The worst comes out in some people during the holidays… It’s sad to watch and read. But… it’s like a train wreck, you have to watch, and every once in a while I find myself wanting to type, “You have NO idea what real struggle is like…” Or, “You care about a design on a cup?” Or, “The speed at which I drive upsets you that much?” LOL! Not sure how to make it now that I have real problems, surrounded by so many that think they do. I skim past the posts, the ranting and raving over things such as this. I unfollow people all damn day long. The holidays make people self-righteous, as if they are owed something. My dear friend is watching her son die right now, exactly how we watched our daughter die, that’s a real problem. That’s a real struggle. The person inconveniencing you in the grocery line is not. 😞 I don’t understand it, and I can’t stand it. Maybe it’s not the actual issue itself, we all get irritated. Maybe its that its splashed all over social media, and the words are subject to scrutiny. I go to find the posts or blogs from people that are really hurting, or living, appreciating, and loving the real world. The ones that really suffer, and fight. The ones that didn’t suffer, and fight with us. The ones that counsel, or try too. Or the ones that just hear us, and care. The ones that THINK before they dig deep into their real thoughts and pull out the ugly. The ones that appreciate this existence. This is my new “real world” of judgement. I’m also here deciphering your decisions, and judging in a different way. There’s a lot more thought process involved in my reaction or responses then their used to be. I have more pity and sorrow for people now. I sit back and stare silently at the words or letters I’m observing. In shock… But I keep it to myself. So, this way I’m less bitter, and can block out the BS, and sink into myself. I don’t have to think negatively about the people I love and care about. Those that are so removed that they don’t see the big picture. It’s better for everyone, and I should have done it years ago… Thank you to my daughters for teaching me how to be real to myself, to not care about being different, or keeping things acceptable, or being the perfect friend, and to be better than that… to be me.
The entire dream was odd. I felt insecure, lost, confused, used, and I used, scared… This wasn’t me. It went on, and on. Doing what I was groomed to do. I don’t really remember much of it, houses, and streets, clean and crisp yards, newly mowed. They were perfect, and my house was a mess. The clutter was everywhere. This wasn’t me. I mostly remember the bad guy, a kid, a teenager… and a few of his friends. He wanted to hurt my kids. We didn’t let them into the house, and suddenly the house was full of people I know. They were there to comfort me, to be safe with me. The father of this kid, ran the place, and assured us all would be fine, he understood our fears, and was fixing him out there, he was good again. He wouldn’t do what he had intended to do, and what I knew he had done to someone outside of that house. He knew I knew… and when I tried to confront him for it, as he casually strolled through the house, his dad stopped me, and said he’s fine and why am I making waves. Now I was alone, and no one was on my side. He was fixed. I was crazy.
Later in the dream, we are swimming, and everyone seems to have moved on. I am with teenage girls, there are about 4 or 5 of them, friends of my daughters, and my daughters. I whisper to them to swim towards the end of the pool, just casually. I see the kid staring at us, and the others are oblivious, but I knew. I tell the girls to swim to the end, climb out, and then take off to the car… And they do, and I do, and we make it, but he meets up with us, and I get the girls in the car, and Tori’s driving. She’s trying to take off, but the guy holds her door open and, wait… it’s not her, it’s me… He wants me and he wants them to witness it. His large sized friend pushes my door shut on my leg, and holds it there. I’m the one they want. I’m the one he is trying to kill. He comes out of the house with a dust pan, that has the edge of the handle sharpened… and now all three of them are smiling.
Suddenly I wake up, I’m sweating and flipping out. My thoughts immediately are that I need to go back, I need to fix this error in judgment and fix this. I think, WHY DIDN’T I push harder on that door. Why didn’t I tell Tori to go with the door open, she was waiting for a command. Why did I turn around and waste time, I could have got the other guy why he was distracted and admiring the new flashy weapon. And slowly the thoughts turned… to a worse nightmare.
The next several hours were flash backs in my awakened mind. She used to sleep behind me, so peaceful and sleepy. She wasn’t there anymore. Would I freak out if she reached over, and hugged me suddenly. Probably. Would I stop it, no… I wouldn’t waste another moment ever, so many moments wasted. The last time she slept behind me was the worst, there was no comfort, and she was in my arms. I woke to her struggling to breath, the raspy breathes, the fever, the scared look in her face. I overslept… DAMNIT! One hour should have been enough, but it was 4. How could I do this to her, why didn’t I set an alarm. So many flashes, like a movie, but I was awake. The morphine we pumped her full of, the oils, the video recording of her suffering, did she know. Did she hate me for it. Did she agree, people needed to see this suffering. The faces, the tears, the clothes, the cleanup, the fog. The hospital bed, laying with her, my husband next to us. My other children, somewhere in the room. The nurses face. That face of pity. The sound of echoing voices through digital lines. Why didn’t I reach out and swat that phone away. I hate them for that. All of them. They couldn’t even give him this moment.
