Filed under: Emmy
…and just briefly I find myself wishing.
Wishing my way out of this “New life” that has been created. This “New normal” That has become, well, normal. Wishing myself back, into those days before staring into deep blue eyes, and a big smile would make my spine tingle. Wishing myself back into those days where her smile could light up my day, not break my heart…all over again.
I know I should be happy, and I am. Really, despite the looks of things lately, I usually am fairly happy. Able to see through the dusk, and dark days and into the bright future where these kids lives will eventually take them. But some days, well, nights, its just not enough. When the house is quiet, and the toys are still, when the floor isn’t crawling with action, and yelling and laughing isn’t distracting me. When things are still, and quiet…
I find myself where no parent wishes to be.
Alone.
Because no one, can ever fill the hole that belongs to her.
I miss her so much, that sometimes she seems so close. Sometimes, I think that if I could just close my eyes long enough, and hold her close enough…that maybe, just maybe, she will come back. That if I turn around three times, sit down once, before opening my eyes, that maybe somehow that will break the code, and she will be here.
But Im left with pictures.
Pictures that hold memories. Happy times. People who are still here, and still make life worth living. But pictures that hold empty hope. The hope that she still will come back. That her memory still is alive. That she means something to me, and that maybe, just maybe, that will be enough.
I used to wake up every morning, close my eyes, and force them open…and plead. That just for one more day, she could be here. That for one more day I could hold the little angel that made my life, worth living. That for just one more minute, I could hold her, love her, hug her…
I wake up now, knowing that shes gone. That shes not coming back, and that it has to be ok.
Because I have three reasons to get out of bed, and go on with the day.
…and most days, it IS ok. It really is.
But some nights, when things are quiet. When my mind is silent. Her memory comes dancing in, and I find myself missing her…and wishing, once more, to hold her, and tell her…just how much she meant to me, something I took advantage of.
Instead, I will hug the kids extra tight, tell them I love them, and make sure I don’t have any regrets.
Because sometimes, living with regrets is the hardest, living with the guilt is hard, and living without her, is just too much.
Filed under: Emmy
October 22, 2002 – January 11, 2005
Happy seventh Birthday, Emmy.
I miss you like crazy, and love you forever. Keep smiling, little one. Keep smiling.
I sit here tonight, on the evening of what would have been your seventh birthday, listening to the rain fall and the wind blow. It much like it was the day you were born, a typical stormy October evening. I cant erase the thoughts, I cant help myself but wonder just what you would be doing, who you would be becoming, what your attitude would be, and all of that stuff that really doesn’t matter until you just don’t have it anymore.
I ask myself all the time, how I live without you? How do I live without the things that really made the world worth living in? How do I live without waking up and seeing your smile, or coming home to your hugs, or kisses? Why do I bother in this world, when your not here to bother for? I guess the answer would have to be, because I have to. It doesn’t mean that its been easy, its been far from easy. People say that with time, it becomes easier, and while that is true…there are some parts that time just wont heal. But that’s ok. It really is. Because if time healed everything, then it would erase your memory from my mind completely. Id rather live with the pain and your memory, than no pain, and no memory.
I miss you, so much little princess. I miss your smiles, your hugs, your kisses, your laugh. I miss all the things I took advantage of, all the things I thought I would have a life time to enjoy. I miss you, and who you would be today. I feel cheated sometimes, that I only got to know you for two years, but I feel luckier than ever to have been able to call you mine, for those two years. You gave me a reason and hope, when there wasn’t any to be found. You gave me someone to love when I didn’t think love was possible. You gave me a reason, when I didn’t think there was one. And in a way, you have given me strength to face this world alone.
Emmy, there are so many things I want to tell you, but I don’t think I could even do justice with words. I can only say I love you so many times before it turns into a cliché. I can only say how much I miss you, before it looses all meaning.
Life certainly wont ever be the same. It wont ever be how it was before you, because before you came, I didn’t know it was possible to love and be loved by someone so tiny. Before you, I lived for the future. The what could be, and what might be someday. It wont ever be the same as life with you, because life with you was filled with innocent bliss that came before knowing just how hard your world COULD be rocked. I lived in the present, with you, right then. It wont ever be the same as life after you, because when you left, your absence shook my world harder than it has been shook before. The first few years, I lived for the past. The what was, what I knew, and what I loved.
