Dear Mom,
Summer has finally come to an end, thank goodness. While I enjoyed my time with Logan, this summer just needs to be over. I go back to work on Monday, and the students return a week later. This time last year I had just been told, the weekend before "teacher week," that I would have to move my classroom two doors down. I was seven months pregnant and Adam was working the Brickyard 400 all weekend, as it's always the last weekend of July. Luckily you stepped in and offered to help. We were able to move my entire classroom in just a few hours. But what a pain in the ass... You didn't want me climbing up on things, so you helped me hang bulletin boards, crawl back behind book shelves and cubbies to retrieve things, and made me sit down every few minutes to have a drink of water. Afterwards we went and had lunch at Wendy's.
Today I am going into my classroom, which has been moved yet again. I knew at the end of the year I would be moving, but am only just now, the weekend before "teacher week," able to get in and work on it. This time around movers were hired to help bring the larger items upstairs. But I can only imagine that you would have offered, in a heartbeat, to either watch Logan or come along with me to help put everything in order. I definitely took those times for granted, and took you always being there for granted, too. I find myself wanting to say, "Oh, I'll just call my mom to help!" and then realizing that is no longer an option. Even yesterday, after I drastically changed my hair, I wanted to call and let you know. I knew you'd hate it (it's dark) but you'd still be the first one I would've called.
Even though I don't have you here anymore, I do have those memories of when you were there for me. I feel fortunate that I was able to live so close (just minutes down the road). I feel fortunate that you were so loved by your co-workers that they've offered to help supply my class with pencils and paper (for the fourth year in a row). I feel fortunate that I'm able to say we had the perfect "last day" together before you passed. None of this makes losing you any easier, but it does lessen the pain and regrets I might've had, had we not made each other a priority and been there for one another. I think that's what I can feel good about right now...
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Information on grief from Wikipedia
(obviously from a very reliable source, but still interesting nonetheless...)
Lack of crying is a natural, healthy, and protective of the individual, and should be seen as a sign of resilience.[1][2][4] Science has found that some healthy people who are grieving do not spontaneously talk about the loss and pressing people to cry or retell the experience of a loss is harmful.
Resilience: “The ability of adults in otherwise normal circumstances who are exposed to an isolated and potentially highly disruptive event, such as the death of a close relation or a violent or life-threatening situation, to maintain relatively stable, healthy levels of psychological and physical functioning” as well as “the capacity for generative experiences and positive emotions.”
Delayed grief or trauma: When adjustment seems normal but then distress and symptoms increase months later. Researchers have not found evidence of delayed grief, but delayed trauma appears to be a genuine phenomenon. (I'm afraid this might happen if I don't at least deal with my feelings now)
fMRI scans of women from whom grief was elicited about the death of a mother or a sister in the past 5 years found it produced a local inflammation response as measured by salivary concentrations of pro-inflammatory cytokines. These were correlated with activation in the anterior cingulate cortex and orbitofrontal cortex. This activation also correlated with free recall of grief-related word stimuli. This suggests that grief can cause stress, and that this is linked to the emotional processing parts of the frontal lobe.[11]
Among those bereaved within the last three months, those who report many intrusive thoughts about the deceased show ventral amygdala and rostral anterior cingulate cortex hyperactivity to reminders of their loss. In the case of the amygdala, this links to their sadness intensity. In those who avoid such thoughts, there is a related opposite type of pattern in which there is a decrease in the activation of the dorsal amgydala and the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. (I have no idea what this means but it doesn't sound very positive)
An adult may be expected to cope with the death of a parent in a less emotional way; however, it can still invoke extremely powerful emotions. This is especially true when the death occurs at an important or difficult period of life, such as when becoming a parent, graduation or other times of emotional stress. It is important to recognize the effects that the loss of a parent can cause and address these. As an adult, the willingness to be open to grief is often diminished. A failure to accept and deal with loss will only result in further pain and suffering. (kind of makes the previous post a bit more understandable...)
