Forgiveness....BY Matthew West

Forgiveness….BY Matthew West

“It’s the hardest thing to give away

The last thing on your mind today
It always goes to those who don’t deserve….”

Forgiveness…it’s the hardest thing to give…the hardest thing to ask for.  Matthew West has compiled stories from Everyman to help guide the reader along the road to forgiveness.  Written in such a way to bring in the most hardened heart, West gives guidance to those seeking forgiveness.  With sections titled “Forgiving Others,” “Asking for Forgiveness,” “Forgiving Yourself,” and “Embracing God’s Forgiveness,” all areas of forgiveness are addressed. 

Bringing his songwriter’s skill to the pages of this book, Christian songwriter, Matthew West beautifully takes the words of others, along with faith-based instruction and, in doing so, has put together a book full of advice and guidance for those struggling with the concept of forgiveness.  The stories are short, easy-to-read and can be read as a little pick-me-up or devoured in one setting. 

The hardcover version of the book is beautiful to look at, hold and read.  It is not “just” a book, but, a work of art.  The stories by strangers who have had their own struggles with forgiveness are touching and inspiring, urging one to continue on the path seeking or giving the forgiveness needed.  

22 months....

Twenty-two months of not hearing your voice - not touching your hands - not seeing your face.  How can it possibly be that long and still feel like yesterday?  Grief changes the perception of time. Time makes no sense now - I have no idea what will happen if I live many more years.  I just cannot imagine living for years without you.

We sent up balloons tonight - as we do every month on the 7th.  Always, I ask for more signs - for answers.  Always, I wait for you to let me know.  What do I do without you, Tash?  It's been twenty-two months and I still don't know how to live without you.  I spent twenty-seven years being your mom - and I have no idea how to live the next twenty-seven years without being your mom.

I just don't understand how this can be my life -

Happy Halloween - 2013

 

 

Another Halloween without Tash - it's still so hard to believe that she would not be here on her favorite days.  I catch myself looking around all day - double-checking - expecting her to walk in the door.

 

Did you know she went trick-or-treating until she was close to twenty-five years old?! She would have done anything to be able to dress up for Halloween.  She always loved it.  As proof of that, I have boxes AND boxes of her Halloween costumes.  She never could wear one more than once - so if she had three parties, she had to have three costumes.  Oh, the arguments we had over the money she spent on some of those costumes.  I guess you can't blame the girl for having the shopping gene - she came by it honestly. 

 

Last year - the first year - we tried to carry on.  Hans dressed up like he always has done - we took our chairs out to the driveway - dressed up the dogs - and handed out candy.  This second year has proved to be much more difficult.  I am not sure why - but, if I am to continue on this journey, then, I, too, must change.  So, letting go of the feelings that I MUST still engage in this holiday, I decided not to give out candy and to do something for myself.  I have to tell you - doing things for myself is difficult for me - especially, when I leave Hans to figure out his own course of action.  But, I stuck to the plan - no matter how many times I wanted to cancel - to chicken out.  But, I did it - and, it's amazing that such a simple thing can feel like such a huge accomplishment.  I went out to dinner with a friend - THAT IS IT!  Nothing more - but, that simple step took more courage than you can imagine.  And, during dinner, I fought the urge to put on "the mask."  If something came up about Tash or grief, I just let it be.  I didn't stuff it down - I didn't change the subject - I just said it and moved on. 

 

Was there a downside to the evening?  Why, yes,. there was.  After asking how I was doing and hearing my answer, my friend told me that I needed to move on - "suck it up, buttercup" -  that the only thing holding me back was me.  THAT IS THE WORST THING YOU CAN SAY TO A GRIEVING PARENT!!!  And, I will always be grieving for Tash - she was my life - my only child.  But, for once, I didn't get mad.  I had a flash of anger - then, decided that those were just the only words she had.  I let it go - I didn't correct her.  Maybe, another time, I will tell her how her words made me feel.  But, for tonight, I was able to just enjoy the evening - be a friend - enjoy a friend.

On this, my second Halloween without Tash, I did more than survive.  I hope that Tash is watching - that this is what she wants.  I hope she understands that on these days, I have not forgotten her or tried to replace her - I merely tried to find a way to live without her.  I am still trying to figure out who this person in the mirror is - one day at a time...

 

I Miss Her....

I miss her every day..

I miss the little girl...

The snotty teenager...

The young woman...

I miss the little girl who used to make me breakfast in bed....

She never knew that sometimes I dumped it in my nightstand drawer after telling her how good it was. 