Its different now, little one. Life is different. Now, being able to look back, I like to think I can take the best of all three worlds. The living for the future, the importance of living in the present, and loving those you have now, and of course, keeping the past, because that past makes you who you are…but learning to keep the past, in the past, knowing that you wont ever be able to go back…and relive what already was.
My little angel, I miss you so much, and if I could…I would tell you just how much you meant to me, and how much I love you. I can only hope you know.
Ill love you forever,
- Dad
Its been a rather difficult week, and I could go ahead and put the blame on numerous things, but the truth is I don’t know why.
Yesterday, someone randomly said that “When your having a bad day, all you have to do is look at someone else’s life to realize, that you don’t have it all that bad” and I cringed, when I heard those words.
I cringe every time I hear those words, or words closely related. I don’t know why, I just do. I know everyone has some sort of a battle, and I know that most likely, theirs are a lot worse than mine…but it doenst make me feel any better, or any different. Infact, it makes me feel a lot worse, thinking about all the other people who have things going on, and Im sitting here having a bad week because, well, who knows why, and well, it kind of makes the week just a little worse off.
Im trying, to stay positive.
But it doesn’t always work.
Its October, and what else can I say except that its been hard. I should be used to it by now…but Im not.
Maybe next year.
Filed under: Cancer
Originally posted August 22, 2008.
Its something that strikes a nerve every time I hear, or read the word. No, I havent had cancer, myself. But…it was an active part of my life a few years ago.
Emmy
My sister, the mom to the two kids I currently have custody of now, lost her battle with cancer at 28, July 7, 2005
But how it really effected my life, was when it took my daughter from me.
I dont think there are any other words that have sent chills up and down my spine than when I was in that small doctors office, being told that my little angel had that evil disease. That she had aggressive, brain tumors. I dont think there are any words that doesnt shake a parent in ways unthinkable, than to be told that your child has cancer.
November 2004.
It was not quite a month after her second birthday, when I took her in due to ear piercing screams from her, while she held her head. It wasnt what I had hoped for, approaching the holiday seasons, changing into a toddler, there wasnt time for a delay. There wasnt time for illness, there wasnt room for this in her life. They ran some test, took some blood, and sent us packing, they were busy with people who were in a car accident, they didnt have time to deal with my daughter who was just going through the “Terrible twos”. “Shes just itching for more attention, spend more time with her, make her stay in her bed” the “Ideas” were limitless.
A few weeks after her first appointment, I received the phone call, saying the doctor wanted to talk with us. I needed to come in, as soon as possible. He showed me X rays of her head, I had no idea what was coming. I was paranoid of the tiny room, and I had things to do, places to go, things that HAD to be done that day, I didnt have time to waste with him, as he showed me that she was alright. He sat down at his desk, took his glasses off, and stared my straight in the eyes, I purposely avoided his look, watching Emmy as she played with the germ infested toys that she had drug in with her. “Your daughter has brain tumor” I froze. What else could I do? What could I say? My mind froze. My body froze. He must have had the wrong files. It wasnt possible. I looked at him for answers, I searched his face for any signs of a cruel joke. But he was serious. It was the beginning of the end.
December 2004
A month later we boarded a plane, and headed for Seattle where she was to under go brain surgery. By that point, every possibility had been thought of, and the best option seemed to be to have her under go surgery. “Its a 50/50 shot” I could still hear his words ringing in my ears. “But if we dont do something now….” An aggressive, malignant tumor, growing, inside of her brain. Taking over her life. How could such an evil, dirty disease such as cancer be in her body? It didnt seem possible still. December 11th, she under went surgery.
While she was in surgery, I spent the 8 hours it took pacing the halls fearing the worse, wondering if I had made the right decision. “Its a 50/50 shot” kept ringing in my ears. But what if the odds were against her. Aside from being told not to consider the “What ifs” about it, I couldnt help myself.
