Numbers, Psychics, and Mediums, Oh My

I was hesitant to blog about this. The idea of spirits communicating through mediums is quite polarizing. There are those that believe without a doubt that there is an afterlife and that their loved ones send signs and are able to communicate through mediums. There are those that believe in the afterlife but don’t believe spirits communicate through mediums. And others that believe without a doubt that once we die, that is it. The signs we see are coincidences, nothing more. And that mediums are scammers, just excellent at reading body language. There are also those that fall in the middle, like me, not quite sure what to believe. Before Ariella died I never thought an afterlife was possible. But a grieving parent will look for any hope that they will see their child again. And the hope that their child was not cheated. That though their life here on Earth was short, that wasn’t it for them. They still get to “live”, just not in the same way (though they are cheated, there are so many earthly experiences they miss out on). After Ariella died I remained skeptical but was more open to the possibility that she was communicating by sending signs. Large, bright colored butterflies were in abundance this summer. Would they have been there anyway? I don’t ever remember seeing so many noticeable butterflies. Are the rainbows really sent by her? I definitely have never before seen so many rainbows as I have since May. The things I have mentioned in my previous posts, even those that seemed outlandish (purple elephant, blue lizard); signs, or coincidences? The deer that just hangs out nearby, that doesn’t run away when we approach. A sign? Or just a deer that has finally gotten used to being around people. Now if the deer was a unicorn, that would be definite sign. I have received every sign I have asked for but I don’t know that I will ever be fully convinced.

But then I went to see a medium. It was booked for Friday the 13, also the night of a full moon. Definite sign. Ariella loved the spooky, the creepy. She most certainly would have chosen the spookiest day of the year. If Ariella was going to show up, it was going to be that night. A friend of mine took me and she sat in the session as an observer. She did her research and chose someone highly recommended. I did not book the appointment so the medium truly knew nothing about me, not even my name. She did not know why I was there.

She started with numerology and a life path card reading. I won’t go into details as this was not the reason for the visit but I will say the numbers and cards were accurate to me. Something that did stand out was my role as a caregiver and she emphasized that this is the year that I need to take care of myself and put my own needs first. Remember, she knew nothing about why I was there.

Then the spirits supposedly arrived. She warned us ahead of time that often others, like grandparents, will come through to say hi, even if that’s not who we are there to speak with and even if we never knew them in life. I will admit, initially it did feel like she was fishing. According to the medium, David’s relatives were coming through (they wanted to say hi to the one who is really into music, which does describe David) but really I couldn’t verify any of it. So who knows? There are some things that can be verified but I haven’t bothered to go beyond David to try. I wasn’t there to hear from them and I would know soon if it was all really a scam. They did say happy anniversary to us. Our anniversary was just 4 days prior to this reading.

Next it was my relatives coming through. I still felt like there was fishing and guessing/correction going on, though she did get some things correct about my grandparents that would have been very random guesses. And again several things I couldn’t verify because I just don’t know. I wrote it all down though and may try to verify with my family. Though she got some things right I wasn’t impressed, and of course by this point I’m getting frustrated because I haven’t heard from the only person I cared to hear from (well also my dad, will get to that later) and I’m thinking my friend just wasted her money.

The next person to come through was a female who loved games and puzzles. The medium asked if that meant anything to me. I told her it did and she asked who, but I would not tell her. Ariella needed to come through on her own. I was not going to help the medium along. She stuck with the games and said this person really liked her games (we had game night every week) and she got the sense she died recently, less than a year ago, and that she was someone younger. So yes, she could have guessed age and whatnot based on who we already talked about, but the game thing? The medium realized Ariella was my daughter and asked if she had a lung problem (her cause of death). She said she saw Ariella playing with something stringy which makes complete sense to me. Ariella loved silly string, spraying her doctors, friends, and even her teacher with it any chance she got. In fact one of her last pranks was in the hospital with the silly string. The medium said she had a horse over there, or maybe it was a unicorn. That unicorns were very important to her. Ok, yes, horses and unicorns are popular with young girls. So maybe a good guess. But my friend pointed out that just a couple days earlier David had shared a memory of him and Ariella walking through the hospital with unicorn horns on. People wore unicorn horns to her funeral. They were a big deal to her. She knew I put a unicorn in her room.

