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

Time

"...With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day." 2 Peter 3:8

I can't fully comprehend what it will be like to live in a place where time has no meaning...where time, as we perceive it to be now, will no longer exist. I would imagine, however, that it will be wonderful to live like that...timelessly. No days being checked off of calendars, no weeks flying by only to realize I've reached the end of one month and the beginning of yet another, no "reminder" dates of the devastating tragedy that altered the course of my life forever. Time. A very subjective concept. At least in the context of my own life, anyway.  

As I look back over the past 10 1/2 months of my heartbreaking"Quest For a New Normal," I'm incredulous at just how far I've come. I'm also incredulous at just how little progress I've made, too. Has time marched forward, cruelly leaving me behind in its wake?  Or has time stopped, patiently waiting for me to catch up and move forward? I would be a contradictory reflection of myself if I answered 'yes' to both...therefore, I guess that's just what I am...a contradiction. I never know who I'm going to see staring back at me in the mirror each morning: the clueless mother who is struggling to navigate herself on this journey into the unknown, or the brokenhearted  mother who refuses to move forward...either out of cowardice or just plain denial. Neither reflection is desirable and both are complete strangers to me. Will that always be the case? Will I never again recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror, or is she someone new? Someone I'll be forced to coexist with for the rest of my life? I guess only time will tell...

And while I'm on the subject of time...

One of my favorite "oldies" song is "Time in a Bottle" by Jim Croce. I had actually forgotten all about it until I heard it on the radio today. Maybe that's why "time" is so heavy on my mind.

So this is for you Brittany Erin...my love for you is timeless...as will also be my pain...until we're together once again. <3

Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with...

If you'd like to hear the song, the youtube link is below...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyTfbtZeGeU

Mother's Day

My mom, she tells a lot of lies

   she never did before

But from now until she dies,

   she'll tell a whole lot more

Ask my mom how she is

   and because she can't explain

She will tell a little lie

   because she can't describe the pain

Ask my mom how she is

   she'll say "I'm alright"

If that's the truth, then tell me

   why does she cry each night?

Ask my mom how she is

   "I'm fine. I'm well. I'm coping."

For God's sake mom, just tell the truth

   just say your heart is broken

She'll love me all of her life

   I loved her all of mine

But if you ask her how she is

   she'll lie and say she's fine

I am here in Heaven

   I cannot hug from here

If she lies to you, don't listen

   hug her and hold her near

On the day we meet again

   I'll smile and I'll be bold

I'll say, "You're lucky to get in here, Mom"

   with all the lies you told!

~Author unknown~

Mother's Day. What a paradoxically emotional day that was for me. While trying to celebrate the priceless gift of being the mother to my precious little boy, I was also painfully aware of the gaping hole, the incompleteness of my heart...the absence of my daughter. And like pouring salt in a wound, Mother's Day happened to fall on May 8...the ten month anniversary of Brittany's accident...the ten month anniversary of what lead to that gaping hole. How's that for cruel irony?

I had never given it much thought before, but I now find myself keenly aware of how other parents who have had a child die refer to that child. For example, someone I didn't know but had struck up a conversation with recently at my son's school asked me if I had any other children. I immediately said, "Yes." It wasn't something I had to analyze before answering. "Boy or girl?" she asked. "Girl," I said. "How old is she?" the woman casually inquired. "She's 21 and recently died in a car accident." That's quite the conversation killer (no pun intended) and I could tell I had made the woman very uncomfortable. It clearly wasn't the direction she expected our little chat to go. But how was I supposed to respond? Is there a "correct" way of referring to a child that is no longer living on this earth? I certainly wasn't going to say, "Well, I HAD a daughter too, but she recently died." I will always HAVE a daughter. I will always be her mom. I will always HAVE two children. There is no "had" about it. Being Brittany's mom didn't cease the day she died. I may have been forced to stop doing other things when she passed away...pay her cell bill, buy her clothes, send her money (often)...wipe her tears...hold her tight...but I will never stop being her mom...and I am thankful for that privilege. I am eternally grateful for the blessing...for the gift...of being the mother of two extraordinary children...Brittany and Bryson...and being their mother will never cease. It is a lifetime bond that defies all time and space.

  

Easter Memory

~Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,

love leaves a memory no one can steal~

Today is Easter. But instead of recognizing and celebrating the true meaning of this holiday, I am consumed with sadness once more...and memories of past Easter mornings when Brittany was a little girl...waking up with sparkling, sleepy blue eyes and a head full of blonde tousled hair falling around her beautiful face.

