planet grief

A blog for anyone and everyone to share their grief. Send a story, picture, comment, inspirational message, or anything else you want. Receive advice, input, and virtual hugs. This is a safe place for us to come together in our grieving and maybe get a little healing done.

[planetgrief]

that time of the year

It's been years since I posted here. I'm a full blown college student now. It's finals week. I'm in love with the man of my dreams. But everything is being hampered by the weight of my mom's loss. On June 6th, my mom will have been dead for six years. That is unbelievable to me. It doesn't feel like 6 years. She was just here, laughing and smiling. Springtime reminds me of her last months, weeks, days. But I'm no longer a kid. I live in a different state. My family is growing older. The world hasn't stopped for my mom. I wish she could see me now. I am now beginning to clean up the mess she made, and I wish she knew what she's left me with. I just wish she never left. She was so important and so loved and she's been gone for so long. We needed you, but your soul was too fragile for this earth.

[planetgrief]

The anniversary of my mom's death was on June 6th. My friend and I let these three balloons go at the cemetery; one for each year that has passed without her. I just can't believe that it has been three years. It feels like it has been both three seconds and three centuries. She was just here. It still makes no sense. Every day I think of her and I wonder why she left the way she did. I miss her with every fiber of my being.

On mine, I wrote about how much I miss her, how much I need her here, how badly I feel about the whole thing. I told her that I see her in every spring day, I see her in our backyard smoking cigarettes, I see her sitting in her favorite spot on the couch in our living room. I let her know some of the things that she has missed. I told her that I feel like I will never heal.

I love and miss you more than words will ever describe.

Three years.

[planetgrief]

[planetgrief]

[planetgrief]

A dozen blue balloons for you, mom.

[planetgrief]

moving on

In the time that has passed since my last post, the rest of my family has made a bold step in moving on. Selfishly, I don't know how to feel.

My dad got a girlfriend. He broke the news to me as I was in the hospital with my grandmother. In fact, he brought her to the hospital. "You know, your mother has been dead for almost three years now," he said. "She's really nice, she'd do anything for you."

My dad's oh-so eloquent sense of timing made things a little harder to digest. I sat in the hospital waiting room with tears in my eyes as I looked at the two of them. I didn't know what to think. All I know is that the feelings were almost caving in on me. 

They left and I cried my eyes out in the bathroom. I thought of my mom, I wondered what she would think. You would like to think that your loved one would be happy that you're moving on. I couldn't figure out what she would think because she is dead. She can't think anymore and I can't think for her.

My first thought was that it was just too soon, but then I stopped and thought: three years. It feels like it has been three days in my mind. I don't know how it feels to everyone else. Is three years a long time? I often wonder that. I wonder what constitutes a "long time," what constitutes "too long" to be grieving. Does anything, really?

My second thought was that my mother was being forgotten. I haven't forgotten about her - she is always on my mind and always in my nightmares. I miss you, I miss you so much. I am always missing her. Everyone else seems to be filling the void with other things. Of course, I can't say this for sure, but that's what it feels like. I never want her to be forgotten and I never want her to fade away. That is one of my greatest fears. Maybe that's one reason why I hold on to this grief so strongly. 

Not too long afterward, my dad moved in with his girlfriend and took my brother with him. That was the icing on the cake. It was all over, this relationship really is a thing now. It happened a bit too fast in my opinion, but I'm not them. I wonder if my dad still thinks of my mom, if he has nightmares too.

My mom's best friend and I always have conversations about my mom. I rarely see her, but when I do, she's always bringing her death up. She brings her life up in negative ways. "She always overdid everything." Both the good things and the bad things, yes. It seems that we can never remember the good things.

She said that her way of dealing with death was just by accepting the fact that people are born and people die, things are constantly changing. How does that fill a hole in your heart? How does that make the pain go away? Tell me how. 

"I just realize that she's gone and there's nothing I can do about it. I remember her for what she was and I continue to live my life." 

I wish moving on was that easy.

[planetgrief]

holidays

I completely regret not posting some pre-holiday grief tips on here but alas, all we can do now is reflect.

As for me, this was the third Christmas that my mom wasn't here for. December 6th marked 2 and a half years since her death.

You'd think after doing this three times, it might be a little easier. It wasn't easier, but it was different; that's pretty much my grief mantra. It becomes different.

I had been suppressing my feelings about the holidays ever since they started surfacing. Note to self: DON'T DO THAT. Seriously. Everything gets worse. If you feel something, let yourself feel it. If you want to talk to someone, talk to someone. If you feel as though you can't talk to someone, come on here and send me something in the ask box. PLEASE.