This next thing though, is what got me. According to the medium, in Ariella’s words, she is honored about all the money that has been raised in her honor to help others in similar situations. That she knows it is difficult for us to continue to do it but she is happy we are because it helps others and that is what we are here to do. When I talk to Ariella, I have told her many times how hard it is to continue with Ari’s Bears without her. The medium completely got Ariella’s giving nature, that she cared more about helping others.

Some other things that also made total sense. She mentioned moving furniture. We redid Ariella’s room when she was in the hospital. Furniture was moved out and back in, slightly rearranged and her room was painted. She knew about her fingerprint that I wear as a necklace along with the necklace she bought me. She knew I got rid of a lot of her things but kept her wig and 2 pairs of her shoes. She sent a lightning bolt which also made perfect sense to me given Ariella’s love of Harry Potter. In fact her plan was to be Harry Potter for Halloween this year (she loved Halloween and planned her costumes way in advance, last year she was Hermione). And her love of swimming came through.

It gets more surreal though. We were wrapping up, Ariella had left, the spirits were supposedly gone, and we were talking about a prediction for a question I asked (will let you know later if it comes true ) when all of a sudden the medium asked if I am connected to a male that loves sports, especially baseball and football. And there was my dad. He emphasized that he is a big baseball fan, (a big part of my childhood was going to games with him) and is also a football fan. He said to tell me that he is here and that Ariella is with him. This was crazy to me. I was a little salty that I didn’t have more time with him but then it hit me that earlier that day I talked to both Ariella and my father, asking them to meet me. I told my dad though that while I would love for him to say hi, I wanted to spend most of the time with Ariella. And he listened. He hung back (let all the other crazy relatives through, lol) and when he realized it was ending jumped in to make sure I knew he was there. That right there was just insane to me. Our time was up, the medium was shutting it down and in comes my dad described to a t.

All this to say, it seemed pretty real. Well some of it. I would try again, but maybe with a different medium. The things that she got right, she got right. A lot of it was quite accurate and things she would have no way of knowing. A lot I couldn’t verify but I will be interested to see if any of the stuff with the other relatives does pan out.

I imagine there are plenty that believe, and plenty that think I am delusional. That I am a sucker, willing to believe anything. Which is why I wasn’t so sure I would share about it. But I ultimately decided to share this because this is life after child loss. This is my life after child loss. This is me, trying to get by, trying to find some, any comfort. This is a common road grieving parents take. Bereaved parents are in the majority of those who seek the services of a medium. In fact, a retreat we were considering attending offers the services of a medium as part of their programming for those who wish to partake. Is it real? Is it all a big hoax? Does it really matter if it brings some comfort and peace to the grieving parent. Ok, it does matter a little because they are plenty of scammers out there preying on the vulnerable. Maybe all mediums are scammers. I don’t think so. But I would approach searching for a medium the same way you find any service. Do your research, read reviews, and find someone certified (yes you can be certified to be a medium, who knew?). Stay anonymous so they can’t research you prior to the visit. Give nothing away during your reading, and keep an open mind.

Back to Work

First I just want to express my appreciation for all the kind messages and well wishes I received this week. I do appreciate the messages, even if I don’t respond. It’s hard to respond to those because I never used to be a person who needed taking care of. I don’t necessarily like being taken care of, even if it’s something I may need. I don’t like being the person that needs taking care of. I just want to be me. Nothing special, no extra attention. But on the other hand, the attention reminds me that I have all the support I could want.

Being back at work just outright sucks. I hate it. I work in multiple schools so there is plenty of staff in each school that I only know by sight. They know nothing else about me. The first person I saw when I walked into work on Tuesday was a teacher I just know from passing in the halls. She asked me if I had a great summer. What the fuck do I say to that? Do I say “my daughter died sooo…”? Do I lie and say it was great? I just said it was okay. And this is my issue with working. Some people know, some don’t but that doesn’t even matter. What matters is that I have to compartmentalize my life now. I have to go to a job every day and act like everything is okay. Act like I am anything but the shattered, broken shell of my former self. I have to participate in life and it is fucking exhausting. And it is painful.