My absolute favorite Easter morning Brittany and I shared was when she was 5 years old. As do most children, she had been begging me for a puppy...almost from the time she could form complete sentences! The older she got, the more earnest her pleas became. So, that year...1995...I finally consented. She just didn't know it yet. I had decided a small, cuddly dog would best suit her (and me, since I knew I would be the primary caretaker and Brittany the primary cuddler). Several weeks before Easter that year, a litter of Shih Tzus was born at a nearby breeder. It seemed like fate. So, I surreptitiously went to scope it out...and I was sold (literally). How could I deny her such an adorable, lovable little creature? I wrote the check and made my arrangements to pick the dog up the day before Easter...which was still about two weeks away. Keeping such an exciting surprise from Brittany was extremely challenging...at best. Each time I looked at her sweet little face, I wanted to pick her up in my arms and shout, "Guess what???" But I waited. And let me tell you, it was worth the wait. I'm not even sure words can describe how priceless that Easter morning was.

After Brittany had fallen asleep that Saturday night, a friend who had been "hiding" the dog for me brought it over in its little kennel. I kept it in the back room so Brittany wouldn't see it right way when she woke up. I placed a huge, stuffed, pink floppy-eared bunny on top of the kennel with a note that read, "Dear Brittany, this is Callie. She's been waiting for you for a very long time! Please take good care of her for me. Love, the Easter Bunny." Then...I waited...again. Thankfully, Callie played along with the ruse because the little thing didn't make a peep all night long.

It was a tradition in our house that every Easter morning I would hide a huge basket for Brittany, which she would immediately scour the house for as soon as her eyes popped open. 1995 was no exception. Once she located the basket and realized what it contained, her little face frowned in frustration. "Mommy, the Easter Bunny made a mistake! This is all dog stuff!" And right on cue, from the back room, little Callie started to whine. A confused but excited look came over Brittany's face and she ran to find the source of the noise. I wish I had been able to record it because the look on her face was priceless. I can still see it just as clearly today as I did 16 years ago. "Mommy!!!! Look!!!" She scooped the little black and white fur ball up in her arms and squealed, "Her name is Callie. Isn't she cute?" That was one of the happiest moments in my life. And I think it was for her, too.  

Happy Easter my beautiful Angel.

I love you Brittany Erin <3

Choices

"Suffering is part of the human condition, and it comes to us all. The key is how we react to it, either turning away from God in anger and bitterness or growing closer to Him in trust and confidence."  ~Billy Graham


The past few days have been excruciatingly painful for me...today in particular. I've already survived two of my three "reminder" dates this month...the 8th (Brittany's accident) and the 13th (Brittany's death). Tomorrow is reminder date number three...the day I had to "relocate" her (aka "bury"). You all know how I feel about that word. Can it be nine months already? How is that possible? I don't want to move on. In fact, I know there will never be any "moving on" for me at all. "Moving forward" is the best I can hope for and right now, I can't. I'm not ready.

I am a huge fan of Billy Graham, but when I came across the above quote, it caused me to stop and think. Are there really only two options to how I choose to react to my suffering? (1) Turn away from God in anger and bitterness or (2) Grow closer to Him in trust and confidence. What about a third option? What if I choose to turn TO God in anger and bitterness, while hopefully...somewhere along the way...grow closer to Him in trust and confidence? 

Off and on throughout my entries I've talked about my faith, and I will be the first to admit that sometimes it fluctuates so much on a daily basis that I give myself spiritual and mental whiplash. Some days it's strong. Some days it's weak. Today it's the latter. I called my brother (a pastor) sobbing inconsolably today to ask the proverbial, unanswerable question: Why? It wasn't fair of me to put him on the spot like that and silly, really, for me to ask something that absolutely no one, this side of heaven anyway, knows the answer to. I cried out to God...stubbornly stomping my feet and shaking my fists demanding an answer...now! "Answer me", I demanded, or give her back! Neither happened. Of course, I had already anticipated that. It never hurts to try, though.  My brother suggested that perhaps God is trying to get my attention. Well, guess what? He's got it. Now what? Maybe the answer is there and I just can't see it or hear it. I don't know.

You know the tired truisms, "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger?" Or, "God never gives us more than we can handle?" Well, some days I feel like I'm dying and some days I feel like God has seriously overestimated my strength. Nevertheless, I will continue on this wretched quest. After all, what choice do I have? Oh, that's right. Option 3 above: Turn TO God in anger and bitterness instead of AGAINST Him, while hopefully...somewhere along the way...grow closer to Him in trust and confidence. I've heard He has big shoulders and can handle my anger. I'm counting on that. 

Destination

"It's not the destination that matters...it's the journey."

