Sunday, April 18, 2010

Whom ever said "time heals", lied.

It’s been 55 days, a total of 1,650mg of Paxil digested, the purchase of 6 (yes six) books on the afterlife, a visit with a vivacious medium, over a dozen public breakdowns, numerous avoided telephone calls, 138 sympathy cards, at least a case of tissues, numerous days of continuous sleep countered by numerous days of no sleep at all before I could even think about writing the words…

Dear Lois,”

And when I finally see them on the screen, I find myself reaching for anything in the vicinity of the couch to wipe my eyes with because the emotion that is now flowing from behind my sockets have caused the words to blur before me.

I haven’t wanted to update this blog because then it would become real… and not just a horrible nightmare that I can’t seem to wake from. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve reached for the phone to call Mazha and then realized she’s no longer here. And yet, I can’t bear to delete her phone number from my wireless phone. I’ve tried to put on this façade of strength, but inside I’m nothing but weak. I have mounds of “Thank Yous” that need to be sent out, but again… if I start writing them, it makes this real. So the cards lay upstairs on a table, with everything else I brought back from Texas. Even today, 55 days later, I was on the phone and was asked how I was doing and I couldn’t catch my breath because it’s such a blow. I had to quickly end the conversation and then sat in my car in front of the mailbox unable to hold my tears back.

And while I have so many thoughts running through my head right now of what to type, I’m realizing I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m finding it hard to breath, and equally hard to swallow. Since I’ve started writing this tonight, it has taken me over an hour just to type this much. 330 words.

I will though answer the question I have received from many… “What happened with Lois?”

Well, I smuggled her across state lines and she’s spent nearly every night wrapped around me. She needs to be ‘fixed’. In the south you can find quilt shops everywhere that sell new creative works, as well a able to stitch-up quilts that have gotten a little torn and tattered… I can’t seem to find anything similar in NJ. You see, the morning of funeral, I cut a small panel of Lois… the quilt that gave me so much comfort in my own time of need, and placed it in the coffin with Mazha. For the weeks leading to Mazha’s death, Lois kept me comfort, fought my fears, and gave me warmth. I thought it was fitting that a piece of her be placed with Mazha to give her her own sense of comfort and to ease her fears. I know that she'll be up to the challenge.


Sephysmomma said...

I know you do not know me. I know how you are feeling right now, my grandmother passed away in may of last year. It has almost been a year. She was my rock. More of a mother to me than you could imagine. The day she died a piece of me died with her. I don't think that time will heal anything. I think that we just want to say that because people think it brings comfort. I still cry at least once a week if not more. I wish that I could bring her back. I wish they didn't have to die. I hope that soon it won't be so hard on you. It is okay to cry and have moments and put the thank you notes on the back burner.
I wish that I could hug you and help you through this. Just hold on to that sweet baby girl. She will be your strength to get through this all. Big Hugs to you.

Minnie said...

Just sending good thoughts and prayers your way.

Anonymous said...

You don't know me- but I feel like I know you from reading your entire blog. My heart is so sad for you and your entire family. Just take one day at a time-there will be great days and there will be very difficult days-but she will be in your thoughts and heart everyday. Please know that you are in many peoples thoughts- even in the thoughts of people that you have never met.

Steph said...

Another person you don't know...but I had to share my experiences. We lost my husband's father 10 years ago when my oldest son was just 3 months old. We still miss him but the terrible pain is gone. We have so many good memories and tell our boys many stories about their grandfather. Be sure to tell Kensington stories about your mom and keep her alive in your heart. My father-in-law still shows himself to us in funny ways. He's the best guardian angel my children will ever have.

Alicia aka MyBusyMind said...

Blog hopping. big hugs to you and your family. I know you have heard it all read it all. Just know that we are all hoping and praying for your strength through this time.

Blessings. Mazha sounds like my kind of girl I LOVE motorcycles.

My Best

Brent said...

In death focus on life. You have a beautiful daughter. We are a gay couple in Dallas too and just found out we will be adopting a boy in month. You are the first strangers I told that to, so consider yourself lucky. Be happy, she would want to see you that way.

Courtney said...

Thanks for your comment on the blog I set up for my Mom ( It is funny, I have a personal blog now and I wrote a very similar entry. Yes, time is NOT a healer:

As you read on the blog, I lost Mom to ALS too. It is so hard and I am so terribly saddened for you. I know the pain all too well. Take good care and thank you for sharing your story. It really does help others!