Where are you right now…

Depression is debilitating. I can’t move, think, or feel anything beyond my grief. Meds sometimes work, but sometimes, you can only take so much to numb yourself before it’s beyond repair.

I’m in need of something that I don’t know. I’m so lost and bereft. Yes I have to live – my children and husband need me to live so that they too will have a will to live. The emptiness, however, is never ending. I need something to make this end, even for just a moment.

I write a lot on this page about having faith, etc. Right now I have none. I have no outlook about the future other than we live, then we die. We live well to make our bodies feel safe, clean, content. Beyond life, I can’t see the hope that there is another life after this.

Yep, I am in a dark place. I’m not suicidal. I’m not going to hurt myself. But I’ve become disillusioned and jaded. I’m hopeless and cynical. I’m angry all the time and bitter. It’s not a good life, and I hate it. I miss my other self. I just can’t jump the stile to go back to the other side.

My family went on a vacation far from our usual spots. It’s very quiet here. Beautiful and peaceful. It has also shown me how lonely I am. Even with my husband, I’m alone in my grief. I need help, but don’t know where and with whom. I can’t even begin to pray, but I’m trying.

I hope I can shake off this despair. No I don’t watch the news or read it. I keep looking at the sky to find something to lift me. It’s a beautiful sight, but I’m in so dark that I can’t see the lights.

Pray for me for mercy and hope. I am so low. I hate my pity party, but I cannot believe how this evil burden is holding me down so heavily. Pray and hope for myself isn’t possible right now, but I will keep trying. Your help will be most graciously appreciated. ❤️❤️

Waiting for Godot…

My husband and I finally went out to a gathering last Saturday, a first get-together with people not in our close circle. The party was good fun with wonderful people with whom we played gin card games.

As I watched my husband finish his hand at one point, I noticed the slight droop of his shoulders and his well-worn smile that had a slight hint of sadness to it. It brought back to mind the long journey we’re traveling together. It’s a sorrowful journey yet loving and meaningful. We still have our other kids, yet one will always be missing. So deeply missed after almost three years.

In the three years, my youngest girls grew more than a foot each. We’ve made changes to our home just to break the mood and keep us busy. We’ve learned who are our real friends, and we’ve focused our energies.

Each step each day will forever be painful. I think there were just a handful of moments in the last years that I didn’t think about Allie. She is just my bright light, and I miss her every moment. I cry and plead for her. I want to find her, and I know where she is I cannot go yet. Sometimes I hope I get sick so that I can be with her. I’m not suicidal, but if death comes knocking, I won’t fight it.

Then I see my sweet kids, and I try to be brave. Bravery is such an understated character trait. It helps define you if you find that will power to do and be better. Standing up to fear is so very hard. Facing your frailties is sometimes unbearable.

Yet I must be brave. My kids deserve to live as fully and as lovingly as they can. I have to make their lives as meaningful as they can be. I have to show them that in between the deepest depths of our despair is love, light, God, Allie, redemption and joy. Pure joy.

I have seen that joy. I’ve felt it, even if it was fleeting. I do know it will come again, and I want my kids to know and hang on to that hope. This joy and love comes in different faces and ways, so I have to show them where to look for them. They are all gifts from God, and we cannot ever say no to His gifts.

God bless to each of you reading this. We are all brought together because we’re all looking for an answer. It’s an answer that can only be answered when we shed our physical side and embrace the spiritual. This is not a literal translation, even though we do this shedding when we pass away. It is in the now that we will find it. I’m going to keep looking, for these gifts and my girl.

To one’s true self…

Love is patient;

love is kind;

It is not jealous;

It is not pompous, it is not inflated, It is not rude.

It does not seek its own interests;

It is not quick tempered;

It does not brood over injury;

It does not rejoice over wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.

It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never comes to an end.

I fall silent when I think of my daughter, who seems like only yesterday was alive and here. It’s been 2 1/2 years, and I can still imagine and pretend that she will walk through the front door to say “I’m home!” I walk by pictures of her in our home, and each time, I find her beauty and spirit breathtaking yet painfully so.

I think of what I have done in the past with her, lamented the times I was not patient, and upset that I can’t do anything more with her. It’s not helpful to do this, but it’s human nature. It’s also still a struggle to be a better parent with her siblings, despite knowing what happened to Allie.

When I use my name in the prayer above in place of the word “love,” I find myself deeply examining my relationship with God, my family and my circle. I see my shortcomings, my frailty, my inhibitions and sometimes, my bests. This prayer from the Corinthians is an unbelievably crucial gift for checking ourselves, for examining one’s conscience, and being vulnerable before God. Reminders to step back to look at one’s life once in a while is an important step to remember who we are and what we believe.

God believes in us, that is so perfectly true. Our belief in Him, however, is tested each day. It’s because we are only human. God is merciful and kind. He wants us to always come to Him and to think of Him in all we do. I am at peace in believing He has my daughter. He had seen her pain, how she was not in her right mind when she took her life, and wrapped her in His warm embrace. I know this because I’ve felt it. I know it because I feel Allie is content, happy and at peace. I know it. I believe.