Emmy was my everything. Not only was she my daughter, my angel, and my princess, she was my reason, my life, my morning and evening. After loosing my wife two years prior, Emmy took the top notch of being #1. Her heart exploded with love, and she loved everyone as much as a two year old could. She had no fear, but rather, boldly walked into the hospitals, proclaiming loudly, “HI, I ME!” Her way of introducing herself. She could win her way into anyones heart, any day. Her big hugs, wet whispers and slobbery kisses were to die for. She could love and laugh like nobodies business. Even at a young age, her personality shone through, and it was quite clear that she had her own style about her.
She won over every nurse and doctor there was in Seattle, and made great progress in the way of recovery. “She might have some brain damage, or memory loss, we wont know for sure how extensive things will be until she recovers completely” But when she came to after being in surgery, and the smile slowly peeled across her face, it was clear “Emmy” was still there. But it was far from over. The doctor wasnt happy with the surgery, saying that while it went well, she would still need to under go chemo in the near future. He wanted her to recover completely, however, before putting her through any more.
January 2005
January 1st 2005 – Its my birthday, and I really dont care, the only thing I wish for is that she will come through. I only want her to be ok, and for her to live a normal life. I wish I could trade her places, its so hard to watch her go through this. Her screams cut right to my center, and her eyes read with the pain she is in. I dont care what happens, as long as she comes out ok.
They sent her back to our local hospital the 8th of January. Two days later, the doctors told me not to expect her to make it through the night. There was nothing more they could do for her, and it was clear that she was going down hill….at a rapid speed. As night neared, the doctors continued to tell me to expect the worse, and all together, gave up on any hope of her recovery.
Emmy passed away January 11th, 8:45 pm.
She was 2 years 3 months and 11 days.
The night she joined her mom, I watched the night sky light up with the rarely seen Northern lights. They are common for further north, but a rare sight here. If they do happen along, its usually just a green light in the distance. January 11th, was an acception, as the whole sky light up with pinks, whites and greens that danced across the sky. Emmy was a very loving little girl, with a heart bigger than life. She loved everyone, and perhaps taught me one of lifes greatest lessons….
“Life is to short, to not smile” Because as she saw it, there was always something to smile about….she left a deep impression on my heart, as any child would to a parent, to say I taught her something wouldnt be true. To say she taught me something, would be more accurate.
Its been three years since shes been gone, and not a day goes by that I dont think about her, and her big heart. I wonder sometimes, if there was something I could have done to prevent her tumors, if maybe, as people often told me, “I caused her to much stress, or messed up her diet” I do know that cancer is an evil, dreadful disease, and it effect not only my daughters life, but mine as well.
Forever and always, my angel you will be
*****
Time changes things, yes. But if I could change time, I would change a few things myself.
I know Ive written, numerous times, maybe too much, about cancer, and how its effected my life. Ive written up and down, the ways its effected me, and how it took Emmy, and well…all of that. I know Ive mentioned it, but not sure if Ive elaborated on it too much.
My older sister, passed away, July 7, 2005. She wasn’t JUST my sister, my older sister, the one person who had been there every day of my life, she was the mom to Madison and Dylan. It was seven months after Emmy had passed, that she joined her. After however, she buried not only my daughter, but our brother, and sister as well.
This Saturday, there is a walk. Ironic timing, really. A “Cure for lung cancer” walk. The same type of cancer my sister, Madison and Dylans mom, had.
Whats ironic about it, is that just last week, Dylan was asking…he was questioning, wondering, and generally pondering over the facts, and events leading to his moms death. He was just 6 ½ when she died, and a short while later, he found his dad – dead – in his bedroom. Obviously, the events of his dads death, were more dramatic on him, and the events leading up to and around his moms, have sort of, more or less, become splotchy memories. Something he doesn’t really remember, and something he hasn’t really ever wanted to talk about. When it first happened, people told me over and over and over that I needed to get HIM to talk, that I needed to MAKE him talk, but at the time, it was too much. Too much for me, but more importantly too much for Dylan. There was too much for his young mind to grasp, and he didn’t want to talk about it. He was sensitive about the subject, and would usually walk away.
