I’ve said it before. I will probably say it again. There are bad days, then there are worse days. If you see me and it seems I am having a good day, that means it’s just one of the bad days, not the really terrible ones. This life is about endurance for me now. It’s just how do I pass the time. Weekends, for most of us, are a time to look forward to a couple of days off. There are no days off of grief. And, having something to do, something on the calendar, helps the time go faster. Saturday, Ty had a golf lesson. Then she and a friend went out shopping. I had most of the day by myself. The Buckeyes had a bye week. So, here I am wondering how do I fill my day? My mind drifts back to when the girls’ calendars drove our days. It was always a practice or a game or some event they needed to be driven to. The opening lines of Games People Play by Alan Parsons is :
Where do we go from here now that all other children are growin’ up
And how do we spend our lives if there’s no-one to lend us a handI don’t want to live here no more,
I don’t want to stay
Ain’t gonna spend the rest of my life,
Quietly fading away
I didn’t think that would become the anthem of my life, at least not this soon.
I always begin my day with the walk. It’s my number one priority. Meditation helps, but walking helps more. While I’m on my walk I get that panic attack feeling. If you’ve ever had one, yo know it, it’s a strange feeling in your chest and head and you just know you’re going to die. I realize something. As much as I say I want to die, I don’t want to die right now. Not today. I think of Tywana and Kayla. I can’t do that to them. It’s too soon after Shayna. I have to stick it out. The feeling fades as fast as it comes. It lasts for no more than a second. But, it’s long enough to make me realize this is where I need to be, even though I am stuck. I can’t feel better. I don’t want to feel this bad. I just don’t want to feel anything.
I get through Saturday. At least tomorrow I have the Bengals game to look forward to. I rise early as usual and I get my walk in. It’s off to church which takes me right up to kick off time. The Bengals have decided to be the Bungles today. The game is painful to watch as they lose, not even keeping it close. I get onto Facebook. In my group of 7,000+ people who have lost a child, someone is always posting. I read a post from a mother who said she barely made it through the night last night. I comment, trying to give her some encouragement. Then I start reading the comments hoping some of them will lift my spirits. Not this time. Most of the comments are from other mothers who are having the same issue.The timeframe varies. A few say it becomes bearable, at least most of the time. Too many however say it’s been 2 years, 4 years, 11 years and they still feel that way. Still stuck. Still in this place where the whole world is shades of gray instead of color. Nothing really brings joy, some things just mask over the pain, until that time when our minds snap us back to reality. “Oh yeah. That really happened. I had a daughter and now she’s gone.” Facebook is full of pictures of homecoming kids. I see Shayna’s friends all dressed up for the dance. I have to turn away. I can’t dwell on the fact she’d be a junior this year, making her college visits. It’s too much for me today.
I have no one to share this with. Today is a worse day. Who knows why? There’s no good reason. The only thing that brings relief is walking and sleep. So, i walk an hour every day. I don’t feel like I can share this with Tywana. We talk about Shayna- all the time. We don’t avoid speaking of her, but I feel like me sharing my feelings with her is putting more on her than she already has to carry. I feel stuck here in the middle. There is no going back. The fast forward button isn’t working. I keep pressing it, but nothing happens.
By 8 o’clock, I’m ready for bed. It’s been a long exhausting day, even though nothing unusual has happened. We watch some TV and retire around 10. I can’t sleep. I confide in Tywana that this has been one of the worse days. She reminds me that yesterday was 15 months. I didn’t even realize it. I rarely know what the date is. Sometimes I struggle with the day of the week. They’re all pretty much the same.
Day 452 of being here in the middle, in no man’s land. I’m not quite ready to go Home, but I’m sick to death of this place.