I've probably heard that aphorism countless times throughout my life and never given it a second thought, but when I heard it the other day on some random commercial, I realized just how misleading that seemingly harmless maxim is. I mean, what's the point of this painful journey I've been unwillingly thrust upon...this "quest for a new normal"...if my final destination doesn't matter? Don't they both matter? I realized that for me...they do. In fact, I would hate to think that I'll spend the rest of my life wandering aimlessly, day in and day out, with no "destination" in sight. After all, do we pack up our cars and head out on vacation with no idea where we might end up? Isn't there at least some planning involved in the process? Maybe for some, planning isn't important. Maybe for some, the journey is the excitement and the mystery of where they might end up is the ultimate climax of that journey. For me however, that kind of spontaneity makes me nervous. 

Perhaps if Brittany hadn't died I wouldn't have become so focused on my destination...obsessed even. Undeniably, this unplanned quest has completely blindsided me and is undoubtedly the most excruciating thing I will ever endure. Now, as a result, I'm carefully planning my journey to reach a very specific destination...Heaven...God...and Brittany...because that's where she now lives. And someday, I want to live there, too.

Which brings me to my next point...

Chuck Swindoll of Focus on the Family once said, "I have tried and I cannot find, either in Scripture or in history, a strong-willed individual whom God used greatly until He allowed them to be hurt deeply." Am I strong-willed? I don't know. Before this tragedy I would have, without hesitation, emphatically answered, "Yes!"...stubborn even (according to some, anyway). Do I believe God allowed this unspeakable hurt to consume my life for some greater good? I don't know the answer to that either. I would like to think so, though. I would like to believe that this accident...my little girl's death...my pain...my brokenness...aren't pointless. I would like to believe that God has a plan for me. I just haven't figured out what that plan is yet. Change the world? Very unlikely. Change me? Most definitely...even if I don't agree with the manner in which He has chosen to do so. Maybe someday I'll understand why. In fact, I'm counting on just that.

In ten days it will be nine months since my daughter...my "pretty girl" as I always call her...died. It's still hard for me to process that...to accept it. And despite the amount of time that's passed, I'm still only steps into my quest. I'll be the first to admit that I am directionally challenged...even with today's GPS technology. In fact, if I had a dollar for each time that frustrating little gadget has told me it's "rerouting" me or to "make a legal U-turn," I'd be a very rich girl. But despite my occasional ineptitude to follow directions, I believe God has placed me on this journey...this "quest for a new normal"...for a reason. And right now, my quest is one in search of acceptance...understanding...healing...and hopefully someday...peace. Regardless, the one thing I know for sure...my destination isn't unknown. And Brittany, with her beautiful smile and stunning blue eyes, is right there waiting for her momma with arms wide open...and Jesus by her side.  

I love you pretty girl~

The Light

A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a friend~


The last time I saw Brittany was a year ago...March 2010...4 months before her accident. She had come down to see us in Panama City Beach over her Spring Break. How was I to know that would be the last time I would see her smile? See her beautiful blue eyes? Cuddle with her as we laughed over some silly movie? And how was I to know it would be the last time I would hold her in my arms? Would I have done anything differently? Did I say something I shouldn't have or neglected to say something I should have? Did she truly know with all of her heart how much I missed seeing her everyday? How deeply and unconditionally I love her? I drive myself crazy sometimes reliving that visit...every word...every touch...every second I was with her. Was she happy?

I have survived two more of my "reminder" dates. Eight months ago on March 13, Brittany died...and 8 months ago yesterday I had to escort Brittany to her new "earthly home." As always, I made my trip to Effingham so I could sit with my little girl. The night of the 12th, I decided to drive out to where she is and just sit for a few minutes and tell her goodnight and that I would be back the next day...the 13th. Brittany's area is surrounded by a beautiful handcrafted arbor and many solar lights, including a beautiful large cross. In short, she's tastefully "blinged" out. As I was driving however, I knew the lights wouldn't be on. The day had been too cloudy and there hadn't been any sunlight to power them. I was right. As I drove up the road near the entrance, I looked out my window and saw nothing but darkness. I felt sad, hopeless and dejected. Not one single light was on anywhere. It looked so forsaken. I pulled up next to Brittany and broke down. I screamed out her name...over and over again. I needed to say it...to hear it. I wanted her to hear it...to hear her mom call out for her. I told her I was frightened and angry. I told her how much I miss her and how much pain I'm in. I told her I was worried about her and begged her to please let me know she's ok. I screamed louder and louder. And then, in the complete darkness, her cross lit up like a beacon. In the complete darkness...her light shined. It stayed on for several seconds and then, like a light switch, it went off again. "I'm ok, Momma. I'm right here. Don't worry." That's what I believe she was saying to me with that lighted cross. Through the grace of God, He allowed Brittany to reach out to her hurting mother. And through my tears, I smiled...and rejoiced...thankful for the miracle...for the comforting embrace. 

My pain hasn't subsided...and I know it never will. But for that brief moment, my baby girl and I sat side by side...hand in hand...two hearts joined together once again.