Almost four years later, hes finally showing interest in things. Hes been slowly trying to piece back together a memory of his mom – something that Madison is more than willing to help him with…sometimes, shes a little to eager, and he walks off, leaving her wondering what she did wrong. But that’s how he is, how he has always been. I knew way back when, that he didn’t want to talk about it, and that he would…when he wanted to, when he was ready.
A lot has happened in the past four years…hes been seen by many different therapist, who have all said hes perfectly normal, and that he will deal with things in his own way – nothing to worry about…and he has. Hes changed so much. Hes went from being a very insecure, sensitive, lost 6 year old to a hyper, bold, loud, adventurous, and fierce, 10 year old. Hes changed…and now, he wants to know. He wants to know how “Mom died” he wants to know where he was when she died, why he wasn’t there, and why she died. He wants to know what caused her cancer, why lung cancer, and why the doctors couldn’t save her. Hes asked questions randomly, at odd times when there isn’t a lot of time to answer them, because that’s how he is. He wants the answer, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to process it, and deal with it himself – which is just fine. Its how he works. Its how he deals.
Tomorrow, there is a walk for lung cancer. Madison was the first one to point it out, a few months ago, when she was online doing one of her “Cancer researches” I didn’t think it would actually come to town, seeing that a lot of things gather in bigger cities. I told her we would see what June brought, because to be honest, I wasn’t thinking June in April. Or was it May? But last week when posters, and flyers started popping up, and a banner arrived downtown, and a website was even devoted to it, I told her we would think about it.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to encourage her to go at something she felt was important, it was that I didn’t know how Dylan would take to it. I didn’t know what was going on that weekend, or if it was even something we could swing….but being Madison, my lack of enthusiasm didn’t stop her…she set up shop, something she did last year, and started selling things. This year? Her point of interest is for this lung cancer cure walk. Last night she was proud to announce that she had sold enough items, and had $67 to donate on Saturday. As if that settled everything. We were going. Sort of thing. After all, how could I say no to THAT?
I let her break it to Dylan, who shrugged his shoulders, and was all game when he found out that it was going to be on a trail that he has been bugging me to take him on. I don’t know if he realizes what its for, or if its his way of processing it. I know Josh wont have a clue, other than hes going to be surrounded by people he doesn’t know, and we can only hope he does his best to stay calm. Madison – I know will go all out – like she always does…and I will go with them, because they obviously cant go alone. I will go, for my sister, for their mom, and for them…
…and something tells me, that if she knew what her kids were up to, shed be pretty proud of them, not that she wouldn’t be ordinarily…
Its hard to look at Madison and not think of her…its hard to watch the motivation, inspiration and out-going personality shes got, and not see her mom in her…Not that Dylan doesn’t resemble her, but I don’t remember seeing her ride her bike handless down the street. Don’t think I can recall too many times that she stood in the rain, hammering nails.
We will go out tomorrow, hope for good weather, and make the best of whatever situations come our way…
This *one* is for her.
Filed under: Emmy
My mind went blank, the room turned fuzzy, nothing made sense, it was as if there was a spinning sensation…I needed to get off, I was getting dizzy…I had to stop it. I needed to think, I needed to breath. There had to be something. The hope. I needed hope. Where was the hope, yes, hope, I could hold onto, hope I could see, and hope that I could cling to for the rest of my life…where was it when I needed it?
The first thing that came back into focus was her: hunched over in the corner of the office, playing with a germ infested toy. Her faded blue jeans, bright pink t shirt and messy brown hair. It couldn’t be true. It just wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. There wasn’t any way I was going to believe it. There had to be hope. He was the next object to come into view.
