One of the huge struggles in this grief is the ability to explain it. Each time I try, I flounder. For so long I have been saying that if you have not lost a child, you will not understand it. The word 'understand' is the wrong one. So many actually do understand. So maybe it is more in the knowing? You understand grief, but do not know the depth of each persons sorrow.
It was a Morning just like any other
I got up and began a new day
Then I made my way to the Twin Towers
You didn’t know I’d be going away
But, you see I’m still here all around you
Nothing they did could take my sweet love
I was here living life to it’s fullest
The next Moment I was with God Above
I was with you as you got the phone call
Piles
Piles of things I need to do...
Piles of things I need to sort through,
Piles of things I'm collecting for his girls when they are older,
Piles of memories that make me smile and some that make me cry,
Piles of things to toss out of here sooner than never!
Piles with their importance to his lost life,
You always made me smile
As you shared your life with me
And now that you’re in Heaven
I will share your Legacy
I’ll tell them of your loving eyes
And how you made me laugh
They’ll hear my favorite memories
I’ll speak on your behalf
You touched my life in many ways
And now it seems so clear
They say you can't choose your family, you get what you get, something about blood thicker than water. Trust me, that's not true. Yet, I am grateful for the family and friends I have. Calling them friends seems wrong when they are so much more. Some family do not exist for us anymore, and that was their choice as well as our own.
I am 48 years old and a widow. This is not quite how I thought my life would go.
This time last year my baby girl was fighting for her life in HDU. The nurses had been working through the night and were finally preparing her for her journey fifty miles away to the Children’s Hospital.
It's not easy, writing about our loss, it is even harder to share that with so many. We write because in the long run, it helps to get it out of our soul and into the world, a short time of relief. We do not write to tell everyone this is what they will go through, this is what will happen or is happening to them.
My dad died of a heart attack when I was fifteen. I was with him at the time. I was a lifeguard and CPR certified, but I froze. Honestly, it never entered my mind to start chest compressions.
Twenty years later, I was in a counselor’s office because I was having grief-induced panic attacks. Unknowingly, I had felt responsible for my dad’s death all that time.
