Five months old
It is coming up on six months since Hannah passed away. June 4th looms on my calendar ~ even though the day is blank, I know what that date represents.
I found a few places online for grieving mothers, but only one really speaks to me. It validates how I am feeling. It sends out daily sayings such as:
There is nothing or no one that can replace our child! That is what makes child loss such a painful, difficult, life-long feeling of emptiness. You can replace “things”, but how in heaven’s name do people think it’s possible to replace a child? It cannot be done. The hole that is left is a permanent empty spot in the heart and somehow we are left with trying to live with the pain. It’s just plain hard to do!”
It’s so hard to believe — child loss is NOT supposed to happen to anyone! People complain about losing their jobs, or losing their investments, or having a bad day of fighting with their neighbors. These are all things that can be changed. But, child loss…..we can NEVER change that, and the emptiness, confusion, pain, and sorrow are for the remainder of our days on this earth. If only others understood the true meaning of “loss”.
I am not the kind of person who outwardly grieves 24/7. I realized at our last parent bereavement group, that I am the type of person who doesn’t want to show the grief because I don’t want to make people feel uncomfortable. Yeah, I know ~ not so healthy. But sometimes it is just easier than having those awkward moments because people don’t know what to say or do.
Some weeks I am better than others. Last week, I was a mess – between Mother’s Day, the Make-A-Wish speech, and the sea of Hannah shirts at the Ronald McDonald Run – wow, did I miss Hannah. Words can’t even touch on how much how hard that was.
Having Hannah’s foundation has been a godsend to me though. Being able to share her story, honor her memory, and just keep her spirit alive helps me so much. I get to talk about Hannah to people who are wanting to hear about her ~ and that is a personal gift I get by doing this.
But on the flip side, I only get to talk about Hannah. I don’t get to experience Hannah. I don’t get to cuddle her, or rub my fingers through her hair, or caress her face. I don’t get to sing “You are my sunshine” to her and see her face light up. I don’t get to lay in bed next to her and hold her hand.
Damn, I miss her.
June 4th is in just 3 more days. She will be gone for 6 months. It feels like a horrible milestone.
No words…. just hugs. (((HUG)) I’m only a call away.
Carrie,
I only know of you through this blog, but you were in my thoughts recently. I saw a sign for sale at First Monday in Canton, TX last weekend saying….”You are my Sunshine, My Only Sunshine” and I thought, ” I wish I could buy that sign for Carrie. That is what she sang to Hannah”. Today you are in my thoughts and my prayers as well. I have not experienced losing a child of my own, but am very close to someone who lost a child and I understand how the hurt never actually goes away. You do learn to go on with life for your sake and mostly for the sake of everyone else, but the hurt is still there and at times it surfaces very strongly.
Tell Hannah stories, her life will continue to have influence on others.
Judy