Broken Bones, Broken hearts, and smiles all around

     Last Wed, John and I were sitting on the bleachers, watching Kaitlyn's softball game. The other team was one we had played before, but I wasn't able to go to that game. The coach was the mortuary director that had been in charge when John and I had taken Brittany to his funeral home. This was the first time I had seen him since that time, and it was hard not to stare. It was also hard not to look at him and remember everything that I associate with him.
     The sun was setting and the chill was starting to set in. The game was beginning to wind down, and John and I were talking about what to have for dinner. With only a few plays left in the game we knew we'd be going home soon to hungry kids. Just then, as Kaitlyn was playing the position of catcher, a girl from the other team slid into home. As she slid, she caught Kaitlyn's ankle, and Kaitlyn went down fast, and the teams took a knee. I went out to the field quickly. Right away I could tell things weren't good. Kaitlyn has always been a fighter. Never shows any sign of pain or sign of weakness, especially not in front of others, and really never in front of her team. But here she was, laying in the dirt as her coaches were trying to console her and determine the extent of her injuries. The look of fear and pain in her eyes were all I needed to know that this night was going to be a long one. We assessed things a bit more in the dugout before we hauled her out in a wagon. John stayed with us as I drove her to the E.R., I've never seen her in so much pain. She was pale, and shock was starting to set in as she shivered. A few x-rays were done, but it doesn't take an expert to see that it was broken, and broken bad. Both the femur and the tibia had been broken. And even better was that it had been done in the growth plate.

     You may be wondering what any of this has to do with Brittany. This blog is called Memories of Brittany after all. Well, I'll tell you how. As I'm taking Kaitlyn to the E.R., in my head I'm knowing I'm going to have to go in the hospital again. I'm going to have to check her in at the same stations I checked Brittany into. As I'm going in ahead to get a wheelchair for Kaitlyn, I pass the bench where I had to sit for a minute to readjust Brittany, as I carried her into the hospital because she was too weak to walk. I get a funny looking wheelchair that I have only seen when I wheeled Brittany to the lobby waiting for them to admit us. Right away, one of the attendants who were helping with Kaitlyn, mentioned that we looked familiar. Turns out he had helped when Brittany was there when her toe had been cut off. Soon another attendant walked in. Another one that had been there with the toe, but also he had been there the night she died. Being in the hospital and hearing the buzz of employees, smelling the distinct smell of hospital, and seeing my daughter in a hospital bed, brought back so many feelings from that time. At this time, Kaitlyn had asked to have a blessing, so I was walking the halls looking for someone we could ask to assist us with it. As I did, I glanced into a room where CPR was being performed on a man. I could almost feel this man fighting for his life. I turned away as quickly as I could, it was something I couldn't see at that time. I continued on down the hall where I saw the ambulance crew that had brought the man in. I made eye contact with the driver and he gave me a small smile and wave. This was the same driver that took Brittany and I to the airport to board lifeflight. I couldn't believe this was happening. The very familiar feeling of losing control hit me hard. Breathing became hard and I could feel my body start to tremble. But I couldn't lose it! I had a daughter laying on a bed in great pain! I was still a mom. A mom to Kaitlyn, and she needed me to be held together. She needed me to be strong, so she could be strong. I took a lot of deep breaths, and forced myself to be ok.
     That night a few of her teammates and their moms came to make sure she was ok, and to let her know how concerned they were for her, and that she was loved. It was a perfect break to the stress we were feeling at that time. It was so good to hear Kaitlyn laugh, and she seemed to relax so much more after they had come.
     It was determined that surgery was going to be needed and that would be done the next morning. So we went home with her let splinted, and drugs in hand hoping for as much rest as possible, that we knew would never come.
     The next day we were scheduled for surgery at 11:00. Kaitlyn was worried, so worried. She won't ever admit to it, but I'm sure she was thinking of Brittany a lot at that time. How her final moments were spent in a hospital, and could these possibly be her final moments also?  I couldn't help but wonder the same thing. Again, I pushed those feelings and fears as far down as I possibly could, so that I could be strong for Kaitlyn.    

