I’m still here

I’m still here. Still angry as I was the days after just losing you Ella. I’m still here, staring out the window and glimpsing the little necklace with two pieces…one is with me, one is buried with you. I’m still here crying at the little, big, and unfulfilled thoughts of you. I miss us. I miss carrying you in me. I miss dreaming of the future you were going to have. I miss the old me so very much.

I find myself in a new town. Emotionally I’m a new resident here…and even though you died in 2012, it still feels like yesterday. The clock for me really stopped that year, and every year since I grudgingly accept with mild denial. So many unspoken thoughts, only heard, responded to and kept by myself and by my God. So many quiet questions. So many hidden hurts. So many.

There has been change and joy too. But that is not where I am right now. Right now I feel angry again…angry that I’m angry, and angry you are not here. I also feel so very alone. This burden of carrying your unlived life with me is so lonesome. I often feel I am the only one thinking of you in the whole wide world…and how that should seem special…but it doesn’t. I am resentful in my loss. Why did it have to be me? Why did it have to be anybody? Really having you leave us, leave me– very specifically, has separated me. I have never felt so misunderstood…and really UNKNOWN as I do now. You and I both know I would NEVER want to be able to relate to someone else’s death of a child…so there is a complicated thing. No one in my family or close friends has dealt with the death of a child…that really puts a wall in between all of my vital friendships, and connections. No one understands, I wish they did, but I would never want them to. Paradox. Honestly, it’s the smallest most mundane things that make me miss you. For some reason, folding laundry always makes me think of you…I have no idea why, but it makes me sad. Sometimes I want to just throw it all away. When your sister Rowin is asleep I always do a double take…she looks like you to me, and then I fear I’ve lost her too and I’m glimpsing death again. Nothing is certain to me. Only my love, and then the fear that tries to rob me of my love.

I drove past the cemetery today and I slowed down, tried to glimpse your plot–and I wondered if anyone had been there. No, probably not I thought. I never got to celebrate your last birthday with lanterns…it was too windy, then your sister was born the day after your birthday–which for some reason I feel you know already. Then your dad and I were going to celebrate you on your due date, but your cousin Hattie came on that day. Another girl. All my sisters and I have had girls first…but most people have to really try to remember why this is true for me. That’s impossibly hard. There is a very big vortex like hole you left–but it’s very quiet and I feel I’m the only one most times who feels the crushing of the weight and walls.

Whats kind of crazy for me is that I vividly remember everything about you, your birth and life…and the anger, depression, and darkness that followed. I remember the darkest days, moments, thoughts and triggers. I don’t feel the same way I did back then, but when I remember those days, and times I feel the pain all over again. I wonder if I will ever forget? I don’t think you can forget pain like that. Pain like this. It’s all still here underneath my skin–existing at varying depths. Sometimes right on the surface, sometimes buried deep in the ribs of my heart. I coexist with myself. The memory of who I used to be, the me that knew you, and the me that I am becoming because of you. Feels a little crazy.

In a way I’m really thankful for this deep mourning I’ve been feeling for the last few months…it makes me feel still so connected to you Ella. Because I haven’t cried or felt this profound sadness in awhile…and it feels good to feel it again, even though it is lonely and really hurts. Even though you have a sister, our family will never be complete here. We all miss you Ella, and I know in my head I will see you so soon, like the blink of an eye…but this heart does not understand eternity yet. I wanted to post some pictures from your funeral…I see the love on every ones faces…and I needed to see their tears again as I cry and carry my own alone now.

© Dan Stewart Photography© Dan Stewart Photography

© Dan Stewart Photography

© Dan Stewart Photography

© Dan Stewart Photography© Dan Stewart Photography© Dan Stewart Photography© Dan Stewart Photography






4 thoughts on “I’m still here

  1. I am so sorry for your loss. Your blog is beautiful, I find myself relating to every word here and for that I am grateful to not feel so alone in his hand we have been dealt. If it is alright, I would like to mention your blog on my page as well.

  2. I haven’t looked here for awhile but for some reason felt the pull today and see this new post expressing my thoughts again. I hate that another person has to have those feelings but it is comforting to read your beautiful words.

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