Just Some Random Thoughts

Some other drafts I never published. From a few months ago:

I still struggle with bouts of sadness and moodiness. I heard something the other day.

"It is far better to remember the wonderful person that you lost than to remember that you lost a wonderful person." Martin Lewis on the loss of his mother.

I'm trying to work toward that.

I am so grateful for my husband and my older daughter, for the perseverance and patience they show toward me in my journey of grief.

Looking Forward to 2019

In spite of my wallowing in sadness, 2018 was a pretty good year. The company my hubby works for changed their pay rate and gave everyone substantial raises. We have been able to save quite a bit. My hubby's parents got their visitor visa. The plan is for them to visit this spring for about a month.

My hubby is going to try to quit smoking again.

I hope that in 2019 I can learn to be happier.

My daughter said they might be able to come visit next month. That will be a joyous time. Now I hope I can finish the photo album in time. I have looked through almost all the pictures and wept over the ones of my daughter that I had not seen in some time. Every time I pull up a new memory I end up mourning all over again. There are a lot of people in my past that I miss, a lot of good times with family who have mostly all passed away. If it wasn't for my first daughter and my husband I would have no one.

Well, this cloudy weather doesn't help, either. And the short days.

I better get to work on that album.

Move-in Date

It looks like we will be moving April 6. There is a slight chance it could be sooner, but not by much. We were hoping it would be the end of March. Don't think that will happen. April 6 is 18 days away.  Thankfully the noisy people upstairs will be moving out the end of this month. Sure, I could complain, but most of the problem is construction, the walls, ceilings and floors are paper thin. The floors creak and every footstep is amplified. I guess we were lucky the bird woman was quiet, even though she hated everyone for no reason.

Not a lot going on today. It's sunny, but then it has been. I saw a Robin today. It's been so dry I don't know how they can find anything to eat. It usually starts raining in April.

I did some re-potting yesterday. The African Mask (alocasia) that belonged to my daughter isn't doing very well, nor is the prayer plant that was in her funeral arrangement. They might be a lost cause. Don't know. I gave away the NOID African Violet that came with the funeral arrangement from Walmart (where she worked), but I kept a leaf. The baby is growing well. I have no idea what color it will be.

For the most part I've stopped crying, but my heart is heavy. I have a profound sadness cast over me that no doubt will be there for quite some time yet. I hope the new place will help. I will have a patio, and can place flower pots on the gravel along the apartment, so I will be able to grow sun-loving flowers again. I haven't had Marigolds since 2014.

All these years I have kept one miniature named African Violet, Optimara Rose Quartz. I was shopping at Frank's Nursery and Crafts with my mom in the 90's when I bought it. She bought a blue one, which she kept for years. I inherited it after she passed and gave starts away to several people before we moved. They promised to share it back, but they all lost it. That made me really sad because I would have loved to have both of them. At least I still have my original plant. It's very dry in the apartment, so I've been keeping it in a ziplock bag. Yesterday I was looking in the cupboard and noticed a big pickle jar. I'm happy my violet has its own terrarium now.

Here is another plant I like. It belonged to my daughter. We were shopping together at Stein's Garden Center when she bought it. Sanseveria Mikado. It's a miniature.

My plants are full of memories. Plants with stories. Memories of people I love and miss. I still can imagine my daughter fussing over her plants, asking advise, sharing her discoveries and us going out to look for succulents, all laughter and giggles and girl stuff.

I wonder if anyone else does this...when I read a date or write a date I am suddenly transported in my mind in thoughts to that time. When I wrote about Marigolds and 2014 I suddenly thought of summer and my plants on the porch when we still lived in Indiana, and a panicky feeling because my daughter was still alive then. I'm still depressed. I know that. It takes time.

Happy New Year!

We had company last night, and lots of laughter. That was good. It's sunny today, and cold as snot.

I was thinking over the last 5 years:

2013 - my hubby immigrated to America from Europe. It was a year of discovery for him.
2014 - we sold my house and moved to California
2015 - we explored the far northern coast of California
2016 - we moved to Wisconsin, I had surgery on my neck, my younger daughter moved here.
2017 - the year my younger daughter got her angel wings. Hands down, this was the hardest year I ever endured in my life.

We are looking forward to moving to a new apartment the end of February. 2018 needs to be a year of healing for me.