The surgery was quick, and she is on the mend. She had a few days of recovery, complete with a little rest, a color run, church, school, and showing up to support her team in another game. This girl jumped back into life without missing a beat. It has been painful for her, but her attitude has been great.
     Yesterday Brittany's headstone was put in place. Kaitlyn was with me when we drove past and we saw it for the very first time. It was just the two of us. We both sat there for awhile, not saying a word, just deep in thought. Later that night, we both came back with the rest of the family. There has been a somber feeling in the home since then.
    I don't know about Kaitlyn, but for me, that sight, on top of what we had just been through, has taken it's toll on me. I feel depleted of all energy. It's the end of the school year, and our classes are having fun everyday. I want to be a part of that fun for the students I see every day. I want them to laugh with me, and enjoy these last few days at our school, since the grade I work with is the 5th grade and they will be moving up to Jr. High next year. It has become easy for me to fake it. But inside there is only hollowness. The bad thing about pushing feelings and emotions down so far like I had, is that sometimes you can't reach those feelings when you need them. I need to be able to cry for Brittany right now. I need to feel the emotions that go with seeing her name carved in cold hard marble. But I don't. I don't feel anything. Not feeling, hurts worse than feeling does. The problem with creating a barrier of armor around my heart is that eventually cracks are made. As you wait for those cracks to expand, those feelings are being built up, and festering. Pretty soon the pressure becomes so great, and they blow that armor to pieces  and you're left with shards of your heart to put back together. I have felt that explosion many times, and I'm not looking forward to it happening again.
     But there is something I have learned. Most any mother will die for her child. I would have in a heartbeat, I begged to be able to. But I wasn't given that chance. So now, I have to LIVE for my other children. I have to carry on and let my kids be kids. They still have a childhood to live up. They have memories to make, and adventures to have. I can't keep that from them. They deserve every opportunity that I can give them. They have had to deal with this awful death also. Only they are all so much younger. I think it is a cruel and unfair task to demand children to take on. But none of us had a choice in the matter, so we need to make the best with what we have. And if that means that my feeling explode, and my heart gets torn to bits so my kids can have a few happy moments from time to time. Or to help them feel safe in a situation that they are unsure of, I am more than happy to volunteer for that, for them.

      I've mentioned a little about Kaitlyn's team. They have been so wonderful to her, not only with this ordeal she is dealing with, but long before that. This has been her favorite year of playing ball. This team has the best coaches in the league, and the parents have been wonderful too. I haven't seen a team so close-knit! One of the players moms has been wanting to do something special for Kaitlyn. A way that the other girls could do something fun for her and show her how much she means to them. So today we surprised her with a sno cone party at a local sno shack. I didn't tell her what was going on, and as we pulled in she said, "Hey mom, there's Aaron! And look, there are some of the girls from the team! Look! There are some more!" I smiled, and just told her that her whole team was here, just for her. They had balloons for her, and a new team sock each girl had signed (they had to cut off the other one, and it broke her heart). She was so amazed, and so happy. The whole night, that was all she could talk about. How cool it was, how much she loves this team, and how surprised she is that they would do this for her, when they have already done so much.
     Knowing how this last week has been for me, and the effect it has had on me, I'm sure Kaitlyn was feeling some of the same emotions. It was the best feeling in the world to watch her be carefree, and genuinely happy. The feeling of gloom that I could see had been sitting over her, had dispersed. It was like feeling the sun come out on a stormy day to hear her laugh, and see her enjoy herself so much. This team, and the parents, and coaches that gave that gift to me and my daughter will never know how much I will forever love them for it. There is no way they will ever know how that little bit of happiness they gave to my girl, will stay in my heart. Or how it has healed my own pain, just a bit.

It's too cold outside for angels to fly

     It finally came today, Brittany's headstone has been put into place. The base has been here since the first part of April, and we knew that the owner of the memorial place wanted very much to get it up by Memorial Day. 

     I was expecting this moment to be painstakingly awful. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't easy! But in a way, it's a relief also. It's nice to be able to have something permanent, showing where my beautiful girl sleeps for now. A place I can go to that won't blow away in this Cedar wind. To have something that will last longer than I will, that holds so many feelings and emotions in such simple words as her birthday and her death day. 