She didn't need a reason - according to her, she just loved me.

I miss the little girl who used to leave me post-it's

"I love you, mom"

"You're beautiful"

"You're the best mom"

On mirrors, on my steering wheel, on my treadmill 

Just because she loved me. 

I miss the teenager who pushed the boundaries -

Curfews, grades, friends - if there was a limit, she tested it. 

But, she never lost that sweetness - it was hard to tell her "no."

I miss the teenager who confided in me

The long car rides where I learned her secrets, her fears, her dreams

I miss the fear of riding in the passenger seat as she learned to drive

I miss the look of accomplishment as she began to drive herself

I miss the young lady who faced the impossible without fear

The one who played a soccer game the night before her transplant 

Who mentioned to her friends: "Oh, by the way, I'm having a kidney transplant tomorrow."

The one who faced the side effects of her meds w/a smile on her face while we cried together in private. 

I miss the young woman she became

The one who REALLY pushed the limits in college

Who tried to hide her disappointment as her disease crushed her college dreams. 

Who worked so hard to rebuild her life

I miss the young woman full of emotion

With a quick, infectious smile

With a pouting lip when she didn't get her way 

With a cry that ripped my heart out. 

I miss the young woman who still called me "Mommy"

The love she had for her family, her friends, and her pets

The small in stature, but, mighty in spirit young woman who could put the scare into a grown man at Howl-O-Scream

The ferocity with which she fought to live

I miss the woman she would have been had she lived 

The memories we would have made 

The fulfillment of promises of a return to health that I made 

The wife and mother she could have been

I miss everything that was and everything that should have been. 

 

YOU'LL GET THROUGH THIS: Hope and Help for Your Turbulent Times

BY Max Lucado

 

 

Going through a divorce?  Struggling through the grief of losing a loved one?  Lose your job?  Is your world falling apart?  “You’ll get through this.  It won’t be painless.  It won’t be quick.  But God will use this mess for good.  In the meantime don’t be foolish or naïve.  But don’t despair either.  With God’s help you will get through this.”  These are the words that Max Lucado writes in his book for those who are suffering – these are the same words he shares with parishioners when they come to him feeling despair. 

                While Lucado stresses to all those reading not to give up, he takes the reader along the path of Joseph, who was sold into slavery by his own brothers.  The story is included Genesis in the Old Testament – one many have heard often – the story of Joseph and his “coat of many colors.”  No matter what a person is going through – sadness, loss, betrayal, grief – Joseph also suffered these pains, along with many other indignities.  Lucado reminds the reader over and over that if Joseph could overcome all of these things and place his trust in God, so should we.  It is also a reminder of how temporary this life is – that no matter how bad the pain is, it will pass.  If we put our trust in God, though we may walk through sadness in this life, we will be blessed for eternity!

                This is a book of hope – letting people know that though they make not be able to make it through the tough times on their own, with God’s intercession, moving on, forgiveness, getting through the tough times – it is all possible. 



 

 

NEARING HOME by Billy Graham

Facing the end of his own life, Billy Graham has put together some practical advice for others as they head into their twilight years.  At ninety-three-years-old, Graham has lived a full life, and continues to think of the needs that older people face – emotional, spiritual and financial – as they age.  “I can’t truthfully say that I have liked growing older.”  Such truths are welcomed by others who are often afraid of ostracism by society when these truths are spoken.  While accepting the facts of aging, Billy Graham encourages the aging to accept the pains of aging, while continuing to praise and serve God. 

Addressing the rewards and pitfalls of retirement, loneliness, and declining health, Graham offers hope and acknowledges that there is a battle to be fought in the aging process.  He encourages one to remember the past, but, not to live in the past.  Continue to look to the future and find ways to be a blessing to others.  “One thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead” Philippians 3:13 NKJV. Graham reminds the reader that there are always things ahead to look forward to.  Even if one can “only” pray, prayer is one of the highest callings for an individual. 

The road traveled through life can be rough – filled with pot-holes, detours, and speed bumps.  In the end, everyone must face death.  The more one is prepared, the easier that will be – for the one facing death, as well as for their friends and family.  Billy Graham reminds his readers that there are things everyone can do to be ready – to face this transition – with grace and dignity. 



This blank page is killing me.....

Giving up...

The time has come - the fight is gone - I'm more alone than I've ever been - there is no REAL future left anyway....

