I used to go there and put flowers and feel him there watching me and now I am scared to think about my son being there in a cemetery in a box, in the earth. The images are unthinkable and I am broken all over again.
There is of course a horrible feeling of grief and guilt that accompany any thought of him, my tiny child. I don't want to be here in this thinking! I want to be on my way back to a shadow of who I used to be. I want to be happy when I think of my son, I want to be whole. My little baby is gone and I am broken... the only difference between now and three years ago is that I don't feel I have the right to just break down and give up- I feel like the show must go on and I will just have to keep praying for some peace.
I feel more insane this week than I did the week David died. I never questioned the "process" before. I hated it but I never had the whole "how can I change this?" feelings. Now I hate the process and I don't care to even entertain the idea that it's going to produce any other result than my son being dead. I am here, right here at disbelief and denial- isn't that step 1 in the process?
How I have come here? Where did my progress go? Who can help me?
I stood there, in the rain, and instead of seeing a headstone and thinking about my beautiful greed-eyed boy- I thought about a box holding baby bones. My child is a box of baby bones and I don't want it to be that way. I cried and I didn't care that I was losing control. It was all slipping away from me, my sanity and my composure.
I asked Sang 'how do you know? How do you know that he's there? I don't feel him!" and Sang just listened, I think perhaps unsure of how I landed myself back here at what appears to be 'square one'. But seriously now... How do we know? I used to go there and put flowers and feel him there watching me and now I am scared to think about my son being there in a cemetery in a box, in the earth. The images are unthinkable and I am broken all over again.
There is of course a horrible feeling of grief and guilt that accompany any thought of him, my tiny child. I don't want to be here in this thinking! I want to be on my way back to a shadow of who I used to be. I want to be happy when I think of my son, I want to be whole. My little baby is gone and I am broken... the only difference between now and three years ago is that I don't feel I have the right to just break down and give up- I feel like the show must go on and I will just have to keep praying for some peace.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Dear Kendra-
Kendra-
My dear friend-
My words are so inadequate today
I am so sorry that you must know this loss
and that your daughter isn't here with you
I am so very sorry that you have to live even one day without her here in your arms.
I wish you could know the softness of her skin
I wish you could know her sweet touch and the sound of your name from her mouth
I wish that you could see her blow out birthday candles and tear open colorful packages
I am broken that you will never know the sweet innocence in her brown eyes
You are forced instead to remember the flutter of hope they gave you only once
I wanted to stop the world that day, four years ago
I wanted to freeze time and allow you to take what you needed from those tender moments
but time was not mine either
Painfully, time continued on it's selfish way
I miss knowing you, with light and joy always in your eyes
I miss the beautiful person that knew pain only as a feeling, not the way of life it has become
My heart is broken to never know the person you would be had your daughter stayed with you on earth
There are no words, dear Kendra.
There are only hopes, and dreams, tiny unfulfilled futures, and sorrow this day.
Though her time in life was short, it was a lifetime, a beautiful and meaningful lifetime.
I truly love the person that you have become in her loss
A mother of strength and hope, a mother that knows a deeper love
than any mother should ever have to know
I love you and your daughter forever for what you have given me in this life.
I, selfishly, love that if we must walk this path, we can walk it together.
It is with hope that I pray this day does not consume you
I pray that you understand her sweet purpose to your life
and that you never question your devotion to her
It is with sorrow that I remind you, tomorrow is never promised
and that it was you and your daughter that taught this to me
To both of you, I am forever grateful
In love, dear Kendra I cannot wait to meet your sweet child in eternity
until then, my heart aches for you
I am so sorry for your loss,
From one mommy to another, I am so sorry.
My dear friend-
My words are so inadequate today
I am so sorry that you must know this loss
and that your daughter isn't here with you
I am so very sorry that you have to live even one day without her here in your arms.
I wish you could know the softness of her skin
I wish you could know her sweet touch and the sound of your name from her mouth
I wish that you could see her blow out birthday candles and tear open colorful packages
I am broken that you will never know the sweet innocence in her brown eyes
You are forced instead to remember the flutter of hope they gave you only once
I wanted to stop the world that day, four years ago
I wanted to freeze time and allow you to take what you needed from those tender moments
but time was not mine either
Painfully, time continued on it's selfish way
I miss knowing you, with light and joy always in your eyes
I miss the beautiful person that knew pain only as a feeling, not the way of life it has become
My heart is broken to never know the person you would be had your daughter stayed with you on earth
There are no words, dear Kendra.
