Grief is not for the weak.
It's like your worst nightmare, your worst period, your most hangry moment, your longest hangover and your most tired night as a new Mama all rolled up into one...and it feels like it will NEVER end.
7:00pm: "Bella, bath time."
7:30pm: "Bella, jammie time."
7:35pm: "Bella, time to brush your teeth."
8:00pm: "Bellaboo time for bed."
Bella: "Ok Mama."
Bella: "Let's snuggle Mama." (fyi...at 7, snuggle can mean snuggle or can also be code for "lets talk and drag out bed time as looong as humany possible")
8:30pm: "Ok Bellaboo, Sweet dreams. I love you sooooo much."
Bella: "Mama, I love you sooo much plus infinity plus google plus one hundred million thousand billion.
Me: "I love you all that and more. I love you the most."
Bella: "Mama, I love you all the way up to Auntie Robbie."
Me: "Ooooooh, you win...and I love you that much too."
8:40: Bella: "Goodnight Auntie Robbie, I really really wish you didn't have to go to heaven."
8:41: Me: "Goodnight Auntie Robbie, we love you so much."
12:00am: Wide awake.
1:11am: I refuse to see it again. I refuse to see it again. I refuse to see it again.
2:22am: Ugh.
3:00am: Oh sweet lord, I actually fell asleep...Crap, I forgot to set Bella's alarm for school.
4:00am: Really Robbie? Is this really happening? Why 4am?
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Snooze.
Beep. Beep.Beep. Beep.
Snooze.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Slam.
Shit.
Eyes open. Oh god. It's already another day? What day is it? CRAP. It's Tuesday. I'm just gonna close my eyes for a minute. I'm so tired.
SHIT!
Get out of bed.
Get Bella up...NOW.
SMILE.
Sing to her. Start her day off happy even when you feel like crying.
YOU ARE SUPER MAMA.
Make her lunch.
Sign the school notice.
Shit you forgot to get her school bag from her dads.
Sign her School Planner.
Get her teeth brushed.
Wash her face.
Pick out
fight with her about her outfit for today.
Make her breakfast bagel.
Fill her water bottle with ice.
Don't forget her cough drops.
Make the bed. (Ok, let's face it that bed isn't getting made any time soon.)
Boots. Get your boots on! We're laaaaaate Anabella!
Coat. Do you have your coat?
Buckle up. Are you buckled up?
Drive. Pay attention. Stay focused. Two scrape ups on your brand new truck already and counting. You can do this. Keep your mind focused. You can do this.
You HAVE to drive your child to school. You can't get lost in the "fog".
Turn the radio on.
(Mama, this is Auntie Robbies song! Can you turn it up louder please?)
Try not to cry. Try not to cry. Try not to cry.
Drop her off at school.
Check in with her teacher about how Bella's actually coping and talking when we aren't around.
Bella: "Mama, I don't want to go to school. I want to be with you."
Me: "Bella, you're fine. You looove school. You love your friends. You're going to have fun.
"
Bella: "I don't feel well. Take me with you."
Me: "What's wrong?"
Bella: "I don't know, just take me with you."
Now lovingly Pry her overly clingy, overly scared (another sign of grief) hands and body off me and leave her safely with her teacher.
Get back in your truck.
Turn on the radio. (Shit, another one of Auntie Robbie's songs)
Tears. Tears. Tears.
Sing. Sing to Robbie. Sing loud and proud. Sing like SHE would.
What would Robbie do?
Who cares if you look like the crazy lady at the stop light. Sing that shit.
And so begins my Morning truck conversation with Robbie:
Robbie, I love you sooooo much.
Can you hear me Robbie? Are you there?
I hope you can hear me Robbie.
I miss you sooooo much.
Life is NOT the same withouth you here.
I'm so sorry you had to go through all you did.
I'm so sorry for the pain you had to suffer and endure.
I'm so sorry it was you and not me.
I'm so sorry I couldnt be there with you more when you needed me.
I'm so sorry for that time I went upstairs to talk on the phone when we were all watching that movie. I'm so sorry I texted other people while I had the privilidge of sitting across from you.
I'm so sorry I couldn't do more.
I'm so sorry I we didn't do more together.
I'm so sorry I moved away and missed all those years with you.
I'm so sorry I didn't rub your head and your hair every single time you asked.
I'm so sorry that I sighed and acted annoyed when I was tired.
This isn't the way it was supposed to be Robbie.
This isn't right.
Help me Robbie.
