Oct 03

More on the Journey

It looks like I am going to have to work on the “Erin” specific site when I am thinking “Hey, I feel like working on this.” Because the tide turns so quickly with my emotional state that I am left bewildered and without motivation. I actually felt fairly good yesterday when I wrote, only to be depressed last night. It only takes a few minutes of me thinking of her, or a long glance at her picture, for me to become depressed in a way that keeps me melancholy for several hours. I have started avoiding gazing too long, in fact. I have her picture on my iPhone screen, but I quickly click on something to avoid it. That makes me feel bad in some ways, but it’s self-preservation.

I was thinking of what Betsey said yesterday. She thought I should share my grieving journey with others in order to help someone else. I didn’t bother to tell her I was already writing. I did think of this journey today, though. I strongly consider myself an empath, and yet in all of my life I have rarely grieved anything. Also, I have never felt the loss of a child from anyone, and I know now that I had shielded myself from that. In fact, I shielded myself so completely that I can see myself at times when I was confused by their sorrow.

This journey has changed me in ways that I cannot even begin to realize yet, and I’m sure it will continue to change me. I thought about something this morning that is interesting to me. I have never been very afraid of weather systems, and since I love to see a good storm I have the type of luck that they never come very close to me. I used to at least be moderately afraid, though, when the sirens, etc. would go off during the night. After Erin was born, we felt more obligated, and so would wake up and listen to the weather to ensure it wasn’t coming our way. Well, last night I slept through the sirens, and only woke twice to hear the heavy rain and wind. (I found out there were sirens from FaceBook this morning!) And I really don’t care. Couldn’t have cared less if it blew me away. My only caveat is that if it is going to hit my house, I politely request that it actually kills me versus the inconvenience of waking up in rain and rubble. But I don’t have that sort of luck.

Speaking of which, I just told a friend via email that I know “I can’t get out of this life.” It’s like a damn dinner party that you just can’t get out of going to. Well, you could, but you know you shouldn’t or that you won’t? I know you know the feeling.

And then there is something else. I read a lovely short article by a lady grieving her son. I don’t know who she is but his name was Tim. She was saying how she would have traded places with him, but that she wouldn’t wish this type of grief on anyone and so wouldn’t wish it on him either. Nor would she wish him to have to suffer in any way. So I had to think of that, and it gave me some solace. But then I thought of how I have been so selfish and not even thought of the months that I know Erin suffered. I don’t know how badly in some cases, because she wasn’t one to talk about her feelings. It was like pulling teeth unless she was having an outburst right then. Who knows how she felt. It wasn’t that I didn’t try to find out, but maybe she never told us the whole truth.

I just don’t know how to make sense of this, and how to move on, and how or why or what or where – I know nothing it seems. Knowing would not make me less sad, so I don’t know why I feel I have to understand this so much. I have a lot locked up inside of my mind and spirit that I want to talk about. I don’t know how to put some of it into words, and I have so many questions. And I’m afraid of so many things, for the first time in a long time. I’m afraid of losing Erin for good, I’m afraid of losing myself, of losing whatever there is that is left behind here, and of becoming stuck. Maybe becoming stuck is the biggest fear that I have. Now that she is gone, if I do nothing with the rest of my life, how is that honoring her?

One day soon I will get the courage to video her room, or at least take pictures. I want to share her world with you. Her room wasn’t designer – it was ERIN. It was whatever she wanted and maybe a little of what I guided her towards. We had lived here a little over a year, and had finally gotten most of her stuff (99%) up on the walls, and put into place. When I look in the doorway, I see her everywhere. She left her mark everywhere she went.

I know I thank you each day for sharing this journey with me, but I will continue to do so. Thank you. And many blessings.

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