There are only hopes, and dreams, tiny unfulfilled futures, and sorrow this day.
Though her time in life was short, it was a lifetime, a beautiful and meaningful lifetime.
I truly love the person that you have become in her loss
A mother of strength and hope, a mother that knows a deeper love
than any mother should ever have to know
I love you and your daughter forever for what you have given me in this life.
I, selfishly, love that if we must walk this path, we can walk it together.
It is with hope that I pray this day does not consume you
I pray that you understand her sweet purpose to your life
and that you never question your devotion to her
It is with sorrow that I remind you, tomorrow is never promised
and that it was you and your daughter that taught this to me
To both of you, I am forever grateful
In love, dear Kendra I cannot wait to meet your sweet child in eternity
until then, my heart aches for you
I am so sorry for your loss,
From one mommy to another, I am so sorry.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Ecclesiastes 3
Everything Has Its Time
To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, And a time to die;
A time to plant, And a time to pluck what is planted;
A time to kill, And a time to heal;
A time to break down, And a time to build up;
A time to weep, And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, And a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to gain, And a time to lose;
A time to keep, And a time to throw away;
A time to tear, And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, And a time to speak;
A time to love, And a time to hate;
A time of war, And a time of peace.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
a little lost
It's a daily occurrence that my little one floats through my mind... some tiny detail of his brief existence on earth. Usually he crosses my mind with a memory of his life, then within minutes I am shot back to October 26th and I am there at his death. It isn't some calm that I crave, or some detail to fit in and make it all make sense... but there is just something that keeps me from remembering his life, instead I replay his death. I almost feel like I was there when he died, like I was in the room with him, in the ambulance while they were trying to bring him back... but I wasn't. It's not to be explained I guess. Mommies just know what is happening with their babies, I suppose. I could have it all wrong, I could just have made all these thoughts up to keep myself from going insane but when I think of him, I think of his death and how I think it happened.
I know I was really sad that day, a lot of people told me they believe I knew it was happening just by the way I was acting, kind of gloomy and distracted. I was asked at just about the moment he died what was going good in my life and my response was "just my boys, nothing but my boys" and within minutes, my phone was ringing off the hook for me to learn that the only thing I had to be grateful for at that moment in my life, was gone.
I was wearing a baby blue shirt with a sweatshirt over it, grey dress pants. I was depressed for some reason that day, I was lost and I was unhappy and uneasy. I don't know why but I had tennis shoes on, even though I was coming from work. I don't remember much more than that but it's taken 2 and half years just to remember these few things and now that I have... I am back at square one I think. I am finally able to remember the 10 minutes before his death, does that mean his death actually happening is next for my comprehension? I hope not, I promised myself never to believe that it was an event that occurred and then ended. Losing David is forever and as these tiny memories come back to me, slowly but surely, I am terrified to see what will come of me once I actually process that I sat down at that table to order dinner and my phone rang.
I sound crazy I know, this is where I am today though.
I know I was really sad that day, a lot of people told me they believe I knew it was happening just by the way I was acting, kind of gloomy and distracted. I was asked at just about the moment he died what was going good in my life and my response was "just my boys, nothing but my boys" and within minutes, my phone was ringing off the hook for me to learn that the only thing I had to be grateful for at that moment in my life, was gone.
I was wearing a baby blue shirt with a sweatshirt over it, grey dress pants. I was depressed for some reason that day, I was lost and I was unhappy and uneasy. I don't know why but I had tennis shoes on, even though I was coming from work. I don't remember much more than that but it's taken 2 and half years just to remember these few things and now that I have... I am back at square one I think. I am finally able to remember the 10 minutes before his death, does that mean his death actually happening is next for my comprehension? I hope not, I promised myself never to believe that it was an event that occurred and then ended. Losing David is forever and as these tiny memories come back to me, slowly but surely, I am terrified to see what will come of me once I actually process that I sat down at that table to order dinner and my phone rang.
I sound crazy I know, this is where I am today though.
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