It's been three years.
That is so hard for me to comprehend.
She was just here, wasn't she?
How is it possible that our lives have gone on without her?
Not just gone on, but changed so much?
Courty's entire existence is Post-Mom. She's now older than Suttie was when we lost Mom.
Keegan started school and learned to read Post-Mom. He's as old as Ky was when we lost Mom.
Suttie has gone from being the baby just turning 2 to being a rebellious 5 year old preparing for Kindergarten. Suttie still cries at night because he misses Grandma (even though I'm not sure he even really remembers her, just remembers he's sad)
Gavin and Ian are in high school.
Lindsey has had two babies Post-Mom. (and those babies made her work!)
Karri became a grandma Post-Mom.
Dalton's a dad.
Dylan's thinking about colleges.
Ky isn't the only Granddaughter anymore.
Dad has gone back to work, traveled, and even babysat. (Though he still hasn't changed a diaper, so some things never change)
So.much.has.happened.
So much.
But how could that much have happened when it still feels so fresh?
I grieve daily.
Like Dad says, the years have flown by... it's the days that drag.
Ours lives didn't stop.
Somehow that still feels disloyal.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
The 6th Stage?
There are 5 recognized stages of grief.
1. Denial and Isolation
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance
Denial and Isolation
When I first got the phone call that something was wrong, I was sure that it was just a misunderstanding. She was in the shower, the cell reception was bad, the landline was down. It couldn't be anything more serious than that.
But it was. It was the most serious thing of all, and we were stuck here. Hours from home with no way to help, or no way to change it. Luckily, the isolation didn't come because I had so many people to help fill the silence. Mostly my babies. Any mother knows, that time alone is hard to come by, and my boys were there with me. A few months later, when I became pregnant with Foo Foo, I knew my mom was with me, and that baby helped keep me out of the dark hole I wanted to crawl into.
There are times that I'm still a bit in denial. I'm shocked that she's not here, and that she will never be here again.
Anger
I was never mad at God. I thought I would be, but maybe I'm just in a better place now with my faith then when I was younger. This week, my pastor spoke on grief and reaffirmed my belief that God doesn't do this to us. I believe he's there with us, grieving with us, knows that it's going to happen, but that sometimes our earthly bodies just can't go on.
Bargaining
I wanted to know why her body gave out. What happened to make this seemingly healthy woman just die. Put her head back and die? Did she stop taking her blood pressure medication? The pills were hard for her to swallow. Did she stop taking them because of that? What if we had gotten her smaller pills? Would it have mattered? She had a headache the weekend before and missed work? What if we would have forced her to go to the doctor? Was she in heart failure? Could they have caught it? But her cardiologist told Dad that even if she had been in a hospital, there was nothing they could have done to save her.
Depression
I am still SO overwhelmingly sad about her absence. I cried the last night of vacation because she wasn't with us. I knew how much she was missing out on, and how much my babies were having to miss out on. I saw a therapist for a while, but I just got tired of it. I feel like I should be "over it" or at least be a little more ok with it.
Running became my therapy. I do it to try to keep myself healthier, so that maybe it will be around longer for my babies, than my mom was for me. It also helps me clear my head. I never thought I would be addicted to it, but I can feel the tension building in me when it's been too long since a run.
Acceptance?
I accept that she is dead. I saw her body. I felt my soul being torn from my body in that instant. But I don't think accepting it will ever mean that I'm ok with it.
But what about this other stage I'm in now? It's not healthy, but where does it fit? I've tried to pull myself out of it, I know it's not right but it's there and I don't know what to do about it. For me, the sixth stage of grief is
Jealousy
I've become some sort of morbid mathematical savant. It happens when I watch the news, read the paper (especially the obituary section), or log in to Facebook. It usually goes something like this.
Status update: We just celebrated Mother/Grandmother/Auntie/etcs 75th/85th/95th birthday. Even when I am happy for them, my mind is doing the math. Their loved one is 12/22/32 years older than my mom got to be.
How is that fair? Is it Anger that I'm feeling? Because it definitely feels like Jealousy. I'm not angry that their loved one is still here, I'm jealous that mine is not.
It's not healthy. It's not fair to those who are blessed to still have their loved ones here. I know people who lost a loved one decades before who still struggle. Is this ugly green monster my new reality? Is this how I have to live now? Running helps, but I don't know how many miles I have to run to get that out of my head. Are there enough miles?
1. Denial and Isolation
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance
Denial and Isolation
When I first got the phone call that something was wrong, I was sure that it was just a misunderstanding. She was in the shower, the cell reception was bad, the landline was down. It couldn't be anything more serious than that.