Previously it was believed that grief was only a human emotion, but studies have shown that other animals have shown grief or grief-like states during the death of another animal. This usually occurs in mammals, typically between a mother and in the event of its offspring's death. She will often stay close to her dead offspring for short periods of time and may investigate the reasons for the baby's non-response. For example, some deer will often sniff, poke, and look at its lifeless fawn before realising it is dead and leaving it to rejoin the herd shortly afterwards. Other animals, such as a lioness, will pick up its cub up in its mouth and place it somewhere else before abandoning it. But when a baby chimpanzee or gorilla dies, the mother will carry the body around for several days before it may finally be able to move on without it; this behavior has been observed in other primates, as well.
Jane Goodall has described chimpanzees as exhibiting mournful behavior toward the loss of a group member with silence and by showing more attention to it. And they will often continue grooming it and stay close to the carcass until the group must move on without it. Another notable example is Koko, a gorilla that uses sign language, who expressed sadness and even described sadness about the death of her pet cat, All Ball. Other animals, such as elephants, have shown unusual behavior upon encountering the remains of another deceased elephant. They will often investigate it by touching and grabbing it with their trunks and have the whole herd stand around it for long periods of time until they must leave it behind. It is unknown whether they are mourning over it and showing sympathy, or are just curious and investigating the dead body. Another form of grief in animals is when an individual loses its mate; this can be especially brutal when the species is monogamous. So when a pair bonding species, such as a black-backed jackal, loses its mate it can be very difficult for it to detach itself from its dead mate. (OMG this is so sad!)
Sigh...
Lack of crying is a natural, healthy, and protective of the individual, and should be seen as a sign of resilience.[1][2][4] Science has found that some healthy people who are grieving do not spontaneously talk about the loss and pressing people to cry or retell the experience of a loss is harmful.
Resilience: “The ability of adults in otherwise normal circumstances who are exposed to an isolated and potentially highly disruptive event, such as the death of a close relation or a violent or life-threatening situation, to maintain relatively stable, healthy levels of psychological and physical functioning” as well as “the capacity for generative experiences and positive emotions.”
Delayed grief or trauma: When adjustment seems normal but then distress and symptoms increase months later. Researchers have not found evidence of delayed grief, but delayed trauma appears to be a genuine phenomenon. (I'm afraid this might happen if I don't at least deal with my feelings now)
fMRI scans of women from whom grief was elicited about the death of a mother or a sister in the past 5 years found it produced a local inflammation response as measured by salivary concentrations of pro-inflammatory cytokines. These were correlated with activation in the anterior cingulate cortex and orbitofrontal cortex. This activation also correlated with free recall of grief-related word stimuli. This suggests that grief can cause stress, and that this is linked to the emotional processing parts of the frontal lobe.[11]
Among those bereaved within the last three months, those who report many intrusive thoughts about the deceased show ventral amygdala and rostral anterior cingulate cortex hyperactivity to reminders of their loss. In the case of the amygdala, this links to their sadness intensity. In those who avoid such thoughts, there is a related opposite type of pattern in which there is a decrease in the activation of the dorsal amgydala and the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. (I have no idea what this means but it doesn't sound very positive)
An adult may be expected to cope with the death of a parent in a less emotional way; however, it can still invoke extremely powerful emotions. This is especially true when the death occurs at an important or difficult period of life, such as when becoming a parent, graduation or other times of emotional stress. It is important to recognize the effects that the loss of a parent can cause and address these. As an adult, the willingness to be open to grief is often diminished. A failure to accept and deal with loss will only result in further pain and suffering. (kind of makes the previous post a bit more understandable...)
Previously it was believed that grief was only a human emotion, but studies have shown that other animals have shown grief or grief-like states during the death of another animal. This usually occurs in mammals, typically between a mother and in the event of its offspring's death. She will often stay close to her dead offspring for short periods of time and may investigate the reasons for the baby's non-response. For example, some deer will often sniff, poke, and look at its lifeless fawn before realising it is dead and leaving it to rejoin the herd shortly afterwards. Other animals, such as a lioness, will pick up its cub up in its mouth and place it somewhere else before abandoning it. But when a baby chimpanzee or gorilla dies, the mother will carry the body around for several days before it may finally be able to move on without it; this behavior has been observed in other primates, as well.
