Grief is Hard

Grief

 

Loosing a child, I have been told, is one of the worse kind of deaths that one can experience. Of course, I dont say this in a bragging sort of way, like I have entered a club that no one else has, and I am a proud, card holding member of this special club. To be honest, I would trade in my membership any day, if it meant holding my baby again.  I think it goes without saying, but is worth saying, all death is equally crappy. None is better than another, none is harder than another. All death takes a life and leaves behind a family, loved ones, and friends to grieve, and lets just face it….grief, no matter how it is sliced, is hard.

To say that loosing a child is the worst, puts loosing another person below, and that isnt at all what I mean to do. Loosing my wife was hard, and still is hard. Loosing my siblings, niece, and watching the kids grieve – hasnt exactly been a walk in the park either. Death, plain and simple, sucks. Atleast for those left behind.

And just so I dont have to keep clearing this up, Im not trying to rank my loss above anyone elses. Anyone who has lost anyone, knows that grieve and death suck. Plain and simple. Lets not try and put one death above another.

Loosing a child is something that is beyond describable. Its something that just shouldnt happen. As a parent, however, you shouldnt have to sit by, helplessly, and watch, knowing that there is absolutely NOTHING that you can do for your child, who is laying there. Dying.

It is the worst feeling in the world.

When I was told that Emmy wouldnt be making it through the night, I told them that she would. To watch, that she would prove them all wrong, and in my mind I believed that. I believed that she would be ok, that she would make it not only through the night, but she would continue to live a normal, healthy, and long life. That she would outlive me…because lets face it, I shouldnt be watching my newly turned 2-year-old, die. It wasnt reasonable, logical, or possible. It just wasnt GOING to happen, and I somehow believed that if I didnt think it was possible – then it wasnt.

Since being gone, I have had time to reflect, think, and remember and while all of that has gotten easier, and I can do all of those things and smile, and remember her without turning my week upside down, there is still one thing, that as of lately, has gotten to me more than anything else.

The future.

I will be going about the day, having a good time, when all of a sudden, I will see something. A father with his child. A small person running by, a group of kids with balloons…a small hand inside a larger one…

And a thought will run through my mind, and I will stop and stare, blocking out the rest of the world as I do, and think “I should be doing that” “I should have been showing her this” “I want to give her this” and suddenly, I will be thrust back to that moment in time, in that hospital room with all the smells and noises…

One minute she was here, and life was bearable. I could look at other people and feel happy for them, and think “One day we will do that” and the next she was gone and instead of planning our next trip to the beach, I was being shown the different options for a casket. The small box that would hold her for the rest of my life. The box that would hold her, instead of my arms. The ground that would keep her. The final words that were to be said.

Just this afternoon, at the zoo, I saw a girl running by, pulling behind her a noisy toy. And right behind her was her dad. Smiling proudly at his little noise maker running wildly through the aquarium, and instead of watching the fish, I watched as they walked off together and realized, once again, that I will never be showing her the fish, explaining things to her, hearing her laugh, seeing her personality emerge.

Instead of growing up, she will forever be my 2 year old baby…

…and sometimes thats ok.

…and sometimes its not.

Dave on Wordpress
Dave
We are goofy, smart, funny and wild. We get mad, are happy, and sometimes sad. We reminisce, love, and live. We are who we are, broken pieces being put into a new puzzle. But arent we all? Just pieces. Trying to fit in.
Dave

Dave

We are goofy, smart, funny and wild. We get mad, are happy, and sometimes sad. We reminisce, love, and live. We are who we are, broken pieces being put into a new puzzle. But arent we all? Just pieces. Trying to fit in.

0 thoughts on “Grief is Hard

  • August 2, 2010 at 3:12 am
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  • July 29, 2010 at 1:43 pm
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    @greatredwoman@xanga – No, I never confronted him.  I don’t know if I saw that particular coroner again and was not yet able to verbalize, in my early 30s, my sentiments on a timely basis (I’d think of what to say later).  I’ve since learned a lot and have successfullly confronted people a few times when they were clearly in the wrong (I’m now almost 50).  I remain, however, quite shy about confronting people I’m not very close to because while I possess some degree of tact, I still tend to be shockingly honest and piercingly astute, a combination that is not considered normal, necessary, or welcome.  My husband appreciates it.  Some of family appreciates it but remarks on it occasionally.  Most others don’t want any part of it.

    But back then, I would have just opened my mouth, tact and many other considerations forgotten…so I usually kept my thoughts to myself and stuck to the no talking about personal life, politics, religion or abortion at work rule.  It probably kept me employed at a time, which is important because social and financial vulnerability/difficulties tend to go hand in hand.

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  • July 28, 2010 at 7:04 pm
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    I wish there were words to ease the pain of that kind of loss, if there were i’d give them to you. I’m sorry you lost your daughter and i hope that you’ll be able to see her again in heaven or somewhere.

    Reply
  • July 28, 2010 at 4:11 pm
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    I can’t say anything at all. I lost my mother at 10, so I have somewhat of an understanding

    I’m so, so, so, sorry that you lost the most precious thing in the world to you. I’m the mother of a newly turned two year old boy, and I couldn’t imagine living life the same without him. I truly commend you for writing about her. I would truly want to leave this world, if my son was not in it.