     John and I spent quite a long time over the months discussing how we wanted her headstone to look. It's the very last thing I can do for Brittany. At least on a lasting level. I wanted it to be perfect, and I feel like it is. The front has a picture of an angel sitting on a cloud. This was a picture that Brittany had drawn for a friend before she died. We felt it was perfect, and had been wanting to have something unique to her on it. Something that portrays who she was.

It isn't an exact, but it's as close as I think anyone could get to the original. On the back is a poem I stumbled across just days before we had to submit our plans. It reads: 

Those we love don't go away.

They walk beside us everyday.

Unseen, unheard, but always near.

Still loved, still missed and very dear.

It's still hard to see Brittany's name engraved the way it is, into hard cold stone. But there is an element of closure to it also. I now have a place that, in it's own way, shouts Brittany's name, and her life to all who will only look.

I walked through hell...

These last few days have been some of the hardest I've had, but on a whole other level than what I am almost getting used to.  It all started on Tuesday.... John has a cousin, that through similar heartache, I have come to love so dearly. She has dealt with more than anyone ever should, and yet is one of the sweetest people I've ever met. But as luck is, or isn't, on Tuesday she had to admit her son to Primary Children's hospital where, to date he still remains. I won't go into detail about why he is there, or anything else, because that's not my story to tell. But the reason I bring it up, is because there are some things that trigger me really bad. Helicopters give me a panic attack. I spent most of the time in a plane with Brittany, but planes are more common, and here, when you see a helicopter it usually means there is someone fighting for life inside. Another trigger is Primary Children's. I know all too well just some of what goes on inside. So many times it's a beautiful experience, but for me all I can remember is pain. So, knowing someone I love is there with someone they love.... It just hits too close to home. I feel everything she is feeling, I'm sure. The next day I was anxious for her, but coping. Later that day I received a text from my dad informing me that a different cousin and his sweet wife, who was expecting their 5th child, had lost the baby that morning. My heart crumbled. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. Here was the nightmare all over again, only it was somebody else's nightmare that they will never wake from. It may not have been quite so bad if it hadn't also been on the due date of a baby I had lost years before, or if John weren't out of town and out of cell phone range. But with everything coming to a head like that, and it being late at night that I got word, I started reeling. The next morning, things didn't get any better. I was still so consumed with grief for one cousin, and worry for another. I had a wedding I was photographing that day, and I wasn't sure how on earth I was ever going to make it through. Weddings are another trigger for me. All of Brittany's life, I have been planning and looking forward to her getting married. It's one of the things I will miss the most. Ever since she has died, every wedding I have done has been very difficult for that reason. But this wedding was going to be even harder. With this wedding, the bride's name was Britney. It was a beautiful day, and both families were so great to work with. But the fight inside of myself every time I had to say her name and not break down and cry. Trying to keep perspective, was the best acting job I think I have ever done in my whole life.
John came home Saturday night, and I left for the funeral Sunday afternoon. I was lucky enough to be able to bring another cousin with me for the drive over and back. I'm so grateful for that, because it helped me to be able to keep my mind from wondering too much. Over thinking while driving when one is already triggered, is not a good idea for anyone.
Monday morning I woke up with Brittany on my mind more than usual. It was the 5 month anniversary of when she died. Here I was, reliving that heartbreaking day. Sharing that pain with more family. In just a few hours I was going to have to watch another mother and father do the impossible. I was going to have to watch them somehow walk away from their sweet child. I don't think anyone ever really gets over that. Logically we know it's something that has to be done, so we do it. But inside we feel like we have just abandoned our child. We have given up on the hope of them ever taking one more breath. We know it will never happen, but it is the one thing we long for more than anything. Even now I wonder if I had waited just a little longer, would she have woken up from her coma? Would she have smiled up at me, and thanked me for not giving up on her? Would she have been able to fight her way against that awful virus to be able to come home with us, warm and alive? I know the real answer to it, but that doesn't stop me from wondering.
As I pulled up to the mortuary where the services were being held, I sat in my car for quite some time, trying to calm my nerves. Trying to hold back the tears that were threatening. I knew once I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. Thinking I had taken hold of my emotions, I ventured in. Just outside the front doors was my cousin, greeting his sister and her family. The love they share was very evident. You could almost see some of the weight come off of his shoulders as he hugged his sister. And then he looked up and saw me. I lost it as our eyes met. As we embraced it was almost like I was a part of his soul. I could feel his pain in my heart. We hugged for a long time, tears flowing freely. I know this road he is walking. I know the ruts that are waiting for him. I wish so much that I could take this pain from him, and it makes it worse that there is nothing I can do to ease it for him.
We all went in, faces wet and eyes red. It didn't take long for my cousin's wife to find me. She ran to me, engulfing me in her arms. They hadn't been told that I was coming and it was a surprise to her that I had come. But there wasn't anywhere I could be at that moment than to be with them! I we held each other I could feel a bond be created that will never be broken. There is something about sharing a hug like that, that will never be broken. This sweet lady will forever be in my heart. No one can imagine the pain of losing a child, and to share that pain with another creates something that can never be duplicated. My heart broke once again for her. I wanted so much to be able to say something to her that would make her feel a little less lonely, a little less brokenhearted. But there are no words for something like that. So instead I held her, and let her cry as we both trembled with grief.
The service was so tender, so powerful. I watched a young family grow together, and lean on each other. I watched as each small child did what they could to participate and be strong. At the graveside I couldn't help but think this day was so much like the day we buried Brittany. The weather was the same, so much of the family was the same. As I watched, it was almost like an out of body experience watching once again John and I buring our own child. Only this time the roles were played by different people.
I am so glad I made that agonizing trip. As difficult as it was to go through, it was so wonderful to see family again. To feel their love, and be able to love them back. I have thought of my cousin and his family many times every day since then. Wondering how they are doing. Wondering what it is that keeps them standing when they feel like the the world has just crumbled beneath them. Wondering how I can support them even better. But most of all, remembering what we went through, and wishing no one ever had to feel that way.