Jane Goodall has described chimpanzees as exhibiting mournful behavior toward the loss of a group member with silence and by showing more attention to it. And they will often continue grooming it and stay close to the carcass until the group must move on without it. Another notable example is Koko, a gorilla that uses sign language, who expressed sadness and even described sadness about the death of her pet cat, All Ball. Other animals, such as elephants, have shown unusual behavior upon encountering the remains of another deceased elephant. They will often investigate it by touching and grabbing it with their trunks and have the whole herd stand around it for long periods of time until they must leave it behind. It is unknown whether they are mourning over it and showing sympathy, or are just curious and investigating the dead body. Another form of grief in animals is when an individual loses its mate; this can be especially brutal when the species is monogamous. So when a pair bonding species, such as a black-backed jackal, loses its mate it can be very difficult for it to detach itself from its dead mate. (OMG this is so sad!)
Sigh...
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Alone at the house
Dear Mom,
Today was the very first time that I was over at the house by myself (with Logan, of course, but we were all alone). The water softener people had to come and remove their appliance. The electricity has been shut off, so of course it was hot and muggy. I opened the front and back door and looked around while Logan had his bottle in his car seat. As I was walking around and thinking about what other things I might want to take home, I just got so angry. I hate admitting this, but I'm angry with you. Why didn't you wear a helmet? Do you realize how that little decision alone has changed everyone's life? Logan will never know his grandmother. He'll never get to make homemade Play-Doh with you. He won't have his grandma at "grandparents' day" in elementary school. You always wanted a granddaughter. Now, if my next child is a girl, who will help me decorate her nursery with girly decor? I'm just so upset with you. And it hurts. It hurts that one stupid decision has cost me my mom and my son's grandmother.
Now, I know that you just absolutely loved motorcycles and riding. Everyone keeps reminding me that, "At least she was doing something she loved." Did you love motorcycling more than me, Logan, and Michael? I highly doubt it, yet supposedly that's supposed to make me feel better. Do you know how many people at your company have reached out to us since you've gone? They feel sorry for us and hate to see us in this circumstance. I just feel so upset with you. Did you know that I had to check a box today that said "mother deceased"? I was filling out Logan's day care enrollment form and the paperwork asked for grandparent information. There were places for emergency contacts, authorized pick-ups, and immediate family information. Who am I supposed to put now that you're gone? Adam's parents can't very well be an emergency contact, they live 2 1/2 hours away. Dad is out of town on business a lot, especially now that he got another sales territory. Michael lives in Ohio. Who else would be able to pick up Logan if there was an emergency? You, as the grandmother, are supposed to fulfill that role. You're supposed to be there for us when we need you, and now you're gone. Don't you know how much that sucks? And to know it could've been avoided so easily... that's what angers me the most right now.
Today was the very first time that I was over at the house by myself (with Logan, of course, but we were all alone). The water softener people had to come and remove their appliance. The electricity has been shut off, so of course it was hot and muggy. I opened the front and back door and looked around while Logan had his bottle in his car seat. As I was walking around and thinking about what other things I might want to take home, I just got so angry. I hate admitting this, but I'm angry with you. Why didn't you wear a helmet? Do you realize how that little decision alone has changed everyone's life? Logan will never know his grandmother. He'll never get to make homemade Play-Doh with you. He won't have his grandma at "grandparents' day" in elementary school. You always wanted a granddaughter. Now, if my next child is a girl, who will help me decorate her nursery with girly decor? I'm just so upset with you. And it hurts. It hurts that one stupid decision has cost me my mom and my son's grandmother.
Now, I know that you just absolutely loved motorcycles and riding. Everyone keeps reminding me that, "At least she was doing something she loved." Did you love motorcycling more than me, Logan, and Michael? I highly doubt it, yet supposedly that's supposed to make me feel better. Do you know how many people at your company have reached out to us since you've gone? They feel sorry for us and hate to see us in this circumstance. I just feel so upset with you. Did you know that I had to check a box today that said "mother deceased"? I was filling out Logan's day care enrollment form and the paperwork asked for grandparent information. There were places for emergency contacts, authorized pick-ups, and immediate family information. Who am I supposed to put now that you're gone? Adam's parents can't very well be an emergency contact, they live 2 1/2 hours away. Dad is out of town on business a lot, especially now that he got another sales territory. Michael lives in Ohio. Who else would be able to pick up Logan if there was an emergency? You, as the grandmother, are supposed to fulfill that role. You're supposed to be there for us when we need you, and now you're gone. Don't you know how much that sucks? And to know it could've been avoided so easily... that's what angers me the most right now.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
146th and Gray Rd.
