Sunday, December 28, 2014

We made it through

In the final hours of Christmas 2014 I laid on the couch in the quiet of our family room and breathed a sigh of relief.  Christmas is not what it used to be before the accident. It's less planned, smaller, simpler.  My husband walked into the room, and I smiled.  As we hugged and said, "We made it through."


That is how Christmas is now. I'm not bah-humbug.  I try, but it is hard. It's hard to be festive when such a huge reason for our festiveness is now gone. For Kelci we do so much.  In her honor, we decorate her tree outside, we put up a tree inside. When it's not up yet, we joke about how mad she'd be if we didn't put it up.  Kelci's spirit pushes up to do things she loved to do.  She loved the holidays, the decorations, the presents.  We all did, but she was always the one who pushed to get things done if we weren't doing them yet.  She was the one who would bake the cookies if I was running behind, or run to the store for last minute things. She was the one who kept dad on track with shopping. She was our extra little push. It's hard now without our extra little push.

We all try to step up, but stepping up when you don't really have it in you is hard.  So, the tree got up, but it's smaller now, and my son and his girl friend have taken on the tradition of getting it. Presents are bought, but not as many.  It was always hard to shop; it's much harder now. The cookies, well some, a few, OK one batch, got baked, but not until 2 days after Christmas, and that's OK.  We do what we can do.
Maybe time will change things.  Maybe it won't.  What I've realized is that no matter what we do, as long as we keep trying to do something, it is enough for us.  We laughed. We cried.  We were together.  We decorated.  We celebrated.  It's much different now, but for now that is more than enough.  We made it through. 

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Painting by Kelci circa 1st grade
The others (those who haven't lost a child) can't completely understand this new life I live no matter how kind and empathetic they are. How could they?  How could I before this loss.  You might think you know, but you don't know.

Hollow words.  "I can't imagine." No, you couldn't.  I beg you don't even try.

Mostly I'm OK. I live my life as fully as I can. I try very hard.  This.  This is HARD.  It never gets easy.  I will have to do this every single day. I know happiness comes from within though, so I fight hard every day.

My heart is filled with love, but always mixed with a touch of sadness. It is just the way it is.  Losing a child brings an emptiness that doesn't fill.  You can survive, even thrive, but the challenge of living your life without your child becomes the way you live. The others could never really understand this. Not fully anyway.  I am a different person, and forever will be, no matter what it looks like to others.
This is just how it is for me. For the most part, I've excepted this, there is no other choice.

Wake up.
Pray for peace and happiness to
 fill my heart.
Hope this takes away 
some of the emptiness and sadness.
Get up.  
See reminders everywhere.
Live. Laugh. Love.
Remind yourself you promised.
You must do this.
Live fully.
She only started to get that chance.
Wake up.
Pray for peace.
Wake up.
Find happiness despite all that was lost.
Get up.
You have life.
Wake up.
Live.