This is her entry today.
First I’d like to thank Patty for asking me to be a guest blogger. I am honored to be here!
I will talk about what has shaped me the most and it will probably make most of you uncomfortable but it is my hope that some of you will learn something from this post.
My 34 year old daughter Nicole passed away on June 10, 2009 while I held her hand and prayed it wasn’t really happening, that it was a bad dream and she would wake up and say “I am fine, Mom.” Instead I saw her take her last breath on earth. It was a nightmare that came true for me in ways you cannot imagine.
That singular act profoundly changed my life forever. It changed my view on life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. It changed the way I sleep, the way I eat, and altered my trust and distrust of people. It fractured what was left of my family and my friends vanished into the night. If it could happen to me, it might happen to their own children. It is normal, that fear. Death is not contagious but the fear of one’s child dying is. It is a lonely place to be but I will not chase them and plead my case.
Whenever I start to fall deeply into despair I remember what Alex, my boyfriend told me. “You can visit the past but you cannot dwell there”. On those days I put Nicole in a mental, escape-proof drawer and lock her up. I refuse to think of her because it is too painful. One must regulate this sort of pain, so many milligrams every 4 hours or you will overdose and fall into a hole you might not climb back out of.
I lost a lot of family in a very short time. It was like watching a stack of human/canine/feline dominoes fall down dead. That analogy came from a nightmare I had not long ago. All my relatives and pets were lined up like dominoes and down they went, one by one. That nightmare was my reality and I miss my family and pets. They will not return. Shuttered up in mental lockboxes I have them. I only take them out momentarily and think of them when I feel strong.
But you cannot fold up your wings and refuse to fly again. They say time heals all wounds but when it comes to losing a child, not so true. What really happens is you learn to breathe again without feeling like you will scream. That is not any kind of healing…that is living with the loss. If you became blind due to a virus and recovered from the virus, you would not think you had healed. You would feel changed due to the vision loss. A loss of a child is sort of like that. You are forever changed and never will be the same. I am not comparing the two experiences however, I am talking about healing versus living with a loss.
The death of a child is the greatest loss one can endure.
When I go to sleep I always worry about her. It does not take long for my sleeping medications to kick my brain to the curb so my worrying lasts only a few minutes every night. My thoughts start up like clockwork…Is she okay? Is she around? Can my dad, uncles and aunts see her? Were they surprised? Are they together? Will I see her again in a form that will make me happy? I really want answers. I don’t want to share her with a million other souls, she is my daughter not theirs. I didn’t want to give her back at the age of 34, she was not returnable in my opinion while I was still living. Then medications quiet my brain and all is well until morning. At first light Nicole enters my mind and I say a silent prayer for her. “Please keep her safe”, I pray. I have always worried over her. I still do.
The ghosts of Nicole haunt me all during the day so I have had to change my routine. I seek solace in simple things in order to find happiness. Freshly roasted coffee. No more Folger’s. Alex shows me the barn cat trying to play with the deer. I see the fox run across the front yard. No matter what, I get that hug from Alex. I count on it. Gini the daschie always knows I am crying, she runs from the other room where she is sunning and leaps in my lap to lick off my tears. It makes me laugh. I do not cry long because it hurts too much.
What I would like for readers to take from this post are three things:
Appreciate life. That says it all.
When someone loses a child, be there for the parent. Of course you are “sorry” but go beyond that. Be a friend. You have gone on with your lives but the parent is suffering horribly still even 10 months later. Time stops for the parent. Be pro-active, even months later.
Love your children. And while you’re at it, take lots of photos. You will not be sorry.
In closing I hope as soon as you finish reading this you hug and kiss all your loved ones because it is a blessing that you can do that. Again, thank you Patty for letting me be a guest blogger. I hope everyone will appreciate life more.
Sherry from Word Salads
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