Today marked another week without you here. This last week was one of the harder ones. I usually know when a particular week will be more challenging. The weeks surrounding specific dates and memories are the ones I attempt to mentally prepare for. I anticipate how I might feel when I know I am going to be faced with them and buckle up. This last week though, I didn't anticipate it. I didn't put it all together until I was midway through it all. It wasn't until I was racking my brain, trying to analyze every little thing that was going on in my mind that it hit me while scrolling through google photos. March was never one of your better months.
Each year in March starting around the 15th for 2015 and 2016, the 20th in 2017, and the 17th in 2019 she was inpatient for at least a week. In 2018 she had two ED stayovers on March 10 and 28. My mind didn't remember on its own, but my body did. I have felt entirely blah, sad, extra depressed, extra grumpy, etc. Every negative grief emotion has been weighing on me. The cloud is just sitting on my shoulders. It makes me extra sensitive to people acting less than intelligent. It makes me take naive (stupid) comments by people who don't even know what they are saying to heart. It makes me feel guilty over things that I know deep down I shouldn't.
It is surprising that after 3 years of this journey that I wouldn't be more prepared for these times. Maybe I actually am because I was now able to recognize what was going on and give it a name? Maybe that is the moving forward of grief? Maybe this is some sort of celebratory Sonzeestone? I suppose if I am implementing the "being kinder to myself" lesson from the resilient parenting class I would tell myself that this is positive progress, no maybes. If it were someone else I would tell them how amazing it was that they identified their feelings and were able to recognize how challenging these times can be and that is okay. Their emotions are ok. Their responses to others are acceptable and it is ok. They have been through a lot.
This week someone made a comment to me that I haven't been able to really shake. I know it came from a place of them never having to bury a child. I know it came from a place of sheer ignorance and the inability to truly even consider how they might truly feel if they had a child die. (Similar to all those single men and women who will raise their kids so much better than the parent sitting at the fast food restaurant). Everyone assumes they know exactly how they would be if their child died. The things they would do so much better with their surviving children. The things they would or wouldn't do themselves. The strength they would have or the fact that they just couldn't survive so they would kill themselves (meaning those of us who don't must clearly love our children less). Everyone has an opinion. I wish people would keep it to themselves. I wish they would just take a moment and really think before they spoke about what a bereaved parent should or shouldn't do. If they have lost a child by all means I'd want to swap ideas on how best to handle situations, but if they haven't, I just want them to not talk. The comment didn't help my already wallowing feelings. In fact, it just made me feel unnecessary guilt. It made me miss you even more.
I wish I didn't have to have you separated from my day-to-day life. I wish you were still here to have to balance out our life. I wish I didn't know all about grieving a child. I wish I didn't know everything I have learned because of your life and death. I guess I could be positive and say I am thankful for all I have learned, but I wish it didn't come with your challenging life and then death as a consolation.
Anyway baby girl. It is hard to truly grasp 164 Mondays have passed me by without a Sonzee snuggle or being able to hear your baby bear growl. It is hard to grasp you haven't seized for that length of time as well. (Thank you, Hashem!!)
Until next time my love.