I need to go back. I need to fix this error in judgment, and fix it all… Why didn’t I do so many things. The thing we ignore all day long, as just a tool to clean up our trash, that useless tool, or thought, or process, and the unexpected result of ignoring those things, right in front of our faces, as we watch children die every day, and families suffer. That thing, which made my life a real nightmare, and will for many more to come. Cancer was my dust pan, and I was so fooled, and i could’t hide like many think they can. It caught us, and Katherine. We were ignorant, and it won.
In this photo Katherine had so much anxiety caused by the radiation she was still receiving. The steroids and Avastin didn’t help. Her body wasn’t hers anymore. She was very upset, it was hot, mom was stressed, and it was a long drive. She cried and wanted to be held for an impossibly long time. And I just wanted to get it over with. Everything was so wrong, and this photo shoot seemed like the right idea, and it was turning into a disaster. The sweet lady taking the photos tried so hard to make her smile show through the camera. We were struggling. Big time. But here… she was distracted. She made us all stop. She saw a peacock casually strolling. She locked eyes on it and stayed that way for an oddly long time. Soaking it in. She always saw the beauty in things so calmly. She never ran towards or shared what she was thinking. She just kept it all to herself. She was probably enjoying its beauty, and recognized its freedom, wishing it was her, and that she could leave this new constrained life. Little did she know that she was yet to spread her feathers and be beautiful and amazing and teach us all so much. She was magnificent and more amazing than any peacock she could ever admire from afar. And I miss her so much. 😔💛🎗
I’m so sorry Katherine. I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have saved you. You deserved a real fight. You deserved a chance that you were not given. And for that I will never forget, I will fight, and I will regret this loss for the rest of my life.
One of the biggest fears as I mourn my daughter’s death, besides the fact that I will never be able to wrap my arms around her, or take her tiny, soft, and precious hands in mine, is what others think of my healing process after her death. It’s true… This is my life: Get out of bed. Not cry noticeably. Smile and feign happiness for my other children. Focus on my job, because you know… that pays the bills. Try not to share her story with every passing person I meet, unsolicited. Take any and every opportunity at the last minute to get out, and forget this existence, then rush back home because of anxiety, and veg. Try to get through the day, to go to bed, and get up the next day, and repeat it again. That’s what I can do, and anything that requires more than that, is a crap shoot. And let’s say, on the off chance that you are ever on the receiving end of that crap shoot, that you’ve wandered away from our friendship, or stepped aside because you “just can’t”, or feel I’m unapproachable, then I am regretful that you gave up. It’s not you, it truly is me, but if I told you that I was sorry, I am being untruthful. Because you can’t be sorry for things you cannot control. I am technically sorry, but not for the reasons you think. I’m sorry that I can’t be the old me, that’s all a foggy blur now. I’m sorry that I can’t be a new me, post child loss. I’m sorry that I can’t be any me that would satisfy what you’d expect of me. I can’t be the me that was, or the me that fought for my daughter’s life, or the me directly after she died, or the me from even on hour ago. It’s like my emotions are playing hopscotch with my thoughts, and I just can’t get my rock into the “friend” square… So yes, I’m sorry for that, and that only. Not because of my mourning process, but because your expectations of my mourning process are lost on what we once were as friends. And some people have failed to see their reservations towards me in that same manner that I have given towards them, so there’s that to ponder… But I’d like to think that’s I’ve been through enough to deserve the effort, but maybe others would disagree. Either way, I’ve lost everyone, in some way or another. Some have stayed, and pushed through with me, and understand this journey, or want to, or pretend to really well just for me, and that works too. And hopefully they will remain for years to come, because I’m a year out, and I feel like she just died yesterday, so… it’s going to be a while.
So, for those of you that can hang with me during the impassive yet emotional evolution I’m currently struggling through, I can’t promise you shit, but I can promise to try, and that’s going to have to be enough. And besides, I bring good dip to the parties, so… it might be wise to keep inviting me, becuase one day I might just show up with it! 🙂
Love and Kisses, See You Next Time…