Sep 26

Just Thoughts

prometheusNo title yet today as I begin writing. I just know I need to get it all out now. Whatever “it” is, I’m not sure, but so far it has flowed out some with tears and I can feel the energy inside of me building up.

I am frustrated that it never fails that I wake with images of Erin in the hospital. They are never the same images, just random images from her time in ICU, when she was not awake. I don’t like those. I don’t want to forget but I don’t want to constantly see them. It’s like being forced to watch a movie that upsets you. You can’t look away, so you have to experience it. Or maybe it’s like Prometheus who has his liver eaten every day, grows it back, and repeats the next day. Yes, I think that’s what it’s like. But honestly mine is eaten more than once a day. I guess the morning liver eating is somewhat worse than the others.

I read an entire book after work yesterday. It was called Communicating with the Other Side by Betsey Lewis. I guess I really enjoyed it since I read the whole darn thing between 5pm and around 9:30pm last night. I also corresponded via his WordPress comments with Wes Annac, who I mentioned yesterday. He said he would do an article on children who pass over. Most of what I read doesn’t discuss children, but I’m interested, obviously. Anyway, I don’t know if it was because I kept myself busy all evening or if it’s just the gift of time, but I felt sort of normal last night. Before you ask – it doesn’t last! Those waves of grief just come back like the waves on the sea would. But anyway, I was sort of OK until bedtime, and I missed her but managed finally to get sleepy enough to drift off. If you see me on FaceBook late, I’m wearing myself out literally so that I can go to sleep. In between scrolling FaceBook, I also check all of my news apps for anything to read that I haven’t read yet. I know, it’s sad, but it’s my reality now.

A couple of things. First, I share to get this off of my chest. But also, I hope that anyone else out there going crazy inside of themselves over grief or sadness can see they are not alone. At first I thought I was, until I met others. I was losing it the first month, and was about to crack. And something unrelated to that…time…I hate time. I always have. Now that is another story in and of itself, so I definitely see the irony if time has dulled my pain. I’m sure time is laughing at me thinking “so you like me now eh?” Linear time sucks. Think about that one, and see if you agree.

Anyway, what comes to mind now is that I did read over the last few days, and it resonated, was that the children who are “on the other side” have a hard time seeing their grieving parents. Now I’m not trying to work out the whole dying, being a free soul, what happens next, etc. either today or in this post. All that I am saying is that I have read or heard that from mediums a million times already, and I really don’t want Erin to suffer because I am suffering. I really cannot help it, but it did help me to sort of get a hold of myself in a way I hadn’t been able to before. I truly want to continue our connection, and if that means that I have to dry it up a little bit then dammit I am going to try my hardest.

While I’m unsure what the song writer’s intent with this verse was, I am really reminded of the REM verse in Losing My Religion that says “Consider this, the slip, That brought me to my knees, failed.” Losing Erin really cut me off at the knees. I have endured a lot of shit over this lifetime, but this time it was no joke. And I did lose my religion. I lost everything that was Me previously. Nothing I had known helped, or mattered. I was taken down to nothing, like a phoenix rising from the ashes if you want to be philosophical about it. I wonder how the phoenix feels though? Does it feel great like it has a new start? Or does it miss what it was before? I miss what I was before. And who was in my life.

Also, since I seem to get a kick out of synchronicity (coincidence that isn’t a coincidence), I am interested that my psyche has come up with both Prometheus and the phoenix in the same set of thoughts. I guess that warrants more attention.

I think that covers my tale of woe for this morning. Stay tuned. Maybe there is more to come. Peace and blessings to you all today.

Sep 25

Still a Mommy

Erin_Simone_Sleepover_PlanAfter such a different day yesterday – yes, I am reluctant to say better because that isn’t entirely accurate – after such a different day, Shaun and I decided to grab a bite to eat last night. We went to Tortora’s at Hampton Cove. As a family, we have always loved Tortora’s. Erin loved it. I agreed to go and thought it would be fine, and when we got there Shaun said let’s sit in their sports bar area so that we’re not with families. Should be ok right?