She sat with me

     Yesterday I did what I once thought would be impossible for me to do. Yesterday I went to the temple for my daughter. We had been planning on this day for a couple of weeks now. John had the day off, and we thought it would a be a good day to do it while the kids were in school, and we could take our time and not feel rushed at all. Funny how things can fall apart so quickly. The plan was for us to leave as soon as I was done with my therapy session this morning. As I was getting the kids ready to go to school, John decided to check the temple schedule to make sure the temple would be open long enough for us to do all the "extra" things that would be needed to be done to have her name ready to take through. We were under the impression that the temple would be open until about 5:00. Oh, how wrong we were. The last session starts at 11:20, we had to really hurry if we were going to get it done. I cancelled my therapy appointment, and as fast as we could we got ready to go.

     It used to be that those who die before their work is done, must wait a year. But through friend of mine, I was able to find out that we didn't need to wait at all. In the church handbook it says that as long as the person was worthy and born in the covenant, all you needed was a letter from the bishop stating that they were worthy at the time of death, and you can take their name through at any time. So, here we were, ready to take her name and do her work.

     I have been apprehensive for quite some time over this. I knew I wanted to do this for my girl, but I also knew it would be so emotional for me. Just thinking about the words, "...who is dead" that would be said so many times, was enough to bring tears to my eyes and a loss of breath in my chest. But I also knew this was something I wanted for her. I want her to have every opportunity possible, whether it was while she was alive, or now, opportunities in her death.

     So here at the temple I was preparing  to carry a simple piece of paper. A small piece of paper that signifies so much. On this little paper holds so much of her life. Her birth, her baptism, her parents, her death. So much compressed into a simple white piece of paper. Even just her name signifies so much. I can't look at her name without remembering how John and I had thought of her name before we had even started dating seriously. One of the very hardest parts is seeing her name in print in any form. I always have a hard time with that. Her sweet name in an obituary. Her name on a grave marker. And one of the worst ones is her name next to the words "died". I hate that part. It feels like a kick in the gut every time.

