Just let me cry

Just Let Me Cry (Hilary Weeks)

I believe that everything happens for a reason.

We’re not just tossed by the wind,
or left in the hands of fate.
But sometimes life sends a storm that’s unexpected.
And we’re forced to face our deepest pain.
When I feel the heartache begin to pull me under...
I dig my heels in deep,
and I fight to keep my ground.
Still, at times the hurt inside grows stronger.
And there’s nothing I can do but let out...
Just let me cry.
I know it’s hard to see.
But the pain I feel isn’t going away today.
Just let me cry.
Till every tear has fallen.
Don’t ask when...
and don’t ask why.
Just let me cry.
When I agreed that God could put this heart inside me.

I understood that there would be a chance that it would break.

But I know He knows exactly how I’m feeling...

And I know in time He’ll take the pain away.

But for now...

Just let me cry.

I know it’s hard to see.

But the pain I feel isn’t going away today.

Just let me cry.

Till every tear has fallen.

Don’t ask when...
and don’t ask why.
Just let me cry.
I have felt joy,
the kind that makes my heart want to sing.
And so my tears are not a surrender,
I’ll feel that way again.
But for now...
For this moment...

Just let me cry.

I know it’s hard to see.
But the pain I feel.
Isn’t going away today.
Just let me cry.
Till every tear has fallen.
Don’t ask when...
and don’t ask why.
Just let me cry.

God Bless

I think this just may be my last post. It's time I think and truely, I just don't have anything more to say. Except perhaps this, to anyone and everyone in the position of taking care of a loved one, put your heart, soul and love into every single day you are blessed as a caregiver. It's everything.

Love,
Angie

And So It Goes

I was on my way out of the door after a long day at work and I ran into a colleague heading for the exit same as me. I smiled, said hey, she did the same since we were going in the same direction she walked out the door with me. I could tell she was in a hurry, we probably had the same 'can't wait to leave this place behind' on our faces. I was hoping she didn't ask about dad because we'd talked about my role as caregiver before, and how he was doing, how I was doing, all that stuff, but she did ask. It was too bad she asked because she seemed in too much of a hurry to ask such a big question. Or maybe it was the response I had to give her that was too big, because how was she to know that this time I wouldn't be able to give her a simple 'he's okay' response. Words stuck in my throat as we kept up the pace toward the stop light, which turned green right away, and then we crossed the street and kept our quick step toward respective destinations. I thought about just saying 'he's alright' to move past the awkward moment so we could get to the idle chit chat that fits better when on fast forward but told her instead that he'd passed in August, and I think she said 'oh gosh' and kept that steady pace and I figured she was going toward the parking garage which she was, and we'd part ways soon enough. I knew she understood what I was going through because she indicated her mom had passed a few short years ago right before an important insured's renewal and we talked about how wonderful the people in her department were during such a difficult time and I said pretty much the same about my department. Then she said, "But it's kind of a relief right?" I wanted to reply to be polite, but couldn't. Again, I'm sure my silence made her feel uncomfortable, because I was uncomfortable, and this woman has an extremely kind nature, and I knew she didn't mean it in a bad way. She rushed to say as we reached the garage, "Oh it's hard to know what to say." Her voice seemed to carry a bit of an apology for some thing and I think it may have been because she was obviously in a rush and didn't have time to give it or me her full attention, and then she explained she was at her turn off and had to go. I wished her a good evening in a voice that was cheerier than I felt, hoping to relay that all was good, and that was that. I turned to cross the street and she turned to step in the elevator and I couldn't stop my lips from trembling and my face started to crumble. I wanted to cry again, as always these days, but didn't have time to do it in such a public place. Everything triggers the need.

I don't understand the reference about being relieved. I've had a couple of people make similar comments. I know they probably meant relieved that he was no longer in pain but it seems wrong somehow. I don't feel relief. When dad stopped breathing, I remember feeling sorrow, and so very tired and bleak, but I don't recall feeling relief. I still don't feel that way.

I can't help it but it seems like we're all in such a hurry to move on with some thing that we don't take that minute or two to respect the proces of dying or the finality of it all. We're too good at pretending to be really good at dealing and putting it behind us. Without even knowing we're doing it, we've incorporated the process of impending and final death into a teeny tiny box to be stored way back in that dusty attic that is our mind filled with all the other really bad and emotional stuff we don't want to visit anymore. Why are we in such a hurry? Are we moving forward with life? Or are we running away from the inevitable? The mind numbing fear that one day it'll be our turn.

