A Little Better Week

It has been a long time between posts I know.  I have been dealing with a lot of inner junk and truly did not feel that I could write anything edifying.  What is that old “Mama used to say” saying?  “If you can’t say anything good just don’t say anything at all”? Well, that’s where I’ve been – in kind of a dark place and unable to say anything at all.  It has been so bad until I have been considering taking the Blog down because I don’t feel that I can write anything that could be helpful and it is beginning to sound like I’m just “crying in my beer” all the time.  But with lots of prayer and lots of support from good friends both old and new – I’m a little better --today.

We have passed Brian and Kara’s sixth anniversary (July 11) and my first birthday without them and last week was a year since the last time I kept Paxton and he was singing “Haddy Dirtday” to me.  I know the day and time because I videoed him singing to me.  And I am so thankful I did as I find comfort in watching it and being able to see him even if for just a little while. 

Since I am back to full blown pretending again I let those days slip right on by without incident. 

I was right in thinking that Paxton was going to be the first and the most intense grief in the beginning and then Brian would be the worst by far and the longest.  But it makes sense.   I’ve had him longer and he of course was my own child.  Kara is intermittent.  I think about her everyday too and some days are just “her” days.

I have still not touched any of their things.  Still not ready for that.  But I put away some of Paxton’s things from my house.  We have just a few to go and I am hoping that by the one year mark I can let go of them.  That is hard to even write.  I don’t want to let go of him.  They are all I have left and it feels like if I am willing to let go of them that in some way it is representative of letting go of him.  I think I am afraid that if I put them up and remove all evidence of him I will forget him or he will no longer seem real to me.  I didn’t have him that long and he might begin to seem like a dream.  Something far off that I imagined but that never really happened.  I don’t want that.  And, as bad as it hurts to think of him, I’d rather bear that pain than to forget or have him seem like a distant memory or a dream that wasn’t real.  I couldn’t stand for that to happen.  So I think I am hanging on until I am sure that his memory will not fade.  

Shortly after all of this happened and I was juggling devastating grief and caring for my sister, my friend Kathie sent me this saying that I really loved.  It has been on my wall at work ever since.

It said:

A woman's Strength isn't just about how much she can handle before she breaks.

It is also about how much she must handle after she's broken.

I don’t think many people could relate to this to the magnitude that I could at the time.  It is something that I look at every day. 

Where I am at this point - The short answer is –better - but the real answer is “better this week” but hey, I’ll take it.  Thursday of this week will be eleven months.  It, in no way, seems like it has been that long.  I still cry but thankfully, it is not every day and I also laugh. We are planning a trip to the beach at the one year anniversary and no, I did not intentionally plan it like that but it happened and I am actually looking forward to it – this week.  Last week I almost canceled it...again.  I do have a little fear that the timing is way wrong and that it will put a damper on the trip but it is not going to be an easy day no matter where I’m at.  I’m making myself get out and do some things and have found that they are not as hard as I had thought they would be.  It is still hard on the weekends when I am home and not working or around people or have responsibilities that I am obligated to.  I still think about them every single day.  The loss still pretty much dominates my thoughts almost all day - every day.   They are usually the first thought when I wake up and the last before I go to sleep.  And I have spent the previous six or eight weeks in deep sinking depression.  Over this past week, I realize it has lifted somewhat.  Lots of prayers I’m sure.  It was a really uplifting and positive week.  It was my birthday week and I had been dreading that but my friend at church brought me wonderful fresh vegetables from his garden and I enjoyed them all week long.  My new friend made me the most beautiful prayer blanket and gave to me with the message that all the ladies in her prayer shawl group had laid hands on it and prayed for me over it.  My sister came and took me to lunch and brought me a beautiful new blouse.  Another friend from work took me to lunch on my actual birthday and gave me a card.  My husband gave me a beautiful and sweet card and the new wind chime for the porch that I’d wanted.  I spent the night with my oldest and dearest friend and she took me to a great dinner and gave me a new pair of cute and comfy pajamas.  My daughter and son in law took us to lunch and she gave me a beautiful new blouse. 

I had dozens of calls, texts and emails and even though it hurt a little that I heard nothing from my youngest  sister, my brother, my other best friend or my oldest son – it did not ruin my day or my week.  I was thankful for those that I had that did care.  And even though I was sick the rest of the weekend – it was still a good week.