Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Fade to black

I recently read an amazing article on things you should not say to Grieving Parents.  And it said so many things that made me stop and yell (inside my head anyway) "YES! THIS!  EXACTLY THIS!!!"

Considering the time of year, it's all on my mind.  In 12 days, it will be the 8th anniversary of Sophia's passing and what I have learned is that grieving, especially the loss of a child, is a grief that never heals.  Time can scab it over, lessen the intensity of the pain, but it takes one small memory, one small scent, one small anything and the scab is ripped off and the wound is a fresh, gaping wound again. 

I don't really talk about it all that often.  Of Sophia, yes.  I talk about her daily and think of her with every breath I take, but I don't talk a lot about how it makes me feel, because, well, it makes me FEEL. 

And feeling it is so painful.  There are moments from the day she died that are etched into a permanent memory of my mind.  Some significant, some completely unimportant and others are thoughts of regrets.  The star burst moments of strange clarity that I remember are all by products of physical and emotional shock and they will stay burned into my memory for all time. 

A friend of mine in California is going through a loss, a child not biologically hers, but such a part of her family that it's as if he were her own child.  And that is what really made me write this yearly blog a few weeks early. 

The quote I read that touched me so deeply was this:

 "My child died. I don't need advice. All I need is for you to gently close your mouth, open wide your heart, and walk with me until I can see in color again."

People say things meaning well, but often their words, instead of comfort, are a bitter root of hurt, self doubt, blame and pain~pain~pain. Having a friend who is just there is amazing.  Someone willing to let you talk about anything other than the child you lost, or talk about nothing other than the child lost.  Someone who doesn't place time lines and behavior codes on your grief.  Someone who doesn't think that there is a specific road map or timeline for grieving. 

I guess all my rambling here is just to offer hope for those in similar places.  Your grief is yours alone.  It's unique, it's evolving, it IS.  I implore you to grieve at your own pace, but I also implore you to continue living life. 

It's an unnatural bit of business burying your own child and nothing in the world can ever prepare you for the trauma that comes with it.  Nothing I can say or do will ever impact the truth of those words. 

So if you're a friend of someone who has experienced child loss, walk with them when their world is faded to black and the color seems gone from their lives.  And walk with them when they come to the spring of their mourning and they start to bloom in color.  And hold their hand in the moments it all fades back to black.  Be the color in their lives when they can't muster any of their own. 

Remember these words:
"You have not lived until you have done something for someone who can never repay you"

And I say that, because friends, I hope I NEVER have the opportunity to repay you in the same way, for walking by my side in the shadow of Sophia's death. I wish I had the power to stop child death for the whole world.  Being a friend to someone in this way is saddening, tiring, overwhelming and at times incredibly frustrating.  Please know, you're important to our healing process.  You're important to us.  We appreciate your shoulders, your ears, your hearts.  I try to use my own words here and in general, but sometimes other people say it so well.  And Henri Nouwen really pegged what I have been trying to say: "The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing...not healing...not curing...that is a friend who cares." We thank you friends for the tolerance and the endurance of a race that you are always in, sometimes the race is at a hydration station and it's a moment of rest.  Sometimes in a painful marathon that never seems to end.  Sometimes it's a hundred meter dash that is run so fast, so furious, you can't even catch your breath.  The catch here is the race has no end, has no winner.  It's a life long race of perseverance and endurance. We know you're with us and it means the world, thank you for running the race with us. 

"I wasn't prepared for the fact that grief is so unpredictable.  It wasn't just sadness, and it wasn't linear.  Somehow I'd thought that the first days would be the worst and then it would get steadily better-like getting over the flu.  That's not how it was." Meghan O'Rourke

For those of you who are interested (and honestly, I strongly urge you all to read it) here is the link to the article of parent bereavement:

http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/01/6-things-never-say-bereaved-parent/


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Thursday, January 23, 2014

Time of your life

It's that time of my life again.

We have started chatting with our detailer.  The man who holds the next 3.5 years of our lives.  Nothing brings me more excitement, or terror.  Joy or disappointment.  STRESS!

I like to plan.  I like lists.  I like knowing.  This game we play of "go there, don't go there" gets old fast.  Our first look came up and suffice it to say, we said no to Japan, no to Germany.  Those were our choices.  We've been told that there are two combat camera positions coming up in San Diego.  We've asked and Jason's outgoing command has asked, for us to have special consideration since we are leaving shore duty 8 months early.  The detailer has told us that San Diego should be no problem, but no written orders = a nervous, uncertain Trish. 

My hearts desire is San Diego.  Yes, I would love to be closer to my family, but there is no sea duty that would fulfill that, and San Diego, well, it feels like home. 

I don't know where we'll end up.  Certainly wherever God has plans for us.  I sure hope His will and my will are the same on this!

At any rate, we're on our last winter here and I am so thankful.  I am not made for cold.  I am thankful for all the wonderful people our lives have intertwined with since arriving here, and as is the case everywhere we go, I will be sad to leave them behind.  On the positive side of that token, Jason and I have been blessed and have friends almost anywhere we want to visit...and some in places we don't want to visit! 

Every time we gear up for this transition in our lives, this song pops into my mind:

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

It just encompasses all the emotions that I can feel.  In all the good, the bad, the crazy, the hectic, the sadness, I always have the time of my life, with the people in my life because God has blessed me with this life and it's always worth the while.


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Saturday, January 4, 2014

Seasons

I have been in a season lately   Not really sure what  to call it, but it is hopefully just a season.

I've had eye opening moments and it turns out, I don't really like myself much sometimes. 

I feel angry and disillusioned and crabby and that no matter what, I just refuse to let myself be pleased.  And I have no idea why this is, but I know I don't like it.  I'm not even really sure why I started thinking this or what behavior of mine set it off, but I have to stop it.  Which if I'm being honest, I don't really want to do because it's such hard work. 

Ahh, hard work.  Why do we not like you?  Oh, ok, I know why.  It was a rhetorical question really.

And then I sit down and I read an article online, or a Facebook status, meme or some other type of social media item and I just feel small.  Not enough.  Failure.

I don't look at my children every second of the day as my reason to get up in the morning, my purpose in life, my sunshine.  What's wrong with me?  Is something wrong with me?  Or am I just being honest?  Yes, it is in fact true that my children are why I get out of bed in the morning...mainly cause they want to be fed and have to go to school.  Do I love them?  With EVERY. SINGLE. BEAT. of my heart.  Nothing would ever make me trade my life for anything else.  They just exhaust me and overwhelm me and I feel like they only pick up on my bad habits.  How I snap when I am frustrated.  Sigh when I am annoyed. 

And then that doesn't even start into how I can be with my husband.  Tired, cranky, unlovable, irrational. 

I know we all fail.  There is no such thing as June Cleaver.  My children won't grow up to be "less" or deprived if I don't make reindeer pancakes and knit them hats and socks.  Also, they aren't going to die if they've ever ingested a GMO (which lets be clear- I do think GMOs are not good for us and need to be clearly labeled) or red dye #9 or had too much sugar.  Being a parent is so much pressure.  We're given these precious lives to shape and it's work.  And stress.  And periods of sheer torture.  I just wish there was more community and less Judge and Juror involved in parenting.  Including my own internal judge and juror. 

I don't usually make New Years Resolutions and I'm not going to this year either, but I am making a life resolution.  I resolve to withhold judgment and hand out grace.  I plan to do less advice giving and more hand holding.  I plan to whisper love instead of speaking anger.  Because those are the things I want my children to do. 
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