     For those not familiar with the temple ceremonies, most of this won't make sense  I'm not going to go into detail about what is done there. That's not the purpose of this entry. I want to focus more on the feelings and emotions I had. There is one portion called the "washing and anointing". It is full of blessings and promises. Even before I was going through for Brittany, I always loved this part of temple work. During this time the most that are ever involved is yourself and one or two temple workers. Its a very intimate time. I cried as I sat there hearing the blessings of health and happiness bestowed for my sweet girl. I cried with sadness remembering so many things she will never have in this life. She will no longer be able walk through the flowers like she loved to do. No longer be able to run through mountain trees. She will never find a love here, never have her first kiss. Never go prom dress shopping. Never plan a wedding, never hold her own baby in her arms. But I do know, someday she will. I do know that she is so very happy where she is. I have never doubted that. I am so excited for her, and I cried for the new life she now has. She is free from the agony she fought within her head every day. She is free from feeling less that what she truly was. She is free from temptation, and all the petty things this age of life throws at a young girl. She is able to see the world now in a way I can never imagine. She can soar with the birds, play with the butterflies. See all the amazing flowers so beautiful. She can play with the children there and sing all day long. I know to my core she is happy right now. I have always known it. Its one of the few things I have never doubted. Wondering if she's ok isn't what makes me cry. What makes me cry, is that I can't see her so happy. I can't be with her as she smiles and laughs. I can't put my arm around her shoulder as she watches a sunset. I just miss her being here with us.

     After the anointing, it was now time to do the endowment part. This is a lengthier portion. There is a lot that involves the creation of the earth. During this time, I would reflect and wonder, how many places has Brittany been to? Has she been able to see the beaches? Has she seen jungles? What about other worlds? Can she, does she see all those things she has always dreamed of seeing? For the most part, during this, I was fine. Very composed, and able to stay focused. Even during the parts that I thought would be hard, weren't as bad as I had thought they'd be. There were times I could feel Brittany so close to me. I was wonderful to feel her again, knowing she was happy for what was being held for her. The veil was the hardest. Again, I know it won't make sense to those who have not been through the temple before, but this is the culmination of all that had been taught in the temple. It is where we make promises to the Lord and we are told of blessing He has in store for us. I was so overcome with emotion, I could barely speak. The temple workers that were near me were also touched to the point of tears also. (who doesn't get somewhat emotional when a lady is crying like that?) Meeting up with John was so great. He is the only one who shares all that I am feeling, wanting, and remembering. He has shared Brittany in the same way I have, and now he feels her loss as I do. Not to say we deal with this trial the same, but we have lost the same precious child. That is a place no one else can hold. To have him hold me was just what I needed. Our conversation after wasn't really a sad one. It was of hope and love for Brittany. 

     I had been expecting the rest of the day to be difficult for me. I was expecting to come home and go to my bed and stay there for the remainder of the day. I was sure I would be so drained and sad that I wouldn't be able to function on any kind of level. I was very pleased with how well the rest of the day went. I came home, made dinner. Danced with my girls in the kitchen as the music blared from the stereo. I played games with them, spent some time with Jordan, and was able to connect with each of them. For family night we talked with the kids about what we had done that day. We walked through the events of the temple. I shared with them some very tender moments I had. It turned out to be a very peaceful night for us. A day that I had feared would be so difficult, had actually turned out to be a very blessed day. I could feel Brittany with us throughout the day. I believe very much that she didn't want us sad on that day. I think she encouraged us to be happy together, because she is happy. She wants us happy. I'm not going to say there will never be sad days, but I am so very grateful for a happy day that I wasn't expecting. It will forever be a day I will look back on with fondness and a smile. 

Bite me!

