Things I Know

I need to be clear with those friends that read my blog.  There are some things I understand and know, but when you're able to explain everything to my heart and have it stick...let me know.

1.  I have undoubtedly been blessed with three beautiful children.  Girls at that.  Each of them a very unique twist of their father and myself.  I have no qualms about just how blessed I am to still have two of my children with me in this life.  And please do not think that I am angry, but a mother who is grieving her child...understands how blessed she is to have other children...if indeed she has other children.

2.  Grieving is unique to each person.  There is one thing I'd like to be clear on.  Please don't compare your grief to anyone else who is experiencing grief.  In this society, we tend to have a convoluted idea of how people should grieve.  There is no right or wrong way.  There is no time limit.  Grief does not need to be hidden.  And again...please don't compare.

 

3.  Please know that not every day is going to be a stellar day for me.  Some days, it's all I can do to be present in the day.

4.  I don't always want to talk about things.  I just need to be quiet with myself.  Sometimes I withdraw.  Sometimes I put on a great front.  And what I need most?  

Am I saying not to talk to me?  No, but sometimes just knowing someone is there is more powerful than anything that can be said.

And...

5.  *certainly not the last one, but it is for tonight*...Sometimes we go through spontaneous storms.  There are times in this process that we're just going to lose our stuff.  And, I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that it's okay for me to do that from time to time.

 

I have learned a lot in these last nearly 7 months.  I've learned a lot about myself and who I am becoming.  With that said, I still need my time to grieve.  Today, while I know I should be grateful that my baby is in heaven...dang it!!!  I want her HERE!  There is a Cora shaped hole in my life that will never be filled.

Today, it just happened to be an exposed wound..showing the world just how much she is missed.

Love

I have spoken about a man named Jay off and on in my posts since Coraline passed away.  He has been a rock for me to lean on, a place of support, a shoulder to cry on, and an embrace to soothe my heart.  There are many who don't understand how he came into my life.  Or even why he came into my life when he did.

Jay and I go back 20 years.  We worked together at a place called Perkins.  He watched me, teased me, I teased him, and we laughed a lot.  When I graduated from high school, I was often down on myself because I wasn't going 'out' like a lot of other friends.  This is nothing new, if you know me at all, I have a terrible self image.  Jay offered to take me out.  At the time, I was 17 and Jay was 25.  He came to my house to pick me up.  He had a single red rose for me.  He met my parents.  He walked me out to his car and opened the car door for me.

Jay was *and is* easy to talk to.  His blue eyes were *and are* piercing.  They are the type of eyes that allow you to see all the way into the soul.  He would get mad if I tried to open my own door.  He opened doors at the restaurant.  I felt like myself around him.

There was one day that he took me to Cascade Falls.  It's a beautiful place and off the beaten path.  As we waded in the water, he took me by the hand and said, "I love you."  I know that I was taken aback.  No guy had ever told me that he loved me first...not before him or after him.  And...I believed him.  The feeling was mutual.

In time, life became busy for Jay.  I was a teenager and 'needy'.  My mother had told Jay to watch himself since I was considered jail bait (I didn't know that at the time).  We split shortly after I found out that I had mono, but not by choice.  The pain was unbearable.  Looking back now, it had to be as it was.  I started college in the spring semester of 1996 and earned my bachelor's degree several years later.

I moved on.  Married.  I had 3 beautiful children.  My marriage wasn't what it appeared.  The smoke and mirrors hid a lot.  I hid a lot.  The last 20 years have truly shaped who I am.  I have become an adult.  I am less needy and more independent.  However, I am more fearful of life, I am a walking wounded in more ways than one, and I have become more aware of who I am and what I'm made of.

One day, out of the blue, I heard a song that reminded me of Jay.  The love I'd had for him never really died, but had been tucked away in my heart.  I had searched for him off and on over the years, but never had managed to find him.  This time when I searched for him...I found him!  We began talking again and I realized that my love for him *and his for me* was still very much there.

In December 2013, Jay sold most of what he had, and moved to Arizona.  If you read about Cora's stay in the hospital, you know that Jay stayed with me the whole week while I was there.  He made sure that I ate and got me out so that I wasn't staying in her room 24/7.  Even when I did get out of the room, I felt guilty.  Jay was with me when Cora passed.  He grieved her as if she was his own child.  He helped me with funeral arrangements.

In the months since, he has been a sounding board, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, someone to hold my hand, drive me to the ER, take care of me or the girls when we've been sick, helps cook, clean, do dishes *sometimes when the oldest child is not doing them*, and is generally my helpmate.  I get kisses throughout my day and am told that I'm loved almost as much as I am kissed...or equally as much.  We snuggle on the couch when if I am able to stay awake long enough to make it through a show.  He often gets frustrated with me because I tend to withdraw often.  He calls me on it.

Jay has promised to always be here for us.  Life has certainly evolved since we knew each other last.  We can actually be adults together.  We can have adult beverages together.  I have to say, that's one pretty sweet positive!  We can make plans together.  We can think about life together.

At the ages of 37 and 45, life has given to us the experiences we needed to allow us to be together and work together as a couple.  In a little over a month, Jay will hit the 1 year mark of having moved here.  We have gone through so much in a year and yet, I am sure that God brought him here at the exact time He did...knowing exactly what I would need.

While my heart is still broken from losing my sweet Cora, my heart is being mended in so many other ways.  And...I am thankful.

Grief

You know, this grief thing is hard work.  And I mean...HARD...WORK.  It's freakin' exhausting.  I'm in a constant roller coaster of emotions.  Just when I think I have it figured out...WHAM!  By-the-way...I hate loathe being on the roller coaster.

The worst part now, after 6 months, is realizing that my 11-year old is experiencing this same grief, but is so ill prepared on how to handle it.  She doesn't understand her anger.  She is unable to express her sorrow.  What makes things even more difficult?  She understands more than most kids her age.  The things that used to annoy her about her sister...she misses with every fiber of her being.  The mornings that she'd wake up and have Cora snuggled up against her in her bed.  Her sneakiness.  Yeah...all of that.

What can I do, but grieve with her?  We talk about Cora together.  I've told her that anger is perfectly normal.  She's reading through a book that was given to me that I've read mostly through.  I talked to her about the different stages of grief and how sometimes we're a combination of all of them...all at the same time.

My poor child feels guilty.  She feels guilty because I was with her at PCH instead of being home with Cora.  She thinks that if I had been home with Cora, she might not be gone.  She doesn't understand why it had to be Cora.  She's mad because she'll continue to have a birthday, but her sister won't.  She doesn't know what she wants for Christmas because she really just doesn't want anything.

My greatest challenge amongst this grief?  Reassuring my children that they are loved, that they are safe, and that I will do everything within my abilities to keep them healthy and happy.  I don't brush things off as easily as I used to...not that I really brushed things off per se, but I didn't rush to the doctor.  Now, I tend to be a bit gun shy.  And honestly, the doctor's need to understand that.

As I have said about myself, I will say it again for the sake of my children...we still need understanding, we need friends who will not ask questions, who will let us talk about our Cora, who will love us no matter what, and who can walk through this painful part of our lives.  It's messy and it's hard, but we'll know who we can count on most.

For those that have stuck around and waded through the mire with us...there are no words.  Just know that we are so grateful that you are here.