Wrong. We hadn’t been there 10 minutes when I began to cry. I noticed the pizzolis on the menu and it upset me since that was what Erin always got. I managed to dry it up but I didn’t enjoy myself very much, and by the time we were driving the 5 minutes it takes to get home I realized I was down and depressed again. It didn’t get much better as the night went on. That longing in my heart was there in a huge way.

To make matters worse, I was putting up our TV controllers for the TV downstairs into their box. They haven’t made it into the box in ages, and I don’t know why I did that, but when I did I found a folded piece of paper and I knew it was Erin’s. When I opened it, it was a “Sleepover Plan” that she and Simone made last year for a pre-Halloween sleepover at Simone’s house. I remember it vividly. They discussed it by phone and Erin made out her list, complete with a drawing at the bottom of her sleeping in Simone’s room. It made me smile. Then it made me cry.

I have said this to myself, and maybe here, that I miss being a Mommy. I am still a Mommy. I just don’t have a child anymore. I miss ordering her food, helping her cut it up if needed, and even telling her to eat what we got her! I miss everything about being Erin’s Mommy. And that’s the problem. In my mind and in my heart I still am her Mommy. I don’t know how it is for parent’s who lose their children at older ages, but my daughter will always be 10 and I will always miss the kid things.Not that I would feel much different, but I would have loved to have at least 10 more years to watch her grow up. Heck, even one more day would be the greatest gift in the world.

I thought about the times that she and Simone, and she and Anna Kate, ate at Tortora’s. It was one of our places we would always take them and holds a lot of memories. I can see the pictures taken there in my mind without even pulling them up to look. And so this morning I cry. I still don’t feel “as bad” as I did a few days ago but I cry profusely. I have no shortage of tears to roll down my cheeks even though you would think they would be all gone from sheer volume. I have many regrets of things not done, or that could have been done better. Many regrets of things I wish I had done differently or not done at all. Would it have changed the outcome? Who knows. It may have changed my feelings of regret, but it may not have. Still they linger.

The first picture here was taken in May 2013 at Tortora’s. Erin loved the dough and she was being silly.

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This was taken in July 2013 and it’s her and Anna Kate. Anna Kate was there for a visit after moving, and they were so happy to see each other.

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And last, I guess it was just timing…when I sent the image of Erin and Simone’s “plan” to her mom, she sent this back. She had found it in her car this morning and had already planned on scanning and sending to me. I think this must have been last birthday (December 2013). In case anyone ever wonders, Oliver is one of Simone’s cats and Erin LOVED him. She always included him in any mention of her animals or any animal for that matter.

Erin_Sim_TY_Page_1Erin_Sim_TY_Page_2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for sharing Erin’s memory with me. I hope to get “her site” finished soon or at least enough for you to all to read and look at. It’s live at http://erin.bluestarhome.net, but it was too emotional at the time for me to do any more than two pages.

 

Sep 24

Boldly Going

Mommy_Erin_STI’m cautiously optimistic this morning. Yes, I still woke up with a clinched up heart chakra and somewhat of a rolling in my stomach, but I am sort of OK. Now that sounds pretty pitiful doesn’t it! The fact that I am pleased with being “sort of OK.” Well that is what it has come to and so here I am.

I did realize just a few minutes ago that each day, I really do need to cry some in the mornings. It is an energy release. Right now it’s just below the surface, begging to come out. Good thing I work from home, because I can’t cry on cue and I would certainly hate to have to do this at work every morning. Have I mentioned yet that I haven’t worn a stitch of makeup since around August 1? I even had to go to a business meeting sans-makeup a few weeks ago. The reason is the crying. I look a lot better without it than I would with black streaks running down my face.

Yesterday, I read a lot about life after death. I’m sure you all have your opinions, but this is my story and I’m telling you what I’m doing and what works for me. I had already read a few books talking about life after death…you know, I don’t like that description but I guess it technically is the death of the physical body. Anyway, whatever I read yesterday clicked with me in a way that the other stuff hadn’t. It filled in a gap maybe. I read several pieces from Wes Annac, much of which was channeled as well as pieces by some other metaphysical teachers. What it gave me was understanding, and it gave me hope.

