Everyday brings something a little different for us. But it seems like every day is blanketed in sorrow.. like it blocks the sunshine from really penetrating. This weekend we took down most of the decorations out front of the house. Some of them were wrapped around the trees and bushes and for just a moment I smiled.. thinking how I would be doing this for her again one day when our house gets “T.Ped” because of her.. or when its decorated from a boy asking her to prom.
Two whole separate thoughts.. my mind had time for two daydreams before..
truth. death. reality.
A year out and I still forget .. I still can immediately go to the hope and the joy that was supposed to come with raising her to adulthood. I think I like it. I will be sad when I don’t. Because right now her life is more apart of me then her death.
The realization of what we will never have is so sobering sometimes. But what I have is memories. Good ones. Bad ones and simply horrible ones. But they are ours. They are mine. We had friends over for a BBQ this weekend. At the end the other moms and I sat and talked. I shared all about her last birthday. What it was like being at the hospital.. step by step.. Hearing the letters DIPG and them having no meaning until it was followed by “there is no cure”.
I know one of them had certainly heard all of it before. But they sat and listened. Im not exactly sure if I was even talking to them at that point or at them.. but oh I needed it. I hate that those memories feel like her to me. That talking about her illness is when I feel like she was real and she was here. Those times are the only ones that she feels 3d and complete to me. I really wish that wasn’t the case, but that’s how it is right now.
The good. The 5yr old and younger before cancer memories feel like a story I read about another little girl. .. It seems foreign. But those times in the hospital and hospice. Those times are the only ones that she feels 3d and complete to me. I really wish that wasn’t the case, but that’s how it is right now.These are my nearly tangible memories and I appreciated more than I can explain just getting to talk about them. Because the before cancer times are somehow false and hollow to me ..
Its different for Tony. Those times hurt him so deeply. So do videos. We are so different in those ways. .. But it means I can’t talk with him about it very much. Its part of why I still write here. Because here is mine .. a way my mind can communicate with me through my fingers. I need it. But I also need to just allow my mouth to say the words sometimes.
Anybody reading this thats my friend in real life. Please allow it. Not just today.. But tomorrow and and all the tomorrows after that. Because I know I will always need it. Ask me questions that you already know the answer too. Because.. I don’t get any more new answers when it comes to Jennifer. They have all already happened. And 6 years isn’t very long is it? So there isn’t all that much to tell. ..
So please let me say it.. the same things over and over again.. Please allow it..Please encourage it. And if you know a bereaved parent I would encourage you to ask them too. If they don’t want to talk they won’t. But if they do .. and you open up the gate for them. Welcome it for them. It means more than anything you can give or do.
These were 2 of my best friends. One of them was here wearing Baby Charlotte when Jennifer died in my arms… and took care of us for weeks afterwards. And even with them it was hard for me to push through feeling foolish telling the same stories about my Jennifer. So don’t assume they know. Don’t assume they don’t want to talk about it.
Of course they might not.. but if they do.. but don’t feel like they can. Then you can help them tremendously. Because it is so hard and lonely to have nothing new to share. So often late at night I just talk out loud to her. I share my memories of her with her. ..
i like our talks
i do jennifer
i just wish..
i wish i could hear your voice again.