     Those who know me very well, know how much I used to love to work out. It was almost a daily routine. There was almost nothing more gratifying than coming home from the gym, drenched in sweat. It would feel so good to get a workout done that would send most people either to tears or into a state of throwing up. I was tough, and I was strong. I may not have looked like it, but there were few people who could out do me with most things. I was something I had taken pride in, and felt great doing. I was quite fortunate in the way I was able to go about paying for my gym membership. At the gym I went to, I got a trade off, I would work once a week in their daycare, and in return I would get a membership for both John and I. It was great, and I used that membership to it's full extent. And then I decided to do the Tough Mudder. It was an one of the most intense races I had ever seen. It was 12 miles with 24 insane obstacles designed by the British Military to make you bleed and some to even make you cry. It looked crazy, and it looked perfect for me. Just so you can see fully what it's like, here is a link to their website that you can see video of what a race is like: www.toughmudder.com. I knew in order to be able to complete this race I was going to have to really up my game. So I joined another gym on top of the one I was already using. I had always been curious about CrossFit, and all that it entailed. I had found a discount to join Octane Fitness, a CrossFit gym here in town, and thought it would be a perfect way to incorporate what I need to do to be ready. I was hooked on my first day there, if you live nearby and are looking for a place to go, go here! They are so amazing! It was crazy intense, it was crazy fun, and it kicked my trash! I LOVED every second of it! I went as often as I could, and loved working with everyone that was a part of that gym. I am so proud to say I AM a Tough Mudder!!! That day was fridgedly cold, with times of snow flurries and wind, and I was getting over being sick. But, I have never had so much fun as I did during that race! My sickness got worse, and I had to miss a couple of weeks at both gyms. Then I started working double shifts at work for a few weeks, so I wasn't able to go to my regular session. I could have gone after work, but I try to avoid working out while the kids are home. Just when I thought I might be able to make it back to working out, Brittany died. 

    In that moment everything I ever cared about, that wasn't a part of my family, no longer had any appeal to me. I no longer read, it took too much concentration. I no longer listened to music, it didn't have any meaning anymore, or else it would just make me cry remembering Brittany as she and I would sing at the top of our lungs in the car. It was too cold to run, and it took too much effort to get out of bed to work out. I ended up quiting both gyms. I couldn't work at the daycare anymore because the just the thought of it was exhausting. And there were people there, people became what I feared the most. I couldn't do CrossFit anymore, because I had no fight left in me to work. Getting out of bed, brushing my teeth and keeping my kids fed was taking more that I had as it was. 

    Slowly things got a little easier. I can get out of bed now on most days. I can go to work and come home not feeling like I was going to crumble to the ground. I can carry on conversations with people most of the time,though I think most of the time I just sound like a babbling fool. I could tell it was time for me to start working out again. The weight is piling up, and my strength is nothing like it used to be. I have gone running a few times and am upset at how out of shape I am. The weather is warming up, and we as a family are getting used to a "new" routine.... It's time....

     Early on after Brittany died, I was contacted by the owners of Octane. They had heard about what had happened, and wanted to help in the only way they knew how. They offered John and I a 6 month membership to their gym free of charge. I don't think they will ever know how much this has meant to me. At that time, I knew it would take several weeks before I would be strong enough to get back in the game. Having this gift open to us to used for whenever we were ready, was amazing to me. Working out had always been a great source of therapy, and stress relief for me. I just was unsure when I would be able to "get back" to where I used to be.

     Today was that day. I went back for the first time. I was excited, and apprehensive all at once. Could I do this? Do I really even WANT to do this? I felt like the "new" kid at school. At first it was great. I was upset at myself for letting myself slide so much physically. I was mad, just mad. Mad that I was getting fat again, mad that I had to use such a small amount of weights, mad that I had lost all my endurance, mad that it took me so long to come back, mad that I had turned into someone I never wanted to be.  But I was out, and I was doing it, so in my mind I had already accomplished my goal for the day. The first round went great, halfway into the second round I started really feeling my age, and my loss of aggression, and my anger increased. I took a minute to catch my breath, and my mind started to run without me. I dawned on me that it has been 4 months this coming weekend since I lost my daughter. 4 months! 4 months of holidays she missed. 4 months of school she didn't attend. 4 months of every night, not being able to be told good-night. In that 4 months I have learned a few things. I have learned that death is a thief! Not only a thief of the life of my Brittany, but a thief of my life as well. It has taken from me so very many things I have loved. It took running from me, one of my greatest passions. It took taste from me, I am a girls who loves to enjoy her food, and that was no longer there. It has taken away my smile and ability to laugh freely, it has taken my ability fully enjoy almost anything. I am now having to learn how to live again, because death has taken away the life I used to know. Granted, death is also a giver. It gave me darkness, sadness, weakness, and emptiness. It gave me insecurities, vulnerabilities, fear, and many longs sleepless nights of crying rage.  It gave me several pounds I'm fighting to get rid of, it gave me stress, and anxiety. It gave me lack of confidence, and it gave my kids a mom they don't know. All these thoughts were running through my mind as I was resting to catch my breath. I was fighting wanting to yell and scream to everyone there, I was fighting the urge to cry and never stop. But mostly I was fighting a war in my head. A war between letting this stupid thing called death win over me, or letting the little bit of fight left in me slowly grow and conquer. 