 

 

 

STUMPBLING ON OPEN GROUND by Ken Mansfield

 

What an inspiring book!  Ken Mansfield’s story is a love story – a story of faith – a story of determination – and, a story of an undying spirit.  If Ken’s early life reads like a fairy tale, much of the last twenty years reads like the Book of Job.  Ken’s style of raw honesty is rare and the integrity of his story made this is a story to get lost in.  Not knowing Ken personally does not affect the familiar feelings, like those for a family member, which rose to the surface while reading this book.     

 Commentary and another side of the story are presented by Ken’s wife, Connie, at different stages of Ken’s journey.  While her journey mirrors her husband’s, she also carries her own burden, struggling to nurse her husband, while maintaining her own life and her walk with God.  Ken never fails to acknowledge his love for Connie, bringing forth a real love story, one built on faith and devotion.  Their story together is one with a strong foundation of faith – a relationship to envy. 

As I read the story, I often found myself in tears and, at other times, I found myself with a smile on my face, cheering for Ken.  By the time I turned the last page, I had a renewal of my own faith and rekindling of my own journey of hope.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson as part of their BookSneeze Review Program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."



Tell Me What to Say

By James Eugene Batchelor

 

You know I’ve lost a loved one and

you see my grief is strong

You hope to bring me comfort and

you fear to speak no wrong

We’ve all heard horror stories

of when people say wrong things

 

And we’ve all heard testimonies

of the bitterness it brings

It’s often someone close to us,

they mean to say their best

But then speak something hurtful 
and now they feel distressed
 

We rehearse the words we want to say

so deep within our heart

But when our turn approaches

we stumble from the start

So let me help you out my friend,

I’m here today for you

 

And I’ve found some words of wisdom
 

from the sorrow I’ve gone through

The fact you’re here brings comfort,

you need no longer fear

It’s enough to say you’re sorry and

enough to show you care

And as the days and weeks go by

and months turn into years

The grief may start to weaken

but it always will be there

 

So call once in a while

or just visit for the day

Because those simple acts of kindness

Are more than words can say

I love this - it is so true,  I am lucky to be blessed with many friends and family.  Not very many people have disappeared this year - and, if they have, I haven't really noticed - with the exception of ONE. 

All my life, I wanted a sister - my family, well, that's a LONG story, better told another day.  But, I always had a missing piece from my life and looked for that sister - through friends, family - but, I never found her....until I was 22 years old.  Through finding my birth-mother the year before, I found out I had always had a sister.  (Through finding my birth-parents, I found out I had five more brothers - but, only ONE sister.)  Over the last 22 years, I have fought for this relationship that I had wanted all my life.  It's been on-again/off-again - but, I never gave up.  A little over three years ago, my sister and I put our heads together, determined to make this relationship work.

In reading back through this, I realized I have known her half my life - it REALLY shouldn't be like this.  It makes me more sad to realize this amount of time has passed - HALF MY LIFE - and, I have nothing to show for it.  Sigh...

After all, we are sisters - life is short, and we certainly weren't getting any younger.  We committed to each other to talk it out - work it out - cry it out - fight it out - but, not to give up.  We were doing that and we were doing a pretty good job.  I should say that I love my sister - I am not sure she feels the same way - but, I like to think so.  I like to think our problems come from the fact that she is just not capable of being what I need to her be.  That lets it fall back into my lap.  It doesn't really matter whose fault it is - the hurt is still there and the results are still the same.

She was the first one I called when I heard Tash had died.  I called her on that horrible six-minute drive to Tash's apartment that night.  She showed up then - when I needed her.  After my visit a couple of weeks earlier, and her by my side after Tash died, I never thought anything could tear us apart.

I was wrong....

I don't know what happened...but, she left me...deserted me when I needed her most.  I guess it was too sad for her.  In my grief, I didn't have the strength to fight for our relationship...so I let go.  It's not easy...I miss her everyday...but, I guess we have to accept the life we have.  After Tash died, I heard about all the people that would disappear - I was braced for it - but, I was not braced for my sister to let me go when I needed her the most. 

I wish she had read this - I didn't need her to give me her life - just a shoulder, an ear, a soft place to land...but, I am learning to let her go...and, once I do, I am pretty sure there will be no going back.  I NEEDED her like I will never need her again....and, if she couldn't do this, how will I ever trust her with the rest?

 

In grief, you lose more than the one who dies...missing my sister tonight.

 

As always, I miss you, Tash...love you more..

 

71 WEEKS...

Seventy-one is an odd number - not usually one of the BIG anniversary dates. It's not a 10, a 25, or 100 - it is just a miserable prime number with no meaning to most of us.  It does not even total a normal month - just 71 weeks.  But, it has been 71 weeks sincce Tash died.  It is so hard tobelieve.

