I have a handful of memories, and a couple of hours of
holding her. In the closet in a tote is
a collection of pictures and inked footprints, plaster molds of tiny hands, a one-time
worn dress, tiny jammies that were never worn with “little sister” sewn on it,
and my hospital bracelets . On a deep
brown glider rocker in my room is a beautiful creamy white blanket with the
words “Forever in our hearts Gabraella Joy Swader” embroidered in soft baby
pink; it’s a memorial blanket from the funeral.
I have an angel charm on a silver chain around neck to remind me that
she’s in heaven. There is a teardrop
charm on silver chain around my ankle to symbolize that there are no tears in
heaven; I on the other hand still shed a tear daily, at least one. Wrapped loosely around my wrist is silver
chain with a wing on it and the inscription “GJS”. On the shelf in my living room is a black and
white picture of her in a gown in a white frame next to an angel flight bear
with wings. I have another white-frame
picture of her sleeping in a pale yellow hospital cap on my dresser. There is also a wooden "Willow" angel with a shell to her ear to show she is thought of. Next to it I have a light toffee-colored,
curly-furred teddy. Inside the zipper on
the back of the teddy is her urn. Inside the urn are her ashes. This
is it. All I have and will ever have of
her. They are cherished things. They are things that I wish I could bring
everywhere with me piled high on my shoulders like the world feels sometimes. My arms still feel
deprived, as though I should take all those things and bundle them into a
magical blanket and it’d turn into a mewling little likeness of me and D. But there is no blanket to do such a
thing. I feel helpless in my desire to
keep these things around that remind me of her even though I don’t need them at
all because the domino effect of her not being here is everywhere.
Last weekend, D had a meltdown over something I didn’t
understand. I still only kind of
understand. I think. Maybe.
But it somehow seems like more. I
don’t know. Maybe I’m reading into
it. Either way, I felt horrible and hurt
at the same time. But then, later, the
next morning, whatever, it seemed better. I know. It’s cryptic. Sorry for that but somethings are still just, I don't know, not mine to share. But the meltdown was intense. At one point he told me not to come back if I walked outside but I needed to breathe. I was hurt. He apologized. Marriage and love means knowing when words are spoken unintentionally and forgiving them even before the apology. I'm sure there will be times that I hope he'll be forgiving too.
On Thursday I took Sky and 4 of her cousins to the
drive-in to see Brave and Madagascar 3.
It was fun. They all behaved and
sat and watched the movies chewing on popcorn and scarfing down sodas. It was fun to hear them laughing, joking, and
singing along to the movie soundtrack.
It was fun until out of left field while I was smiling in the darkness
at their insane singing to some “polka-dot” song I realized that I will never
be taking Gabbie to the drive-in with her friends and her cousins. I will never hear her belting out a song like
she owns it. And instantly following my
smile was a couple tears in the darkness.
Silent. Painful. That’s the way it is though. The memory of her is like a sniper and it
shoots me down from a mile away in the darkness and leaves me writhing in pain and helpless to prevent it.
Friday night we
went out to dinner. I got a phone call
that my Uncle, my mother’s brother passed away.
It was rather quick: a heart attack, no long illness, poof, gone within
a little over a week of being admitted to the hospital. Poof. Gone.
Like Gabbie. I cried for him and
for my Aunt L and my cousins. I am sorry
that they hurt. But for the evening, I
put it aside. I figured I’d cry more
later. So I went about our evening but D
didn’t want to come home with me when I wanted to. Another meltdown came, not quite as crazy as
the first. Now I know he’s melting. I don’t know how to help. He won’t talk to me about. It’s not like him to knowingly let me go home
to hurt by myself, but he would have had his brother not intervened. I felt relieved that he came home so I wouldn’t
worry and guilty for him doing something he didn’t want to do. He apologized for being selfish but that he was sad. Again, I had hurt feelings but I try not to
let it interfere, i just wish he'd tell me. I just don’t understand
this stage in his grief and stress and I so want to, am so trying to. The house sale weighs heavy on him as do the
bills and saving, football and the job search, his responsibilities to the
girls, and to me and the house. I just
feel utterly helpless and try not to take his meltdowns to heart. He would never intentionally hurt me. I tried to talk to him about it today. He just said he’s stressed. I just feel inept and useless and that hurts
too. Grief sucks. Stress sucks.
But grief and stress together are brutal. His grief is not my grief and even though we are sad for the same baby being gone, it is not the same grief. I want to apologize but there is nothing to
apologize for. Maybe I’ll just clean
until the house sparkles and every box is packed or tossed. At least it shows forthright effort.
Then today, I called my mom while she was working cleaning
an office building while they are closed on Sunday. When she answered I could tell that she had
been crying by herself in that office.
Maybe she was using her tears to cleanse her heart while she cleaned the
world. I talked with her for a bit. She started crying again and told me she was
sorry, that I didn’t need this too. I
told her it was ok. And it was. She’s my mom. I’d do anything for her. But the gesture to preserve my fragile
emotions was noted and considerably sweet.
D didn’t understand the concept of her not wanting to cry to me. He sees them as two separate events. And they are.
Except for that now my uncle is in heaven, with Gabbie, which means that
she’s in heaven, where I wish both of them weren’t. I'll miss them both. All of this makes me feel helpless to comprehend.
Everything seems to come back to Gabbie. She is all around and yet nowhere. How did my present without her come to be
this future where a reminder of her absence is everywhere and I feel
helpless about it all?
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