But it was. It was the most serious thing of all, and we were stuck here. Hours from home with no way to help, or no way to change it. Luckily, the isolation didn't come because I had so many people to help fill the silence. Mostly my babies. Any mother knows, that time alone is hard to come by, and my boys were there with me. A few months later, when I became pregnant with Foo Foo, I knew my mom was with me, and that baby helped keep me out of the dark hole I wanted to crawl into.
There are times that I'm still a bit in denial. I'm shocked that she's not here, and that she will never be here again.
Anger
I was never mad at God. I thought I would be, but maybe I'm just in a better place now with my faith then when I was younger. This week, my pastor spoke on grief and reaffirmed my belief that God doesn't do this to us. I believe he's there with us, grieving with us, knows that it's going to happen, but that sometimes our earthly bodies just can't go on.
Bargaining
I wanted to know why her body gave out. What happened to make this seemingly healthy woman just die. Put her head back and die? Did she stop taking her blood pressure medication? The pills were hard for her to swallow. Did she stop taking them because of that? What if we had gotten her smaller pills? Would it have mattered? She had a headache the weekend before and missed work? What if we would have forced her to go to the doctor? Was she in heart failure? Could they have caught it? But her cardiologist told Dad that even if she had been in a hospital, there was nothing they could have done to save her.
Depression
I am still SO overwhelmingly sad about her absence. I cried the last night of vacation because she wasn't with us. I knew how much she was missing out on, and how much my babies were having to miss out on. I saw a therapist for a while, but I just got tired of it. I feel like I should be "over it" or at least be a little more ok with it.
Running became my therapy. I do it to try to keep myself healthier, so that maybe it will be around longer for my babies, than my mom was for me. It also helps me clear my head. I never thought I would be addicted to it, but I can feel the tension building in me when it's been too long since a run.
Acceptance?
I accept that she is dead. I saw her body. I felt my soul being torn from my body in that instant. But I don't think accepting it will ever mean that I'm ok with it.
But what about this other stage I'm in now? It's not healthy, but where does it fit? I've tried to pull myself out of it, I know it's not right but it's there and I don't know what to do about it. For me, the sixth stage of grief is
Jealousy
I've become some sort of morbid mathematical savant. It happens when I watch the news, read the paper (especially the obituary section), or log in to Facebook. It usually goes something like this.
Status update: We just celebrated Mother/Grandmother/Auntie/etcs 75th/85th/95th birthday. Even when I am happy for them, my mind is doing the math. Their loved one is 12/22/32 years older than my mom got to be.
How is that fair? Is it Anger that I'm feeling? Because it definitely feels like Jealousy. I'm not angry that their loved one is still here, I'm jealous that mine is not.
It's not healthy. It's not fair to those who are blessed to still have their loved ones here. I know people who lost a loved one decades before who still struggle. Is this ugly green monster my new reality? Is this how I have to live now? Running helps, but I don't know how many miles I have to run to get that out of my head. Are there enough miles?
Thursday, February 7, 2013
All roads lead to...
This was my thought process this morning.
Crap.
What am I going to wear today?
ugh. I have nothing to wear today.
Sweater.
I'll wear a sweater.
and pants
I should wear pants
Ok, so I'm wearing a red sweater and beige pants.
What color of shoes should I wear?
Black.
Hey, I'm wearing red and black
NM's colors were red and black.
Ball State was red and white, with a little black
Peru was Black and Gold.
Remember that time when Mom said she couldn't get used to me wearing black and gold?
It all leads back to her.
Things she said.
Things she did.
Shoes.
Colors.
Sounds.
Smells.
Last night, Keegan asked me if I remembered when Grandma died a long time ago and we went to see her and I touched her and he wanted to touch her so I let him touch her.
Yes. It's hard to forget.
"How old was I?" he asked. "Was I two or was I three?"
"You were three" I told him.
"How old was Suttie?"
"Suttie had just turned two"
"She died on Suttie's birthday???"
"No, not on his birthday. Two weeks after his birthday."
"and how old was Courty?" the next question.
"Courty wasn't born yet, remember? Grandma picked Courty out when she got to heaven"
I can't help but be a little sad about Grandma not knowing Courty here on earth.
Giggles.
Sometimes giggles lead back to her too.
The other night, when Courtlynn was sleeping next to me in my bed
because I fail at letting her cry it out and Grandma didn't like "cry it out" anyway
road back to her
I digress.
When she was sleeping next to me in my bed she started giggling in her sleep...
Road.
Eight lane, all express, paved with gold road right back to Grandma.
Because I know, that those giggles were Grandma getting her sugar.
Crap.