Happy New Year to all

Winter Blaas

It's nighttime when my hubby leaves for work and nighttime when he comes home. If he didn't look outside on break he could easily forget he is working days and not nights. I've been moody, which is normal for me when it's dark and gloomy. I have been cheering myself up by watching Netflix. I have been doing some cleaning. My goal is to reduce the number of storage bins with stuff in them so I have empty ones for when we go through the storage room downstairs. Today I had a meltdown. I was going through my daughter's things. Need I say more? I was able to collect myself and finish the job. I now have one empty bin.

We are getting the car fixed this Friday. The front struts need to be replaced. Next week we will head back down to Indiana for some family time.

I saw my Endocrinologist doctor on December 1st. I told him about my daughter. The sad thing is that what he was testing me for is the very thing that killed my daughter. I seem to be ok, but because she had a huge tumor that produced too much thyroid hormone and she hid her symptoms and didn't ask for help and since she was living paycheck to paycheck she couldn't even FREAKIN AFFORD help and especially not the pricey services of an endo doc and since she was trying to be self-sufficient, well, she died. All my health care is covered 100% by Medicare plus a 0-deductible medigap insurance I bought in California. My daughter had insurance through Walmart, but she would have needed to pay $45 to see a general practitioner and waaay more to see a specialist, and any surgery would have had thousands of dollars in deductibles and co-pays. How may loved ones have I lost from our f*cked up medical insurance here in the USA? Uhhh, the count is up to 4 now.

I belong to an online support group for parents who have lost a child, of any age. Some are babies who have died shortly after birth. Some children die from accidents, some from suicide, some from long illnesses from which they cannot recover from even with the help of doctors, and....some die from undiagnosed diseases which they choose to ignore, or don't seek treatment for. Several mothers have written they had found their 40 or 50-something year old child dead in bed, or in a chair, or like, me, on a couch. There is no denying the personal hell we are all walking through, the "what-ifs, the guilt, the regrets. I am convinced more accessible medical care could save lives.

My endo doc said my daughter's condition was treatable. He was really sorry.

End of rant.

It's been snowing all day. It's 5:40 pm and dark as night. I'm looking forward to longer days and the new apartment. I better get back to doing some dishes. I might bake some cornbread.

My Broken Life

Some days I think I have it "together", other days I cry. Mostly it just sucks to be me and I put on a happy face for people who love me. At times I would like to think that my daughter is aware of me and other times I think it's better if she just sleeps until the Resurrection, because what daughter would want to know that their death broke their mother?

Last night my hubby went to visit his friends and stop by the store. I forgot I set my phone to vibrate and then I forgot it on the end table and didn't hear him call me SEVEN TIMES. He came home frantic, and angry because he was frantically worried. He forgave me, of course, and I felt really bad for putting him through that.

I had one good day this week so far. I happily cleaned and cooked. Friday and this weekend will be good. Hubby is off Friday and my older daughter and her hubby's kids are driving up for the weekend. My hubby and her hubby both have mandatory overtime on Saturday, so my daughter's hubby is driving up after work. We are having an early Thanksgiving dinner Saturday night, and leftovers on Sunday, before they need to return home.

It has been mentioned to me about getting counselling. I can find nothing in my Medicare benefits about that, except for Hospice, or for being hospitalized. There is a psychologist in town, a man. What is a man going to know about a mother loosing a child? Only a mother who has lost a child can understand a mother who has lost a child. Hold your breath. Unless you are a mother who has lost a child, you wouldn't understand. Period. Besides, I'm pretty sure my benefits won't cover it.

In spite of it all, yesterday I got a few things done, and I plan to get off the computer and get more done today. I have the rest of today plus 2 more days to get ready for company. They will be very welcome. I laugh a lot with them, me and hubby, both.

Tomorrow is supposed to be nice. My neighbor across the hall and I hope to go for a walk.

Hubby's work is going well. Did I mention he got a raise? He's also training to be an Operator! The other day the big boss did a surprise safety check inspection, and my hubby got "caught" with a perfectly clean, safe and well-maintained work area. The boss gave him an "atta boy" and shook his had, wrote him up as GOOD. Everyone else in the room had stuff like pop cans and tools strewn around and out of place, so they all got written up as BAD. Sometimes it pays to be slightly OCD.

Ok, it's time for me to get some stuff done, and I'm feeling better.