     I have one thing to say to death right now.... Bite Me!!! You may have taken so many things from me, but you won't take ME. Not yet anyway. I WILL learn to live again. I WILL learn to love the things I once loved. You may have taken my daughter, but I'll FIGHT you to the core before I let you take my will. For Brittany, I will FIGHT. For Brittany, I will LOVE. For BRITTANY, I will smile and someday be happy. So take that DEATH!!! I won't let you keep me down. I may still stumble, I may still fall, in fact I KNOW I will. But it WON'T be the end of the story that way. I will make headway somehow, someday. I will find me again in this muck that death has left me with. And I will clean her off, and help her shine.

Slipping but never really gone

The waves are still coming and going. There have been some days that have been ok, and others that leave me almost crippled. On the good days, I can think of so many posts that I want to write about, but don't really know how I want to compose them yet. On the bad days, all I want to do is cry, and write until my fingers go numb with feelings of hurt and emptiness, but quite frankly, that isn't really for anyone to read. Those moments are more private to me, that I don't want to share so openly. So, I since today is an in-between day, I'll write and in-between post.

I wrote once how Saturdays tends to be hard days for me. Thankfully this last Saturday was a really good one. I got to get things done that I had been meaning to do for a long time. And I was able to take the girls to do some fun things. Sunday came, and church was fine. So I got brave and went into Brittany's room. Her room is right next to ours, and she didn't share it with anyone, so going in there is like walking into her life. It has her writings in there, her drawings, her clothes, her keepsakes, everything that makes up who Brittany was, is in that room. When Brittany first died, I spent a lot of time in there, because I felt close to her there. But after the first week or so, it started too become painful to go in there and not have her there also. I closed the door, and couldn't convince myself to open it again. It stayed closed for a long time. Weeks and weeks went by. Finally I went in. I just sat there in her doorway and cried. I couldn't stay long, because the hurt was eating me up. But I was proud of myself to have even done that much. And then the door got closed again for a few more weeks. And then I went in again... Every time the spans between opening the door got closer little by little. Mostly I would just sit in there and look. Look and remember... and cry. I did a lot of crying. Sunday I finally was brave enough to actually start doing things in there that needed to be done. Her room was already a mess before she died, and we just added to the mess as we put different things in there that various people gave us. Pictures, gifts, remembrances, all things we loved, but didn't know where to put them. So I started to clean. I pulled out her books and writings and organized them. I threw away trash, I found laundry that had been kicked in the corners. And I cried... Her room still smells like her. Her signature on the bottom of her poems still look fresh. Her make-up is still on her dresser ready for her to jumble through them at any moment. And then I went through her dresser and sorted through her clothes.  I think it's amazing how many flashes of memories can run through your mind at the glance of a single shirt. I can remember where and when she got each article of clothing. This last fall I had taken Brittany to St. George for a spur of the moment shopping trip. She had found some of the cutest shirts I'd ever seen. She looked so pretty in them. Seeing them in her drawers and realizing she had only worn them a few times, and that she would never wear them again, was so difficult to think about. I cried, and cried some more. And then I just laid on her bed, with her assortment of pillows and her favorite blankets that she had kept on her bed since she was a baby. And again I cried.

You know, crying isn't always a bad thing. As painful as it is to feel the loss of my daughter, sometimes crying is the best feeling in the world. Feeling the burn of my tears as they make their way down my cheeks. My hand on my chest as I gasps for breath. But it feels good. There is so much built up emotion that I hold in all the time. I don't always mean to hold them in, usually I want to free them, but they just won't break. Feeling that release is something that I sometimes welcome. It makes me remember that I'm alive. I feel dead, but crying proves that I'm not. It proves that I can still feel. And it helps me to feel close to Brittany. I don't know if that makes any sense if you have never lost someone close to you. But crying makes me feel like Brittany is still with me. Not only in my thoughts, and in my heart, but in my life.

