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.