Good Grief: Month 7

I've written notes here and there for this post, and now that I'm putting them together, I realize my emotions have been all over the map. So, instead of trying to tie them into something more coherent, I'll just let you ride the roller coaster with me....

Note #1: The best way to explain how I feel lately is that I'm horrified that she's gone, but I've grown accustomed to feeling horrified.

Note #2: Rob told me he had driven by some kid-sized furniture, and he said, "I realized today that I'll always have a four-year-old." Ouch.

Note #3: I worry that this kind of grief is a life sentence. I've read that the majority of people who have lost a child never move past the "chronic grief" phase to the "relief and reestablishment" phase.

"The intensity of feelings gradually subside but remnants of the grief tend to remain in subdued form for a very long time, perhaps for the majority of the parent's life. Such remnants often come to lie just below the conscious surface. They consist of feelings of a mild sense of anxiety and a general dissatisfaction with life." [Beyond Endurance: When a Child Dies, Ronald J. Knapp, PhD]

At this point and for my sanity, I have to refuse to accept that. I need to feel there is hope for a happy future life. I will love her every day, and I will miss her every day, even if that means for 50 more years—this I agree with. I am forever changed—yes. But, I know where Elle is—safe and sound, and I know I'll see her again. I insist on adjusting, because I believe everything will be okay, even though it's not okay right now.

Note #4: I can tell I've made some progress. I don't always feel dread when I think of her now. My moans have a more normal, higher pitch to them (that's a good thing, right?).

Note #5: I've never cried like I have these past several months. Before Elle died, there were moments in my life that I had sobbed, but they were rare. The crying I do now is something I've never felt before. There's no bottom to it; I just have to stop, because it's time to pick up the kids, or make dinner, or go to the game.

Note #6: Three things I tell myself in my worst moments:

1. This separation is temporary. It will all be over one day.

2. This is the best plan for my life, and more importantly, it is what's best for Elle.

3. I am very blessed. Things could be so much worse.

A note on that 3rd point—one day, out of necessity, I turned the situation inside-out in my head and considered what it would be like to lose everyone in my family except Elle. And I realized...

I have so much to live for.