Anyways, it all kind of came out on Christmas Eve and it was just sad. No matter how much time has passed, there is an irreplaceable void where my mom should be. I saw her lighting candles, baking cookies, entertaining, and watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation in her pajamas, sitting in her spot on the couch. I saw a dead house where every person kept to themselves, quiet and alone; no gifts, no tree, no mom. Nobody ever talks about my mom here, but it is that silence that makes her absence so obvious. Our lack of holiday celebrating made the void a little bigger. I'm not one for the materialism and cheesiness of the holiday season anyways, so maybe this was for the best. Nonetheless, I still had to see everyone else with their whole families and celebrations, and it made my heart hurt for the time my mother is losing.

A new year is coming up and I can't fathom how fast time is passing. 2013. Time is but a concept used to gauge experience, but this really doesn't comfort me when new hours, days, months, and years are screaming in my face. To think that my mom has missed out on nearly 3 years is, well, unthinkable. The BP oil spill was the prevalent tragedy at the time of her death; she missed the iPhone 4 unveiling by 1 day and will never know that Obama won a second term. Jesus.

As always, send messages if you need anything! Tell us about your holidays, your fears, your joys, anything. Keep on keeping on.

[thoughtswhisperer]

[slightlyslantedeyes]

[trishreynolds-deactivated201801]

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Yellowcard - Miles Apart

[planetgrief]

I can't say this song is about grief explicitly but it came on Pandora and I had a moment.

"I'd give it up for just one more day with you."

[planetgrief]

[illalwaysloveyou-blog]

[planetgrief]

[planetgrief]

condolences

I really don't know why but I just read over all of the condolences on my mom's online obituary. 

This wouldn't be the first time I've done it, but it's the first time in a long while. And I have never before looked at those words through these eyes.

I never realized how nice it is to hear other people say that your loved one was important to them at some point in time, made them laugh endlessly, or that they observed certain positive qualities about this person. Of course people emphasize a person's goodness in the wake of their death; they glorify them in a blindness of shock and grief, they stick by that "don't speak ill of the dead" mantra. In the months following my mom's death, I found myself completely unable to see any flaw in her. She was perfect, and she was gone. 

Two years later, I struggle with my true feelings about her. She was not perfect. She is perhaps the largest negative influence I have had in my life. Many of her words and actions broke me apart and still ring on in the back of my mind. She had a heart of gold, an incredible sense of humor, and a smart head on her shoulders. She could love in a way I have never seen anyone else love. I try my best to find a realistic combination of her ways.

With this perspective, I read the condolences. Many were from people who had lost touch with her years ago but they were able to recall such sweet, specific moments of joy with my mom. Some were from people who knew her more recently, noting how kindhearted she was, how she was always willing to help, how she always expressed how much she loved my brother and me. These anecdotes people left were concrete facts about my mom's existence. They were not ideas originating in my head, they were not my experience. They spanned her entire life, a diverse breadth of people who knew her. They were the truth.

It is refreshing, for once, to see the truth in my mom's life. It is reassuring to know that she did not leave this world unnoticed, that she left some sort of mark on the memories of others. It is uplifting to know that, once upon a time, she was here and she existed. She lived and laughed and loved. The people who left their condolences have lived another two years, and I don't know how often they think of her, if at all. But they did at some point, and they cared. They grieved for her. They sympathized with my family. They had a moment of loss.

Two years later, I no longer receive condolences, I don't expect to. I can't help but think, though, how nice it would be to hear someone speak kindly of my mom. It would be nice to be reminded that she was here and that she mattered and that she is remembered. All I can do is read through these words left for me two years ago, and today, that is enough for me.

"...I have many fond memories of the fun times I spent with you. Some I will keep to myself because I don't think it's appropriate to publicize them..."

"She was such a loving and joyful person to be around and you and your brother were the light of her life."

"...she was a very funny lady, she made me laugh every time I saw her..."

"Please know how much she was loved by so many people...even people she hadn't seen in a LONG time...I will hold her close and I will be thinking of you all."

"She always made me laugh. One time she had me laughing so hard in 7th grade that I ended up getting in trouble for it, but it was worth it...a great memory!"

"You were her joy and her pride. Continue to grow into the wonderful young adults she knew you'd be and then she will never be far. Through this sad time, rely on your friends and family, we are all here for you. Your mom will be missed but know that she is at peace..."

[typewrittenword]

[elbesoie]

[planetgrief]