Acquiescence is not in my nature

Today is the 6th of January 2018. I have spent most of December and almost all of January in deep contemplation about my life.

What am I supposed to do now?  Who am I without children to take care of?  Was I really a good mother?  Where is this tide taking me?

These questions arise from a place I am not well aquatinted with.  I used to be confident and had clear direction on where my life is, where I came from and a general idea of where it is going.

I don’t think that person is complete gone. She just got souped and is trying to claw her way out.

Bits of her surface more and more, yet I remain slightly confused. Sometimes grief comes out of nowhere and bowls me over. Recovery from the grief is becoming easier.

The thing that really surprised me most about myself is how losing my precious Mali last April defined what I turned into. A grieving mother. So, focusing my attention solely on my own grief, I shutout everything else around me.

There is a spark however that is kindling in what used to be my heart. Almost as if Mali were telling me to get up and live. I feel guilty. Straight up. If I throw down my mourning would I be leaving her behind?  Who am I if not the bereaved mother?  Honestly I haven’t a clue.  What I do know is I am small part of this world and it did not stop turning just because I got pissed off at God for my misguided belief that He let that happen when He could have stopped it.  Pretty arrogant and petty of me.

The struggle to sort that out is hard. The answer lies inside of me. She is part of me and I am a part of her. She died. She will always be a part of me. The acceptance of her choice to complete suicide is starting to sink in. “I may not like it but I cannot change it”.  I stole that line from my ever patient Husband.

I read a passage out of the Gospel of Thomas. (The Vatican has decreed this Gospel as heresay so you won’t find it any Catholic Bible or doctrine) Therefore, I had to read it. (Rebel) It said, “Split a piece of wood and you will find me there.  Lift a stone and I am beneath the stone. The kingdom is inside you and around you”.  Something like that anyway. If Jesus really said that, it’s the most profound passage I have read in awhile. I am banking he said it.

So, long story short, I may not know where I am going but I am never alone.

Pax Vobiscum

Life Lessons on Grief

What have I learned as a result of my Mali’s death in April?  The simplest answer is nothing and more than I wanted to learn.

Primarily, I learned a lot about primal Celia. Operating on a very basic level with my day to day. Survival mode.

You have to eat.  Even if it’s something small. Most days I spend at least part of my day in a state of confusion and detachment. It’s exhausting and without eating something you can slip farther into the chasm you are already in. The conscious act of intake of nourishment forces me to be conscious of what I am doing, even for a little while.

Exercise. It takes you out of your brain. You again have to be semi cognitive to physically move for an extended period of time, chewing bubblegum and walking.  Walking until your feet ache and muscles you didn’t know you had hurt coupled with breathing makes you focus on something other than the fact you life is derailed.  Your former purpose has been chucked out the window like a tosspot.

Its ok to not be ok. Wearing a happy mask is lame. It doesn’t fool anyone and it’s exhausting. Asking for help sucks but it is also a reminder you are human.

Mind numbing activities such as excessive drinking only make it worse when you wake up the next day. The hangover is not worth the extra aggravation on top of you are still incredibly heartbroken and it hasn’t gone away.

Lean on your friends.  You know who loves you and will still be standing by your side while you rant, rave, curse, and cry.

Lean on the people who are walking the same road you find yourself on.  They are examples that you can live through the trauma of child loss.  The feelings I am having are not unique and someone has been there already.

Go to work and or establish a new routine. After Mali died, I moved to a different desk at work, changed the car I drive, cut my hair amongst the other things that no one really needs to hear about because face it. I am on the high side of 40 and boring.

There will be no more babies being made by my barren womb or lack thereof.  Responsibilities haven’t gone away.  We are drive by empty nesters.  The bills still have to be paid, eventually you have to go to the store.  Chore still need doing  Blah, Blah Blah ad nauseum.

I have no clue what life is going to deal out.  I honestly don’t care about the future of anything.  I am trying to just get by.  Maybe that will change with the New Year

 

 

 

Merry Christmas

Side note  I am a faithful practicing Catholic and my title was way out of order  I was referring to the materialism and secularism that has driven a wedge between love of Our Lord and the true meaning of Christmas  if I have offended anyone please excuse me.

Not sure if I have ever mentioned this mask thing I have going on sucks. That face you put on, fake smile, fake perky attitude is nothing but a huge fucking facade.

Christmas has been a test in how long I can hold that stupid fucking face. Knowing in my heart is the worst part. I know I’m being fake.  I can’t stand myself.

I tried very hard to show my children this year that life goes on and you can still be in awe of the holy season.  A person can function and go through the motions.  You can still be a family.