Seventy-one weeks = 497 days
497 days = 11,928 hours
11,928 hours = 75,680 minutes
75,680 minutes = 42,940,800 seconds

Those are all just numbers.  Playing with those numbers allows my mind to wander - to find another focus.  But, when I am done - when I see the enormity of those numbers, it stops me in my tracks.  Those numbers will never get smaller.  As they increase, it kind of becomes like mileage - taking me farther and farther away from my baby girl - farther from the life I had - the life I wanted - the life I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE!

I know I have always heard that life is not fair - and, I knew it wasn't - but, I guess I never really understood how unfair it could be - how unfair it would become.  SO, I sit here on a Saturday night - watching the clock - looking at the time 9:43 - that is when that call came - the call I had always dreaded - but, always felt like would come.  How I wish that I ha been wrong.

Seventy-one weeks can completely change your life - it certainly has mine.  I question everything now - I take nothing for granted.  But, I look back at all I did take for granted - and, feel guilt - which brings on cases of shouldas, wouldas, and couldas.  These can last days - and, they are a heavy burden.

Seventy-one - I don't know why it sticks in my head - why it took over my thoughts today - but, here it is, stuck -

On the other side of the coin, Tash has gotten to miss a few things she hated over the last 71 weeks - staring with 355 dialysis treatments.  Who knows how many hospitalizations and doctor appointments there would have been?  I have to go back and look at things like that.  There are days when everything is so horrible - if I don't work to let it go, I would follow over the edge of this cliff I stand on - and, let me tell you, I am hanging on by a very thin thread, as it is...

I work everyday to think of something I am thankful for - without looking into the past.  I could make a list  thousands of pages long of all the things I am thankful for between the years of 1984 and 2012.  But, while holding the past close, I try to stay in the here-and-now as much as possible when I can.  I don't even dare think about the future at this point in my life - I think, if I did, I would become irreversibly bitter, angry, and sad.  SO, here I am in the present - working hard to be PRESENT in every day - and, today, I am thankful for enough - I have enough to eat, drink, to breathe, to sustain me.  For this moment, I will not wish for MORE - I will be happy with exactly where I am at this moment.

In seventy-one weeks, I have learned a lot about being satisfied with what I have - I am not always successful - but, I keep trying - at some point, I hope to be able to be be more than satisfied.  I would like to touch happiness again - to taste it - to roll it around in my mouth and truly relish it.  I miss being happy - I miss being able to laugh, without a flash of guilt - I miss looking forward to tomorrow - I miss all the things that were entwined to make my life what it was 71 weeks ago.

Here I am....71 weeks later - still stumbling through the field of grief - picking up stones and turning them over - most days, all I find are ugly, misshapen stones that I don't want - but, I am starting to have days where I find a beautiful stone here and there - ones with a bit of shine - I find them a little more often lately - and, I am learning how to unload some of the heavy, burdensome stones of guilt and regret - it is all a process, I guess.  No, I will never get OVER it, but, I am learning to get THROUGH it -

I love you, Tash - more than you ever knew....MOM

I AM ALL THAT IS LEFT

Just me, it is only ever me,  

the only one I’m here to fight is me,   

I bring upon myself the pain that I must endure,

It burn as coals to know what caused it,    

I hear it,

My own voice crying out for help,   

Pulling itself from a well it lept down,

But now I climb,

back towards the top,

Towards the littlest bit of light,

that I left myself.

I really am trying...

I miss you, Tash...love you more...❤

Mother's Day 2013

Dear Tash -

In a few hours, it will again be Mother's Day - the holiday I struggle with the most.  I cannot believe it will be my second Mother's Day without you.  How do I still call myself a mother when you are not here to call me Mommy? 

I wish I had some kind of answers - but, here we are, sixteen months later, and I still don't know what to do - where to turn - what to do with my life without you.  It feels wrong to even get out of bed on the day.  Others offer to visit - bring cards - someone even wanted to bring flowers by - I push them all away.  It feels like I am being disloyal to you, if I accept these offers.  You were always so jealous of the attention I gave to others - I wonder if you feel differently now. 

How many pot roast dinners did we share on Mother's Day?  After working at Bennigan's, I never liked to go out and eat on Mother's Day - the busiest restaurant day of the year.  I didn't even care that most of those days I ended up cooking part, most or all of my dinner.  I just wanted to be with you - and, honestly, that's all I want now.  I just want to spend time with you.  I think of all the missed opportunities - the times when I could have been with you - I missed out and now I live with the regret. 