Stuff

Before I got on facebook I used to keep in touch with my friends through email (who would have thought!!) Anyway, once in awhile I would write a "Stuff" email, just a conglomerate of whatever was going on. Stuff sounds good for today.

I'm backing up my computer, so I'm typing on a straight keyboard. My hands hurt already. I like hubby's computer. It has a big monitor. We are going to share it for awhile. I can always plug in my ergonomic keyboard.

We are having another run of gloomy weather. Last night, about 6:30, we were bored and decided to go shopping at Meijers in West Bend. Suddenly we found ourselves in fog. It was an adventure. I was keeping an eye out for deer. We made it there and back home safely.

I like shopping with my hubby. We have fun, unlike when I shop alone and I'm in tears by the time I get back into the car.

I ordered some Lithops. They haven't arrived yet. Waiting.....will share pictures when they arrive.

Hubby needs to visit his family next year. His brothers will try to meet up with him for a big family get together. He hasn't seen his older brother in 10 years and his parents and middle brother since 2014. Hubby has been working overtime and packing away the savings, both for his trip and for a down payment on something next year.

"Something next year".....not sure....condo, duplex, small single family. Houses are darn expensive up here. Example, my daughter in Indiana is trying to sell her house. She and her hubby did a total upgrade, everything is move-in perfect, and it has an acre of land. It is $50,000 cheaper than anything comparable up here.

Back to my computer...going through my pictures, making sure I have them all backed up. I am so sad now. There is no "getting over" or "letting go" of my daughter, only learning to live with the loss. It still hurts like hell.

I have been told so many different things by different people. I have had a few (very few) unusual, or if I may say so, spiritual experiences. I don't like to talk about them much. Maybe another time. One was when my dad died. I talked to a minister. He poo pooed my experience as emotional stress and basically hogwash. Some years later a different minister thought it was God's way of calling me into the Church. I have been told that my deceased loved ones sleep until the Resurrection. I have been told they live in a parallel Universe. I have been told their spirit lives in my heart. I have been told they watch over me and are aware of me grieving for them. I have had things happen that nobody ever told me would happen, but when I investigated, found out others had similar experiences. At least amidst all this conflict my husband has been the one understanding and supporting person I can rely on. Oh, and my older daughter, if it wasn't for her and my husband I might not have made it through the first month, or at least it felt like it.

I think my hands are done with this keyboard for today. My computer is backed up. We want to open it and clean it before I format and reinstall.

A Poem

Yesterday I wrote a poem, placed it on a stock photo from my graphics program, and shared it. In case I ever need evidence that I wrote it, here is the poem, written by me.

Cloudy days and Autumn leaves

Take me back in time

I imagine we are walking,

Laughing all the time

Let me stay here in denial

And pretend you are alive

I'll be OK, I need to dream

Just for a little while.

Remembering Christine by Candy (Last name)

Apparently it has touched a lot of hearts in the grief support group I belong to, and people are asking to share it. I said yes, just give me credit.

A Boat on Denial

It worked as a form of relief, until I "fell off", then I felt like I was drowning. Last night was bad. Today at Walmart was bad. I kept imagining my daughter there, I could "see" her in my mind. I panicked. I held back tears and hurried to finish shopping. It's hard to drive with tears running down your face. My trigger today was probably a sky full of beautiful clouds. She would have been taking pictures.

I made it home, brought in the groceries and washed my eyes. Then I went to Aldi. It's easier there, because she and I were only there together once or twice. And they had mini succulents. My drug. I bought two Haworthia.

The bottom one has "windows" on its leaves, which are clear, to allow light inside the leaf. I will try to get a better picture.

Still Here, Still Hard

I haven't been writing much, because, well, how many times can I write about grief. No, I'm not "over it", but coping is beginning to happen more often. There are too many memories here, at this apartment complex. Have no idea when we will be able to move. I'm trying to keep busy. It doesn't always work.

The sun is noticeably changing position in the sky. August...mid summer, soon to be late summer, then fall. I love the change of seasons, yet the changes make me emotional, and vulnerable. With my daughter gone and my hubby working 12 hour shifts, that leaves me a lot of alone time to sulk, eat and otherwise sabotage my health. I spend a lot of time online, talking to people, friends, relatives, the succulent group, but then I'm just sitting. I don't like to walk alone. It would be nice to have a dog to walk. Nothing really good is happening here at this apartment complex. Too many memories.