Dear Mom,
Yesterday I was able to get out of the house, by myself, for a few hours. As you know that doesn't happen often with a rambunctious 8 month old and a husband who works midnights. Adam and I had purchased some cabinet knobs from World Market and were a few short, so I had to run up to Carmel. I then shot over to Hobby Lobby, at 146th and 31. Of course the traffic up there is crazy, and I didn't want to sit in line with a bunch of minivans, so I headed east down 146th, unaware that I would drive through the intersection where you were killed.
I didn't immediately realize, or put two-and-two together, until I was a few blocks away. By then it was too late to turn around. On top of that, I didn't want to avoid and run away from a stupid intersection. My blood did run cold, so to speak, when I realized where I was headed. It was like that feeling when you see red and blue cop lights in your rearview mirror. Of course when I did pull up, the light was red, so I had to sit and wait for a minute or so. I remember looking around, as though there was going to be some remnant of June 17th left behind. I was analyzing every little scrap on the ground. "There's a shiny metal thing over there. Was it part of the motorcycle?" "What's that? Was it here 5 weeks ago?" Then, of course, the light turned red and I went on my way.
The entire time I sat at that light, which felt like much longer than under a minute, I kept thinking that maybe I would feel your presence. Maybe I would feel a connection. I don't know what I thought I would feel... but I didn't really feel anything. Yes, it was tense and no, I do not want to go back there in the near future, but I didn't have a break down, which is positive I suppose. I think it helped that I had other errands to run, so I wasn't concentrating on the fact that I had inadvertantly driven by the place where my mother was killed.
Later that night I told Adam. He shared that, when we went to Carmel a few days ago, he purposefully took us through Clay Terrace, the outdoor mall with lots of traffic and completely out of the way, in order to avoid going by the crash site. I hadn't even realized, but felt that it was really thoughtful of him. He may not remember his ATM pin number, but he did remember and think ahead on that one. Pretty impressive.
Oh, and when we were at Wal-Mart today getting food for the dogs, I saw a lady that reminded me so much of you. She had a ton of things, but no cart or basket. She was just carrying it all in her arms. There were at least three bags of chips in her tight grip, among other things. We ended up crossing paths with her a few times. It was strange, but she reminded me of how you used to do the same thing. You'd run into Marsh and say that we only had to grab a few things. I would try to get a basket or cart, but you'd swear that we wouldn't need it. By the time we walked to the checkout, not only would your arms be full, but mine would too. There would definitely be enough for a cart, but you would never get one. Anyway, apparently you aren't the only "I don't need a basket or cart" shopper.
It's funny how something silly like that reminds me of you... But it's definitely something each and every day that makes me remember a story or quirk of yours.
Yesterday I was able to get out of the house, by myself, for a few hours. As you know that doesn't happen often with a rambunctious 8 month old and a husband who works midnights. Adam and I had purchased some cabinet knobs from World Market and were a few short, so I had to run up to Carmel. I then shot over to Hobby Lobby, at 146th and 31. Of course the traffic up there is crazy, and I didn't want to sit in line with a bunch of minivans, so I headed east down 146th, unaware that I would drive through the intersection where you were killed.
I didn't immediately realize, or put two-and-two together, until I was a few blocks away. By then it was too late to turn around. On top of that, I didn't want to avoid and run away from a stupid intersection. My blood did run cold, so to speak, when I realized where I was headed. It was like that feeling when you see red and blue cop lights in your rearview mirror. Of course when I did pull up, the light was red, so I had to sit and wait for a minute or so. I remember looking around, as though there was going to be some remnant of June 17th left behind. I was analyzing every little scrap on the ground. "There's a shiny metal thing over there. Was it part of the motorcycle?" "What's that? Was it here 5 weeks ago?" Then, of course, the light turned red and I went on my way.
The entire time I sat at that light, which felt like much longer than under a minute, I kept thinking that maybe I would feel your presence. Maybe I would feel a connection. I don't know what I thought I would feel... but I didn't really feel anything. Yes, it was tense and no, I do not want to go back there in the near future, but I didn't have a break down, which is positive I suppose. I think it helped that I had other errands to run, so I wasn't concentrating on the fact that I had inadvertantly driven by the place where my mother was killed.