Help me do the right things.
Help me be who I'm supposed to be.
Help me find the courage to get strong and move forward the way I'm supposed to.
Give me a sign Robbie, anything.
I know you're at peace.
I know you're happy. But wait, are you though? Are you really happy?
Oh Robbie....I love you so much. This just hurts.
You can't really be gone. This isn't happening.
No REALLY, GET-OUT-OF-BED.
One foot, just start with one foot...you can do it Jess. For god's sake, you've done this your entire life. One foot, then the other, now another, and one more.......Smile. Laugh. Talk to Anabella. Remind her of happy things to look forward to. Tell her you're great. Be the Super Mama you always have been and always will be no matter what. Why? Because that's what Super Mama's do.
This is the story of my life. This is my reality today. Most days. But not every single minute of every single day. This is RAW & real and this is what you call being authentic and vulnerable. This is also why my texts, emails, phone calls, and door knocks often go unanswered. This is why my appointments get forgotten and missed. This is why my child is sometimes late for gymnastics, my truck has new bumps and bruises, my face is a break out of stress and my doctor & counsellor see me weekly. This is also why I drive down the wrong streets to get home, forget my own address when ordering a pizza and frankly barely know who I am some days. My head is in a fog. My mind is lost. My heart is aching. My head is spinning. I am not me...right now, and right along with missing my baby sister Robbie, I also miss ME.
I WILL move forward. I WILL find my strength again. I WILL make my baby sister Robbie proud and I WILL eventually grab life and run with it. I want to feel strong and I want to continue my strive to be extraordinary. It's all just a little difficult while I'm lost.
Writing is my passion but these particular writings are supposed to help with my healing. Fingers crossed.
Love,
Jess
I had such vision and purpose for our ferry trip home this morning. It's been months and months, since I could muster the motivation and attention span required to pick up a book, let alone read and absorb what it actually says. This is all a brand new unfortunate experience (& side effect of grief) for me. I'm an avid reader and someone who typically has three different books on the go at any given moment.
NEWSFLASH: 7 YEAR OLDS are chatty...chattier than 6 year olds...smarter than 6 year olds....even more inquisitive than 6 year olds and ask waaaay harder and more thought provoking questions than 6 year olds. And people, get ready for it...they are onto us. They are fully onto our tricks of the parenting trade and are having no part of this bribery business. God friggin damnit. Now what's this Mama gotta pull out of my 
See the following three photos as a small glimpse into what I call: "The Many Moods of a 7 year old girl trapped in an SUV with her Mama"
To me she wasn't 1 year old Anabella or 5 year old Anabella. She was just Anabella. A beautiful "little being" that I was chosen and entrusted to take care of, value, grow, nurture, teach, love, encourage and keep safe while she stretched her little wings and learned to fly on her own in this perfectly imperfect world. Only eventually to be set free as the extraordinary, valuable, important, unique and beautiful little girl, teenager and woman she is supposed to be and become. I don't think it's my job to tell her what to do, but instead to SHOW her what is right and guide her in love and lessons. To show her what's real, lead her by example, remind her what's important, embrace her in values and shower her with love and then let her start to make decisions for what is right for her. Of course, she makes wrong decisions at times, and she learns very quickly that there are also consequences in to choices in the real world. 
At that point I feel Anabella's sweet, warm little smushy body pushed up against me and her loving little arms so tightly wrapped around my waist when she says, "Oh Mama, it's OK if you cry. Sometimes you just need to cry and cry and cry and get all those sad tears out. Everybody has to Mama. Everybody." I was a bit taken aback by her innocent wisdom in that moment, but was even more stunned by what came out of her mouth next. "Mama you know, in here I feel (pointing to her heart and chest) she proceeds to place her tiny little hands in the middle of her chest and make the formation of a heart breaking in half over and over again, BUT in here I feel (pointing to her forehead and brain) she proceeds to place her cute little hands on her forehead in the shape of a full heart. 
+You feel like the luckiest person in the world to have known her.
And guess what? That means I'm one of the LUCKY ones because I'm still FEELING. Feeling is healthy. Feeling is good. Feeling is healing. Feeling is taking one step forward and maybe two steps back. And then two steps forward and one step back. Feeling means I haven't been pushed over the edge...and there's somehow somewhere a light at the end of this very long tunnel. Just like Robbie told me in this note she left for me before she even knew she was sick.