My husband helps all he can. He takes me places, we talk, he tries to keep me positive. He hugs me when I cry and acknowledges how hard it is. It's not easy consoling a mother who has lost a child. It is a non-fixable, painful, sometimes debilitating situation. I am happy to report that when hubby and I are together, I am for the most part cheerful, and for that we are very grateful. I could never ask for a more loving and understanding man.

Each time we visited my daughter's grave I found it incredulous that I was standing there talking to the ground. "Why am I talking to the dirt? My daughter should be standing her talking to us!" I cried. Hubby said, "I know, I know, it's not right." We set flowers in metal holders and added bottled water. Hubby weeded the bare earth (do they even put down grass seed? I paid for perpetual care). I looked around the cemetery, knowing full well it was impossible, but hoping to see my daughter walking somewhere.

Sometimes when things become bad I write in the online grief support group I joined. I always receive support, answers, and suggestions to cope. One of the questions in the support group was, "Do you have a grief counselor?" The answers were surprising. Quite a few said yes. Some said they had been getting counseling and medication for years. Others said they tried but couldn't find a counselor who understood them. "Only someone who has lost a child can understand the scope of grief of someone who has lost a child." Others said they tried medication and had bad side effects, so they stopped taking it. Others said no counseling and no medication.

One day I started playing a mind game with myself. I decided to pretend that my daughter is still alive and just away, and that's why I haven't heard from her. I started to feel better, but then I began to worry about my state of mind. So I posted on the group:

"Does anyone go into denial, I mean, on purpose, just to be able to get through the day without feeling so horribly sad, crushed, soul shattered? Sometimes I pretend my daughter is just far away, back in Australia or something and that's why I don't hear from her. I know it's not true."

I've gotten 50 answers, 95% saying, yes, as a coping method, denial gives them a break from the pain, and in fact, going in an out of denial was mentioned by several as an approved way to cope from their experiences in support groups.

So, denial it is. On a boat on denial, it's more than a river in Africa.

Gaining on a Slippery Slope

I fell a few times, emotionally, into the deep pit of despair. I contacted a friend. She talked me through it, let me cry on her virtual shoulder, because, well, she is in another state. Hubby had gone to work, and I was alone. But for the most part, I've been OK, even in the evening when I'm alone.

Shopping where my daughter worked is tough. I have a dark cloud over my head when I'm there, a strange sense of foreboding, even when I'm trying not to remember. Today a song came on the radio at the store and I panicked. I hurried to the garden center and told myself to breathe. And then I looked at flowers. And then all I could do is imagine her talking about them.

I went back in the store. The song was over. I hurried to finish so I could go home.

Hubby and I have been doing things on his days off. We visited a zoo just north of West Bend. They have golf carts for rent. We had been wanting to drive one again ever since my daughter in Indiana got married. The reception was at a golf course club house, and we got to drive the golf carts to a location on the course for photos. It was a heap of fun. When we arrived at the zoo and noticed they have carts we wanted to rent one. It was a very enjoyable 2 hours.

I am so thankful for my hubby and my older daughter, and yes, my Internet friends.

Breathing Again

I think I made it through the valley of the shadow of death, because that's what it felt like. I crawled out the other side broken, with pain down my back and in my chest every time I took a deep breath. I guess that can happen with the depth of my grief and the fact that I pretty much cried every day for 36 days. My hubby kept trying to tell me to stop grieving because I was making myself sick. More than once he wanted to take me to the ER. If I thought I had heart attack symptoms I surly would have gone. At first I thought, "Who cares, at least if I died I could see her again." And then I realized that was too permanent and not a good solution, so then I worried that I actually would die of a broken heart, like Debbie Reynolds when Carrie Fisher died.

Reading some comprehensive articles about grief helped me come to terms with it. Understanding that my scary thoughts were pretty normal helped. Knowing that I wasn't actually going to physically do something dangerous helped me to realize that I was just going through a horrible process. It also helped me to understand that my grief is a process that is dynamic and changing, and as long as it was changing then I am doing OK, because eventually the change will be to the better, and if not, if I get stuck, then I know to get help.

I see my doctor tomorrow. My chest is still a bit congested. I want her to check me out.