To be sick. To die.

I don't know. I guess this is just the inane ramblings and color of what mourning looks and sounds like to me.

Sometimes there just aren't any answers. Just a lot of questions.

My Heart Speaks To Me

Death leaves a heartache no one can
heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
~From a headstone in Ireland


I saw this on a website. Literally, my heart speaking out loud.

Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.

Henry Scott Holland ~ 1847-1918
Canon of St. Paul's Cathedral ~ London. UK

Holding On

I've always wanted to be remembered by my children as someone who was strong, classy; someone who endured her troubles with grace. But I don't think that will be the case. I'm not strong, and grace and class would not be adjectives used to describe how I've dealt with loss. I'm drowning in misery, and don't even have the strength to pretend otherwise. And that's a darn shame.

I know I have to crawl out from under this. I know I do. Today I met Lisa for lunch in Seattle, and it took every ounce of energy I had to leave the comfort of my place and walk out the door. These days, I fight the urge every day to not just keep my head in the sand. To just sit on the couch and watch the Hallmark channel, one Christmas movie after the other. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday I have to add, and I should know, I've spent a lot of Saturdays on my couch barely moving except to eat, pee, and eat some more. But honestly, if I didn't have to go to work, or communicate with family, and friends, I think I'd spend the rest of my life with my butt attached to the couch, until all of my tears dried up, if ever. But today was nice. We went to KP Kuka Pradel after lunch, my favorite silver jewelry store, owned by a young woman and her drop dead gorgeous husband from Bulgaria. Really nice people, with really unique and beautifully customized jewelry. I saw a ring I really, really like but can't afford. It's a pretty bauble that'll distract me for a moment, and I think I need it, which means I'll probably buy it, and then spend the next couple of paydays starving because of it. Oh well, been there, done that, and didn't even have anything worthwhile to show for it.

In January, I'm planning a trip to Hawaii to spend time with Michael, Melissa and my beautiful Diamond. Sometimes when you know you're drowning, you've got to reach out and find something or someone to hold on to -- not literally of course, unless it's a nice piece of jewelry you're tight fisting for dear life. As a rule, people tend not to like things hanging on them, especially a piece of emotional and grieving bit of baggage like myself.

Oh my God though…sometimes my chest gets so tight and I feel overwhelmed and sad and...like, I'm stuck in infinity and even if it’s only a day, it’s too long living in a space that was previously filled with the life of someone I've loved all my life. It's frickin' hard.

But, I'll keep my mind and thoughts busy with nonsense when I can, like winning the lotto, buying pretty stuff I can't afford, and planning trips to see my kids and their kids, oh and I've got Vegas to look forward to in May with Mary, my best friend in the whole wide world, and her siblings. I’ve got all of that to look forward to.

So, I need to call the travel agent on Tuesday to get my trip booked and juggle my bills so I can buy myself something pretty. Okay, it'll be alright.

One More Day

I can't seem to go back and read the old posts. I've tried, but don't make it very far. So painful. I feel like I'm trapped in limbo, can't move forward, can't go back. I want to see Dad sitting in his chair, in his blue checkered robe, eating something he enjoys alot, but probably shouldn't be eating. I want to walk through the door at the house and hear him call out from the living room, "Angie is that you?" And I'll respond. "No Dad, it's not me." I can hear him in my head. "Okay 'not you', what're we having for dinner tonight?"

I complained about not always being able to go home on weekends, and Dad's constant chatter about stuff...and going on and on about somebody or something. And now I can't stand the silence.

I miss the sound of your voice. I miss you, Dad, and I'm so sorry for my complaining. I'd give back all of this time on my hands and all of the empty weekends since you passed to be taking care of you again, to have you back in life. I'd give anything for just one more day.

For the rest of my life there won't be one day I don't think of you. I know this is true because there hasn't been one day since you've passed where you haven't been on my mind. Same with mom and Kenny. I don't know what to do with this contant feeling of sadness...this feeling of being so lost in a place where you aren't here anymore.

I love you!