Being privy to others’ conversations is just as difficult. Many talk about their kids, what they are doing, etc. I can’t join in those conversations unless I want to be a complete downer. Conversations not about kids don’t appeal to me either. It all seems so trivial and petty and I just can’t bring myself to give a shit. But those who don’t know my situation may just think I’m unfriendly.

Being back at work feels to me like I am “moving on”, living life, doing normal every day things. It feels so unimportant and meaningless to me. My daughter died. How can I care about anything else? How can I switch my focus from what’s most important to me? I can’t. All day at work running through my mind is “My daughter is dead. None of this matters.” There is nothing more important than Ariella and yet the world keeps spinning, the pages of the calendar keep turning, and life goes on. But I don’t want it to. I am not ready for life to go on. I don’t feel right doing these everyday, normal things and all I want to do is be at home, in my safe place, hiding from the world.

I cry everyday, multiple times a day. I never know when it will hit me. The tsunamis of grief come when they want. I can’t schedule them to drown me at my convenience. It takes all my energy to not allow them to overcome me at an inopportune time. What’s going to happen when the students return next week? Some of them know I have a daughter. They didn’t know she was sick or in the hospital but what happens if they ask about her or mention her? I need to be able to hold back the tears when I am with the kids. I just don’t know that I can do it.

I have found many things bereaved parents have in common but I think there is a split when it comes to work. Some, like David, have found work to be helpful. They welcome the distraction. They are relieved to be kept busy, so they can push the grief aside. I am the complete opposite. I am not distracted and all I am doing is counting the minutes until I can go home. The grief keeps asking me “Why are you doing this? What is the point?” And the truth is while I used to love my job I am only working now because I have to. Because I don’t see the point. Nothing else matters to me except that I had a daughter and she died.

Coming home from work is no easy feat either. There is no one to pick up from school on the way home. There is no rushing around trying to get to dance or get homework done and dinner on the table. There are hours to fill after work. And yes, without work I would have more hours of the day to kill but what is hard is the transition of coming home to that empty house without our regular after work and evening routine.

I really don’t want to do this. Before going back to work I was surviving. I don’t know how I am going to survive this. Life just feels that much more stressful and overwhelming. And all I want to do is cocoon myself in a blanket to never emerge.

Iced Chai Latte

I can’t. I just can’t anymore. I just wanted a fucking iced chai latte and that was too hard. Trying not to cry all day long but every fucking thing is a reminder. Drove someone to an appointment at the hospital where Ariella was born. The best day of my life. Never in a million years would I have imagined that less than 12 years from that day she would no longer be here. She was perfect and healthy at birth, even though she was born by c-section. She was rarely sick and I couldn’t imagine that I would only get to be a mom for 11 1/2 years. And don’t tell me I will always be her mom. It’s not the fucking same. I don’t get to see her grow up. I don’t get to teach her to drive. I don’t get to hear about boys and take her shopping for a prom dress. I don’t get to send her off to college and help her plan a wedding. I don’t get to brush her hair and tuck her in at night. I don’t get to hug and kiss her. I don’t get to cook her dinner, pack her lunches, share sushi with her, watch her dance. I don’t get to read to her, read the stories she wrote, receive the cards she always made. I don’t get to help her with her homework, take her to musicals, take her on vacation. I don’t get to see how she would have turned out. I don’t get to see the amazing adult she would have become. I don’t get to continue the amazing mother-daughter relationship we had. I don’t get to have grandchildren. I don’t get to just be with her, every day. I lost everything. I am missing out on everything. And I feel guilty about it because I should be sad for her, for her life being cut so short but I am sad for me, for all I’ve lost and all I will never have. And yet I am wasting this life I have. Maybe I should try to enjoy life, go on living because she can’t. It seems wrong to not “live” when all she wanted to do was live. But it also seems wrong to live when she can’t. When she deserved it. Why should I get to live when she can’t?