Going back to Harrington Beach was a turning point. It was the last nature walk with my daughter, on May 5, 2017, 26 days before she died. Hubby and I decided to go last Saturday. It was sunny and pleasant. Hubby was about halfway there when he noticed tears rolling down my face. He almost turned around to go home. I told him "No, let me work through this, I will be OK by the time we get there." He had doubts, but I was OK and we enjoyed our walk.

Yesterday I was able to look at my daughter's former apartment and I was OK. I was able to talk about her without tears.

The new friends I found at the showing didn't pan out. We are friends on Facebook, and we say "Hi" at Walmart, but that's about it. I understand. I'm not my daughter. I couldn't replace her in their lives. They can't replace her in mine, nor did I expect them to. It would have been nice to have some friends, but right now grief is in the way. People just want to get on with their lives, they don't want reminders. I have Facebook friends. I have my husband. I have my daughter in Indiana and her hubby and his two kids. They are most precious to me, and I am making a concerted effort to look forward.

Today Is A Better Day

Yesterday when my hubby came home from work in the morning I looked and felt terrible. I asked him to take me to buy vitamins. I took one. Hubby went to bed, and I pulled out some papers my doctor gave me at my last visit. I looked over the list of therapists and I looked over my Medicare benefits. Medicare would pay once treatment started, providing a diagnosis needing treatment was made by a physician. In other words, just as with the Chiropractor, I would be dinged for the full price of the initial visit, or consultation. I read the specialties of each doctor. A few dealt with grief, and of those, only one made it their goal to use non-medication means of treatment. Great. I already have a bottle of "happy" pills I'm not taking.

The vitamins have helped. I don't know why, but in the past, if I became particularly moody, a good multivitamin helped me turn the corner. So I will take one every day. I'm supposed to anyway, but I ran out.

Yesterday, about the time hubby woke up in the afternoon, the hot, humid air dropped away, leaving a beautiful fresh breeze. I turned off the air conditioning and opened the windows. We spent some precious time together outside before he had to leave for work. I contacted a friend on chat, and she and I talked while I sat outside on the porch and watched the sun set. After it set the mosquitoes came out, so I went inside. We talked some more, and then said good night. Once it is dark outside, my mood is better. I can turn to watching something on the internet. Last night I chose Masterpiece Theater. It was a good choice. It occupied me until bedtime.

So, let me explain that statement, "Once it is dark outside, my mood is better." It's something that has always happened to me. I cannot miss the sunset, I don't want to look at a TV or a computer, I just want to see it. I feel moody when I see it, a combination of wonder, artistic inspiration, intent on photographing it, desire to experience it, and some degree of sadness. Once the sunset is done and it's dark out, I'm fine. I can look at a computer or TV or the dishes or the stove or the food I'm cooking, whatever. It's interesting that years ago, when my mom was living with me and my first hubby, she told me the same thing, "Sunsets make me sad."

So I Googled it, just now. Apparently I'm not alone, but there appears to be no answer. SAD was mentioned. Yes, I have that, but that's a seasonal thing, not a sunset thing. Some people mentioned anxiety at sunset brought on by some childhood trauma. Nope, doesn't apply. Another person mentioned the brain releasing Dopamine at sunset. I have no idea. In any case, I have a whole history of emotions tied to they sky, sun and what I see out the window. Too much to write here, I will save it for the next post.

So, today continues to be a better day. It is cloudy, cool, dry, and the breeze is fresh. Hubby is sleeping, and I'm ok. I might have actually turned the corner onto the path of recovery. My heart is not feeling like a lead weight being compressed in a vice grip, I can breathe, and I'm not crying.

Reminding myself that I survived the loss of my mother helps. I called her and wrote to her for years through my married life, from 1969 until she moved to Indiana in 1992 (I think it was). After that, I would call her and buy her gifts, take her places, you name it. Loosing my Mom was a big loss in my life. I regretted having to put her in a nursing home, but my husband could not deal with her dementia nor her incontinence. He would not allow me to call in outside help.

Loosing my husband was different. His cancer was advanced. The treatment was aggressive. The side effects were horrible. I insisted on caring for him myself even though the doctors recommended a nursing home. My husband refused in-home care, and I refused to go through the guilt of putting him in a nursing home as I had my mom. When at last he passed I was at peace about it because I gave 110%. Then I found another husband.

