It has been months since I could put together a thought and hold it long enough to write it down.  Sometimes I think everything is getting better and I can be myself again, but when I get still the grief and fear jump up and smack me down, back to holding back tears and faking strength while I wait for it to be real.  It will be a year next month since my daughter died.  Every day that passes I dread and hope for that anniversary.  I am afraid that I might crash and burn and I hope that once that day passes I can believe in strength enough to get through one more, maybe more than that.

There is a support group on-line that I turn to for understanding that only other grieving parents belong to.  It helps some, but it seems we are all so lost that guiding each other is difficult at best.  There is empathy in this group that I find no where else.  For that I am grateful.  My problem here is that I am not a person of faith and most of the others are. The better place and someday we’ll be together again comments do not comfort me.  At the same time I have no desire to object to whatever gets these others through their days so I keep my heathenness to myself with them.

I find  my comfort in the living.  I am fortunate to have a loving husband who, even though his heart is also shattered, stays strong enough for me to lean on.  He still makes me laugh and we laugh together at our sometimes pitiful selves. My daughter gave us the gift of her grown son and daughter who have been a joy from the day of their birth and still warm my heart with every moment I have with them.  Our granddaughter gave birth to our special, extra gift, a beautiful and perfect great granddaughter, a few months after her mother died.  Her children and grandchild are the little pieces of Teri that I can touch and feel and care for; that is my comfort.

My son, my so special son, and his wife and two boys have been the light of so many days. He loved his baby sister and misses her in that unique sibling way.  He is never out of touch more than a few days even though he is far from us in distance. So often when I am struggling the phone will ring and his voice brings back the sun for me.

This is how I survive the unthinkable loss of my child.  I do not offer advise to anyone else in this boat except to keep breathing and hope.  Hope for whatever you need.

Long ago when my grandparents all died and then my dad far too soon I told those who expressed sympathy that I wanted to just surround myself with people who love me and soak up that love.  I am doing that now the best that I can.  On days like this one when my best isn’t working I curl up in my ball of hurt and just wait for something better.