I have 3 children who need me to fight my way through all of this and Im trying. I dont want to leave my house on a daily basis but I am. I dont want to do fun things, even though shed want me to, but Im still trying. Personally, I feel as though if all Ive managed to do that day is shower, get dressed, dress my kids, and eat, thats a huge feat because its better than hiding under my covers. My grief will move at its own speed. No matter how ugly my feelings are, Im going to process them, and not worry how it looks to other people. I dont give a damn how it looks. Im not trying to impress anyone. Strength doesnt come from not crying. It comes from crying your heart out until your chest hurts and eyes are raw and then learning to smile again. The advice Ive received from a professional, not just the masses, is to grieve to whomever will listen. If they dont have time for it or think its somehow pathetic, than they have the right to move along and not listen. Im not just grieving the loss of my best friend. Im also packing up a house Ive lived in since I was 2. My children play ball in the same backyard I did with my dad. We take the same walks around the neighborhood. It doesnt matter if its a divorce I wanted or not, its still a divorce. Its still life changing for all involved. People get so fixated on details that they lose the bigger picture. Like Semisonic says in their song Closing Time, every beginning is some other beginnings end. I cant live in this house anymore. Its time to make fresh memories with a clean start. Paint new art on a new canvas but even beautiful memories can be haunting. Ive spent a lifetime in this home. Its the only home I have ever known and shared with my father, so every room I pack up, I see him chasing me as a little girl. Playing hide and seek, me staying hidden for long periods of time while he looked behind every piece of furniture when he knew damn well that curtains dont giggle or wear sneakers. This driveway is where my dad removed the training wheels from my Barbie bicycle while he held onto the screwdriver and my mother gripped the first aid kit so tightly to her chest, youd think she gave birth to it. Its the very living room where I emerged in a wedding gown with my dad tearing up and whispering that I was so beautiful, I made time stop, and made his lungs forget how to breathe. I know I will carry those memories with me no matter where I am, but it doesnt make this transition any easier. My son has mental and behavioral issues that are still being diagnosed. His fits vary from a tantrum to get his own way to a little boy who cries his eyes out thinking absolutely no one loves him and believe me, hes not performing for an audience. He is truly struggling. He has help but the process is long and consuming. Korynn had her own issues with her own depression, but she put my needs before her own every day of her life. She didnt just make breakfast because she genuinely enjoyed it. She also did it because I struggled getting out of bed every day. When I wanted to give up, shed send my kids to wake me up and remind me why I needed to. She grocery shopped when my anxiety level was too high to be around humans. She cared for my girls when Evans fits were so bad, Id have to drop what I was doing to physically hold him and rock him through his tears and anger. I could focus on Evan and know my girls were safe. Korynn was the most important person to my middle child Emily, because as Evans behavior challenged our sanity, I was also pregnant with Aubrey. Through morning sickness and high risk bed rest, I paired off and gave the attention to Evan. I had to. Without Korynn here, Emily would have been lost. At first, it would hurt when Emily wouldnt come to me. She preferred Korynn for everything but when I saw how much she was loved, that jealousy quickly disappeared and I saw it as a blessing. Without Korynn, the sheer thought of how negative things could have been for Emily makes me feel a nausea that puts morning sickness to shame. I have had days where Ive hated myself thinking Im one kid and one baby daddy away from a Maury Povich episode because Evan and Emily are from my marriage to Gerry and Aubrey is from my relationship to Joel. As others called me a whore, I started to believe them. As every stone came launching at me, Korynn picked them up and instead of hurling them back, she collected them in a proverbial pile and told me to use those same stones to build a new road for my life, an affirmation she was learning from her own therapy. Korynn was my driving force. I dont think I would have made it this far without her. I cant give up because then everything she did would have been done in vain and I absolutely cant and wont do that to her. However, she died here in our home with me holding her hand. I wont put every detail up here because thats not the point. Im grateful she didnt die alone. Grateful she knew I was with her, but I still saw her pass. There was nothing I could do to help her or save her after years of her helping me. That thought still makes me tremble in some form of survivors guilt. She saved me but I couldnt save her. I wasnt finished thanking her and she was taken away. We were on this path to fix our lives with our own empowerment and pursuit of happiness. I have to finish what we started. I have that motivation burning through me but Im terrified. I still practically have to remind myself to breath. The goals we set, to accomplish side by side, seem a million miles further away now. I feel like I will fail her but I also feel like Ill fail her if I dont try. I tried to make these sprinkle pancakes she would make for the kids. I know she added vanilla and cinnamon but they didnt come out right. All 3 kids protested them like they were poison. Theyre kids who dont know any better but it broke my heart. I sent them out to play and then through a shoe in my anger. It shattered the lamp in the living room. As I was picking up the carnage, I started laughing because I remembered how that lamps twin met its fate months earlier when Korynn and I saw a spider near it. A big spider. Armed with a toy bat and broom we teamed up against the arachnid. When we thought we saw it, we swung, killing only the lamp. Ive decided my first goal is to make my own breakfast that the kids will love, rather than copy hers. She simply cant be compared. I will find a breakfast that my kids will rave about. Otherwise, I will run out of light fixtures.
Posted on: Thu, 23 Oct 2014 20:12:08 +0000
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