Can I still ask for Mother's Day gifts, even with you gone?  Obviously, the best gift would be the gift of you returning to life, but, I know that's not possible.  That knowledge breaks my heart daily. But, there are a few things I would like to have:
- More signs from you
- To know you are at peace
- The ability to focus on your life instead of your death

More than anything, I would love to be able just to know you are at peace - to know that you are okay with me here, instead of with you - to know that you want me to go on - to know that you love me - and that you forgive me my shortcomings as your mother.  I imagine that if I could figure all this out, I could sleep without nightmares - sleep all night - and, make it through my days with a little more confidence - a little more vigor. 

I love you, Tash.  When I was young, I didn't have a lot of goals or a lot of faith in my ability to escape the lifestyle of my family.  Oh, I wanted so much more - but, I had no idea how to get it.  Then, you came along.  For the first time, I had more than "wants," I had dreams - goals - and, I would have moved heaven and earth to achieve them.  I wanted you to have everything I didn't have - especially the knowledge that you had a mother who loved you more than anything in the world.  I think I did that - I hope I did that.   I do know that I gave you a better life because you made me a better person - you made me work hard - dream big - to give you the life you deserved. 

So, here we are - you there without me - me here without you. You were my best friend - my memory-keeper - we were supposed to grow old together.  After all, we were only separated by fifteen years.  You promised to push my wheelchair.  I am missing so much without you here.  There is no compromise, though - no easy fix.  I hope you are faring better without me than I am without you.  I hope that as time goes on, I figure out what purpose there is to my life here without you - that these days become easier - that I am able to fill these "special" days with the happy memories we shared.

There is no replacement for your love - for your life - there is only the remnants of my heart - the rest is with you -

I love you more...MOM

 

Who am I now?

 

 

My counselor said to me today: "So, you have been working hard on figuring out who you are now without Tash - how have you changed?  Who are you now?"  I didn't have an answer then, but, I keep thinking about it - and, here is my answer, for NOW....

 

I am ME -

I am not perfect -

I am often sad -

I am Tasha's mom -

I am Hans's wife -

I am a runner -

I am a friend,

In fact, I am a good friend -

 

I am all the things I never wanted to be - bereaved, older, and, often, alone -

 

I am working on becoming all the things I want to be: happy, complete, and enough -

 

I am caring -

I am human - I make mistakes -

I am learning to forgive myself for those mistakes -

I am smart -
I am funny -
I am sarcastic -
I am emotional -
I am a crier -

But, in public, I am often indifferent -
I am an actress -
I am a giver -

Back home, in my cocoon, I am weak, lost, but determined to find a way.

I miss you, Tash...and, all the way you made me who I am - I love you...
 

 

 

 

I am learning to love the me that I am - the me that I was - and, most importantly, the me I am working to be....

 

 



The second year without you sucks more than the first - I didn't think that was possible - but, it is proving to be true.  Today, 16 months to the day of your death, is just as horrible - maybe more horrible than the sixth month.  Maybe because the fog has started to clear and I am beginning to see life for what it really is without you.

The death of any child is traumatic - even if you knew it was coming.  Although you were sick, I had no idea it would come so soon - suddenly and swiftly changing my life forever.  Here's what I have learned:

- If you lose your child suddenly - unexpectedly - you will suffer through bewilderment, self-reproach, anger, and the weight of depression.
- The reality of your child's death is difficult to accept.  Even now, it comes in waves - that physical pain of another realization of your absence.  Even after sixteen months, it still feels like a punch in the stomach when I realize you are gone.  There is a constant barrage of things that click into that realization.  But, it is always painful and almost always brings me to my knees.
- You are not given time to prepare when your child dies suddenly - there is just this huge chasm between the way the world is now and the way it should be with your child beside you until the day you die.
- You spend a lot of time looking back - woulda, coulda, shoulda all become words that you repeat in your mind daily - even though you cannot change the past, you spend hours trying to find a way to make it your fault - to try to find the exact thing you could have done differently so that your child didn't die.
- You die a little more inside realizing you didn't get to say good-bye.  You think of all the words left unsaid.  Even though, I know I told Tash I loved her every time I talked to her, it doesn't take away the sting of knowing she died alone and wondering if she was scared.  I shoulda been there - that's my biggest "shoulda."

