Wherever You Are My Love Will Find You

Hi mom.

I am struggling today. Big time. I went home this last weekend to spend some time with dad and it was harder than I could have ever imagined. It was the first time I came home and you weren’t there. You weren’t standing at the top of the stairs jumping up and down yelling “my Maggie is home my Maggie is home!” Everything about the house is the same… except your larger-than-life presence is gone…leaving it eerily empty. And then there’s dad, who is still dad, but just such a heartbreakingly sad version of himself. Nothing feels right.

The overwhelming emotions of the weekend and the pain in my heart after I left resulted in a sleepless night followed by an anxiety-filled early morning. I called in to work today. I just couldn't deal with the thought of being surrounded by people. I didn't have the energy to pretend I was OK.

So I stayed in bed. I woke up at 2:30 p.m. from a benzo-induced sleep (the first real sleep I feel like I've had in weeks) and made a cup of coffee and started reading.

I've found that outside of writing, music and actual therapy - reading has been my only saving grace. Whether it's articles about other people who have experienced such a life-altering loss, books that remind me that what I am feeling really is as bad as I think it is, or other bloggers who have also found that, in a society that is unequipped to deal with grief, that I am not the only one who has felt alone, misunderstood or dismissed when I needed love and support the most.

I don't need to hear that I needed your death to learn about what's important in life - I already knew what was. I don't need to be reminded that I should be thankful for the 32 great years I had with you when when I feel cheated out of the 20+ more I will never get. That you wouldn't want me to be sad - we both know that is complete bullshit, and honestly I feel like you would be insulted if I wasn't sad. These attempts at support solve literally nothing when I am stuck replaying in my mind the memory of the day I watched you leave us - far too young, far too beautiful, and far too full of life.

It's like nothing feels real anymore. When people ask me how I am, the only response (besides "i'm fine") that I can muster is that I feel numb.

So I read. I read other people's stories to remind myself that I am not crazy, that I'm not alone, and that this really, really fucking sucks as much as I think it does.

There are painful moments in this life that everyone experiences- pain that hurts so bad you don't think you can move on. But you do. But then there's those pains, those losses that alter the very world you knew. As one of my favorite bloggers put it - there are "deaths that change the way you see everything, grief that tears everything down. Pain that transports you to an entirely different universe, even while everyone else thinks nothing has really changed. It's the pain no one wants to talk about - or more, no one wants to hear about."

It's when I read things like this, when I can relate to other people's grief wholeheartedly in a world of people who want to believe there is a reason for everything (which is bullshit by the way), that I am reminded that I don't have to be "fine". I don't have to be OK or get back to normal, because nothing will ever be normal again without you.

I just need to figure out how to survive.

There is another book that I have re-read countless times over this last week. It was left on my windshield at work- a simple gift that moved me to tears. It's a children's book that was given to me by a dear friend and her adorable five year old son. It's called "Wherever You Are My Love Will Find You" and it's a gift that I will cherish forever.

The book is so sweet and so perfectly written, but it was the card left on my now favorite page that moved me to tears.

It was on this illustration that she left me this note:

"Mags- I truly believe that God speaks to us in the most unique ways. Saturday night, Owen picked this book for me to read to him before bed. My sister got it for him before she moved, so it's always been a favorite of mine. As I was reading this page, he asked me if the stars in the illustration were angels. Then he specifically asked, "do you think one of those stars is Maggie's mommy." His wisdom has always been beyond his age. In all the times I've read this book it was in the context that my sister's presence is always with us even though she's in Chicago. To him, that night, the words meant that your mommy's presence is always with you even though she's in heaven. And most importantly, that she loves you always."

When I re-read this book and letter this morning, I couldn't help but cry for you. I miss you so much, but it reminded me that I don't need to be "fine." I don't need to work through the stages of grief and get to the "other" side. And I don't need to pretend that I'm not in pain or that it can ever be made better. Some things can't be fixed- even if it is too hard for the people around me to witness or deal with. It's OK that I'm not OK.

Owen's sweet, childlike insightfulness, reminds me that I don't need to move on from this. But I do need to remember that you loved me, that you will always love me, and that you will be my shining star in my darkest places.

I don't ever want to hear again that there was a reason for your death. That this heartbreak will get easier with time.

Your cancer... how fast it took you... and the pain and unfairness of it all will NEVER make sense. I will never stop hurting. I miss you and I wish you didn't have to die. I wish you were here. But I know, no matter where I am, your love will find me.

Miss you more. Cheers mom.