I believe you truly learn and grow so much from bad experiences, but I never wanted or expected this one. The way humans grieve hasn't changed over time. There's not necessarily a medication you can take, not a pill you can swallow that can take away this ailment. It's definitely the most hopeless and vulnerable pain there is. I now understand why women were supposed to wear black while in mourning. So people wouldn't be alarmed when they broke down into hysterics over nothing. People treated you with care because you were vulnerable, you were suffering, you were wearing black. Not like when your boyfriend stops loving you and you feel like your world is over because deep down there is still hope. Hope he will want you again or hope that you will find some one new. Not like when your group of friends rejected you in middle school and you had no one to sit by at lunch and so you grabbed your orange and ate in the bathroom stall hoping to not be found and keep your sadness a mystery. Not like when for years you can't get pregnant and you are terrified you never will. You try everything and refinance your house to pay for it because there's hope, hope that you will get to have what others have. A family.
Colum. No matter how much I hope, no matter how hard I work, or how many tears I cry I can't get you back. I think in my mind when I get pregnant, I imagine it will be you. I'm constantly reminding myself that it won't be you. I WANT IT TO BE YOU. You looked like me. You looked like my brothers. You looked like my Mom. Your smile was everything. You made me like my own smile because in it I saw you. You were so strong and you loved balls and throwing everything down the stairs. Uncle Chad and I were talking about you today, He couldn't believe how much you were looking like Uncle Scott (my brother) when you died. I couldn't believe you looked like me, I don't think any of my siblings have children who looked so much like our side of the family. And you're gone! My child who looked like me the one with my smile, the one with my temper, and a talent for making people laugh is gone.
Tonight was Halloween. Remember how you just started walking (finally) last Halloween. We pushed you around Grandma's neighborhood in the stroller and it was really nice weather. You loved riding in the stroller. You loved eating suckers. Remember Mom could barely walk cause I'd just ran my big race a few days earlier. I remember feeling so happy. I had everything I ever wanted. I've never felt so content. You would have probably dressed up as Lightning McQueen. It's the costume Finn chose when he was 2 and it used to light up. We pulled it out of the Halloween box and we were saddened you weren't here to wear it. It doesn't light up anymore. How ironic. You should be here to wear it. You would've loved Halloween. It was so hard and always is hard having one of my boys here without the other.
I'm in some sort of a manic-depression part of my grief. I want to pack a bag and just go far away. If the only thing that is supposed to help this pain is time then I want to go somewhere. Far away. No stress. I will kidnap Ryan and Finn and take them with me. I want to live through the rest of this time away from here, from everything that reminds me of you. It will kill me but this kills me anyway. I want to run away from my problems and just kill time.
TIME. JUST TO KILL MORE TIME.
Today was hard, actually this whole week was hard. I think one of the hardest parts of grieving is reminding yourself that they aren't coming back. The world keeps turning and Christmas will keep coming. Maybe we will become Jewish, skip Christmas and celebrate Hanukkah. Ryan went to a new Dr yesterday and was told his leg will always stay paralyzed. I cried, or was I already crying? I used to be happy. I used to be funny. Now I'm just sad. I'm depressed. I'm grieving.
Grief is not good.
Grieving is exhausting.
-Colum please send me another baby that looks like me, that looks like us... as selfish as that sounds. Kids were going to tease you about your squinty eyes, the way they did me and I would tell you that they were just jealous and that they were beautiful & unique. You were going to give me grandbabies that looked like us and we were going to secretly be happy but also feel sorry for them. They were going to get our wide feet and our toenails. Their fingers would bend backwards really freakishly far and every finger would also be double jointed except for their thumbs. Some of them would get my wrinkly palms and feet and Palm Readers would tell them they were 'Old Souls'. We were going to laugh about it together and you would tell them it came from their Grandma and they wouldn't believe you until we showed them in person.
...That's what was supposed to happen.
[next day 11/1]:
I drove to the Hospital for my Dr appointment by myself. They took my vitals. "Your heartbeat is fast", they told me. It's from driving here, I quickly responded. I checked depression, anxiety, and joint pain on the form you fill out before the Doctor sees you. The depression check is new. I've been depressed this whole time, just never checked the box. How do you tell the difference between grieving your 18 month old miracle, blue eyed baby who looks like you, has your temper, his Daddy's beautiful round head shape, your wide feet, and your toenails that grow up and depression? It's all relative. This is worse because there's no hope of him physically returning to our home. I took a prescription for Prozac from my Doc. To at least just get you through the Holidays. I wish Prozac would bring some hope but it's hopeless.
Grieving is hopelessness.
Grieving doesn't end.
Time is of the essence.