I could not, nor did I expect to find another mother. Missing her is a part of my life. At least after a great deal of time I was able to talk about her without crying. I miss her when I have news I normally would have called her up or wrote her about. I think that may be a normal and lifelong reaction.

Loosing my daughter was the worst thing that ever happened in my life. Finding her was horribly traumatic. Trying to accept she was gone and not coming back was the hardest realization I ever had to face. She and I were always close. She wasn't much of a rebellious teen. When she started working and was still living at home she would take me shopping and buy me things. When she moved out she would pick me up and we would go places, or I would spend the weekend with her. She was my best friend. When she moved to Australia it was a tremendous heartbreak for me, but I didn't let her know, because she needed to have her own life. Having her move to Wisconsin and living so close was such a joy. My best friend was back! We shopped together. She took me places. I knew her budget was tight, so I bought things for her. We took nature walks together. We took pictures of the same clouds, the same lakes, the same flowers.

When she died I spiraled down into a horrible guilt trip of "If only." We all did. There were so many unanswered questions. Why didn't she ask for help. Why didn't she get medical help in Australia when she had such excellent insurance and care options. From early adulthood she assumed she had PCOS, which may have been the start of the giant ovarian cyst they found at autopsy. When she lived in Australia she told me her (then) husband and she had talked about her going to the doctor because of that. It's obvious she never went, something he confirmed after she passed. Her second husband also had insurance, as she did. He had surgery and the remaining bill (after insurance) was excused because of limited income. Surely she could have taken that as an example of what could be available to her. However, by that time her PCOS symptoms were going away. Another issue was her thyroid. I told her many times how important tests and treatment are because everyone on my mom's side of the family is on thyroid medicine. I talked to her about my own thyroid medicine and how it helped me feel better and loose weight.

Finances were another issue. In the past she bought a car that was too expensive. Car dealerships are real scumbags. They help you find a car you like and get approved for a loan for the price of the car. Then when they write up the deal they tack on all kinds of crap, plus taxes, that raise the cost of the loan. It happened 17 years ago and it happened again last year. I pleaded with my daughter to take action, to have the extra things she was paying extra for taken off. I told her I would go with her. Nothing worked. She insisted she could handle it. After she passed I discovered she was behind in everything except her car payments and rent.

I had pretty much guessed that things were hard for her. She expressed concerns over the fact that in August her rent and internet were going up. Hubby and I had been planning to buy a house, so we decided to include her in the plan. She could pay a much smaller amount and we could share many costs. It was a win-win proposition. We had trouble finding a suitable house. We needed three bedrooms and an extra bathroom, and in decent shape. We had roadblocks at every turn. We finally found one in another town. We had an appointment to see it on Saturday. She died on Thursday.

Sometime after the funeral, after we came home, one of my daughter's former coworkers came over. She told me my daughter didn't show any alarming signs. She did say she was tired, more than normal, and she didn't know why. Her friend suggested she see a doctor, to which my daughter responded, "It's too expensive."

I think she didn't know how serious she was. She told me there was a flower show and sale here in Hartford on June 3rd and she wanted to go. The night before she died she was making plans to visit a dear friend in Illinois after the 4th of July. She, my hubby and I were all pretty sure we would find a house this summer and we told her we would help her when her rent and internet went up in August. I'm sure she must have know that if she needed to take time off from work for any reason we would be there to help her.

As for the PCOS, my older daughter had symptoms as well. Neither of my daughters were ever able to get pregnant. But my older daughter has been seen by doctors. She has had tests and been checked out. Her health is excellent. She does need a light dose of thyroid medicine, but other than that, her heart and vitals are fine. Knowing that, and seeing my younger daughter look good, loosing weight and seeming fine when she moved here just lulled us all into complacency I guess.

I have pretty much worked through the pain of every picture I see of her, every place we went, everything we did together. I had to forgive myself for not taking her up on the offer to go out to eat together on May 29th. It still bothers me. Darn "if onlies". I still cry, but not as much, and for a lot shorter period of time. I loved her, do love her, so very, very much. I miss her so very, very much. She left a void in my life that cannot be filled, just dusted over, maybe a carpet thrown over. It is a hole I'm sure I will continue to fall in for the rest of my life, but over time the bruising and pain will lessen, as I pick myself up, dust myself off, and go on without my Angel.