Later that night I told Adam. He shared that, when we went to Carmel a few days ago, he purposefully took us through Clay Terrace, the outdoor mall with lots of traffic and completely out of the way, in order to avoid going by the crash site. I hadn't even realized, but felt that it was really thoughtful of him. He may not remember his ATM pin number, but he did remember and think ahead on that one. Pretty impressive.
Oh, and when we were at Wal-Mart today getting food for the dogs, I saw a lady that reminded me so much of you. She had a ton of things, but no cart or basket. She was just carrying it all in her arms. There were at least three bags of chips in her tight grip, among other things. We ended up crossing paths with her a few times. It was strange, but she reminded me of how you used to do the same thing. You'd run into Marsh and say that we only had to grab a few things. I would try to get a basket or cart, but you'd swear that we wouldn't need it. By the time we walked to the checkout, not only would your arms be full, but mine would too. There would definitely be enough for a cart, but you would never get one. Anyway, apparently you aren't the only "I don't need a basket or cart" shopper.
It's funny how something silly like that reminds me of you... But it's definitely something each and every day that makes me remember a story or quirk of yours.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
June 16, 2011
Dear Mom,
I want to remind you how much fun we had on your birthday, June 16th, the day before you were killed in a motorcycle accident.
I had bought you two tops from JC Penney for your present. I admit that I had waited until the last minute. Although I searched through the store to find something that was appropriate, yet not "grandma-ish," I admit that I didn't put much thought into the gift. I knew you'd love anything I gave you... even if it was nothing. I settled on a fun sleeveless embellished top and a work-appropriate black blouse. I didn't even put any thought into the wrapping. I just found an old Vera Bradley bag and placed them inside with some tissue paper. The following day, after I had been notified of your passing, I would find these two tops hanging up from your dresser, waiting to be worn.
After I gave you your gift and we played with Logan a little bit, the three of us went out to lunch at Olive Garden. We both had the "unlimited soup and salad" while you spent more time playing with Logan, feeding him his puffs, than eating. I do remember you tried to give him a crouton, which upset me because he only had two stumps for teeth...
Once lunch was over we went across the street to Old Navy so I could do some shopping. While I browsed, you took care of Logan and played with him on a bench near the fitting rooms. I remember hearing people walk by and making comments about your adorable grandson, and you would respond about Logan being the perfect baby. When Logan got cranky, you fed and rocked him, all the while encouraging me to get a few more outfits.
When I had finished shopping we headed back to my house. I had asked if you wanted to make an extra stop by the library, as I had a book on hold, but you were eager to get home and take the motorcycle out with Bob. I dropped you by my house so you could pick up your car, while I ran in to get my library card. When I came out you were giving Logan, who was still sleeping in his car seat, a kiss and telling him that you'd see him later. You then gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek (which I wiped off because of your lipstick). I know you thanked me for the tops and probably said you loved me as well.
That was the last time I saw you... While I'm so very grateful for the wonderful day we had, I wish so much that I would've hugged you just a little harder. To be able to give you one last hug, and to just hold onto you for even one second longer, I would give anything.
I want to remind you how much fun we had on your birthday, June 16th, the day before you were killed in a motorcycle accident.
I had bought you two tops from JC Penney for your present. I admit that I had waited until the last minute. Although I searched through the store to find something that was appropriate, yet not "grandma-ish," I admit that I didn't put much thought into the gift. I knew you'd love anything I gave you... even if it was nothing. I settled on a fun sleeveless embellished top and a work-appropriate black blouse. I didn't even put any thought into the wrapping. I just found an old Vera Bradley bag and placed them inside with some tissue paper. The following day, after I had been notified of your passing, I would find these two tops hanging up from your dresser, waiting to be worn.
After I gave you your gift and we played with Logan a little bit, the three of us went out to lunch at Olive Garden. We both had the "unlimited soup and salad" while you spent more time playing with Logan, feeding him his puffs, than eating. I do remember you tried to give him a crouton, which upset me because he only had two stumps for teeth...
