Skip to main content
I should have known better
Nothing can be changed

The past is still the past
The bridge to nowhere

I should have wrote a letter
Explaining what I feel, that empty feeling


Don’t back down, concentrate on seeing
The breakers in the barthe neighbor’s greeting
My brother had a daughter
The beauty that she brings, illumination




thank god for sufjan.  this season is so confusing, so many feelings, so little time.  up and down, in and out.  we spin around but we aren't moving at all.

there is still a large part of me that wants to refuse to participate in life since i can't do it perfectly.  i wish i could, i wish i was perfect.  i want guarantees, i want concrete examples of how i will be taken care of forever and ever.  it doesn't work that way - i suppose.  what i want and what i experience are so drastically different.  sometimes i feel it is so difficult to lean into the true beauty i am still experiencing, because true beauty is messy, it's not airbrushed.  true beauty is the thunder of a falls and the scorching heat of a desert, it's not the comfortable 68 degrees Fahrenheit you have your house set to, it's not the thunder of your SUV as you fill it up at the gas station.  

this thanksgiving a year ago i was pregnant.
this thanksgiving a year ago i was with my friends in ohio.
this thanksgiving a year ago... a year ago... a year ago.
elly was a whisper of a dream that is no longer here.  

and so in this season of thankfulness, i take stock, of everything that has been lost to me and everything that remains and has been added.  does noticing the additions defeat the loss?  i struggle, at times, with it.  i mean in all honesty, compared to most of my widow friends, i don't struggle that much with guilt because i'm a damn boss and i know logically, i know i didn't choose this road.

i'm not sure if i'm thankful yet.
i'm not sure what christmas will feel like without them.
i'm not sure.


dear elly,

you would be eight months old at your first thanksgiving.  to be honest, i can't even remember what you are allowed to eat at eight months, but god knows i'd be slipping you some food, corn bread at least.  we miss you, addy misses you terribly.  i miss your eyes, i miss holding you close, i miss the fire of knowing what it felt like to be your mom, to be elly's mom.  i'm in less pain now but it comes at a cost.  all healing comes at a cost.  your essence of being continues to slip from my grasp.  i've now lived who knows how many weeks without you as opposed to the five i had with you.  those five weeks baby, i had the world when i had you.

should i tear my heart out now
everything i feel,
returns to you somehow

i wish i was with you elly.  i wish i was resting with you.
my breath is tired, my arms are weak,
someone let me rest.

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 …