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.