Tag: grief

The triplets are taking a bike class at a recent Rec center all week. I didn’t know it was there, about 2 blocks from where Rachel was in school.

I have to drive past it 20 times this week. She isn’t inside in a classroom, waiting for donuts or me to bring her something. She isn’t anywhere.

My mind still lives in escape mode, that she is alive, she will just be back later. Passing buildings where she might be existing inside and return from “later” tears open my mind’s game and rips me back into reality.

The worst feeling I’ve ever felt.

I hate this life. The only escape is sleep and alcohol.

I was at a Memorial Day BBQ this weekend and found myself with other parents who both have children the same age as Rachel was (should be). All of our children should be starting their senior year and living through all of the milestones that this year of life has to offer. College tours, homecoming, prom, senior pics, graduation.  The other parents knew that my daughter had recently died and yet they found it fitting to complain about having to pay for senior pics, cap and gown fees. Money, from what I can gather, is not an issue. Parents just complaining about the added expenses of their children, their healthy children, moving to the next stage in life.

I burst into tears, behind my sunglasses and looked away, toward the field we were sitting next to.  Wishing I had my daughter back, healthy.  Knowing she’s not coming back, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

If you know someone who should have a child around the same age as yours, please try and be careful with them. We’re sore.  Sensitive. Broken hearted. We’d do anything to not be wearing the shoes of a grieving parent. Well, anything except trade with you because we don’t want you to know how bad this feels.

Tomorrow night will mark seven weeks since my oldest child died. This has been a hard seven weeks, and even longer eight years of her disease taking over, slowly killing her. The kids and I are doing alright, some days are better than others. I find that it is hitting Boston the hardest but he has always been sensitive like that. I love them all so much.

An unfortunate and unexpected side effect of such a tremendous and profound loss of my daughter has been involuntary urination in my sleep. I have urinated in my sleep three times since she died. Last night was, by far, the worst. I was soaked. I don’t know what is causing it. I am totally sober, getting in plenty of water and nutritious foods and walking several thousand steps every day for my health. This catastrophe happened three hours after I went to bed, and I went to the bathroom right before I went to bed.

So fucking embarrassing. I decided to blog about it because I figured there is somebody else out there who is going through something really hard and maybe, just maybe they’ll Google search this and find me. And know that they are not alone.

Unfortunately, I pretty much want to sleep on the lawn until this goes away.  I don’t know what the deal is, I’m not having tangible nightmares most nights. I do take a pill to sleep but that is totally normal for a mom who has just  lost a child.

And now, because I feel like Susie bedwetter, I can’t look my boyfriend in the eyes. FML.

This is not better than a grief group. Although my group says this is normal. 

To put it as directly as possible: my oldest daughter is dying, I’m a single Mom and life is a bit tough at present.

I realized that I was due for a magnificent stress relief yesterday. I was at the bus stop putting my daughter on her bus with my Mother at my side. It was not a regular moment, my Mom was in from Boston visiting myself and my children. I had let my daughter stay home all week from school so she could spend every waking moment within fingers’ reach of my Mom. Continue reading “Grief Released” »

I just found myself googling the 4 stages of grief only to find out that there are 5. Who knew?

I’m assuming that its normal to bounce around from one stage to the next and back again?

Anyways, here are the four FIVE stages of grief.

1. Denial (Check) and Isolation (No) (Doesn’t that make six stages?)
2. Anger. (Check)
3. Bargaining. (No)
4. Depression. (No. I’m so sad for her and what she will miss out on but I won’t give into depression and miss out on the good moments and the good days)
5. Acceptance. (No)

I can’t imagine the day that the warm sun rises and I actually feel acceptance.

I tried to spend a few moments today imagining what Rachel would do if she were in my shoes. What would be her plan of attack if it were her daughter with this disease. What would she do? Because whatever *that* is, is what I want to be doing. I need to get out of the overwhelming sadness I feel for her and the speechlessness of it. I need to start fundraising so there is never another child lose their eyes, lose their mobility, lose their mind. In Rachel’s honor I need to make a difference.

I changed the “About me” on the top right hand side of the blog to sound a bit more cheery. I don’t feel that cheery yet but I’m hoping to get there. I want to spend my “Kat time” (when I’m not working or with the children) on promoting awareness and fundraising for the www.BDSRA.org.

I start most of these paragraphs with I. I don’t know why.

I have talked about fundraising a few times since July but I don’t know where to get started. I haven’t gotten closer to figuring the “getting started” part in the months since July so I figure I better get started NOW or I might find that 2 years has passed and I’ve done nothing. And doing nothing is simply not an option.

Please email me at mrskatvon@gmail.com or comment if you have fundraising ideas that have worked for you (or someone you know) in the past. Also please contact me if you are willing and able to help. I definitely plan to have a raffle. I also plan to contact Rosie.

Thank you!!!