Time Stands Still, Yet I Function

That sinking feeling...every time I drive by her apartment, every time I see her car still parked there. My heart hurts again. Sometimes my chest tightens up and I need to remind myself to breathe. Sometimes tears flood down, just for a bit, until I can get out a tissue and take a deep breath.

My mind is stuck in the time when she was alive. In my mind I "see" her meeting me at her back door. I hand her something or she hands something to me. I can remember it like it was yesterday. Her back door faced the corner, where the deer come out to feed and the fireflies dance. She could lock the screen door and keep her inside door open, during the day. Sometimes we would walk back and forth between our two apartments because she was moving stuff over from when she lived here with us.

Or when I go downstairs to the basement I can "see" her when she tripped and fell on her knee. Thankfully it was only the last 3 steps and she wasn't hurt bad. When I shop at Walmart I feel the loss every moment I'm there. So many times I would see her there when I shopped, or hubby and I shopped. We would buy her something to drink and invite her to come over after work. She and I would always end up laughing about something. My mind can "see" her driving past our apartment on her way home, or walking over to visit. I "see" her meeting me out at her car because we are going somewhere together. Every place we went together brings me pain.

I am forgetful. I worry myself when I drive, because my mind keeps wandering off and I find myself staring at the road mindlessly. I better restrict my driving for awhile. I keep eating chocolate but it doesn't kill the pain.

Shopping for flowers. We did that a lot, together, at Walmart, at ACE Hardware, at Stein's Garden Center, at Home Depot. I went to ACE again yesterday, and I could "hear" her in my mind again, like I did before, commenting on the flowers.

I have figured out that my heart is not ready to move forward. I am still dwelling in the past. I'm pretty good around people. They cheer me up. I can talk and even laugh. If it wasn't for the awful summer heat and humidity I would talk to hubby about moving back to Indiana to be closer to my older daughter.

This and That

My friend couldn't come. Her grandmother was going into Hospice. My hubby was off work yesterday. We got coffee from Perc Place. I wasn't feeling well, so we didn't do a lot. I am better today, pretty much. Hubby took me shopping. He was happy he got me to laugh. I'm afraid he's going to go broke trying to "fix" me. He bought me some Capri pants and two blouses, all on sale at JC Penny.

I've been eating too much. I gained weight. My blood sugar has been high. I'm trying to pretend to care, but in reality, I do care because it looks like I'm going to survive this and go on living. I do care about my husband and my older daughter, and I want to be ok for them.

It's been 38 days. I'm exhausted. I've cried pretty much every single one of them.

I joined a couple Facebook groups for grief support, one for the loss of a child and one for sudden loss. I shared my story and shared pictures. The response was compassionate and from many, many people. But the groups quickly became overwhelming as so many people shared their own grief. I had to unfollow and step back.

We are still waiting for the autopsy report.

That's about all I feel like writing for today.

Advice

I have been searching for some support. I found this, written by someone who is going through it.

Peyton's Heart
Dear Parents: Advice For Living After The Loss of Your Child

The Dells

We originally headed out to a shooting range with the intent of doing some target practice. It is the only range that doesn't demand a pricey club membership, that we know of. It took about 45 minutes to get there, and we never would have found it without the GPS. Anyway, being the 4th, and the fact that people were off work (I'm guessing) meant the much smaller than we imagined range was busy.

We decided to drive on to the Dells, since we were halfway there. It was nice, not too crowded. It was warm but not humid. My daughter in Indiana had sent me a gift certificate for my birthday, so I used it to buy myself a ring. We walked around a bit, looked in the souvenir shops, and ate lunch at the High Rock Cafe. My younger daughter, the one who passed, and I ate there last October, when she and I drove to the Dells and to visit the old family cottage. Hubby and I also ate there when he saw the Dells for the first time, sometime after I told him about my daughter and I going there. It used to be called "The Upper Crust", and there was a gift shop downstairs.

I managed to get through most of the day without crying, at least not when hubby could see me. My soul refuses to be happy. I guess you can say I am dwelling in the past. My heart cannot just move forward, not yet. I am wallowing in self-pity, I guess. I still slip into disbelief..."Did I really find her that way? How could that be? She was only 41. It's not possible." But yet I know it happened, and a deep sadness crushes me.

My daughter in Indiana suggested I find some diversions, something to do. I tried the library but I was swamped with painful memories. Everywhere here are memories. The Walmart where she worked, Pike Lake trails, the library, her apartment on the corner. Everything rears up and glares in my face and says, "She was here and now she is dead."