What am I going to wear today?
ugh. I have nothing to wear today.
Sweater.
I'll wear a sweater.
and pants
I should wear pants
Ok, so I'm wearing a red sweater and beige pants.
What color of shoes should I wear?
Black.
Hey, I'm wearing red and black
NM's colors were red and black.
Ball State was red and white, with a little black
Peru was Black and Gold.
Remember that time when Mom said she couldn't get used to me wearing black and gold?
It all leads back to her.
Things she said.
Things she did.
Shoes.
Colors.
Sounds.
Smells.
Last night, Keegan asked me if I remembered when Grandma died a long time ago and we went to see her and I touched her and he wanted to touch her so I let him touch her.
Yes. It's hard to forget.
"How old was I?" he asked. "Was I two or was I three?"
"You were three" I told him.
"How old was Suttie?"
"Suttie had just turned two"
"She died on Suttie's birthday???"
"No, not on his birthday. Two weeks after his birthday."
"and how old was Courty?" the next question.
"Courty wasn't born yet, remember? Grandma picked Courty out when she got to heaven"
I can't help but be a little sad about Grandma not knowing Courty here on earth.
Giggles.
Sometimes giggles lead back to her too.
The other night, when Courtlynn was sleeping next to me in my bed
because I fail at letting her cry it out and Grandma didn't like "cry it out" anyway
road back to her
I digress.
When she was sleeping next to me in my bed she started giggling in her sleep...
Road.
Eight lane, all express, paved with gold road right back to Grandma.
Because I know, that those giggles were Grandma getting her sugar.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
It's been over two years now.
That fact never ceases to stop me in my tracks, make my breath catch, or make my eyes fill with tears.
We survived the holidays.
But more than that, we enjoyed the holidays.
That fact never ceases to stop me in my tracks, make my breath catch, or make my eyes fill with tears.
Keegan and Sutton had a rough go of it there for awhile. One night, they sobbed uncontrollably for close to an hour because, "we miss Gwandma Cindy." Maybe they were just overly tired, or maybe they just knew what buttons to push... but it killed me.
They still talk about her all the time, and pray every night for God to take care of her.
I'm walking a fine line. I don't want to let them forget her, don't want to push her on them, so I'm letting them take the lead. They will eventually change their prayers, and I think that will be a sad day for me.
We've had new life. Her first great grandchild, and new generation of DRB, was born. It's tragic that she's not here to be a Great Grandma in every sense of the word.
We've lost life. My dear sweet Brodus T Wonderpup, the soul who was with her until the end, and waited with her patiently, watching over her until Karri arrived, wandered off before Christmas. His health had been bad, his hearing gone, his poor little knees failing, but he was always the same "smiling Brodie". I can only hope he passed as peacefully as she did.
In Sunday School a few weeks ago, they asked, "What is the hardest question someone has ever asked you?"
That answer was easy. It's ALWAYS the questions I get about Mom
"How old is Grandma Cindy?" Keegan asked me recently.
I hate questions like that. 63? Are we catching up to her? Almost 66? Do we pretend she's still aging with us?
Wish I had all the answers to give them, but I have too many of my own.
That fact never ceases to stop me in my tracks, make my breath catch, or make my eyes fill with tears.
We survived the holidays.
But more than that, we enjoyed the holidays.
That fact never ceases to stop me in my tracks, make my breath catch, or make my eyes fill with tears.
Keegan and Sutton had a rough go of it there for awhile. One night, they sobbed uncontrollably for close to an hour because, "we miss Gwandma Cindy." Maybe they were just overly tired, or maybe they just knew what buttons to push... but it killed me.
They still talk about her all the time, and pray every night for God to take care of her.
I'm walking a fine line. I don't want to let them forget her, don't want to push her on them, so I'm letting them take the lead. They will eventually change their prayers, and I think that will be a sad day for me.
We've had new life. Her first great grandchild, and new generation of DRB, was born. It's tragic that she's not here to be a Great Grandma in every sense of the word.
We've lost life. My dear sweet Brodus T Wonderpup, the soul who was with her until the end, and waited with her patiently, watching over her until Karri arrived, wandered off before Christmas. His health had been bad, his hearing gone, his poor little knees failing, but he was always the same "smiling Brodie". I can only hope he passed as peacefully as she did.
In Sunday School a few weeks ago, they asked, "What is the hardest question someone has ever asked you?"
That answer was easy. It's ALWAYS the questions I get about Mom
"How old is Grandma Cindy?" Keegan asked me recently.
I hate questions like that. 63? Are we catching up to her? Almost 66? Do we pretend she's still aging with us?
Wish I had all the answers to give them, but I have too many of my own.
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