I would like to believe there is a purpose to all this - that Tash is somewhere, living in a body free from pain and scars.  Instead of relying more on my faith, I find myself with more questions than answers.  I know that Tash made me a better person - I would like to think that through her death, I could become an even better person, a stronger person. But, I am not sure that is possible either.  I am just a sad and grieving mother - trying to figure out what comes next.  I no longer take things for granted - and I try to think about the lasting impressions I will leave.  I try to spend time with the people I love, whenever the opportunity arises.  I no longer do things or see people I don't like.  Life is too short to do that any more.(In my case, I have really gone off the deep end in this area.) 

Eventually, I hope to find the strength to make the most of my life here on Earth without Tash - but, not yet.  For now, I am still counting the days until I see Tash again.  But, I know I have to do something with the time in-between - and, I am trying to figure that out.  I have been without Tasha for 16 months now - 66 weeks - and I miss her more everyday.  I learn something new about grief every day.  I would trade all these lessons for one more day...one more hour...one more minute...I miss you, Tash - I will always love you more....

You never know what will let you down - who will let you down...

One thing I have learned on this journey is the true unpredictability of people.  People I thought that would be here with me and for me forever - like my sister - have disappeared from my life.  People that I wasn't sure even knew I was alive before have stepped in and taken over residence in my life - holding me up when I cannot stand on my own two feet. 

When Tash died, I didn't know there would be so many lessons. I didn't know who would stay - who would go - and, who would walk in -

But, the one thing I was always sure of was that my husband always had my back...until now...and it's all changed...and I am so scared I will not be able to change it back...

 

I'M TRYING

 

I do the best I can -

I get out of bed every day -

Not as quickly any more -

And, never in a carefree way -

But, I'm trying...

 

I'm trying to do a lot of things -

understand the whys -

forget the what-ifs -

forgive the should haves.

 

I put a smile on my face -

I put one foot in front of another -

I make plans -

I stay busy -

Always trying...

 

There is so much to figure out -

Who am I without you?

What would you want me to do?
Am I making you proud?

No amount of trying answers those questions.

 

I move forward -

I've never been me without you -

I want to touch others the way you touched me -

I want to feel free to be happy -

Oh, how I am trying...

 

I think about you constantly -

wonder what you would want -

Do you want me there?

Do you want me here?

I try to answer these without your voice.

 

I get up - I try to smile -

I think of you - still trying to smile -

I go to bed alone - trying not to cry -

All this trying is exhausting...

 

Please know that I am trying..

And in return, I need you to try to, too...

Try to send me signs...

And, try to remember my face

and be there to welcome me home.

 

We little knew the day that God
was going to call your name.
In life we loved you dearly,
in death we do the same.

It broke our hearts to lose you.
You did not go alone,

For part of us went with you
The day God called you home.

You left us peaceful memories.
Your love is still our guide,
And though we cannot see you
You are always at our side.

Our family chain is broken
and nothing seems the same,
but as God calls us one by one
the chain will link again.

 

---Ron Tranmer

 

 

I love this poem - it is the one that comes to mind most often when I am looking through pics - to recite it helps bring me back to a tolerable pain.  It helps remind me that one day I will see her again - be with her again.  It's a poetical Xanax in times that the pain seems unbearable.

 

To think she is always beside me is not always comforting - because I want MORE - I want to touch her skin - hear her voice - see that sparkle in her eyes.  My sense are deprived of everything that was Tash. 

 

Then, my mind wanders to the darker side - did she really know how much I loved her?  The mind is an evil thing - it plays horrible tricks on the grieving mind - it brings up every doubt and every missed opportunity. If you are a bereaved parent, you know this is true - especially on dark days and late nights.

 

Sometimes, I just rattle on - but, I just have to get the words - the thoughts - out - before they can overwhelm me even more. 

 

I love you, Tash - you are my sunshine - my moonlight - and everything in-between!





It's been 54 weeks and it is not any better - so the saying: "Time heals..." is a lie.  It cannot heal the broken heart - although, a broken heart is not what really what I have - I have a heart that is completely missing a piece.  It's missng the most vital piece - the piece that made my life complete - my daughter - my only child - my reason for living - my life -

I wrote a letter to a mother who is new to the "club" - her only son was murdered a few weeks ago.  This is one of the few times I can step out of my own grief.  I wish I had someone to take my hand in those early days - not to make it better - but, to prepare me as much as possible for the never-ending pain.

I need a teacher to teach me how I am "supposed" to grieve.  I don't know when it's okay to cry - when it's okay to smile - how much pretending is required to keep everyone at ease?  Some days, I just want to forget - but, I can't - other days, I just want to remember - that part is easy.

