Everything is just so hard. I can’t even get my thoughts out right now. Maybe it’s the silence, though I have the TV on constantly for the noise. But that’s the wrong kind of noise. It still seems so quiet. I can’t escape my thoughts, running through my mind in a constant loop. The images change but they are all of Ariella, who she was, her life before and after cancer, the hospital, what might have been. Anytime it hits me that she’s gone forever I panic, I can’t catch my breath, I start shaking. This just can’t be, and yet it is and I have no choice but to live with it.
Ariella of course was our world but she is my world more now than ever. Before she ended up in the ICU, even after she had been diagnosed with cancer I was able to think about things besides her throughout the day. She didn’t consume my thoughts and emotions. Maybe as a baby but I also had my own life to think about, separate from her. Now I feel so intertwined because of her absence. Every single thing makes me think of her, whether it’s something she would like, something we did, or something she never got to do, anything, makes me feel her absence. Even mundane daily chores. One of her chores was to set and clear the table. I think of that every time we have a meal. Cooking. I can count on one hand the number of times I have cooked dinner since Ariella died (actually since mid-February when she went into the hospital) and cooking for 2 is not so different than cooking for 3 except that I don’t have Ariella asking “what’s for dinner?” and I don’t hear her complaining about homework or grumbling about setting the table while I’m cooking. So it is completely different. It’s like that with everything I do.
I’m having a hard time getting out my thoughts today. I’m having trouble concentrating. The emptiness, the silence, the stillness, her absence is ever present and it’s stifling.
Thank you for sharing this. I didn’t know you were blogging. Hang in there momma. You two lean on each other and when you’re ready try to celebrate Ariella. She was so full of fun! She would want you two to celebrate her awesomeness! Always praying for your strength. Be kind to yourself and each other.
You are in the midst of a deep grief. Everything is intense and painful. I’ve been there. Be kind to yourself, very gentle, and don’t let anyone tell you how your personal grief should unfold.
Someone gave me a blank journal during this time that had starter questions and I began to answer them and memories came flooding back. It was painful, purgative, and made me realize I would never, ever lose her because I was carrying her life on this earth in my very being. So, a journal of memories. Just a suggestion. Do what is right for you.
I am truly sorry for your loss.
Be strong. We’re all here for you.
Erica,
I won’t try to give you any advice, as I really can’t imagine the depth of your despair right now. I’ve had some feelings similar to those you’ve shared on your blog so far, but surely which pale in comparison to yours in degree.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I do appreciate you continuing to post memories on FB. I hope it helps to know that many people think of you, David and Ariella daily.
One of my son’s high school track teammates died at the age of 22 from a rare form of cancer. That was 12 years ago. Daily I look at her memorial card to keep her in my thoughts, and as a another reminded of how quickly life can change.
Hi Erica
My husband and I just want you to know how deeply sorry we are for your families loss. We lost our daughter in a different way. I just read your blog and while the situations are totally different, grief is grief.
I don’t know you but I do think talking to people that can understand due to their own experience is a bond that is hard to find.
I will continue to read your blogs. I am going to send you a private message. If and when you are up to company or talking I would love to be part of your support system.
Love
Kim and Barry Gottesman
Thank you. I’m sorry for the loss of your daughter.