Leaning back in his chair, glasses falling off his nose, white over coat, his day planner laid out on his desk, holding the plans to the rest of his life. His pen was sitting on his lip, and he stared in my direction as if waiting. For me. Im sure I wasn’t the first, or the last, person he had to tell the news to. He wasn’t very good. He laid it out, blunt with full force, and waited, to see what I would do. While I waited…to see what he would say. He was the doctor, why couldn’t he fix it, do something, change things, do it over again…and suddenly, my disbelief, turned to anger. A hot passionate anger that made me want to pick up the bundle of energy in the corner and run: far away. To some safe place. Somewhere where nothing could hurt her, and all would be well…
It was his fault. He was the one. His day planner. His dinner plans. His life laid out before him, it sat next to her file. The one that read: Brain tumor. The one that held my destination. Lay there, mingled with his life, and who knows how many other peoples. It was his job. To break the news to people. To tell them their children, the ones that they were suppose to protect, and keep from harms way, were going to die. In more or less words. I hated him. With everything in me, I hated him.
After discussing things with him, in further detail, I took her hand, and walked out of the room. I was numb. I was floating. I was there in body, but I wasn’t there. I noticed the family in the waiting room. I saw the other kids playing, and I saw her, staring at them as well. Having no idea what her future held, but know that with her hand in mine, she would be safe: safe from all the dangers in the world. Safe from anything that came her way, I could protect her, I was her father. Her daddy. She was my little girl, it was my job…and I was failing. I was messing up the one thing that I felt I knew how to do. I wasn’t doing, my job.
I was worse off than the man in the white suit, who mixed his life in with ours. He atleast, was doing his job, and doing it well. I. Was not. I was slowly loosing the grips to the reins I had known. The bottom of my world was beginning to crack, and my daughter was slowly slipping out of my grip…and there was nothing. Not one thing. That I could do to stop it. I was a failure. To the one person who trusted me more than anything in the world. The one person who cried my name, and ran to me for protection…and I was letting her down.
It was the second to the worse day in my life.
Hearing the news was almost as bad as living it out. Just as he had said.
One month to the day after her surgery, and I sat there, holding her hand, yelling for her not to leave, knowing that there wasn’t anything I could physically do to save her, or help her.
Knowing that she was taking her last breaths, but not wanting to believe, because while it put her out of her pain, it had put a start to mine. I was selfish like that. Not wanting her to go. Wanting her to stay. Wanting to be able to save her. Wanting what I couldn’t have.
I spent close to an hour with her, after she was gone. After her final breaths were taken, and the first of many tears were shed. Watching her change, knowing that she wasn’t there, but wishing, that there was some way it was all a mistake…that she would come back, that she would breath, and smile, and laugh, and be…herself again. Just once more. For a little while. I was sure, if she stayed a moment longer, I could save her. I could hold her tighter, love her more, and cure her illness. Take it away, and give her the life that she deserved…
Four ½ years later…four and ½ years, to the day.
It doesn’t seem right. It still doesn’t seem real. There are still times I wish, and wonder, and THINK that shes still there, that I “Lost” her somewhere, that I didn’t leave her in that hospital bed. That maybe I forgot her, or she ran away, or there was some mistake, that maybe…she really isn’t gone. I play tricks on myself, If I close my eyes hard ENOUGH she MIGHT come back. Im just not trying hard enough, not wanting it bad enough, I didn’t love her enough, I didn’t want her enough, I didn’t care for her good enough…
I failed her. I gave up. I walked away. I yelled too much. I drank too much. I wasn’t there enough. I didn’t give her all she needed. I wasn’t…the father she needed.
…and while I cant go back, and I cant undo things, I can go forward, and I can beat myself up every single day, for not being a better father to the little girl who deserved so much much more, than me.
Four and ½ Fucking years later, I can still remember her, on the 11th of each month, and KNOW what happened. I can still remember her, and I can still be upset about things. I can still hate that doctor, and I can still wish with everything in me, that it is some mistake. That tomorrow when I open the front door, with the sun streaming in, she will be standing there, smiling, and we can pick up where we left off.
But Im forced to put these thoughts away, pack them up, and send them to the furthest corners of my mind, if I don’t want to be held back, and grieve for the moments I could have had…should have done…and the person I MIGHT have become…because I refused to let my daughters memory, fade.
One day, maybe. But not today.
Strikes again.
Every so often, I have to wonder why things cant just…slow down, or go smooth. Why there always has to be an extreme, one way or the other. Why cant things just…go normally for once. Why does it seem like things are always taken to the extreme here?
