I woke up to the sound of the shower running, just like every other morning. My husband getting ready for work and me in the bed snuggling the baby. Although this morning should have been different. This day is the day that changed my life 4 years ago and ever since then I have never been the same.
On February 14, 2020, I laid in the hospital bed as my daughter at 8 years old took her last breath. We left the hospital to head home to her four other siblings, without her. The fears, the emotions, the unknowns racing through our minds. How would we continue on without her? Why is this happening to us? What will this do to our family? Truth is, we are all stronger than we think and capable of so much. The minutes that it was hard to breathe turned into hours and those turned into days and next thing you know, you are sitting alone on the couch four years later, on the very day your life changed, as if it was just another day.
The first year is rough, EVERYTHING is difficult and everything is about her. We did things to honor her and remember her and everyone that was around when she died, still managed to come around, talk about her and think of her. One of my biggest fears when she first passed was the thought of continuing to live 20 years from now without her, that seemed like so long to continue with this pain and emptiness. It is still hard to think of, which is why I choose not to do it. I had a difficult time imagining that joy and pain could coexist in my heart. You see, every little happy moment in my life is slightly tainted or comes with a side order of pain. For example, on my kids birthdays, it brings me joy in watching them grow another year older but there in the same joy, is that crippling thought that Kinsley never will live to be another day older than 8 years old.
Every person who has dealt with the loss of a child, has a fear that people will forget their loved one. The thought that one day, years from now her spirit will be known no more. As time passes, all of the people that come and go, there will eventually be more of the people in your life who never knew them. And that is a hard pill to swallow. I do my best each day to keep this from happening but even in my own family, Beckett will never know her, grow up with her and she will just be someone we talk about, celebrate and go visit. I have a lot of people in my life now that never had the pleasure in knowing Kinsley and all they can do is listen to stories of how great or terrible annoying she was.
How did we get here?
As time passes each celebration for her gets a little smaller and the visits become a little less frequent. Life happens, people grow, things change and now I realize that when people tell you "time will heal" they aren't really talking about you personally but there is some truth in that statement for everyone else. This is our reality it is something we deal with every single day, so time doesn't "heal" the pain is still very much present but there is an adjustment to the new normal that time does help with that.
I never thought I would be here on February 14th, four years later, with my kids at school and my husband at work but this is the normal. Life is busy, the days and the years continue with or without you. Just like they have continued on without Kinsley. I am even guilty of letting life continue on and there is a slight part of me that feels I let my child down.
My PTSD comes in strong each year around Jordan's birthday and of course any time my kids are sick. When I do get triggered, I am taken back to the very moment and I can remember things down to the smell. Ford is starting Lacrosse in a few weeks and my husband asked me to get him athletic clothes for practice. In that moment, Kinsley's black Adidas pants flashed in my mind and I was immediately taken back to the hospital where she last wore them, laying in the hospital bed and then to my house where I eventually pulled them out of the bag of her belongings the hospital gave me days later. They smelled like pee and all I could do was think about that she was so sick she peed herself and I wanted to vomit. The visions of her black fingers and toes is something that haunts regularly and will pop up out of no where. I haven't forgotten anything, the trauma was so extreme, my mind won't let me and I am ok with it. I want to remember every single thing about her with the clearest most vivid memories.
As a family we will celebrate and honor her life tonight with all of her favorites, just like every year since. She loved upside down day at school, so we are going to do a big breakfast for dinner and go up to decorate her grave. Other people haven't forgotten either, we have received so many messages and posts, I want to thank everyone for thinking of us on this day, more so continuing to remember our girl.
As I process my feelings, I have realized my fear of people forgetting, isn't really a fear of forgetting or others forgetting because I know that isn't the case. Rather it is a fear for what my life will look like without her as each year passes by and we become further from February 14, 2020. I fully expected others to go back to life as usual because it isn't their daily life. But if I am guilty of letting life continue and if each year brings less of my closest "circle" to the party, then when does it become "just another day" ?
