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We visited Good Grief, … we’ve heard nice things, and well I guess it’s time…
Even though we are told, there isn’t a specific time everyone grieves differently… it’s time.
I don’t want to be there , Seth doesn’t want to be there , Carlee doesn’t want to be there…
We don’t want to be HERE..
She’s kind, and gentle when she speaks with us, privately. Her words chosen perfectly, she’s seen our faces before…. Families just like ours, on the verge of a tearful outburst … sunken cheek bones, eyes equally swollen from continuous crying… our faces she’s seen before…
our pain is not unique… but today it’s ours..
The table holds water bottles, and tissues, a sign we can cry…
I sit quietly, listening to her presentation… legs crossed, poised, holding my composure once again… walking us through the teen program… I drift, for a moment, thinking about why Carlee is here… I’m heart broken as to what she’s lost..
Her innocence of knowing real pain… gone.
Her sister a forever tie to who she is, then one person who knows her in & out, and is supposed to be there years after we are gone… gone. Her teen years darken by this tragedy … she just wants to be a normal teen…. we are at the last place she wants to be, but she has to be…
My eyes swell with giant tears, One blink and it will roll down my face, I ask a few more questions, I’m able to retrack the tears, l’ve learned how to manage them.
She’s seen us before… a mother, a father, a sister, devastated by the death of a child.
We exchange thank you’s, we will be in touch… the saddest place, is doing what it can to find a slice of happiness for families.
We stare at the wall of faces gone, posted by families just like ours, I think about what picture I will bring to place on this wall of fame.
Wall of honor, wall of memories, a wall no family wants their loved one to join…
We need normal, we head to do something normal… Carlee prints pictures for a friend leaving for college, this small transaction is good for her, I can see it in her face, we buy $36 worth of normal..
We painted our room today, I told myself a deep dark color will help me sleep at night… it won’t.
Seth brings the Urn back to our bedroom, I see it gently resting in his arms..
Returning to our bedroom all that is left of the life we were building..
It hits, and it’s a big one, the throat warms and swells, the tears are uncontrollable, and the gut pain is back… the rock in my chest has cut again… this one is big.. you learn to let it stay… the heart breaking Grief, after 10 weeks, its become a part of you, so you allow it to stay, if you fight it, it’s worse. I’ve actually learned to talk to the Grief internally and ask it to be gentle with me, I ask it to be kind this time, the urn is always a tough one, the Grief ignores my plea….. it’s wrath is fierce and when it’s here, you allow it in…
I do something normal, I fold one sock, and place it in a draw it doesn’t belong.
This act helps me recover…
We sit quietly individually, but together each processing where we’ve been & why…
Or join by phone