Monday I went to work already feeling exhausted. The crying had continued off and on throughout the night, and they were still coming as I tried to fall asleep. Monday my eyes were puffy and I didn't have much energy to care. As the day went on, I started to feel a little stronger. That day, the school I work for was having an assembly. There was a choir that was going to be performing for the students. As I was walking down the hall I could hear them warming up. They were singing songs from Les Mis.... Oh my, how could this get any worse? I have a hard time trying to keep my emotions in check in front of the students. I pride myself in the fact that I have only cried twice at school, and only once did anyone see. So into the the gym we went. I quickly found out how it could get worse. The choir that was there to perform was the middle school choir Brittany had been a part of the year before. They had on the choir shirts that she had worn. There were students that I knew, students that were her age. I could almost see her there, dancing and singing. She would have loved singing those songs, she already knew them all by heart. It would have been a highlight of her school year.

There are so many times that I feel so sad because my memory of her is starting to become foggy. I have a harder time recalling all the things that make up who she was. But, it is times like these that I realize, she will always be here. I will see her in the shadows of every corner. I may not be able to see her clearly, I may not be able to recall the smell of her hair at any given moment, but I will never be able to see life without her in it. Even if she isn't here physically, she will always be a part of every memory I have. 

My heart of steel

 For the past few weeks, I feel like I have poured  steel around my heart. It's not that I don't miss Brittany every second, and it's not that I have forgotten that she is no longer here. But it's almost as if my heart can't bare the pain any longer, so it's denying that it's even there. So what does having no heart feel like? Nothing. Just nothing. I can put on a show for everyone, and pretend that I'm happy. But really it's nothing. I can act like I'm excited for whatever is going on, but really.... it's nothing. My heart is cold, my heart is dead. I've been somewhat worried about it, I don't know that it's necessarily a good thing that I'm doing. Not that I could change it even if I wanted to. But I just haven't been able to tap into my feelings or emotions at all. Quite frankly, it's very irritating. It's like going to an ice cream shoppe, and getting the best ice cream imaginable, and not being able to taste it. Even if it tasted awful, you'd still want to be able to taste. I want to feel, I just can't. At least not my own feelings. I can feel everything for everyone else. I see so much heartache, joy, excitement, and all kinds of FEELINGS everywhere I turn. I have dear friends who have lost loved ones. I see people I have known for years finally find happiness they have been longing for. I see disappointment, love, anger, excitement, and I can feel all those things for those people. I can feel it inside me like it's my own experience to live. But when it comes to me, and my feelings, and my own emotions, there is nothing. Just silence.
Well, today I got to feel for just a little bit. For the first time in 3 months, I woke up crying. Don't get me wrong, I cry. I have cried, and I know there are many times to come that I will cry and cry, and not stop. But waking up crying hasn't happened for awhile. I had a dream. I was in my room and Jenna walked by, followed by Brittany. I did a double take, expecting it to be a friend, or someone who just kind of looked like her. But no, it was Brittany. No question about it. I was so excited! I took her elbow to turn her to look at me, and for just a single second, there she was. I could feel her skin, and I could look in her eyes as she started to smile at me. And then she melted away. She crumpled to the floor like the witch in the Wizard of Oz. All that was left was a tangle of hair, and her clothes. My heart, that hasn't felt, was torn out. Once again I watched as my girl slip out of my fingers and sink into the earth. I think I know why the steel is surrounding my heart right now. The anguish I feel right now is overwhelming. Heartbreaking doesn't say enough. It is a physical pain in my heart, not just an analogy, a real physical pain that I can't control, or ease.
So here I am, crying, no sobbing. My fingers wet on the keyboard, and the pain so extreme, I have to fight to breath. In a few minutes, I will somehow be able to calm myself enough to shower. I'll get cleaned up for the day, and make myself go out into the world that I am so afraid of. I will see people I know, and they will ask how I am. I will easily lie to them and say I'm good, as I quickly look for a way to change the subject and leave as fast as I can. I will hug my kids and hope I can feel warmth for them and from them. I will do the mindless chores that need to be done, although it may just be the bare minimum. And I will carry on, like I'm "supposed" to.