I feel selfish sometimes - because instead of thinking about Tash, I think about myself - my future - I am only 44, but, I worry about getting old - the questions of moving forward just keep coming:
- Who will take care of me as I get older?
- How will we celebrate the holidays?  Do we celebrate?  How do we manage with just us and an empty chair?
- What if Hans dies first?
- Who will ever want all this shit I have collected?   How about our photographs?  Scrapbooks?
- How do you plan a will when you have no one left to leave anything to?  No one cares about all of this -
- How will I cope when all my friends have grandchildren?  My lineage ends with me - there is no "after I'm gone..."

There are so many more questions than answers.  And, I know I shouldn't be thinking about me - but, I can't help it.  Those things scare me.

Some days, I curse my counselor - she talked me out of suicide - but, what am I here for?  That's the question that seems to have no answer...

HEAVEN CHANGES EVERYTHING: Living Every Day with Eternity in Mind by Todd & Sonja Burpo

Using excerpts from Heaven is for Real, the story of their son’s near-death experience, Todd and Sonja Burpo add detail from their original story, while providing a devotional.  Each of the forty-two chapters includes an excerpt from their original story, along with more of the story being told by Todd Burpo, often, with detail added from his wife, Sonja.  At the end of each chapter, there is advice or a prayer for the reader to use as a devotional along with a bible verse to use as meditation. 

In parts, the story can be a little repetitive for those that read Heaven is for Real.  However, it still holds the reader’s attention, with the additional of the details and perspective provided by Sonja Burpo.  For a fan of the original book, it is refreshing to add her voice to the story of Colton and his experience in Heaven.  This is also the case for the updates on Colton and how his experience continues to influence his life.  His life is still enriched by the experience.

The overwhelming message of the book is one of hope.  For those with family members and friends who have gone on before them, it provides more reasons to believe that there is something beyond this life – something to look forward to – something to live for.

When I think of you, I try to smile - 

Even when the tears come, I see your smile in my mind -

When I close my eyes, I see your smile - feel your touch

Imagine my disappointment when I open them and your not there. 

I'm working hard to not let the day of your death be the thing that keeps me from thinking about your life and the happy memories I have of us together. 

I love you more ❤

Today was a little better - it's funny how that happens when you least expect.  It wasn't a good day - as it was another day reliving the nightmare of the year before.  One year ago, I saw Tash in a casket for the very first time, after waiting from Saturday night until Wednesday to see her again, all the while knowing she was being kept in some refrigerator, surrounded by strangers.  oh, the things that can drive a mother crazy.  Even now, when I think about it, I come close to a panic attack. 

Stepping away from this for a moment, I read some of the emails I still have from a year ago.  It's amazing how many people stepped up to hold us in their arms, their thoughts and/or their prayers during that time.  We were blessed and continue to be so blessed by such a wonderful group of people.  Most have stayed - continue to check in - drop by - send cards - and anything else they can do for us.

But, that's all I can think about for now - because it has now passed the time of the visitation and it just hurts too bad to write about it for now - it hurts too bad to think about it - some things just cannot be processed -

I miss Tash - and after tomorrow, I will have to face the fact - AGAIN - that I will never have any new memories - new pics - or any "news" with Tash again -

I love you, Tash - always have - always will - I love you more....

One year ago, I sat in a funeral home, doing the unthinkable - planning a funeral for my only child - my daughter....

At 3 p.m. on Tuesday, January 10, I faced the most unimaginable task. I never thought about planning funerals.  Sure, Tash was sick - we talked about living wills - plans if something went wrong medically - but, we never talked about dying - never talked about funerals.  It was never supposed to happen - especially not then - not when everything was going so well.  In my heart, I always knew she would die before me, but maybe when she was sixty, and I was seventy-five.  At the worst time in my life, I had to make the last decisions I would ever make for my daughter:

- What should she wear?
- What kind of flowers were her favorite?
- What color should they be?
- What should we play for music?
- Should it be at noon? 2?
- What do we include in the obituary?
- How the HELL do you even write an obituary?
- How do we let people know?
- Who do we call?
- How much does it cost?
- How do we plan to pay?
- Do we want a "reception" afterward? (That's a fucking stupid word for this situation!)
- Why kind of food do we want?
- Are we having vegetarians?
- How do we want the room arranged?
- What kind of casket do we want?
- Cremation or burial?
- Since we chose cremation, would we like to rent a casket? (REALLY??  Rent a casket?)

And the list goes on - at a time when you can't dress yourself, you have to make all these decisions and more.  I cannot even begin to explain the process of picking out pics for the obituary, the service and the "slide show." 