It's been 47 days and 57 minutes since my heart shattered into a million pieces of silence. It's been 6.5 weeks since my Divine, kind, peaceful, brave and beautiful super hero of a baby sister peacefully and tragically took her last breath and gained her angel wings. 27 years old...TWENTY SEVEN. I still lose my breath every time I think it, write it, or say it out loud. It can't be real. It's my worst nightmare. It's the worst punishment I've ever received. It's like a bad dream you can't wake up from. It's real. It's my life. It's part of my journey and my world will never be as full without her in it.
After Robbie passed (at home in her own bed) my daughter, my two little nieces and I all went in together and sat with Auntie Robbie and held her hand and hugged her and we talked about how much we all love Auntie Robbie and how she will always be with us. We each took a turn talking about all the things Auntie Robbie had taught us and how sad we were. We each kissed her "goodnight" and after that was done, just Anabella and I stayed with her, laid beside Auntie Robbie holding each other and sang "You are my Sunshine" to our super hero one last time, just the way she loved and did for Anabella as a baby and just like we know she would have done for us. 
What allot of people don't realize is that throughout her sickness Robbie at times only wanted me and our older sister. She would find great comfort when it was just the 3 of us. And from the minute she was diagnosed we promised her she would never fight this battle for one single second alone. To us that meant even after death. When the coroner came to take her body to the funeral home, we walked her body to the van. The next day we went and checked on her and planned her service and cremation. The day after that, my sister, my 21 year old niece and I picked out her favorite pajamas, walked into the funeral home, personally and respectfully dressed her lifeless body, put on her make up, did her hair, wrapped her in a warm blanket (that we had all loved and shared over time) and lifted her earthly body into her casket. The following day we filled her casket with love letters from our family, kissed her goodbye for a final time and wheeled her casket from the funeral home to the Hearst. We lead a procession and followed the Hearst carrying her body to the Crematorium at which point we had an impromptu personal service with close family and best friends holding hands and hearts around her casket ending with my devastated Dad, older sister and me personally walking and pushin her casket into the fiery heat that would be the end of her body's existence on this earth. That body wasn't her. But her spirit was alive and well that day. We promised her she would never be alone in her battle and journey, and we stayed true to our promise.
The following two weeks were a blur of her funeral, Christmas, New Years and to make it all complete the man I thought was the actual love of my life, that I truly believed was my best friend and the person I wanted to be with, who asked me to try on engagement rings, who then went out and bought the engagement ring and wedding band, who asked us to move in with him and who I gave my notice on my condo for, ended our relationship the day before New Years Eve because he couldn't handle my "emotional ups and downs", "I was being selfish and needed to get over my sisters death and get on with life" and "he didn't have the tools to deal with my grief". Then he stopped having any communication with us and refused to even hug me goodbye. I'd like to say that was devastating...and it was for a little while, but I was quickly reminded that I should instead be happy that I dodged a bullet. I've learned that when tragedy strikes you realize quickly who your true friends are and when one door closes another door opens. Life works in funny ways, and I am now strangely perfectly ok with "his" decision to end our relationship. I need someone VERY different than that, and he clearly needed someone very different than me...although I'm not sure an emotionless woman who could move on from her sisters death after three weeks exists out there. If she does, I don't EVER want her for a friend, let alone girlfriend;-) I wish him happiness...and maybe a little bit of Karma? Come oooooon, I'm human.
Needless to say...I'm in grief therapy. I'm not working. I've banged my new truck up twice. I'm not sleeping. I can't get the visions, the feelings, the smells, the sounds, the feeling of her lifeless body in my arms, the heat of the crematorium, the heat waves coming out of the crematorium chimney, the panic, the earth shattering pain in my heart...any of it, out of my head. I have constant nightmares about everything under the sun including my living sister and I. As if losing Robbie wasn't punishment enough, now I get to go through this living nightmare to somehow "get stronger" and come to grips with all I've gone through. I'm told this is all very traumatic and grief is difficult, especially the loss of a younger, close sibling. My newest learning: It's called "complicated grief" and the hopes is that it won't turn into PTSD if it hasn't already. I guess my therapist will fill me in tomorrow at my next appointment.
Wish me luck. Don't judge me. Send me love. Don't feel sorry for me. Be grateful that my life can hopefully someday help you with your own in some little way. Even if it means that you look past sweating some of the small stuff that happens today and sit down and call your sister or your brother or your best friend or your Mama. Take that minute to talk to and hear the voice of that person you have in your life that you just assume will always be there. They might not be tomorrow. 