I get glimmers of hope but there isn’t much hope most days for me. I think I read this week sometime that people who are grieving lose faith and hope. For me, I lost faith, at least briefly, in everything. I know I joke about Belief Systems being BS, and while that’s partially true, it’s very disconcerting to question yours 100%. Usually when you adapt to new knowledge and ideas, you are changing pieces. When Erin died, mine was shattered to bits. I can tell you that I have not re-adopted everything I thought I knew before. I have picked up some and tried to find a new place for their pieces, but not entirely. For the week or two that I was truly empty, it was a dark and scary place.

I have to be careful clinging to hope, though. I am wise enough to know that clinging to anything too tightly can cloud your vision. But when I catch the glimmer, I run after it as fast as I can and at least check it out. In this case I think it paid off, because while I had a definite opinion on what happens after our bodies die, honestly I had not read up on it because there was no need to. Now I feel that I have a more enlightened understanding, and I’ve been forced to think about things differently.

In the end, my hopes are few and simple. I hope for a connection with Erin’s soul, and not in the future but NOW. I want to continue our relationship. So I am motivated to find a way to pierce this veil of separation as they call it between life on earth and the beyond. I hope to see her again some day. I accept that when that happens, she may not look like my 10 year old daughter but I will know her soul. Souls always recognize each other, and I will love her just as much as I do in the body that she had here.

Before I go this morning, I want to share a dream that I had last night. I (finally!) dreamed of Erin. I will include all of the details for anyone who likes to analyze dreams.

Erin, Shaun and I were in some gift oriented store. I became conscious of the dream while I was looking at this small brown teddy bear. I wanted the bear, and so I picked it up. It had this voice box thing like you would put into a build a bear that was supposed to say something related to Star Trek, but it didn’t work. It was the last one they had left, so I held it awhile and decided. In the meantime, Erin – who was in her pajamas – picked out her own stuffed animal and put it on the counter for Shaun to buy. I decided to just get the one I wanted and I laid mine next to hers.

Shaun and I sat down and he began talking about various karate places in Huntsville. He said, “do you know that (I don’t remember the name) goes to Joel’s?” I don’t think that’s a real one, but in the dream I got this picture in my mind of this building that was Joel’s karate, and I said “No, I didn’t. Don’t you think that’s odd?” And he said yeah he did. Then I asked him, “What in the world are we going to tell Alexander’s? They came to Erin’s funeral!” If it isn’t clear, what I meant was that she was back, and living, and what are we going to tell people? We were smiling and we didn’t care, but it was a valid question!

I looked at her standing there and I was so happy to see her. It wasn’t lost on me that she didn’t speak, and I suspect that played into the broken voice box on the bear I bought. But as I’ve mentioned before, the dead don’t speak to me YET in my encounters of them during dream time. I hope Erin breaks that cycle because I want to hear her voice. At any rate, I promptly woke up, realized what I was dreaming, wanted to go back and jump back in, but was so worked up I couldn’t go back to sleep well the rest of the night.

Now about Star Trek…I may have mentioned that I am a huge Star Trek fan. I wanted to share that with Erin, and we began with TOS on Netflix but never finished it. We did, however, stop by the Star Trek museum in Riverside, IA, just a day before she was admitted to the hospital for the last time. That has made the trip and the subject bittersweet for me. But I am sure that was no coincidence in my dream.