Once lunch was over we went across the street to Old Navy so I could do some shopping. While I browsed, you took care of Logan and played with him on a bench near the fitting rooms. I remember hearing people walk by and making comments about your adorable grandson, and you would respond about Logan being the perfect baby. When Logan got cranky, you fed and rocked him, all the while encouraging me to get a few more outfits.
When I had finished shopping we headed back to my house. I had asked if you wanted to make an extra stop by the library, as I had a book on hold, but you were eager to get home and take the motorcycle out with Bob. I dropped you by my house so you could pick up your car, while I ran in to get my library card. When I came out you were giving Logan, who was still sleeping in his car seat, a kiss and telling him that you'd see him later. You then gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek (which I wiped off because of your lipstick). I know you thanked me for the tops and probably said you loved me as well.
That was the last time I saw you... While I'm so very grateful for the wonderful day we had, I wish so much that I would've hugged you just a little harder. To be able to give you one last hug, and to just hold onto you for even one second longer, I would give anything.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Teeth and Snot
Dear Mom,
If you were here I would be calling you daily to report about Logan's painful teething, excessive drooling, and constant sneezing. I would tell you that Logan's top four teeth are coming in, causing him a lot of pain. He's so stuffy, whether from a summer cold or the teeth, that he can't breathe without being elevated. I would call you and ask your advice... Should I put his mattress on an incline? Do I use a pillow to do that? A towel? How can I help him sleep when he can't breathe through his little nose? What should Ido since he's not eating as much because he's in pain? No, you might not have had all the answers, but you certainly put my mind at ease and calmed my new mom/first teething experience jitters.
I think about you every day. Today we went by the house to collect the mail, but other days even the smallest things can trigger a memory. I had a meeting at work with the new principal and remembered how, on my way home after work, I would call you two or three times a week during my drive home. When I was emptying the dishwasher yesterday, I put away a small dish that you had given me to use when I feed Logan his homemade baby food. I especially know that Mike was thinking about you today, as it's his 26th birthday. I know you would've called him at 12:01 a.m. and sang "Happy Birthday" over the phone. You would've ordered something online and had it sent to his apartment. Like you did on my birthdays, you'd send a birthday card with a note about how proud you are and included a little smiley face just below your signature.
I miss you, mom. I miss you so much.
If you were here I would be calling you daily to report about Logan's painful teething, excessive drooling, and constant sneezing. I would tell you that Logan's top four teeth are coming in, causing him a lot of pain. He's so stuffy, whether from a summer cold or the teeth, that he can't breathe without being elevated. I would call you and ask your advice... Should I put his mattress on an incline? Do I use a pillow to do that? A towel? How can I help him sleep when he can't breathe through his little nose? What should Ido since he's not eating as much because he's in pain? No, you might not have had all the answers, but you certainly put my mind at ease and calmed my new mom/first teething experience jitters.
I think about you every day. Today we went by the house to collect the mail, but other days even the smallest things can trigger a memory. I had a meeting at work with the new principal and remembered how, on my way home after work, I would call you two or three times a week during my drive home. When I was emptying the dishwasher yesterday, I put away a small dish that you had given me to use when I feed Logan his homemade baby food. I especially know that Mike was thinking about you today, as it's his 26th birthday. I know you would've called him at 12:01 a.m. and sang "Happy Birthday" over the phone. You would've ordered something online and had it sent to his apartment. Like you did on my birthdays, you'd send a birthday card with a note about how proud you are and included a little smiley face just below your signature.
I miss you, mom. I miss you so much.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
One month
It has been just a little over one month since my mom passed away. I'm hoping to update this blog frequently as I attempt to understand the hows, whys, and heal.
A link to one of the many news stories from that day can be found here: http://www.wishtv.com/dpp/news/local/hamilton_county/2-die-in-motorcycle-vs-box-truck-crash
Most of all these days I wonder...
Where has she gone? Is she in Heaven? Where is Heaven? Can she see me? Does she watch and guide me? Does she send me signs and messages? Is God real? Is Heaven real? If so, where are they? If not, then where is my mom? Is she simply gone, buried and tossed away like a broken appliance? Humans are mechanical, right? What makes us different than a broken washer? Yes, we can feel and think... but does that really matter in the long run? If an animal dies, does it go to Heaven because it can feel and think too? These kinds of thoughts give me such a heart-stopping fear that I have to immediately move to something else - whether housework or some other menial task, just so I won't think. To think that she is just gone, that there is nothing else is...