Earlier this week, my mom emailed me, which is rare for her. Telling me to call her. I found it odd that she would email, and to tell me to call her…but I did, as soon as I could.
I havent kept in contact with a lot of my extended family. When I left “Home” I said good bye to any family I knew, figuring it was better that way. One person I managed to keep in contact with was a cousin, who, although years older, always sent encouraging thoughts to us during the years. These past few years, I havent done as good of job as I could have, keeping in contact with her. I did know certain things about her, just because of my mom, who is the family grape vine…I knew she was married, had a son, and another on the way.
But this past week…things changed. The way things do. Change so fast.
Monday, I called her up to see if there was anything I could do, knowing full well there wasn’t. A place I hate to be – the place where there is absolutely NOTHING I can do. Sunday (A week ago) she went to the ER with pains in her side…and was told she had cancer. 17 years ago, she had a bout of cancer, and successfully beat it. This time, she was told she had secondary liver cancer, it still isn’t confirmed what the primary cancer is…but the news isn’t good. Monday – she will be forced to terminate her pregnancy and start treatments.
Last night, I called and asked her how things were going, and during the 20 minutes or so I talked with her, she went through the appropriate emotions: anger, sadness, confusion and all the rest. Of course, during the course of the conversation the inevitable question came up: WHY?
Why cancer, why now? Why couldn’t it have waited, not that there is a “Good time” to get cancer, but why now? Right now. Why?
The word cancer sends chills up my spine every time I hear it, and this time its no different.
They arent sure what the out come will be, they don’t know what will happen, or where things will go from here, and I cant help but put myself in the shoes of her immediate family. Knowing that the waiting, the not knowing, AND the knowing…is all so hard. Just hearing the words “You have cancer” just hearing the word…is enough to make anyone, anyone, sick with worry.
…for me? Its just another reminder. Another harsh realization that cancer still is out there, not that I ever doubted it. Its another reminder that it can effect anyone, anywhere, anytime. It has no mercy, it has no dignity, it has no rhyme or reason. During the years that Emmy has been gone, I have met more people than I care to admit, that in one way or another, have been effected by it. Maybe its just because my ears have been programmed for it. All I know is cancer? Sucks.
While I know there is a good chance she will over come this (shes done it before – she can do it again, right??) I know there is a chance….she wont. I know there are people out there, who I have become friends with – who simply wait to hear that their cancer has returned. I know that there are people out there – who are still fighting, and I know there are people out there who have lost family members…
There arent really words that could describe my intense hatred to the six letter word…C-A-N-C-E-R. Doesn’t even deserve to have a post devoted to it.
There are, on occasion, those moments in life…when something randomly appears, takes your breath, and brings you back to that one point in life where everything was…so…indescribably difficult. It happens so fast that when your focus is shifted, and you begin to realize that this…this right here, is reality? You are so…so….overwhelmingly thrilled with it, that there really isn’t anything left to do, except step outside and take in the amazing reality that you are here, right now, with this, which happens to be yours.
These past few days, I have been reintroduced to the fact that life, is a fragile thing. That death, still creeps in and snatches precious life, everyday…and its enough to take me back to those moments, years ago, when Emmy was born…and how…small, and little she was. The fact that she was so tiny, was enough to keep me away for one simple fact: I didn’t want to break her. She was tiny, and fragile and that was nothing I could handle. But a year later would find me blowing bubbles on her tummy, while she rippled with laughter. It would see me tossing her in the air, and watching for a brief moment as her hair would fly up and her smile turn with her eyes…and seconds later I would hold her tight and whisper in her ear just how much I loved her. Two years, just doesn’t seem to be enough time to have the one you love, ripped away. It doesn’t seem fair, and it doesn’t seem right…infact, it seems downright, wrong.
A little over a year ago, I held my niece as her tiny body took the last breaths, and she too, stepped into the world of the unknown. It was a moment in my life that really….took me by surprise. Because while I knew chances weren’t good…there was still that shred of hope that I clung to, firmly believing that she would open her eyes and smile…again. That afternoon, it seemed as though life was…a blur. The world around me spun with no clear direction, and as I stumbled through the proper steps, I couldn’t help but wonder what this life…this world…thus cruel, heartless place of existence was coming to.