Unfortunately that missing person is the pink elephant in the room.   The emptiness and heaviness of our hearts is the loudest thing in the room.

So I raise a glass to you my sweet Mali. My duck. You will always be young and beautiful. I miss you so much I can’t even begin to put the words together. What I do know is that thin thread that tied you to me and me to you is still there. Someday it will lead me home to you.

 

 

Fog and The Things In It

We bought a Christmas wreath for Miss Mali. It sits on a stand by her niche in the mausoleum. I decided to decorate it. I put a few ornaments and a string of tiny LED lights. It’s the only decoration I have done for the holiday.

The wreath is already dry and crumbling. The needles drop to the floor with the slightest touch.

It reminded me of her short life, once vibrant and beautiful. Now, fading like the remnants of what was hers.  Her clothing and room no longer smell of her. The joy when she would enter a room is gone. I can’t hear her laughter anymore. She is fading.

Life is so short. Such a cliche. I suppose after 8 months moving on is the direction I should be going. I want to say I am in certain aspects. I seem to be at a crossroads. One foot in the past one in the present.

The world did not stop moving.

The season with its changes, the cold, the Advent, impending Christmas are overwhelming to me. I am merely a watcher. I am still waiting for her

Does a heart grow back after losing a child?  I am guessing the original grows a great amount of scar tissue. Rope like bands of cicatricial tissue that give very little stretch.

Reflecting on my own life leaves me at a crossroads as well.  My instinct is to run like hell.  Get as far away from this pain as I can.  Find a new life.

I am not sure what I am doing most days. I stand my ground.  I am fighting for my life now.  It’s a quiet fight.  The longing to follow her is not as loud as it was.  If I concentrate, I can breathe without despair.  The fog is still here however.  I hope the light I know and have faith in is on the other side of the tule.

 

Won’t Say Goodbye

I took a long walk on Ocean Beach in the Outer Sunset today. The churning waves of my blue pacific greeted me as she always does with cold water and a cold breeze.

Six months ago I sprinkled a small vial of my Mali’s ashes down at the foot of Taravel and the Great Highway.  Paddling her out to a soft part of the Pacific and letting that small part of her go.

It’s December now. I pay homage to the beauty and graceful soul she was. Collecting sand dollars that have washed up it hit me. That beautiful creature is gone. For a long while my heart breaks all over again.

That bitter cruel reality of her loss washed over me like the waves do. I can’t breathe.  For a moment the idea of slipping into the water and letting go of me crosses my mind.

All my hopes for the future with her are gone.  She is gone.  She is gone.  She is gone.

This last week has been spent reflecting on my life of the past and looking at the door to a future I really have no inclination of opening.  I know it’s there, that heavy door and I can accept that.  I am just not ready to open it and cross the threshold.

Mali, if you can hear me, I love you and I miss you.  This is a shitty hand and I am going to have to fold.  There are always other hands to be dealt, but, for now I am going to hang on to these cards and take you with me wherever I go.

 

Sunrises and Bucket Lists

I woke up this morning to a clear beautiful sky. The kind of sky where the night says goodbye to the rising sun. The gold yellow, pink, light blues of the sunrise briefly holding hands with the deeper blues and the last few stars of the night.

My thoughts are always with Mali. Watching a sunrise was on her spring bucket list that stays on my fridge as a reminder to live. Especially for her.

As we approach the 8 month mark I see how visibly I have changed. I am not so quick with my tongue (mostly). I am more quiet and introspective. I am quick to forgive. I am starting to feel hopeful.

Throughout this whole trauma of Mali completing suicide I thought I was just an empty shell. Even though my heart will never mend from her leaving us too soon, I find little things are starting to fill that shell. Service to others is a well that never runs dry

I am blessed.

Have some grog and embrace the holidays 2017.

The last 7.5 months have been a roller coaster where I alternate between despair and numbness. Mali’s suicide leaves me in a constant state of disbelief. How could she leave me?  I am lost without her.  Figuring out how to live without her has been an unbearable journey.

Thanksgiving is this week. There is so much to be grateful for. Mostly my family and friends who have supported and carried us through the most difficult obstacle we will ever endure. Everything else pales in comparison. Bills, making money, being on time, dishes, laundry, etc. All the things I used to get uptight about don’t matter anymore.

If I get up in the morning and go about my routine of life, the rest is gravy.

Autopay on our bills is a godsend. The bills wouldn’t t get paid otherwise. Not because I don’t want to pay them or can’t. Merely because I don’t t think about them anymore.