Morbidly I wonder...
Did she feel pain? What was her last thought? Did she think about me, my son, and my brother? What did she feel? My mind runs the crash over and over, as though I was a spirit above, hovering. It's almost like slow motion, and makes me so heart sick that I can't breathe. These kind of thoughts debilitate me. They stop me cold in my tracks and consume me. I can't move or speak until I've gone through the whole imaginary scenario in my head - from start to finish. And what good does it do?
I wonder about signs...
The fact that I prayed to her, "Show me a sign. Show me that you are here. Show me that I'm not alone," and the next day my son started saying, "Momomomomom." Is that a sign? Or was he going to say that anyway because he was developmentally ready?
When I was at the doctor's office, waiting for the physician, sitting across the room from my purse, and suddenly David Gray's "Please Forgive Me" blasted from my iPod, loud enough for me to hear across the small room. Was that her telling me she's sorry to have left us? Or was my wallet putting pressure on the button that eventually turned the volume up loud enough for me to hear?
When I reached into a pile of my son's bibs, and while tossing them around in their basket, mentally asked my mom to make me pick out an "I love grandma" one, which I then did... Was it my mom sending me a sign or was that particular bib within my grasp?
Everything could be a sign. All these "signs" could simply be chance. Maybe there is no higher power controlling which bib I pick up. It was just there and I selected it randomly from a basket, giving it more meaning than an inanimate object could ever possess.
I don't know anything anymore. I'm unsure and feel lost. Misguided. Turned upside down and left alone to figure out which way is up.
One thing I do know is that I miss her with a pain that is so intense I do not know how I'm able to survive. There is a hole in my heart, so how am I still alive?
A link to one of the many news stories from that day can be found here: http://www.wishtv.com/dpp/news/local/hamilton_county/2-die-in-motorcycle-vs-box-truck-crash
Most of all these days I wonder...
Where has she gone? Is she in Heaven? Where is Heaven? Can she see me? Does she watch and guide me? Does she send me signs and messages? Is God real? Is Heaven real? If so, where are they? If not, then where is my mom? Is she simply gone, buried and tossed away like a broken appliance? Humans are mechanical, right? What makes us different than a broken washer? Yes, we can feel and think... but does that really matter in the long run? If an animal dies, does it go to Heaven because it can feel and think too? These kinds of thoughts give me such a heart-stopping fear that I have to immediately move to something else - whether housework or some other menial task, just so I won't think. To think that she is just gone, that there is nothing else is...
Morbidly I wonder...
Did she feel pain? What was her last thought? Did she think about me, my son, and my brother? What did she feel? My mind runs the crash over and over, as though I was a spirit above, hovering. It's almost like slow motion, and makes me so heart sick that I can't breathe. These kind of thoughts debilitate me. They stop me cold in my tracks and consume me. I can't move or speak until I've gone through the whole imaginary scenario in my head - from start to finish. And what good does it do?
I wonder about signs...
The fact that I prayed to her, "Show me a sign. Show me that you are here. Show me that I'm not alone," and the next day my son started saying, "Momomomomom." Is that a sign? Or was he going to say that anyway because he was developmentally ready?
When I was at the doctor's office, waiting for the physician, sitting across the room from my purse, and suddenly David Gray's "Please Forgive Me" blasted from my iPod, loud enough for me to hear across the small room. Was that her telling me she's sorry to have left us? Or was my wallet putting pressure on the button that eventually turned the volume up loud enough for me to hear?
When I reached into a pile of my son's bibs, and while tossing them around in their basket, mentally asked my mom to make me pick out an "I love grandma" one, which I then did... Was it my mom sending me a sign or was that particular bib within my grasp?
Everything could be a sign. All these "signs" could simply be chance. Maybe there is no higher power controlling which bib I pick up. It was just there and I selected it randomly from a basket, giving it more meaning than an inanimate object could ever possess.
I don't know anything anymore. I'm unsure and feel lost. Misguided. Turned upside down and left alone to figure out which way is up.
One thing I do know is that I miss her with a pain that is so intense I do not know how I'm able to survive. There is a hole in my heart, so how am I still alive?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)