I have not downloaded the pictures from my phone yet from that visit, but I did scan a flyer I picked up from the musuem. We missed the annual convention by just a few weeks. I wish I had the chance to tell Erin about Martok and Gowron. What Star Trek fan doesn’t love them? Enjoy the flyer below. And PS – what a lovely synchronicity. I did not even open this flyer, and realized AFTER I had titled this post Boldly Going, that it was printed on the flyer. If I didn’t have a smile earlier I do now 🙂

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Sep 23

(No title)

I decided that I want to share some more today. Yesterday was the Autumn Equinox. Historically, the Equinox and the Solstice, both coming twice a year, are very important. If you don’t think so, consider that the Christian religion assumed them into their own tradition (Christmas and Yule, for example). But that’s not my point. About two years ago, I began reading Erin stories to celebrate the Solstice in both Winter and Summer. She had a few favorites and I guess we got through two years of those before she died. This summer, I dug up some Summer Solstice stories and we went outside and sat by the fairy garden and read them. The stories typically talk about how the fairies and gnomes and such keep the balance of nature going during the yearly transitions, and they always involve the Sun and the seasons. They are metaphorical, and they are comforting in that the sun always returns and provides warmth and life. And everyone participates in the cycle.

So yesterday was the Equinox, and I was sad that we weren’t reading stories together. I was still sad this morning I guess. Yesterday one of my Aunt’s told me to smile at the good memories, but that is nearly impossible because it reminds me that she is gone, and there will not be any more new memories. So when the Solstice arrives, I will probably read the damn stories, and I will cry my eyes out while doing so. If I can even get past her birthday on December 11, that is. I really don’t know how to do that. Then mine and Shaun’s birthdays, and Mother and Father’s day, and every damn holiday in between. I am not even going to think about Christmas. It is too hard to go there. I found last years’ Christmas shopping receipts that I had hidden in the drawer with her gifts, and I can’t even get rid of those. I guess it is “evidence” that she lived. And of how she lived, what she liked, etc.

I guess the irony of this is that Erin has no future here on earth, and neither do I. I will always live in the past. I will always have a 10 year old daughter, and my life will always have changed so drastically that it just stopped when she died. I will go on living, but hollow.

I may eat my words in 20 years, but I think I can say with conviction that after your child dies you cannot find true joy and fulfillment. I can laugh, but behind the laugh is an empty place in my heart oozing sadness. And I’ve heard that from others too. It’s always there. Don’t you think that is cruel? I have contemplated that the last day or so. There are millions of us walking around on the planet, silently (and some not so silently) grieving our children. Some others grieve someone else dear to them that they miss so much they would rather die than live without them. It doesn’t seem natural to have so many people endure so much suffering. And yet it is happening, along with other cruelty that truthfully doesn’t even hold a candle to our grief over our children.

Perhaps it’s the way that they are taken. I hesitate to use that word, but that’s what fits here. I read of supposedly other more advanced peoples in our universe who shed their bodies when they are ready. It’s natural, and people are happy for them when they transition to a new body (or not). I know our bodies are just vessels. But here, we have to watch them die of illness, or see them mortally wounded by a car wreck or a gunshot wound or worse. We have to watch them suffer, and we suffer. But what sucks the most is that we suffer long after they have moved on. We suffer to some degree for the rest of our lives here. That just cannot be natural. I don’t accept that it is.

I’ve already shared these, but will share our artwork from the Summer Solstice again (we didn’t draw just colored it in). This is hers actually. I didn’t appear to scan and upload mine. That is the last “holiday” we had together.

Solstice2014_mandala

And I still wonder – is this real? Because I can’t believe she isn’t here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sep 23

Bad Morning, First Thing

I woke up this morning and thought I had talked myself out of the regular gut clinching, heart grabbing panic. No deal though. As I sit and write this, my gut is rolled up in balls and I can barely breathe. I have managed to keep the thoughts about why (i.e., Erin) under wraps for the moment, though. Otherwise I would be in a ball on the floor crying.

I can only think of one time in my life that I felt this way, and it was in graduate school one year when I had to teach a class for a class I was taking. I was so nervous and almost dropped the class. I think this was how it felt.

I wish it was not this way. I read this morning that it takes 1-2 years, typically, for the raw grief to subside. That’s definitely long enough to kill me, or to convince me to kill myself. I have been trying to live with this, but today I wonder if running from it isn’t a better option? I know, in the long run no it isn’t, but it is sure attractive today and right now.

Yes, this one is purely a woe is me post. I feel like I am losing my mind this morning. There is a piece of it that is still rational and is holding the personality together, but the rest of it is the equivalent of people screaming with their hair on fire.

