My two surviving kids won't talk about their sister, either. Won't say her name. It hurts! I want to scream, but I don't if they are within hearing distance because I'm afraid of losing them, too. I am absolutely scared to death of losing them, but my fear is based on an illusion of what we had. I'm now facing the truth that they are no longer who they were to me, my kids. They don't understand, even though they have kids of their own. If you haven't lost a child, you have absolutely no idea how deep this grief goes...to the very bone. I want to know if they even think of her, but I dare not ask. At seven years of grief, I have no one left. It is actually a relief in some ways because I no longer have to guard myself the way I did a few years ago. There is some good in that. I upset no one by what I say about or to my daughter. The hole you speak of is a place I know well. Your words completely describe that place. Pinpoint accuracy. I appreciate your abilities and all that you share because you clarify my reality, which is such a great gift. Wish I could hold you and cry with you and talk with you about our precious daughters. Hugs. Shirley
So much love to you, Shirley. It's such a lonely and isolating feeling. I was just talking to someone yesterday, one of the few people in my life who has consistently sent me little messages of love and support, never asking anything of me. Most of my friends are gone. And people that stepped up initially have all faded away. I think we're too much even though we really try to just put on a mask of normalcy for most. Every now and then a little ray of sunshine in the form of a human I would never suspect of stepping up shows up. I try to put more emphasis on that gift than on those that disappeared. I wish we could hug and cry, too - all of us. xo
This is all so hellishly shitty, this new life, and you’ve nailed the shittiness, Tara. And I’ll say your beautiful girl’s name: MILA! You spectacular young woman! The world needed you. Your mom needed you. She needs you still.
My two surviving kids won't talk about their sister, either. Won't say her name. It hurts! I want to scream, but I don't if they are within hearing distance because I'm afraid of losing them, too. I am absolutely scared to death of losing them, but my fear is based on an illusion of what we had. I'm now facing the truth that they are no longer who they were to me, my kids. They don't understand, even though they have kids of their own. If you haven't lost a child, you have absolutely no idea how deep this grief goes...to the very bone. I want to know if they even think of her, but I dare not ask. At seven years of grief, I have no one left. It is actually a relief in some ways because I no longer have to guard myself the way I did a few years ago. There is some good in that. I upset no one by what I say about or to my daughter. The hole you speak of is a place I know well. Your words completely describe that place. Pinpoint accuracy. I appreciate your abilities and all that you share because you clarify my reality, which is such a great gift. Wish I could hold you and cry with you and talk with you about our precious daughters. Hugs. Shirley
So much love to you, Shirley. It's such a lonely and isolating feeling. I was just talking to someone yesterday, one of the few people in my life who has consistently sent me little messages of love and support, never asking anything of me. Most of my friends are gone. And people that stepped up initially have all faded away. I think we're too much even though we really try to just put on a mask of normalcy for most. Every now and then a little ray of sunshine in the form of a human I would never suspect of stepping up shows up. I try to put more emphasis on that gift than on those that disappeared. I wish we could hug and cry, too - all of us. xo
Here for it all XXXX
thank you, friend. xoxo
This is all so hellishly shitty, this new life, and you’ve nailed the shittiness, Tara. And I’ll say your beautiful girl’s name: MILA! You spectacular young woman! The world needed you. Your mom needed you. She needs you still.
Huge hugs to you, Tara.
~ Deb
Madeleine!! Madeleine! Madeleine! I yelled it to the overhead raven. She gave me a few knocks in return. It must mean something.
My love to you all.
It’s Madeleine’s birthday. Maybe the raven was wishing her happy returns. 🥰