There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. ~Washington Irving
I tried...but failed. My last blog was right before June 8th...the 11 month anniversary of the accident. I told my husband...and my daughter...that I would try to remember the 8th of every month as a "happy" day. Happy because of Brittany's happiness. And so I tried...and failed miserably. Happy? I don't even know what that feels like anymore. Not true happiness anyway. Not complete, untroubled, blissful happiness. I hope I didn't take it all for granted before. I hope I embraced ALL the moments with Brittany...big and small. And I'd like to think I did just that...embraced them for what they were...gifts. The gift of her smile. The gift of her carefree laugh. The gift of holding her. The gift of a moment in time that will last forever. But the one gift I have never...nor will I ever take for granted...is the beautiful life Brittany and I built together and the special bond between us that can never be severed. And if you remember anything from this blog, please let it be this: There are no do overs. There are no mulligans. Just lost moments. Cherish...embrace...love...now. Big moments and the not so big. Because every moment you share with your child is a big moment. Trust me.
The month I've been dreading for a year now is just days away. Once again, I've retreated into my dark place, isolating myself from friends and family and any interaction with the outside world, whatsoever. Do I feel safe there or is it just familiar? I don't know. What I do know is I want to avoid the entire month of July completely. I want time to stop. No, I want time to reverse itself. I want to go back in time to right this terrible wrong. I want time to give my daughter back to me. Unreasonable? I don't think so. Ludicrous? Of course. I've never claimed to be of sound mind though. At least not anymore. Is it possible to completely ignore an entire month on the calendar? Can't I just skip from June 30 straight to August 1? July was a blur to me last year anyway, so why acknowledge it now? Acknowledging it means to accept the unacceptable...to face the incomprehensible. I don't know if I'm ready for that. I've been told, though, that it's time I should be ready. Ready to move on, move forward, get through it, etc. To that I say...please show me a timeline to grief and I will do my best to follow the directions in a "timely" manner. Until then...well, I think I'll just follow whatever "timeline" my mental faculties are capable of. There is no "cookie cutter" blueprint to rebuilding your life after the death of a child. And if there is such a thing out there...it's not worth the paper it's written on.
So as much as I'd like to sleep through the entire month of July...as much as I'd like to pretend it has been omitted from the 2011 calendar...I will try and survive. I will remember the gifts that time did give me. And I will cry. But as Washington Irving so powerfully articulated it: " There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love."
I love you Brittany Erin...always and forever <3
July 8, 2010 changed my life irrevocably. It was the day my precious daughter, Brittany Erin, turned 21. It was also the day that brought about her death on July 13, 2010, thus beginning my quest for a "new normal..."
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Comfortably Numb
"When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown the dream is gone...
I have become comfortably numb"
(Lyrics from Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb")
...That's often how I feel, although I don't know if I would define my numbness as exactly "comfortable." But I guess sometimes it is. Even after nearly 11 months of trying to survive this incomprehensible nightmare, my pain and brokenness remain unchanged. In fact, on many days it seems to grow more intense. "Time heals all wounds" certainly doesn't apply in this situation...the senseless death of Brittany. Perhaps that's why I often let the numbness consume me. Maybe it's a reprieve...albeit a short one...from the constant anguish I breathe in and out each day. Perhaps, even if for just one fleeting moment, I just...am. No thoughts, no tears, no anger or denial. Just April. Certainly not the old April...the quirky, quick witted, extremely dry humored girl who could have almost complete conversations with her husband using nothing but one-liners from movies and comedians. Maybe that part of me is numb forever...comfortable or not.
Tomorrow is June 8...the 11 month anniversary of Brittany's accident and one month closer to the year anniversary of the beginning of my life without my little girl. I could hope for numbness, but I fear it won't come. My husband wants me to try and remember the 8th of each month as a happy occasion. Happy because Brittany was so incredibly excited to be turning 21 and flying to Florida to celebrate with her family...Brett, Bryson and her momma. I'm not sure I'll be able to do that though. I've always been a "glass half empty" kind of girl. But I will try. I will try and remember how delirious she was about our countdown...to her birthday...to her trip...to being reunited with her mom again...two halves of a whole complete once more. I will try and smile at the memory of her own beautiful smile...the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed...the way she felt in my arms when I held her. So I will try. I may be numb doing so...but for my little girl...I will try.
I love you my beautiful Angel <3
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown the dream is gone...
I have become comfortably numb"
(Lyrics from Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb")
...That's often how I feel, although I don't know if I would define my numbness as exactly "comfortable." But I guess sometimes it is. Even after nearly 11 months of trying to survive this incomprehensible nightmare, my pain and brokenness remain unchanged. In fact, on many days it seems to grow more intense. "Time heals all wounds" certainly doesn't apply in this situation...the senseless death of Brittany. Perhaps that's why I often let the numbness consume me. Maybe it's a reprieve...albeit a short one...from the constant anguish I breathe in and out each day. Perhaps, even if for just one fleeting moment, I just...am. No thoughts, no tears, no anger or denial. Just April. Certainly not the old April...the quirky, quick witted, extremely dry humored girl who could have almost complete conversations with her husband using nothing but one-liners from movies and comedians. Maybe that part of me is numb forever...comfortable or not.
Tomorrow is June 8...the 11 month anniversary of Brittany's accident and one month closer to the year anniversary of the beginning of my life without my little girl. I could hope for numbness, but I fear it won't come. My husband wants me to try and remember the 8th of each month as a happy occasion. Happy because Brittany was so incredibly excited to be turning 21 and flying to Florida to celebrate with her family...Brett, Bryson and her momma. I'm not sure I'll be able to do that though. I've always been a "glass half empty" kind of girl. But I will try. I will try and remember how delirious she was about our countdown...to her birthday...to her trip...to being reunited with her mom again...two halves of a whole complete once more. I will try and smile at the memory of her own beautiful smile...the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed...the way she felt in my arms when I held her. So I will try. I may be numb doing so...but for my little girl...I will try.
I love you my beautiful Angel <3
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