Sep 22

Different Flavors

Right now I have a calmness in my heart that I have not had in a long while. It is layered with sadness, sort of like a layered cake or a casserole. That analogy just occurred to me by the way. It has its own flavor.

Emotions come in many flavors. Like Apple Cinnamon or Cinnamon Raisin are both variations on Cinnamon. Depending on your Self, one may be stronger than the other for you, or may even be intolerable. Think of walking into a bakery, or better yet a perfume department. You are not able to choose the smells that you smell, and some may make you sick. With a little work, though, you can work through the department and come out the other side and smell something you like a little better.

Let me digress a moment and say that I have mentioned before that I am “throwing the kitchen sink” at myself during this terrible experience. In case you missed those earlier posts, what I mean is that I am throwing my entire arsenal of tools at it just like a doctor would – things I have learned, techniques, elixers, therapy, etc. I do see the irony in this, because the doctors threw theirs at Erin and did not know how to cure her. They didn’t even know her illness. Perhaps I do not know mine either, if I dig down deep. Yes I’m grieving and sad, but there are other emotions born out of grief.

Some of those emotions I find shame in, which is yet another emotion. I guess my body did not like for me to admit that to all of you, because as I typed it, my lower back froze up in agonizing pain so badly that I had to just stay in the position I was in when it happened for a moment. I realize that in addition to shame and fear, I feel abandoned, and have at least some blame to go around. This is probably another article within itself so I will leave it at that and get back to my less than tasty grief.

Yesterday morning, I woke up with the most intense longing for Erin. If you have ever longed for someone who you could not access (like a mate who has left you), then you understand the feeling that I had in my heart. It dominated my entire day. I meant that – it DOMINATED my day. I did not cry for several hours, but what a depressing feeling I had. And there was panic. My heart area was being squeezed by that cold hand that grabs it when I feel this way. It was so awful that I did not write, I did not read, and I did not even brush my teeth. I just sat and watched hours and hours of Supernatural with Shaun. We played a little Diablo, too, but I had no joy. At one point something in the TV show reminded me of our trip back from Iowa, the leg back from Illinois, where we got take out from a Backyard Burger. We had ordered Erin a special hamburger but they sent it out with mustard in addition to the ketchup or something, and there was a huge argument about her eating it in the car. I don’t know why that stuck – maybe because we had to really get tough with her about eating her food because she was so picky. But that gave me a literal panic attack for probably an hour. Yesterday, the grief tasted Oppressive. That was the first word that came to mind and I cannot find a better description overall.

Today it is more sickly sweet. I threw some more tools at it yesterday in the form of creating a few Sigils (Google sigil if you don’t know what one is). I woke up feeling somewhat less oppressive, and while I have cried a bit this morning, I do have that calmness in my heart. It is DIFFERENT, anyway. And it’s sweet because I can think about her with a sort of half-smile and love, instead of those other feelings. So far, today, anyway.

From what I understand I will always grieve to some extent, as it’s not something that you “get over” or “cure.” It’s something you learn to live with. So the flavor will change to something that I am able to withstand, and while I will miss her, those other emotions will be cleared if I do my job on this end. I know this is a no brainer, but I am writing it to give hope to anyone else grieving. I waver between being afraid that I will lose my daughter forever if I stop, to wanting this pain to stop. I know in my logical mind I will not lose her, and so I have to choose to focus on mitigating the pain. You can too.

I have to go for now, but have more to say later today. I still would love for anyone to send me memories of Erin, and also would love some comments and dialogue if you have any.

Sep 20

The Fear that Binds

I am afraid. I read something this morning, talking about how grief makes it frightening to go into the grocery store because you are reminded of your loved one at every turn. This was but one example, and it’s true. I think at first I just felt that it made me sad. Now I realize that I am afraid it will make me sadder. I am sure that I was afraid before, and just didn’t recognize it. My previous self-work tells me that this is true, because our psyches will protect us from feeling all sorts of hurtful emotions if it can. We lie to ourselves about what is and what isn’t.

