Where I am

When I first started this blog, I meant for it to be in order....from that first horrific night at the hospital, through leaving the hospital, to the days spent planning and leading up to her memorial. Yet my writing seems to have its own flow and order.  I thought it would be orderly,  maybe even helpful to some other parent going through this. Boy was I wrong.  Instead it has gone along with whatever I happen to be going through. My  feelings, my emotions. The pain that consumes my every waking moment, and most likely my dreams as well. 

So I was reading back some of my posts and guess what? They are in a sort of order. They are and always will be, me writing about my daughter Jennifer, my best friend.  And right now, not quite five months since she passed, they do make a kind of order of things. Little things, huge horrific things like the daily anguish I, (we) feel everyday. My daughter is gone. My husband seems to be in a place that I feel I can't even reach him in. I grieve for my daughter.  I grieve for my husband.

I often cry alone during the day, while he is at work, it upsets him so to see me in so much pain. He is always here for me, and he is supportive, but he is in his own private hell right now.  We both grieve in different ways.  Many books that I have read and therapist that we have seen, as well as all the wonderful people in our support group tell us that we will each react differently at different stages of our grief. 

I have recently started reaching out to a couple of members from our support group, The Compassionate Friends.  Marcia, you have been such a tremendous help to me. Up until recently it was mostly one sided... you would call me, text me, or leave me messages on my Facebook page. At our meetings, and in all the other ways you have tried to be there for me. Always reminding me you were just a call or text away. And Brenda, you also have been there in much the same way as Marcia. It was only recently that I actually made those phone calls when I was so desperate for validation for what I was going through, I found the strength to reach out.  Sometimes all it takes is someone on the other end just listening or just talking  me down a little. I thank you both for that.

Everyone in the group, when we meet, we are greeted with hugs and understanding. You all remind us that her passing is really still so new and raw. You show us courage, the courage to get up again the next day. To get through it. Even though it hurts. Even though the pain will never really leave us, you have shown us that it can be lived with.

But the pain, that is where I am, every day.  It floods my mind, cuts deep in my heart.  I never dreamed that such pain existed.  It takes the breath from your body, it leaves you empty and aching. So that is where I am right now.