Mental Hiatus

I have very little memory of what happened before, during and directly after Brittany's services. Some say it was shock...my doctor says it was Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder...I simply call it overwhelming grief and my inability to cope with the circumstances. To be honest, though, a large part of me is relieved I can't remember much. I don't want to relive it. Sometimes, I even send myself into panic mode because I'm afraid I will remember and that makes me nervous. Other times, I send myself into panic mode because I'm afraid I won't remember...and that makes me nervous, too. It's quite the emotional paradox I have raging in my head. And let me tell you...it can be exhausting.

I remember just hours after Brittany died I came to the realization that I had no clue what to do about her services. Where would I have them? Who would do it? Where would she be laid to rest? Who plans ahead for something like this when it's your 21-year old child? Cue panic attack. The person I immediately thought of to do her service was my brother, Bill. He's a pastor at New Hope Church in Effingham. It wasn't fair of me to put him in that position. His boys and Brittany are all about the same age and he had watched her grow up. She's his only niece and his little sister's baby girl. It wasn't an easy decision for him, but after much prayer, he agreed. This just hours after Brittany died. I remember him telling me that he would have to pause a lot because of the sheer emotionality of it. I told him that was fine. He could pause over my wailing. I think he knows, but I will say it again...it is the most amazing gift he will ever give me. There is not one single person I would have trusted more to do this than him. And I was right. From what everyone tells me, the service was one of the most beautiful they have ever seen. I don't remember anything. I'm told I was present, though...front and center. Everyone at New Hope Church, where Brittany's services were held, was amazing. All I did was show up (I think) and they did everything else...and I mean everything. I hope they know how eternally grateful I am to them. God has truly blessed that church and its members.

There was only one place I wanted my daughter to be buried (since I had been forced into making the decision in the first place. Again...hadn't really planned ahead for this one): Arborcrest Memorial Park. It's where most of my family is or will be someday. My parents took me out there on July 14, 2010...the day after Brittany died...to scout out locations. But nothing was available near my family's area and that drove me into panic mode again. I couldn't stand the thought of her being stuck out there somewhere alone...with no one she knows around her. I dropped to my knees in the sweltering heat and bawled. My parents (who purchased their plots years ago) held me and said they would move their plots next to Brittany so she wouldn't be alone. I know that makes Brittany happy because she was extremely close to my mom and dad. She was almost a second daughter to them...a mini April. My dad...being the consummate joker that he is...said on his decision to move their spots: "I just hope God knows where to find us!"  Thanks for the smile, Dad, but I think God has a pretty reliable GPS in Heaven.

I know this particular blog may seem a little disjointed and I apologize for that. It's just really hard writing coherently about something that isn't very intelligible to begin with. It's almost as if I have fuzzy flashes of someone else's distant life. My amazing husband was...and still is...very patient with his sometimes mentally absent wife. In fact, it wasn't until December 13, 2010...5 months to the day of her death...that I realized just how "absent" I truly was. It was very late at night and I couldn't sleep so I nervously decided to look at the guestbook people had signed at her services. It was the first time I had seen it...and the last. I was completely taken aback as I turned page after page after page...hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of people...some traveling hours to get there...had all come to see my little girl. As I read through the pages of names, I realized that I didn't recall hardly any of them. Did I ignore them? I felt terrible. I asked Brett about it the next morning and he said "No, honey. You spoke to all of them. They hugged you and many of them talked to you for quite some time." My brain must have been on hiatus.

We stayed in Illinois until the beginning of August. We had been away from our home in Florida for almost a month and it was time to return. Our house was there, our jobs, Bryson's friends and school. But it made me sick just thinking about leaving. I felt like I was deserting Brittany. Florida wasn't "home" anymore. "Home" is where my daughter is...in Illinois. So "home" is where we would soon be headed...