Grief has made me different

On this third month of learning to live without you, I’ve realized; it’s May, the fifth month of the year. While it seems like it is flying by, it also feels like it’s only the 5^th month of the year and yet an entire lifetime of stuff has happened, in such a short amount of time.

I created this blog, so I could share your story, share my grief. But also, for honesty, and for myself. So, if I’m being honest, I absolutely hate existing without you. I’ve become so good at pretending I’m fine that I’ve begun to fool myself.

I’m so bloody angry, at everything, all the time. I hate that. I hate feeling so outraged over everything. In just 3 short months, I’ve been on an insane roller coaster of emotions. I’ve learned so much as well. So much about who truly cares about me, and surprisingly Aaron, family doesn’t guarantee that. I’d say probably about a handful of people still ask about you or ask about me. The rest have moved on, they’ve forgotten I’m hurting, or they just don’t care that I am. I’ve checked out though, emotionally. I’m done catering to others when they weren’t there for me when I needed them. Maybe I should have learned that lesson a long time ago.

They never tell you how lonely grieving is. How incredibly invisible you feel in a crowded room. Like, here I am completely shattered inside, and no one can see it any more.

Your house is nearly empty now, and it’s up for sale. It’s a double headed sword, I’m so exhausted from spending almost every weekend there cleaning it out, but I know when it’s sold that’s when the shoe is going to drop, and my world is going to come crashing down again. It will be the last material thing I have that connects me to you, and it will be gone.

I’m still planning on doing something in your name, I just haven’t figured it out yet. I need to sit down, do my research and figure out where to even start. Mom wants to start some form of grant in your name for drug awareness. She wants to make sure no other family has to feel as broken as we do. Cause no one deserves to feel the constant pain we are in on a daily basis.

Oh, I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know a heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved.

On Your First Mother's Day

Dear Mom,

                I have wished a thousand times I could take away your pain, to turn the clocks back to February 17^th again. On your first Mother’s Day without Aaron, I want you to know how much you mean to me. I owe everything I am to you. You taught me what it is to be strong, to stand up for what is right, and to be gentle with other people’s hearts. You showed me what it was to be selfless, to give back, and to be grateful for what I have. You taught me to have a backbone, but also some humility too. I learned my sense of humor from you, as well as this mouth. LOL.

                Life has thrown a lot of curve balls at you, and you’ve handled them with grace. The greatest gift and lesson you gave me was watching you do whatever you could to take care of your family.  You worked multiple jobs while putting yourself through college and you still graduated with honors. I silently watched you struggle, wondering where you were getting the money to pay bills and put food on the table. Not once did I ever hear you complain. While I may not have had the same material items as other kids, I never lacked in love, support and encouragement. Because of that I grew up to be an independent, confident, hard working woman and I owe you all the thanks.

                I read a blog on Bereaved Mother’s Day and this one paragraph made me think of you. “My daughter’s death led everyone to tell me, “I couldn’t do it,” …as if child loss fell to my family by choice. But if I’m being honest, I didn’t even know how I was doing it. What was I to do? I didn’t will my own death…even though every bit of me wanted to be with my baby. Irrationally, I felt like a less-than mom for surviving the unimaginable. My love for my daughter felt unintentionally lessened by these meant-to-be innocent words, and I felt as if there was something wrong with me that, although my heart was already crumbled into fragments, I was still capable of living and breathing while my daughter was not.”  (Source:https://www.scarymommy.com/grieving-mom-bereaved-mothers-day/)

                Don’t ever feel you need to explain your grief, you have every right to be wrapped up in the sorrow that you are feeling. DO NOT ever feel you are lessoning yourself to me because you can’t be fully yourself right now or probably ever. You have dealt with a loss that no one can understand unless they have buried a child. Don’t let anyone make you feel like it is time for you to move on.

                While I know that I won’t be able to take the pain away today, I hope that you can have some form of joy in knowing that you were the best mother a child could ever hope for. Your endless love and commitment to not only me, but to Aaron as well out weighs all the treasures in the world. I could only hope to be half the woman you are. I love you and I hope that you have a wonderful Mother’s Day, because out of all the mothers, you deserve it most of all.