I imagine someday when I am very old I will get dementia and I will see a young woman who looks like my daughter and I will think it is her, and since she would be working in a nursing home it would be her duty to go along with an old woman's delusion and let herself be my daughter for awhile. Right now common sense and a clear mind won't let me play those games. I guess eventually I will learn how to live again, without her.

Tomorrow a former co-worker of my daughter's is picking me up and we will go eat lunch somewhere. I do better when I am with people.

Flowers

There is an ACE Hardware just south of town. They have an extensive garden and flower supply in the spring and early summer. They have 3 unheated greenhouses that they fill to the brim with baskets and trays and pots of flowers, They also carry herbs, greenery and a limited number of vegetables. My daughter and I visited a couple times last year and once this early spring.

I decided to drive there....take a deep breath and go alone. I did it. I got through it. I ended up talking to a sweet lady who works there. She remembers my daughter. I showed her pictures. Yes, yes, she remembers her. I choked up a bit but I hung in there. I told her I can almost hear my daughter's voice there: "Look, mom" or "Aww they are so tiny!" or "Curry! I knew I smelled it, I grew it in Australia" or "Look at these double petunias" or "Mom, come here, look at this!"

I bought another Curry, to replace the one she had, and some Violas, to replace the ones she was too tired to plant before she died.

My doctor increased my thyroid medicine. I'm figuring that will be the boost I need. I'm not going to take the evil medicine, the mood altering one. Too many side effects. Nope, nope, nope.

This afternoon I am planning to help the caretaker and his wife do some planting outside around the apartment.

Trading Tears for Hope

I'm sorry to trouble you, but this is my story. I am hurting beyond repair and my burden is too heavy.

It has happened several times. I have shared my tragedy and found my burden lightened slightly each time, as if handing off portions of my tale of tears enlists many hearts and hands to help carry it.

I saw my doctor today. She and her nurse already knew what happened, because I ended up in the ER the night of the fateful afternoon I found my Angel had slipped away into Heaven. Reason for being in the ER: "Grief". The nurse called me the next day.

So there I was, relating the story in a heap of tears. I apologized and my doc said it was ok, she was just trying to hold back her own tears. She talked to me and listened to me, and asked if I needed help. I told her I was pretty good when I was around family and friends, but those long 12 hour days when my husband worked were not getting any easier.

I am not one for wanting medications, but she offered a mild one just to "take the edge off". After reading all the possible side effects, I'm not sure I want to take it. Still deciding...

Some day I will be able to stop crying. I will always, always miss my daughter, but maybe, just maybe the burden won't be too heavy and I can begin to live again.

I Wanted to Write A Letter

I wanted to tell my mom that my daughter died. I wanted her to hold me and let me cry on her shoulder and tell me everything will be ok. I wanted her to know her granddaughter was gone to Heaven. I wanted to write my mom a letter, but I can't.

My mom is not here.

My mom is in Heaven.

I wanted to tell my daughter's father that she had died and she is buried next to him. I wanted to call him, but I can't.

My daughter's father is not here.

He is in Heaven.

I texted my daughter but she didn't answer.

I looked for her at Walmart, but she wasn't there.

I watched for her to walk over from her apartment, but she didn't come.

I drove by her apartment but it is empty.

She was not at work, not home, nor at the park.

I wept and prayed and cried, but no one answered.

My daughter is not here.

She is in Heaven.

I prayed that she is happy and surrounded by love and laughter. I prayed that she can see and visit her loved ones who passed before her. My family's Bible and my husband's family's Quran tells me the same thing, that she is in Heaven and I will see her again one day.

I need to take care of myself because it is not yet my time, nor do I feel my life is over, and people here on Earth love me and need me here with them. My older daughter and my husband told me so. My mother-in-law told me so, with tears in her eyes, she spoke to me in Albanian and hubby translated.

Sometimes I feel myself slipping into the past, to happier times, when the same sun that shines on sadness today was then shining on happy family times together. But I don't have Alzheimer's, so reality snaps me back to the present and I cry again.

In time I will learn to heal and live again, to live life without her and even be happy. But for now my heart is broken and my soul is sad and my eyes crying. I think I might be doing better and then I crumple into a pool of tears. One of my friends told me to take deep breaths and take each day one step at a time. That's the best one can do.