Thanksgiving

As my family gathers together for the holidays there are so many wonderful things going on. 

My parents are hosting us for Thanksgiving.

Dad will tell us some jokes and try to get us to look down at the non-existent spot on our shirt, so he can catch our noses.  Mom will make her special treats and make us all laugh with something that she leaves in the microwave, only to find It after we are all stuffed full. 

My brothers will play a game and toss back a few beers while we are all getting the dinner buffet set up.  They will keep the kids occupied and encourage them to come steal the black olives from the tray, even though it’s not time to eat quite yet. 

My sister-in-laws will help to get the food ready and placed on the counter for everyone to pick and choose over.  We will chat about what the kids have been doing and what they have coming up.  We will tell stories about some of the fun and goofy things that have happened. 

The big kids will be sitting comfortably on the sofas playing with their phones, the little kids will bounce back and forth from my bothers to the big kids, wanting to see what game they are playing and when it can be their turn to play.

We will all fill our plates and sit around the table to share the meal and time together.  Mom will bring us all together with a prayer and remind us how blessed we all are.  Then we will join in the meal and joke and laugh about the fun we have together.  The kids will push some food around their plates and accept some bribes to try something new, only to have this Aunchie let them have their desert anyway.

After the meal we will work together to clear the table, do the dishes, and put the leftovers away.  We will join together again to play a game and enjoy each other’s company, with a glass of wine or two.

This may sound like the very perfect picture of a holiday.  I know how truly blessed I am to have it, yet the most noticeable thing to me will be the empty chair where my daughter should be.  

This is not the first year for the empty chair, yet it hasn’t become any easier.  I love the time my family is together, but it also serves as a heartbreaking reminder of that empty chair.

Strong......

Being strong….this is something I wrestle with every day.  People tell me all the time, “You are so strong!”  I cannot accept that.  Wading through grief is not strength, it is painful!  Each day is like walking through thorns and feeling them cut deeper the more you try to escape them.

In reality what you see as my strength is not.  It is a brave face, it is a determined Mama, it is crying alone, it is screaming at the top of my lungs when no one is around and it is wanting so desperately to not to have to be “strong”! 

Being handed this life sentence without my oldest daughter seems so wrong, then I look to my youngest daughter and I feel the pain she has inside of her and it cuts my heart even deeper.  This is not something I can stop or change for her, not something I can shelter her from.  Her life sentence without her sister is greater than I can imagine.  Greater than anything she should ever have to know. 

I want to see my girl living her life and her sister not afraid to live hers. 

I know when we have children, we aren’t handed a checklist, and I love a good checklist.  Even more unreal is when we lose our child there is no checklist for that either.  How am I supposed to keep going, how can I help my youngest child though this uncharted territory when I have no damn clue where we even are anymore?  How can I encourage her to fight, when I am not sure I can! 

I don’t want to die, but I sure as hell want to be with my girl….BOTH of my girls.  How can I keep one foot in this world and one foot in another?  This limbo is something I will never wrap my head around, yet I keep going in this world.

I bask in all the glory my youngest daughter’s achievements with her and encourage her to be proud of what she is doing, she deserves everything she has worked so hard for and I am proud of her!  She deserves to see that she is the kindest soul with the most amazing heart.  To hear her say she is scared to continue her life without her big sissy showing her the way is heartbreaking and true.  The truth in what she is feeling is not wrong.  I am always honored when she can express this to me.

The pain my youngest daughter wades though is like those thorns, but I know they cut her even deeper.  The day the feelings to be with her sister outweighed her desire to live her own I was there, understanding where she was at.    Screaming and begging her to stay here. 

The pain she was in built up higher than any mountain you can see or imagine.  I understood how she got to that place, but she nor I were ready for her to take her foot out of this world.  She fought like hell to stay in this world, even if she wasn’t sure she wanted to.  She doesn’t need to be strong; she needs to know it’s OK    

to be whatever she is.

So, as I stand in this world and people call me strong…I want to laugh in their face.  I am far from strong, I am a grieving mother, fighting to keep myself and my youngest daughter in this world.  This doesn’t make us strong, this makes us the keeper of the thorns…..taking moments we can to smell the roses. 

Three years Into A Life Sentence

Three years into my life sentence as a bereaved mother.  That sounds so strange……still.  The pain and the tears are not gone, nor will they ever be.  The time has stood still around me while so much has kept moving since my daughter took her life. 

In the three years, I have seen joy again, the world does have color again, and so much has changed.  I feel guilty that life continues to go on without Brittany, yet proud of all the things Brianna is doing and accomplishing.  I have never experienced so many ends of emotions all at the same time. 

There is no “moving on” after this loss, I will never let go of this part of my heart.  My brain is split in two it seems, just as my heart is.  The grief changes and morphs into so many different things, often it changes minute by minute.  Many times, I want to go numb and just run away into a hole, but I can’t.  There is still so much to enjoy with those that I love. 

I keep going for both of my girls. For Brittany I keep going to share the love and hope she had for this world.  For Brianna I keep going because I am so proud of the strong woman she is becoming and I’m so proud to be her mother. 

My biggest fear is that in this world, Brittany will be forgotten.  That people will forget who she was and all the wonderful things she gave this world.  I am grateful that family and friends still reach out and talk to me about her, so the fear seems irrational I know, but it is still there.

There is little in this world to compare the grief to.  Thinking of the rest of my life like this doesn’t seem to be easier today than it was three years ago.  This doesn’t seem to be fair, right, or just.  

I have little concern anymore for what people think or what is acceptable, instead I do what is best for us, what we need to do to just survive somedays.   Survival mode it seems is the only normal I have anymore.  

So, I simply put one foot in front of the other and soak in the pieces of color that the world still has to offer us.