Friday, March 26, 2010

Still Here

I'm still here, struggling less, detoxing less, doing more. It's been awhile since I blogged and it's been eating at me. There is so much, yet so little happening in my life right now that I don't seem to have the time to sit down, take a breath and have some me time. I'm still missing Calvin horribly and have had a few good cries over him as of late, moreso at remembering...those memories that sneak up on you and take your breath away with their vividness. Some of those memories come from reading other blogs and having another mother talk about a certain situation that reminds me so much of what we went through that it takes me back in time to that moment. Stephanie talked about such a thing on her blog, about how when she went back to see Amelia in the funeral home, she knew her girl was gone. It reminded me so much of holding Calvin in the hospital morgue, feeling his spirit there with us strong and steady as I cuddled our son for the last time. The peacefulness about it was almost surreal, everything was so quiet and still and yet he lingered and I could feel him there with me. I didn't want to give him back. I didn't want to think about his body being put back in one of those stainless steel drawers, alone in the dark. All I could think about was seeing him again, possibly holding him before the funeral and willing myself to make it just one more day until I could be with my son again. The night of the viewing Shane and I went early. I wanted to make sure my son looked okay and that we were doing the right thing by giving the family a chance to come and say good-bye to him. I was eager to see him and was bewildered when the funeral director warned me that he wouldn't look the same as when I had held him in the morgue, that there had been changes. Sure enough as I gazed down into Calvin's casket and looked at my son there WERE changes, the biggest one being that my son was no longer there. His spirit had flown away and I couldn't feel him anymore. That was one of the hardest things, to realize that he was now gone for good and wouldn't be lingering around to give me comfort. I cried and gasped to Shane that it wasn't him, that it didn't even look like him but was forced to accept that while it was my son's body, his spirit had moved on. The memories have evoked a strong emotional response. I feel tired, and physically exhausted. I've been forcing myself outside to do yard work, to get some fresh air and sunshine in these past beautiful days. It's been good for me yet I've been so wiped out I've had little energy for anything else lately.

Even in my current state of exhaustion and with a spring cold coming on, I feel guilt for not posting and for leaving on such a "I don't care about anything" note. I'm still here. I'm still reading along with many of you even if I don't comment. I'm still fighting this addiction and hoping to feel better soon. I'm still hoping for joy in my life again. It's coming back, slowly, but it is coming back. I can only hope tomorrow will be better than today and that the day after tomorrow will be better than it's yesterday until all is well in my world as much as it can be without Calvin in it. I miss my son. His death still makes me cry and even if people think that there must be "a reason" for it, it doesn't make me get over him or the void left behind when he died. If the people in my life could just recognize this and realize that I will never be the same again and accept it for what it is, I think my life could be easier. Not necessarily better, but easier. Until such a thing happens, I vomit all the unhappiness here where I can simply be bereaved and not expected to be "getting over it" by now. How can I? How can any of us? The answer is that we can't and that there will always be a story, a movie, a remark made that throws us back to the days when our children died and it will always hurt. Sometimes the hurt will make us cry and not feel like living, other times it won't. I accept this. I don't like it but I accept it and there is nothing ANY platitude will do to make this better for me or any one of us. I'm still here, even though there are days I wish I wasn't.

14 comments:

  1. I don't have the words right now but I'm so very glad to hear from you again Margaret. I've been thinking of you so much recently and wondering how you were doing. It's so difficult, I don't think that any of us here ever 'get over it' as such, not as others expect us too anyhow. xo

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  2. I've been thinking of you Margaret and wondering how you have been doing. Good to hear from you again. (((HUGS)))

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  3. I'm so glad you posted I was wondering how you were fairing just yesterday. I am glad that you are doing better, as we all know it's a long process. I hope that each day gets better and brings you more joy.

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  4. You expressed feelings that I think we have all had.. and still have... thank you for sharing.

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  5. Still there my sweet Margaret, and I don't know how to get out of it all.

    I have stopped reading many blogs because I just can't get through the days on some days, I don't think there is anything that takes away this pain.

    I wish I had the words...any words. I am sorry.

    I am glad you are still here, and I am sure your hubby and wonderful daughters are glad you are here as well.

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  6. I'm glad to see your update. I never know the right things to say to anyone, so I rarely comment on blogs. But I read and care and totally understand and agree with so much you say.

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  7. Have been thinking about you. I am glad to see that you are still moving forward, no matter how slow the pace may be some days. I hope that you continue to move forward in your recovery and that your heart soon starts to feel some healing. Thinking of you and Calvin...and the rest of your family, as well. Hugs...

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  8. Loving you, I think you are beautiful just as you are. Thank you for your words and for checking in with all of us who have been thinking of you and caring about you.

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  9. i am glad you are still here, margaret, and so happy to know that, ever so slowly, you are finding joy in your life again. i think of you and calvin often. i wonder if our two calvin's hang out in Heaven, if your boy is showing my little one the ropes around the clouds.

    hugs,
    crystal @Blessed to Be Broken

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  10. It's good to hear from you. I don't post very much at the moment either but it is good to know that this place is here. As you say, we're never ever going to get over the loss of our precious, beautiful children and having somewhere to come when the days are dark is comforting. I am hoping with you for some more joy in your life. It sounds as though you are doing well with the detox. Well done, you.

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  11. i don't comment on here much, but just wanted to say i'm thinking of you margaret.

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  12. Glad to hear from you. I think it's good that you're spending time outside in the nice weather. I know that always makes me feel good. Hoping you can find joy.

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  14. I understand this completely. There is no "getting better" and no forgetting. Remembering with you, always.

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