Last week, I send an email to a friend. Telling her that she was right, there was such thing as happiness, and I was living it. It was true…at that moment, I couldn’t have been happier with things, even though its been a hell to get here, and even harder to STAY here. The only thing that mattered was that I was here…and that…was ok with me.
This past week, I have been told by two different people, that two different friends have lost, two separate children…and my heart did a little flip. The pain, and anxiety that comes from loosing a child is nothing that could ever be summed up in words. It takes your breath, your life, your words, away…it literally, leaves you lifeless, as if your heart has been ripped out…because in a sense…it has. Then, this weekend, I discovered that two different kids had passed away, and as I clicked the links and followed the stories that came…read the words, and felt the gut wrenching, heart twisting words that can only be described as horrible, I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Guilt for living, for laughing, for loving again. For giving life a chance again.
Its been a hell, literally, to get here from where I was two, three, four years ago on that day that my own precious daughter was ripped from my arms. To read it, to hear it, to…KNOW it…there is nothing I can say, or do, or even think…that will help these families deal with these losses…nothing, because I know, all to well, that it’s a journey that will take time…dreaded, time…to deal with…long after the kind words stop, and the people stop asking, weeks after the name is forgotten, and the comments start being made…years later, when you learn to live again…time still, seems to linger on…time does NOT heal everything…time…softens the blow, only because you learn to deal with the loss. You learn to…grasp the fact that you will never wake up to see that smiling face, you learn…nothing else. No one else.
Its heartbreaking to read of these things…its…word taking to hear of them…and what little I can do, doesn’t seem to even make a mark on what these families will face. My thoughts will be with them, not JUST today, because plenty of thoughts will be there today…but tomorrow, and next year…when it seems as though you are alone in a world that doesn’t understand…
A short amount of time. Four kids. Four different families.
Filed under: Emmy, Letting it out, The kiddos | Tags: Change, disconnected & random, My kid, My thoughts
No matter what the holiday, regardless of the time of year…it always seems to get to me…this year, this time, its no exception. I was originally, not going to do anything to this effect, but after trying out other things…I figured I might as well stop trying to sugar coat things, and make them look different than they really are.
Last year, the kids werent here…
The year before that, all four of them were here.
…and somehow, just like that…things have changed.
Last year, I wrote about my love for and towards Emmy…none of the kids were here last year, and it was really a time of reflecting. Of course, when I look back at things, most of my thoughts land somewhere near Emmy…I wrote about how I didnt have the immediate connection with her like most parents did…I also wrote: As bad as it sounds, that night, holding her for the last time….holding her as she died…it was clear…just how much I really did love her….as the world felt as if it were crashing in around and life seemed to come to a complete halt….it was the first time that I actually believed those words I whispered to her so much…”I love you” they held so much meaning right then…
The year before that, I didnt write on here…I was somewhere else, …but I do remember that year, I had taken the kids all out for dinner…I remember sitting around the table, watching them all…thinking they had all gotten so big. We got a lot of stares, I can only assume it was because we went to a nicer restaurant and I had four “Obnoxious” kids…two of who are under 4…and dont really have the concept of “Restaurant Talk” down. Josh babbled loud, Molly complained of being hungry, Madison talked on and on about her day, and Dylan sat…smiling for once…That was the last time we were all together. A few months later, and they would all be split up, and later that year, Molly would be gone.
It amazes me, constantly…how fast things change. Two years ago. Three years ago. Four years ago. I was writing to Emmy earlier…and having a hard time telling her what I really wanted to say. I eventually decided on that. Telling her that I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, but didnt have the words…or the ability…to say it. Thats how its been lately…I havent had the words…or ability to really say what I want…I look at the kids and see how much theyve changed, and how fast theyve grown, and I want to say something…I want to describe how it is to watch them grown and change so quickly…I want to say how proud I am of who they are becoming as little people…but I cant. I cant even figure out how to tell my own daughter how much I love her…I dont think I can do much worse…than that.
Filed under: Emmy
