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....