The second appointment of the day was at an imaging center. The same center where Ariella had her follow up x-rays. I will never forget the anxiety walking into that place. My heart pounding, adrenaline pumping. Literally shaking. And that feeling would linger until we got the results. It was an x-ray done at this place that showed her relapse. While waiting there I tried to distract myself. I read and watched a show on my phone. But my thoughts always went back to all the times I was there with Ariella. And the tears would start.

It had been an especially rough few days. I just wanted my iced chai before heading home after a long day. In the parking lot. A Baltimore Symphony Orchestra bumper sticker. Reminded me of watching the BSO perform Peter and the Wolf at Hopkins when Ariella was there for her BMT. She was feeling so good. I just don’t understand what fucking happened. And I just want to go back and change the variable that made everything go to shit. Remembering the good times, remembering the bad, makes no difference. It all leads to my child dying. Sometimes remembering the good is harder because it only reminds me that this never should have happened. Cancer didn’t kill her. It was a perfect fucking storm of everything that could go wrong with the treatment. So the good times, even in the hospital because there were some, just serve to show how naive our optimism was. How we should never have done the transplant. Because that transplant took the life of the girl in the hospital who was just days prior dancing in the hallways, silly stringing her teacher in her hospital room and pranking her nurse with a scary clown mask. She wasn’t sick. She didn’t look sick. She didn’t act sick. But still she died. It’s not fucking fair.

All of that from a bumper sticker. But I wanted my chai and after navigating probably the world’s most awful parking lot I couldn’t leave empty handed. So I composed myself and went in to get my drink . But right there in front of me in line, a girl about Ariella’s age, with her mother. They were joking with each other. Laughing. Ariella could always make me laugh. Even when I was angry with her. Sometimes I had to hide my laughing because she did or said something she shouldn’t have that I found funny. Sometimes her tantrums (and yes, even at 11 she had tantrums, she wasn’t perfect) were so over the top I couldn’t help but laugh, even though that set her off even more. But she was funny and silly. She made weird and funny faces. A few days after she had her trach placed I was having her make funny faces with me. She made up songs that made no sense and if you told her she was weird she said “thank you.” I miss laughing with her. I miss the sound of her laughter. It was contagious. I have laughed since Ariella died but it doesn’t sound the same to me and it doesn’t feel the same. Many times I’m laughing at something I wish I could share with Ariella because she would also find it funny. My laughter feels hollow now. It’s tinged with sadness. It’s not as loud, not as strong, fades as quickly as it started.

I made it through the line though my eyes were tearing up. While waiting for my drink I decided to check my phone. I wanted to check in on the writing group I’m doing which is on Facebook. I opened the app and had some notifications and I made the mistake of looking at them. One was a beautiful post by the mom of another girl with Ewing’s sharing Ariella’s page and website. I loved that she shared it but I wasn’t expecting to see it and it made me cry. Another had shared a picture of Ariella and her cousins 3 years ago, before it all went to hell. And at the top of my newsfeed was a post with pictures of the Dancers Against Cancers hope stories who are now angels. Just one year ago we were in LA with Dancers Against Cancer (fabulous organization by the way, check them out) for the Industry Dance Awards. Ariella met and bonded with other hope stories and was reunited with friends met that previous April. I never dreamed just a year later she would be there again, but this time in a remembrance video.

I make it home, finally. To this.

Just one more in your face reminder. Fuck you Amazon. Kind of ironic though because Amazon has been my lifesaver. If I need something but am not up for going somewhere, I don’t have to. And you can see from this post why I don’t want to go anywhere.

I just can’t do it. I can’t go on without her. We had so many plans. So many things we wanted to do. It’s not fair that I get to go on living when she doesn’t. I don’t want to go on living. Why couldn’t it have been me? She had her whole life to live. She had so much good to do in the world. She was only just getting started.

There is nothing good that will come from this. There is no lesson to be learned from my grief. Anything I may have needed to learn or do did not require my child to die. At the end of each day I feel like “Yay, I made it.” But for what? What am I making it for? I just have to wake up and do it again. Day after day after day. Just going through the motions. Not enjoying it. Suffering from pain and heartache most of the day. Who wants to live a life in pain and yearning for the one person you can’t have? It just seems so daunting, so hopeless. I don’t know how to continue.