~Grief is the price we pay for love~
Queen Elizabeth the Second
I'm driving, but it isn't my car. It's her car. Has she been waiting for me to bring it to her? But why? She can't drive it anymore. She died. I have the windows down because it's so sunny and warm. It's sandy, not like a beach, but more like a desert. I'm lost. Where am I? Where is she? I know she's waiting for me. And then I hear it, a voice as familiar to me as my own. "Moooom! Over here!" she yells with excitement. Brittany? Brittany!! She's here! I see her! Long, blond hair shining in the sunlight, brilliant blue eyes sparkling with palpable vivacity...sparkling with LIFE. She's smiling and laughing. I jump out of her car and she runs into my arms, encompassing me with one of her lanky, bony hugs that I've missed so much. I don't know how this is happening, and I don't care...because she's here. Alive. And we're together again...somewhere. "Mom! I want to show you my new house! It's awesome!" I'm so confused. She can't have a house. She died. And then it hits me like a sledgehammer. It guts me like a fish. She doesn't know. She doesn't know she died. She doesn't KNOW! And I can't tell her. I can't tell her...because she thinks she's still alive. She's happy, talking a mile a minute like nothing has changed. But everything has changed! She has no clue what's happened. I don't understand. My mind is reeling. I'm lost somewhere between excruciating agony and ignorant bliss. She grabs my hand and hugs me again. She kisses my cheek. "I've missed you so much, Mom!" "Oh my gosh!! Brittany! I've missed you too, little girl!" I'm crying. I'm crying because I can touch her, embrace her, smell her, laugh with her. I'm crying. I'm crying because I'm heartbroken. I'm crying because she doesn't know she died. And I'm crying because I know she did...and I can't tell her. I won't tell her. So, I play along, quickly succumbing to this wonderful fantasy; a fantasy that she believes is her reality...beautiful and ALIVE. A reality I'm beginning to forget is really a nightmare. My nightmare. But she doesn't know. She doesn't know she died...and I can't tell her. I can't tell her...because I don't want her to go away again. So, I pretend. I pretend she's not dead...because she doesn't know...and I won't tell her.
Then she sees it...my 'Brittany Bloom.' It's a special pink and white rosebush I planted in her memory...because she died. Why is it here...at 'her house?' Wait. Now it's my house. How did we get back here? "What's this, Mom?" "It's my Brittany Bloom," I tell her. "Then why is it dead? Where are the pretty flowers?" I'm crying. "Mom? MOM! Why is it getting so dark?" She's remembering. "MOM! Where's Chason? What happened?!?" I'm crying harder... and Brittany is crying, too. She knows. She knows she died. "MOM! PLEASE! DON'T LET ME GO! I WANT TO COME HOME!" I'm clinging so tightly to her now. "I'm so sorry, little girl! I love you so much! I don't want you to go! Please don't leave me again, Brittany!" I'm screaming. I'm crying. Brittany's screaming and crying...and fading. Her eyes are so sad...because she knows. She knows she died.
And then I'm awake, drenched with sweat, and crying...because I remember. I remember she died...even though I never forgot. I never forget. Of course I don't. Sometimes, though, I wish I could forget. Especially after that cruel dream.
My daughter is gone.That thought is a constant. It never takes a hiatus. It's in every particle I breathe...every second of every day. Sometimes, I feel like my own life is just a microcosm that's being swallowed up in a whole different world of grief. "It will change," they say. "It will become different." Well, if I had a dollar for each time I've heard or read that, I'd be a very rich girl...probably writing this from my secluded mansion somewhere along the Greek Isles!
Which brings me to this...
Does grief ever truly 'change' over time, as it is so often touted to do? Does it really become 'different?' Define 'change.' Define 'different.' Maybe then I'll be more intellectually enlightened to answer that question.
On February 13...at 5:10pm...it will be 55 months since my beautiful Brittany left me. I can count the days and hours too, if you'd like. Has my grief changed or become different? No! That's ridiculous! How could it? My child died, for crying out loud! My pain, agony, emptiness, and a litany of other adjectives I could insert here, remain the same. It's still a sick game of cat and mouse, never knowing when its claws will slash me or incapacitate me. Time hasn't changed my grief, nor has it become different. Let me say that again: My grief has not changed!
However...
What it has done is strengthen me. It has given me purpose. And it continues to do so on a daily basis. For example, my faith in God is stronger (as hard as that is for many to believe, even among Believers), and I strive daily to live my life in a way that honors Him, hoping that others will see Him in me. Let me be clear, though. I still get angry. I still throw occasional tantrums. I often demand her return...you get the picture. But I have never turned my back on God, nor will I ever, just as He will never turn His back on me. He's patient with me. That cannot be easy. Trust me.
I love my son stronger. I cherish my son stronger. I love him more every day...but I also love him stronger. There's a big difference. He is my life. He is my light when my days are dark.
I love my husband stronger. The death of a child is beyond challenging for a marriage. It hasn't always been easy. It still isn't, but we are conquering those challenges...as a team. As a family. We are stronger!
My Aunt Janice, who influenced and helped strengthen my faith in ways I will never be able to express, especially after Brittany left, always said, "Life is a journey Home,"...a journey she completed proudly and safely just three years after Brittany died. And that, my dear friends, is the real change, the only change that truly matters: the path I'm walking today. The road that's leading me on my own journey Home...to Jesus...to Brittany...to my Forever Home...to Heaven. Only then will my grief be different. Only then will it be changed. Because, only then, will my grief be no more.
John 13:7 (NLT) Jesus replied, "You don't understand now what I am doing, but someday you will."
I love you Brittany Erin...eternally <3
You are an amazing person! Inspiring!
ReplyDelete