When you are burying your child, you realize that it is the last "party" you will ever have for them - you have to combine birthdays, wedding showers, weddings, baby showers, graduations, etc. all rolled into one.  IT HAS TO BE PERFECT!  But, how can a funeral be perfect? 

How can you explain this to people that have never been through it?  Or to those who keep saying: "It's JUST her body - her soul has gone to be with Jesus?"  It is the last time you will see her - touch her skin - trace her scars - hold her hand...so many lasts...leading to so many firsts...all the firsts without her by your side.

One year ago today, it had been almost 3 days since she had died - 3 eternal days while I waited to see her again - and 2 days until the last time I would ever see her in this lifetime.  I had 5 days to plan...I had five days to try to make sense of the nonsensical - 5 days to try to figure out how to say good-bye - if 27 years was not enough time, how could 5 days be enough???

The one-year anniversary was tough - but, these days are tough, too - remembering that time, hoping I did right by her - hoping it was what she wanted and still wishing I had more time.

I love you, Tash.

I read this quote almost every day.  It doesn't help - yet.  Today, I have repeated this to myself no less than fifty times.  It has been a frustrating day - I am stuck in my physical recovery - and stuck in my grieving.  I decided I will let what is be what it is today - tomorrow, I will try to get back on the road to moving forward.  Today, I will just let go, feel the pain, and tomorrow, I will pick up the armour and begin the fight again.

I don't know how to describe what I feel to people - I find myself saying "fine" a lot.  In the beginning, I said "shitty" - people seemed shocked by that and somewhat appalled, so I started giving them what they wanted.  That's what I have always been - a people-pleaser.

Through this journey, I have left a lot of the people-pleasing behind.  I am learning to draw healthier boundaries - I am learning to say "shitty" when I feel shitty and "fine" when I feel fine - or when I am facing a person I don't feel safe sharing with. 

Everyone tells you to grieve your own way - but, often, when you do, they feel uncomfortable.  I have also learned that this is okay.  Discomfort is part of the growing process - for me, learning to grieve and learning to live my life without Tash is part of that - for them, maybe the discomfort is there so that the next time they rub up against grief, they are better equipped to deal with it.  I don't know.  I just know that they are right - I have to grieve my own way - and, hopefully, they are strong enough to deal with the power and "strangeness" of my grief.

I am not staying where I am - only today, I am taking a rest - I will grieve the rest of my life - for what is - for what will never be - but, I am also growing - changing - into what I was meant to be.

I miss you, Tash - I hope I make you proud - you always made me proud -

One year -

Yesterday marked one year since you left, Tash.  I keep saying the same things over and over - seems like yesterday - seems like it has been forever.  I miss everything about you - the good things, like your smile, your giggle, your strength, your courage, the love you had for people - I even miss the bad, like your bad temper and your ability to find drama.  I am not sure there is anything I don't miss about you.  I remember the texture of your hands - how they felt when they held mine - no matter how much lotion you used, they always felt like they could have used a little more.  I remember the green specks in your brown eyes - the way those specks glistened in the sun - dancing with light - with laughter - and, other times, dark, with sadness and pain.  The cheeks you hated so much that I loved - the little slope of your nose - the nose you wanted to change - the one I always thought was perfect for your face from the day you were born.  I loved to kiss your one chicken pox scar right beside your left eye.  I think one of the things that I miss most - that I find it hardest to recreate is the sound of your voice.  There will never be a replacement for that.  There is no one else to call me "Mommy" and that makes me the saddest of all.  I miss everything - but, I miss that the most.

For you, I try to think of the bad things you are NOT missing.  There is no more dialysis - no more needles - no more surgeries - no more infections - no more hospitalizations - no more side effects - NO MORE PAIN!

I wonder if the trade-off is worth it.  I hope that it is for you.  I hope you found peace and health in a restored body.  But, I still don't understand why it had to be one way or the other.  I don't know why you either had to live with pain or die and leave me in pain.  There should have been some middle ground.  We both deserved better.

I was a fifteen-year-old girl when I had you.  I learned more from looking into your eyes than I ever learned from any book.  You taught me how to be a grown-up - you taught me what unconditional love is - you taught me what strength looked like.  The downside to those lessons is that I have a gaping hole where my heart is and I am not sure what to fill it with without you here, Tash.

I try - and I will continue to try as long as I can - but, I know there is nothing that can ever fill the space in my heart where you live...

You are my sunshine...
My only sunshine...
You make me happy when skies are gray...
You'll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away...

MOM