It’s been 10 months since I’ve heard her voice, kissed her face or loved on her and each day
I feel uneasy, yearning for those things, needing her voice, needing her to snuggle with me on the couch, needing her to piss me off, needing her to make me laugh, just needing her. I wake up each day with a feeling of being incomplete. I am learning who I am without her, who I am as a mother, who I am as a wife, who I am in my career because I don’t recognize myself or this life that I am living.
Many people have messaged or commented on previous blogs telling me I need to let myself grieve, that I don’t have to be so strong and if they were me they would be curled up in a ball not able to get out of bed. Truth is you don’t really know what you are capable of until you are put in that very situation and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
Since February 14th, I have gotten up and been there for my kids, for my husband, for Kinsley. I didn’t say shower and get dressed because let's face it, that seems to be a chore for me lately but I get up and show up. Some days seem easier than others and with PTSD there are days I just can’t shake it.
The other morning around 4:30 am I felt like I was having a hard time breathing, I woke up in a panic and I was immediately bombarded with vivid images of Kinsley sitting on our steps the morning I rushed her to the hospital because she was too weak to walk down the steps. I relived every aspect of that morning leading up to walking into Calvert and it continued for the entire day.
These flashbacks are so vivid and real it seems as if she is really there and all the emotions come as a tidal wave hitting me smack in the chest. I couldn’t shake the image all day and me feeling like I couldn’t breath that morning, was the trigger. It made me think just how bad she felt that day and as her mom I should have done better. I couldn’t go back to sleep and all day I walked around feeling like I was going to vomit, yet somehow I got up and showed up. I survived the day just like every day since February.
I’ve learned that some days are just shitty and the only thing I expect myself to do is survive them. I’ve learned to let go and let be, to trust in the process and allow yourself to feel whatever it is you are feeling. It is ok to cry, to be sad, to be angry but it is also ok to laugh, to have fun, to love and to enjoy moments. I want my kids to know that there is light after experiencing such heartbreak. It is possible to laugh and smile again.
The other night we were all sitting around eating dinner and per usual Ford was making all of us laugh, like that deep down belly laugh and I just stared at him thinking how much I needed him and appreciated him. He often makes me think of God and Kinsley when he does certain things like make me laugh, or come up and say “I just love you”.
When I started this process back in February I was angry at God. I couldn’t figure out why he saves so many other people and he chose not to save her. I couldn’t wrap my head around that this was “meant to happen” and that there was a possibility that he knew this was going to happen. However, when I am sitting at the dinner table laughing at Ford, listening to my kids laugh, watching my husband smile, it's hard not to feel like he knew it was going to happen and in some strange way he set us up to get through this, together as a family.
He knew we needed Ford, he knew I needed to meet Jordan and he knew I needed these kids. They save me every single day. They remind me of the good in the world and in life. They remind me that it is possible to feel love and joy while your heart is broken. Grief is a state of being, it's a way of life, it isn’t a feeling that you get over, it is permanent like love. My grief from losing her and living this life without her will always be there, just like the love I have for her will be too.