Skip to main content

memoir.

where hope comes from.

i am working on a memoir, just writing really at this stage.  hoping beyond hope that eventually my story will be shared.  it's amazing as i sit here in starbucks, writing down what has happened to me, to the people i love, there is a voice that sneaks in, "you are damaged, people won't want to be with you if they find out, you bring destruction wherever you go, look at what has been done to you, you deserve this"

and it's weird, i do have this amazing trifecta of death in my life while yet i endure.  i'm not really sure why i am the one who has survived.  i would have obviously traded places in a second to secure elly's future.

my wounds are gaping.  there is no doubt that for me, i could never be made whole without a creator. what would fill the wounds i have endured?  what would give me worth and value when everything i love is torn asunder?

you know how when you're watching a reality show and you see a girl on there sleeping around and she's like "i have no feelings, it doesn't matter! i don't care" and you look at her and you go.... "oh honey, it's written on every line of your face, you do care, you just want love"  and it's not a judgment thing or a casting stones thing, it's just this lie that she has bought into.  obviously i am a girl so i identify more with a woman's way of thinking.  it's just, that's sometimes how i feel too, everyone wants to be loved, everyone wants to be worthy, we just cast out this net hoping something sticks, hoping that something gives us worth.

to have to bear that burden for someone else, to have someone find their identity in my love, that's crazy... cause i'll fail them.  and vice versa, for me to provide someone with their love and structure and support, it's an impossible task.  that's what grief does, it shines this light on how damaged we are, and damaged people cannot fix damaged people.

we cannot get our worth and our value from our surrounding, from our wealth, from other people.  i know, i know, we think we can.  i get it, i did for years, i got it from jim, i got it from my family and sure there might've been a small, nagging hole that was felt, but it was easily filled with superfluous things.  it is only in being crushed that i see the truth.  the truth about my redeemer, the truth about where my value comes from.

it's been so hard to go through jim's things.  because i look around and think "look at all of the stuff that didn't save him" ultimately, the earth and it's trappings cannot save.

even in my brokenness, my value remains secure.  i remain loved.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

treat it.

to everyone who has never been touched by suicide,

i get it.  i used to be like you too.  here are the most common views of suicide i either heard or personally held growing up:

that person is selfish
that person is crazy
that person is a coward
they wanted to die
they were depressed for a long time and finally went through with it
there are always warning signs, so people know it's coming
that it's preventable
THAT IT WOULDN'T AFFECT ME


there is this social stigma around depression, suicide, etc.  i can't tell you what it is like to not be able to talk openly about my husband's death.  to see people either openly or privately distance themselves from my pain, search for reasons that he did it beyond the fact that he was ill and we didn't catch it in time, connect dots that aren't connected.  all so they can convince themselves that they will never know the pain, and i honestly hope they don't- but it's possible they will.  i know people whose lives…

dreams.

to my love,

i hope you know how much i miss you.  the words, of course, fall short.  but there they are, just the same.  i.miss.you.  i told addy that you and elly can live in our hearts forever, but this of course is a lie.  death is permanent and there is no living to be done once the breathe leaves our bodies.  you are not living on in our hearts, minds, or souls.  there is no living to yet be done for you.  instead we are left with our memories which time will eventually dull.  numbing ourselves to the very sense of you.  it is that way for me with my mom, my memories of her are stunted and few and we had eight years together.

does it bother you to know the only real remembrance your children will have of you is seen through my eyes and my hearts?  the sharp reality of their dad is forever lost to them.

people are trying to instill hope in me in regards to my future.  i know they mean well but it is coming off condescending.  no one but my own being knows my pain.  i am not here…
Dear Cavs,

Our playoff season started the day my five week old daughter, Elly, passed away, twelve days later my husband also died suddenly.
Your road to the finals, so fraught with emotion was also the start of a very difficult, seemingly impossible journey for me.

I started watching at game five... when we were down 3-1, I thought for sure that we would lose that game- when we won, all of a sudden- I cared.  When so many lights had gone out for me there was all of a sudden very small glimmer of hope and dare I say satisfaction possibly ahead.

It would have seemed from the circumstances that I shouldn't care whether we won or lost, so many things in my life didn't hold their meaning anymore- but I did.  I couldn't help it.  The enthusiasm was infectious.  These games gave  me hope.

I watched as you won game five and game six and I'll never forget seeing Kyrie on the bench after six holding up his seven fingers.... Here we go.

I almost regretted getting invested as I …