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