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  • July 28, 2010 at 3:47 pm
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    Losing a brother when you’re 4 years old is pretty tough too 🙁

    I’m sorry for your loss

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  • July 28, 2010 at 3:33 pm
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    Being the mother of a single daughter, I know losing her would be unbearable. Thanks for sharing your story today. I have never lost a child and cannot imagine it. My losses have been many..my parents, my 19 y/o niece, my 40 y/o brother-in-law, my in laws and my best friend. Grief is never easy.. It takes a toll and I often wondered at those times how the world could continue on when my little world had come to a screeching halt.

    Here’s a lot of love and hugs today to all of those who have experienced losses through the death of a loved one!!  May God continue to love and support you when the going is rough and your friends and family surround you with their love as well.

    Christy, RN

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  • July 28, 2010 at 3:30 pm
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    ..@SueZee – No one can forget a precious one who is gone..no matter how long it’s been. There is always a raw, unhealed spot on your heart which belongs to your precious Amy Justine. May you continue in your life knowing that you made a difference for your daughter in your love for her!

    Christy

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  • July 28, 2010 at 3:28 pm
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    @sari0009 – Hopefully, at some point, you told the coroner your story and sent him some literature on SIDS.. This coroner was so horrifically uninformed and ignorant.   May God and friends and family continue to support you after your loss.

    Christy

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  • July 28, 2010 at 3:26 pm
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    Grief IS hard and losing one’s precious child would be unbearable. Thanks for sharing your story today and thereby allowing others to vent as well. May God comfort you in your many losses. Grief sucks.

    Christy

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  • July 28, 2010 at 3:22 pm
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    @raphahrose@xanga – so sorry for your loss. It is so very raw right now. Here’s knowing that God will be there and your best friends and family will help you at this very tough time. Losing someone..and a young man at that..would be terrible. You have my condolences.

    Christy

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  • July 28, 2010 at 2:29 pm
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    I buried my 5 week old baby girl on Oct. 23, 1985.  SIDS.  No real explanation other than they don’t have an explanation but a lot of theories, some of them very dumb and hurtful, blaming.

    It was 9 months before I stopped having “rescue dreams,” trying to rescue her from various odd circumstances that didn’t resemble her actual death at all but then I didn’t understand SIDS and I was clearly having problems dealing with her death.  It took me a year and a half before I could stop actively blubbering and loosing it if I saw a baby that even remotely looked like her.  Going out in public was…difficult.

    I later found myself working as an Anatomical Pathology Technical Assistant (autopsy tech), assisting with pediatric, forensic, clinical, and federal autopsies.  One day they brought in a baby who had died of SIDS.  The coroner, not knowing I had lost a baby to SIDS too, blamed SIDS on mothers working or distant otherwise occupied mothers.  I wasn’t working when my baby passed.  She wasn’t alone either.  She was in my arms actually.  He, this coroner, was an idiot.  I held my tongue and assisted but I wanted to open my mouth and let him have it in a way that would have surely gotten me fired (and I’m pretty shy and polite, normally).

    Every death is different but the same.  Every person mourning will mourn differently, yet go through some of the same stages (bargaining, denial, etc.) and same types of thoughts.   But not everyone in mourning envisions the afterlife in terms of heaven.  Different religions.  Or none.

    Being in mourning and talking to someone in mourning are not always easy tasks.  Sometimes active listening or just being there matter more and are better choices than condolences full of assumptions and notions.

    My mother died May 3 of this year and left us many pictures and family videos.  We watched some on my eldest daughter’s birthday yesterday, at her request, and it hit me all over again…the loss, the never having all those years, the not knowing what she would have turned out like….

    And fall is coming soon…

    Yet we go on.  The expression “get over it” does and doesn’t fit.  It does in the sense that we go on.  It doesn’t in the sense that no one simply gets over it — death of a loved one changes us forever.  Because we loved so much.  But that’s the risk we take.

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  • July 27, 2010 at 10:11 pm
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    totally get it. Buried our week shy of 19 yr old healthy and intelligent son, nine years ago July 7th. His birthday is the 9th. He was killed in a construction fall… July 2.  Tis upside down to live without your child….. but God will not let go of us, so we ought not let go of hope, hope for a gentle day, hope for others who fear what we live with. We pray with more diligence for those others, due to our club membership, right?  Take care, and thanks for journaling so honestly.

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  • July 23, 2010 at 2:17 pm
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    How uncanny that I should come across your blog today. Forty five years ago I was burying my baby girl, Amy Justine. And, I still think of her. Only as my angel in Heaven. And how she is spared the pains of this world.

    Hugs and Prayers.

    Reply
  • July 22, 2010 at 5:10 pm
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    I am so sorry for your loss.  I began keeping a journal out of depression and over the years blogging has helped me tremendously.  I have no children and cannot imagine that pain.  I have lost both parents, one as a child and the other as an adult and each had its own unique pain.

    You are showing strength by being able to blog about this, and healing.

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  • July 22, 2010 at 12:07 pm
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    I wanted to say something helpful but cannot think of anything except to say I am so sorry for your loss. You do possess a unique strength and no it is not terrible to say that loosing a child is the worst. It doesn’t lessen any other kind of loss or grief.either so don’t worry. HUGS.

    Reply

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