I am afraid to go out – anywhere. I’m afraid that when I get there, I will have reminders of Erin. In fact I know that I will. And if I don’t, I’m afraid that I will be sorry it was never somewhere we shared together. I’m also afraid of seeing you (the collective You). What if you don’t know and you ask me how she is? Or what if you do know, and you ask me how I am? I know neither is your fault, but both touch me in ways that cause me to cry.

I am afraid to listen to the radio. I’m afraid I will hear a song Erin and I used to listen to together. We listened to a lot of “my music” and I tried to introduce her to all sorts of things (age appropriate of course). So it’s not like I can just avoid some kid’s group, the whole radio is upsetting to me. Or what if it’s something that she would have liked, if only I had ever thought to play it for her? And then there is the category “I would have played this when she was old enough to hear it.” Oh, there are also songs that she didn’t like, but that I love, and maybe she asked me to turn them but I refused and made her listen through because I was enjoying it so much. Yeah, that bothers me too. So I usually ride, now, with the radio off or down so low I can’t hear what song it is.

I’m afraid to watch TV. I only watch a very few shows right now, and never anything she liked. I’m afraid that I will think of her, and I will cry. I’m afraid that I will be so sad at watching new episodes of “her shows” that I will break down. I’m afraid to watch anything that has kids in it, and heaven forbid the kids are ill. Shaun and I both recently skipped an entire episode of Supernatural in Season 1 because it was about kids being put into comas. It doesn’t matter that it’s not real. It’s the memories that it invokes.

I am afraid to look at my pictures from the Star Trek museum in Riverside, IA. That was our last tourist stop of Erin’s life. I was so excited that she was able to experience that with me. We were almost done with I think season 2 of TOS. I wanted to watch it all with her, but in order. I was excited for her to watch the TNG and the others, and get to know the series I love so much. Now I can’t even watch it. I can’t wear my arm band that I got at the museum, and I can’t look at the brochure. I’m afraid I will be sad. I’m afraid that Star Trek is ruined for me too. And Star Wars. How can I watch them again?

I’m afraid to play my old video games. I’m afraid that it is a disrespect to Erin, I think anyway. I spent a lot of time away from my family playing games by myself. I love games. Well, I loved them. I’m not sure what I will be saying if I take up playing them again. I’m afraid of it. It was what I did “before Erin’s death” and now I am no longer that person. Hell, I’m not sure what I’m afraid of but I am afraid to even open them on my phone or the computer.

I am afraid to go into her room or playroom. And I’m very afraid to open the blind in her room. That might say that someone is home, and no one is home. Who is it saying that to? Me I suppose. I’m also afraid not to go into her room. I don’t want to ignore her.

I’m afraid to get out and walk around my block, or the yard for that matter. I have very nice neighbors. They are perhaps the best neighbors on the whole that have ever lived on my street. But if I see them, they might talk to me. I’m afraid of that. I saw one two days ago. She did talk to me. But it was OK. Well what if there is more than one of them talking to me? What then? I can’t run – that would be rude.

I am afraid of touching my husband. I am not talking about sexually if that’s where you went. If I sit next to him, or hug or touch him, then that is too close. I’m afraid it will hurt. So I guess I am now afraid of the very definition of intimacy. I am aware that I have a very big, invisible barrier around myself. I am afraid to be touched, period. I might hug you, but I probably won’t let you inside of that bubble.

On that note, we share something very intimate. We share our daughter’s death. We held her hand while she died. And I’m afraid to talk about it with him. I wish we did not share that, although it was right that both of us were there with her of course. That is something no one should share in their relationship, yet there it is. It’s like the elephant in the room for me. I’m afraid that elephant will sit on me and kill me one day.

I would say that I am afraid that I will never get over this, and that I will never heal and never move on. But I think it’s more accurate to say that I have accepted that this is the way it is, and that I am now broken and damaged. The fears above, I will have to find a way to get past or I will become non-functional at some point. But the trauma, the circumstance, will stay with me forever. I am resigned to it and I foresee it. If I had the energy I might even be angry about it, but I believe I have just accepted it.