I don’t want to celebrate any holiday this year without my daughter.  It makes my heart break all over again.  I don’t need anything to add to my sadness  I contribute enough to that on my own.  I watch her little video clips where she smiles and laughs  she talks a little in some of them.  Her voicemail is the only thing I have where she tells me she loves me and how she hopes I had a good day.  She will see me at home later.

This year as Mali and I always did, we will bring a needy family a thanksgiving dinner.  I will buy presents for a 15 year old girl who doesn’t have a mom for Christmas.  That will be enough.

 

 

Have some grog and embrace the holidays 2017.

The last 7.5 months have been a roller coaster where I alternate between despair and numbness. Mali’s suicide leaves me in a constant state of disbelief. How could she leave me?  I am lost without her.  Figuring out how to live without her has been an unbearable journey.

Thanksgiving is this week. There is so much to be grateful for. Mostly my family and friends who have supported and carried us through the most difficult obstacle we will ever endure. Everything else pales in comparison. Bills, making money, being on time, dishes, laundry, etc. All the things I used to get uptight about don’t matter anymore.

If I get up in the morning and go about my routine of life, the rest is gravy.

Autopay on our bills is a godsend. The bills wouldn’t t get paid otherwise. Not because I don’t want to pay them or can’t. Merely because I don’t t think about them anymore.

I don’t want to celebrate any holiday this year without my daughter.  It makes my heart break all over again.  I don’t need anything to add to my sadness  I contribute enough to that on my own.  I watch her little video clips where she smiles and laughs  she talks a little in some of them.  Her voicemail is the only thing I have where she tells me she loves me and how she hopes I had a good day.  She will see me at home later.

This year as Mali and I always did, we will bring a needy family a thanksgiving dinner.  I will buy presents for a 15 year old girl who doesn’t have a mom for Christmas.  That will be enough.

 

 

I need a broom

October 27 2017

i woke up around 530 this morning to the sound of the intrusive wind rattling the wind chimes and teasing the heavy branches of our apple tree into believing they can fly.

There are snow flurries.

I had been dreading this change in the season where fall gives way to winter weather far too soon in this part of the country.

Mali and I would rejoice when the snow would start. Always hoping our weather man (who is usually wrong) miscalculated the amount of snowfall. Like praying for great surf in my former life, we prayed for endless feet of snow. This usually came to no fruition. It was always fun to dream.

With her abscence all that is left is cold, howling wind and flurries.

Today is a reflection day for me. I’m on a vacation day. I have become adept at filling in my time.  So much time now. So much quiet.

The usual chaos from having children in our home has given way to premature empty nest.

That empty nest that a couple of months ago was sheer anguish has changed. It’s like the aftermath of a great tsunami now. Finally able to take in the weight and breadth of the damages. We have hit the clean up stage of our grief. Not sure where to start but well aware of the mess laid out before us.

I still cry and wail in anguish. Just not like I used to. It’s more of a quiet despair. Her name is always on the tip of my tongue and she is always on my mind. Every now and then someone asks a question about her.  I burst into tears.

Open enrollement at work has stressed me out.  Her name all over the health insurance, dental, vision, life. Her status as a beneficiary on insurance policies. College funds. HR asking for a death certificate, her date of death. I become mute and barely manage 4/8. It’s a whisper I shove out mouth. Then tears.

I takes a lot of energy to live in this state  I try to put on a good face at work but my eyes are a testimony to the lie.

I hope it snows feet today.

 

 

Guilt

I learned a long time ago guilt was such a useless emotion. Don’t get me wrong, I still experienced it but merely acknowledged it and moved on.

Since Mali left this world I have been consumed by guilt. A lot of it misplaced.  I should have seen the signs, I shouldn’t have been softer when she was so anguished. I should have taken that day off to be with her. I shouldn’t have taken that job that had me traveling so much. I should have home schooled her.

I feel like I let her down and caused her suicide. That is an awfully heavy load to bear. I try to remember she chose to end her life. To no avail, I own that choice even if I know in my head the silliness of that statement, my broken heart directs me differently.

The lonliness that has ensued since has been a vast chasm of emptiness and sorrow. She was my dearest friend and her absence is duly noted.

I spend my time with only her on my mind. I ache to hold my child. Smell her, hold her hand. Laugh with her. She used to sing this crazy little song from the Lion King. I can’t remember it now.

I put many pieces of her favorite clothing in ziploc bags to preserve her smell. It’s all I have. I spend my lunchtime with her at the masoleum.  She always has fresh flowers.  As the days go by I am losing what is left bit by bit.  It is pure torture.

The guilt is so consuming. I ride it out daily.  I miss you duck.  I miss you ducky princess.