Why am I continuing this blog? Part of me has no idea. The more hopeful part of me has experienced the insight, shared from new or familiar people, on how they have been helped and touched by my honesty and willingness to share. After encouragement from numerous positive requests, and prayer, Heather’s blog will continue until it is “finished”. I want to help others in their journey of a life they didn’t expect. I want to teach these families how to unconditionally love that special gift of life, how to advocate successfully and professionally for your perfect child, how to altar your old way of living to a new way of living, how the dark process of pain “turtle steps” its way along, and all the stuff in between. My intent is to be real, raw, direct, honest, and hopeful........so, here I go:
It’s ONLY been Six Months......A Little Good and a Little Ugly.
This six month landmark is like a bus hitting my face. Living with this grief thing is hard, and the ups and downs are constant. More good days have surfaced, but the bad days are still very present. I am better at not being so public about the bad days and moments. I now enjoy asking people what is going on in THEIR lives, when before I just couldn’t fathom other people’s happiness. I have learned, (and am still learning), when it’s appropriate to share, when I need to share, and when I feel safe to share.
My best days or best moments in my day: are still when people take time for their world to stop with mine. I’ve learned that time does not heal, but time makes the wound and heartache more manageable. When someone I love takes the time to say, “Really, how are you?”, and means it.......it means the world to both Thomas and me. My world still constantly stops all the time, and as I’m standing still, I watch everyone else move on. Thank you to so many of you that have allowed your world to momentarily stop with me for just a moment.
My hard days:
- The worst thing that I face is when the “elephant in the room” is ignored. The avoidance dance, if you will. If I am seeing someone for the first time since my daughter died, and they say, “So, what’s new with you?”, I still shut down and just lose it. It’s obvious what has been going on in my life for the most part. I have had to find a new normal with Heather in my heart instead of in my arms. A tip: “How is your day today?” is a much better “How are you?” type of question.
- If you know about my Heather, please don’t pretend her death never happened. Please be a real. If you’re at a complete loss of what to say, say this, “I am so sorry for what you’ve been through.” That’s it. Acknowledgment is honest and needed. It is much easier to move forward with normal everyday conversation from being direct, than it is approaching us with that initial awkwardness. We can sense the loss of you searching for something to say........but is it supposed to feel comfortable? Is it meant to be easy? Please steer away from putting that pressure on yourself. Keep it simple. It’s hard for you and it’s hard for us. We all need roadmaps, and hopefully one day, I can help create one.
- I am working on my grace with people. I’m working on understanding that people do not intend to say something hurtful. People are at a loss for their own words too. People cannot “fix” anything by saying something. I am working on that.
- As much as we love our Air Force life, we do not see anyone constantly. We see people in seasons. My brain has been defaulting to the following triggered moments. I relate seeing someone I haven’t seen in a while back to either: the last time I saw you was with Heather alive, the last time I saw you was at her funeral, you were almost able to come visit and we are thankful for the effort, or you never made a point to come and visit. It’s a giant flashback of pain. The initial visit with people, that I do not see often, is a new anxiety I am deeply facing. I don’t know why. I have always loved being around people. To those we see more often, the pain has subsided and it’s so comforting to see your familiar face.
- Pity is not the “attention” we want. I absolutely hate being the center of attention. I don’t want the focus to be on me and Thomas and “poor them”. However, we still need the embrace of support. As our world stopped, our growth has been slow or stagnant. We want to join in when other people talk about their kids. That’s what parents do! It is NOT awkward for us to do that. We miss being parents in action more than anything in the world. Please help us continue that amazing part of our lives, by letting us be the parents we still ARE! We may not actively be parents in daily actions, but we still are and will always be parents.
The “I won’t even entertain the discussion” moments:
- Please, above all else, do NOT, I repeat, do NOT come to Thomas or me with how hard your life has been without MY daughter. This disgusts me on every possible level of humanity. Yes, Heather was a loss to others other than Thomas and me. However, when you try to explain to me, or my husband, how Heather dying is a daily difficulty for you, you are belittling our role as her parents. I am seeing a grief counselor one on one, and we are seeing a grief counselor as a couple. If you are also struggling, go see a counselor. Do not bring your grief to the parents who have suffered the loss of their one and only child.
The hopeful days:
- I have received so many amazing God-signs. Whether it’s a turtle when I need to see one, or a song coming on the radio at a needed time, or an out of the blue “I love you” sign straight from heaven, it’s been a sign of hope for me. Thank you God!
- Dance especially has been a gift I never expected to “save” me in the way that it has. It’s a part of who I am and what I need. I am so grateful to God for giving me a talent I love! My students and dance family has shown me that kind of love that is so specialized and specific. I’ll have to search for a lifetime to really find words to put to this saving grace! Maybe it’s passion....have passion, it CAN save you!
- This poem:
- “They say that time in Heaven is compared to a ‘blink of an eye’ for us here on this earth. Sometimes it helps me to think of my daughter running ahead of me through a beautiful field of wildflowers and butterflies; so happy and completely caught up in what she is doing, that by the time she turns around to see if I’m behind her........I WILL BE.”-Author Unknown
Our experience six months living with loss......I have to remind myself to breathe, and say it’s ok, because it has ONLY been six months......I feel like I’m supposed to be ok sometimes just because, then when I feel ok, I feel guilty. It’s a vicious cycle. This six-month mark has been a tough life marker.
Again, grief is a holy place. If you wouldn’t take away our joy, don’t try to take away our grief. We are working on it. As I remind myself, I have to remind others....it’s only been six months. We are doing as much as we can when we can, but we just need time. Time to grieve, time to live, and just time. We are doing better. We do laugh, we have fun, we reach when things are reachable, I go out to lunch with friends and want to dress up, we’ve had date night, we’ve been active, I started to just barely teach dance again, Thomas joined an adult soccer league, we go to church, and we are making strong efforts. We are grateful for all those good steps forward, but we still hide away, still feel guilty for having fun, and sometimes feel like we are supposed to be further along than we are. Those are our few steps back.
One day at a time is still a phrase I repeat back to myself. However, our one day at a time, is now a day we are happy for and hopeful for. While this encouraging slogan is mindfully repeated, we still have many more steps in front of us......turtle steps that is, and we are now willing to take them.