I am, however, afraid of how many years this condition of life will last. I am 43. I could live a very long time after today. I am afraid of a lifetime of imprisonment. Because I am truly living out some type of sentence now, and it’s one I will never escape. It’s something that will always be inside of me, always in my heart, always in my mind. It weighs down my spirit. I hope that one day when I shed this body, I will be free of this. Death – that is something I am no longer afraid of.

Sep 20

Saturday (Lack of) Thoughts

I am not quite sure what to share today. I still feel awful, like life isn’t worth living, and like my life is over. It’s funny…I never wanted kids, and then when I got pregnant I fell in love. And I’m still in love with her even though she is not here. I never wanted to be a soccer mom, but I loved my life with my child. Now I have constant reminders, and everyone I know with children are living their lives and their kids are enjoying theirs. I don’t know that my mind or spirit will ever make sense of that.

I have so many knowings in my heart, but none of them seem to matter. I understand a whole lot of crap, but it still doesn’t make it any easier or make me feel better. So WTH? That’s what I woke up thinking this morning. WTF. WTH. WHAT and WHY. Those should be questions but they are statements, very strong statements. Honestly someone could prove to me that she died to save the world and I would still say I don’t care. So what? She was my baby. I am a mommy without my baby.

I still don’t’ know how to move on from this and even though I am not boo-hooing at this present moment, if you could see the look on my face you would know how I feel inside. I can stop and observe myself, and I do frequently. My shoulders are curved in, my eyes do not open all the way, and I have no smile. I am downtrodden. I have nothing to be joyful about other than the fact that there are kind people in the world who have reached out to me, and I have a wonderful husband. But we got screwed, he and I did.

I’m headed upstairs to watch Supernatural now, and will write again later when I have something more interesting to say. We are half-way through season 2. It’s a good show if you like that sort of thing. I like the idea of fighting against evil, so maybe that can become my new hobby 🙂

Sep 19

Inner Dialogue

First I want to say that today, I feel stable. It is not because of some inner breakthrough, though. It is because on the advice of Beth Terrence at The Heart of Awakening that I added the Bach remedy Sweet Chestnut to the Bach Star of Bethlehem that I was already taking. In short, the SoB is for grief, and the Chestnut is for uncontrollable crying (among other things). I still feel sad, I still have an urge to cry, but the tears aren’t rolling down without warning and I don’t have such a terrible heavy feeling. That feeling seems to go away a short while after I take both remedies. If you aren’t familiar with Bach remedies, go read about them. You can get them at any local health store and also online. I get mine online from PureFormulas and locally there are several places that carry them (in the Huntsville area).

So not great, but different. Maybe stable isn’t the right word? I don’t want to give the wrong impression here. I could falter any second, really. I still miss Erin every moment, and I still have a lot of emotions not the least of which is sadness. But I am not boo-hooing right now.

But what I really wanted to say, is that this is the single shittiest thing I have ever had to experience IN MY LIFE. Perhaps in several lifetimes, or maybe all of them. I am sure I have said that, and if I haven’t verbalized it there is no way that it wasn’t clear before now. I keep coming back around, though, to WHY ME? And I think that maybe, since now I can think without crying huge tears, that I have narrowed down my frustration and anger. And hurt. Let’s not forget the hurt. My conversations with myself include:

  • Brain: I know, my soul and Erin’s soul (and Shaun’s) decided before we incarnated that this was the plan. Heart: I would have changed my mind. Didn’t anyone foresee how painful this would be and that I would not be able to recover? Someone should have asked.
  • Heart: I have spent the last 15-20 years working on personal growth. I have worked on integrity, compassion, kindness. I am not perfect but I spend my time being service to others. How could this have happened? Brain: I don’t know. I am stumped on this one other than it was meant to be and it was in our soul contract. Heart: Screw you. This was a huge mistake. Someone should have foreseen that I would not recover from this.
  • Brain: I am so tired of crying and being sad. Heart: I can’t help it! I am mortally wounded. I will never recover. Never.
  • Brain: Wasn’t there something we missed? What else could we have done? Heart: It doesn’t matter. She is gone. This is too painful to keep flashing back over and over. Please stop, but don’t let me forget her.
  • Brain: You know that you felt that her higher self knew. She used to cry about turning 10, and her little body didn’t give up any of its secrets. Heart: I know, but I don’t care. I want my baby. This is cruel and unfair, and I know that but I will never accept or be OK with it. Even if it is true.
  • Brain: I know we can’t interfere with Erin’s free will, but why did she want or need to leave us? Heart: I don’t know, but it is killing me.
  • Brain: This doesn’t make sense. Heart: It doesn’t make sense. I am done with this journey. It feels hopeless. What more could the universe ask of me? It has taken everything. There is nothing left for me now.

