When Shana first died, I felt an overwhelming compulsion to go to her grave. At first I went almost every day. Then I was able to go once or twice a week. I guess I wanted her to know she wasn't forgotten. And I wanted to be sure the grave was taken care of--I wanted people to know that the person buried there was loved and missed. And putting out flowers and keeping the stone clean are all I can do for Shana now.
Sometimes it was hard to go to her grave. Just writing that sentence still seems unbelievable to me. How is it that I use the words "Shana" and "died" in the same sentence? I still stand at her headstone and look at her name and find it unfathomable that it's actually carved in stone that she's gone. I look at the grass and can't wrap my head around the fact that my child is under there. How is that even possible? As hard as it was to go to the cemetery, it was even harder to leave. Leave her there alone? Especially when it's cold or raining.
But I know she's not really there. It's just the empty shell that housed her spirit. I rarely talk to her when I'm there, though I usually tell her I love her and goodbye when I leave. There's a shepherd's hook beside her foot stone with a wind chime hanging from it. Sometimes it rings softly and I like to think it's Shana saying she loves me, too.
I've found lately that the desperate need to go to her grave is not so strong. I hope and pray that means my heart is healing. I fear it means I'm forgetting her. I know that's not true--how could she be forgotten by the person who carried her, nursed her, "grew up" with her.
I also realized after Christmas that her absence was not so bitterly felt this year. Maybe it's because there were so many people in the house--especially little ones. I know she was here. She always is when we're all together. But in the past, her physical absence was painful--almost too painful. The picture below will give you an idea of what I mean. It was taken the first Christmas after Shana's death. The look on my face says it all. But this year was better.
To quote one of her favorite Rascal Flatts song, "I'm Moving On".
12 comments:
I feel the exact same way about missing my sister- Healing not forgetting
Have a blessed evening
I'm so sorry that you have had to go through the loss of a child. I can't even imagine how it must feel. I have however had to face the possibility of losing a child. When my son Ryan was seventeen he was diagnosed with cancer. Before the doctors determined what kind of cancer it was we had a few days of the unknown. Oh the things that go through your mind. How long? How much suffering? Will we do everything we can to make his life meaningful? Fortunatly the diagnosis was Hodgkins Disease, which has one of the highest cure rates of any cancer. He did have to have his spleen removed and had to endure eight weeks of radiation treatments. He is now almost thirty four and so far has had no problems. He also has a beautiful three year old little girl who adores him. How blessed we have been. That is why I say how sorry I am for you to have had to go through the loss that you have. My heart goes out to you dear Beverly.
I am so glad that you are finding it easier to cope. I am so happy for you to be able to start finding some peace. I can't even imagine the pain and sorrow of loosing a child.
Shana was a great person that touched many life's. When you were grieving at her death their were many that were right there grieving along with you.
I am so sorry for the pain that you have had to deal with. I am always here for you if you need to talk. You have always been there for me when I needed you.
I can't tell you how badly I wanted to visit my MIL's grave after she passed, but it was over a thousand miles away. In someways, I am glad that it was that far away, I think it helped me to heal a little faster. I too struggle with if healing is forgetting. I don't think it is. Oh, I so feel for you and your loss, I can't even fathom how it must be. I am happy that you had a good time and enjoyed those grand-babies. That is how she would want it to be.
Hugs to you.
I'm so glad that you are healing. I'm sure that is what she would want for you.
She will live forever in your heart. I've tried to put myself in your place. To imagine losing one of my two daughters. But I can't. I can't walk in your shoes. But I can be here anytime you need a virtual hug. Mother to mother.
Brenda
Oh Beverly, I can't even begin to imagine how painful it must be to lose a child. ((HUGS)) God bless you and your family.
Gentle hugs, to you...
I came to say a personal thank you, for reading/commenting on my new blog Gals With Grandmother Faces. Your input is very much appreciated.
Oh and thank you for not making us do Word Verification here! Thank you so much!
I'm not even sure what to say. I just wanted you to know I love you. I'm glad it is getting a little better for you. If you ever need to talk I am here.
Life is sooo hard when the hurt is personal. Glad this Christmas season was brighter for you. . .as time moves forward I hope her memory brings your more happiness than sadness. I'm thankful you have Family around to LOVE you through your pain. ((HUGS))
BTW, thank you for stopping by my Blog to celebrate my good news with me.
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