I suppose that this is somewhat similar to a person being put under duress, such as being told that the sky is black but they can see clearly that it is blue, and they are being beaten down until they believe it is black. Everything that I Know both big and little k, that I understood, is now in question. And I am beating myself down. I don’t know the point of that, either, because none of it matters. It doesn’t bring her back, and it doesn’t help me to feel better. In case you wonder, it’s involuntary. I cannot control my brain’s dialogue, my heart’s feelings, or the flashbacks. If you are ever in this position, you will understand that in a way you may not now.

Perhaps it will just help me on my spiritual journey, or maybe it helps humanity as a whole. This journey has definitely changed me. I was changed the first week we were in ICU. I changed even more after she died. I might not have changed if she had not been sick, or lived. I don’t suppose to understand why my cog is important to the entire wheel, or if it even is important. I just hope that in time I gain understanding and some answers. And I hope that at that time I am not so pissed that I can actually see them for what they are, and that I don’t reject them out of anger.

I miss you Erin, and I love you so much that it hurts. And I’m sorry I am so sad.

 

Sep 18

Two Stories

Here are two stories of things that happened, that I know was Erin letting us all know how much she cares and that she is still around “somewhere.”

I have a mentally-disabled uncle, Uncle Joel, who was born with reduced mental faculties and lives with one of my aunts since my grandparents passed away. A few years ago, Erin wanted to send him something for Christmas and she knew exactly what. We went to Build A Bear, and she picked out a modestly priced brown stuffed bear. When it came time to name him, I suggested naming him Catfish. All of my life, that has been Uncle Joel’s nickname (I have no idea why!). Erin loved the idea, and so that is his name. I forgot to mention that she put a sound into the bear. It says “I love you” when you push it.

We found out after giving the gift that uncle Joel had never had a stuffed animal in his life. And he LOVED Catfish. Of course that tickled Erin, and my aunt would regularly tell us how he slept with it and would press the sound every night to hear I love you.

She shared with me that on the night that Erin passed, Catfish hadn’t been in Uncle Joel’s bed for several days. They had cleaned up and he ended up on the table. But that night at bedtime, a few hours before Erin died, he asked for Catfish. When he pushed the button, though, the sound no longer worked. This was very close to the time that Erin passed, and I suspect her soul had already left her little body. This wasn’t lost on my aunt, either.

I found out last week that someone had sent a very nice vase of flowers to Erin’s 5th grade class in honor of Erin. She never got to start, but from what I understand they had reserved a seat for her, etc. My friend who spoke to her teacher (who had previously taught my friend’s son), wasn’t clear on if the flowers were placed on Erin’s desk to be or elsewhere, but the teacher was flabbergasted that they had remained perfectly fresh for two entire weeks. Even with great care, that just doesn’t happen. I believe the teacher noticed this as some type of message, and my friend felt the same. So do I. Erin was so excited about the 5th grade, she loved her friends, and she was excited about this particular teacher. I think she was there in class, making those pretty flowers stay pretty.

As a side note, when we returned from the hospital, our flower garden had bloomed out like nuts. It wouldn’t grow all dang year, and then it’s overflowing? I noticed it, immediately.

I guess that was 3 stories. I have said this once already, but if you have stories or memories of Erin, please send them to me. You have no idea how much I would appreciate hearing them. And I would love to post them, too, so let me know when you send if that’s not OK.