I wanted to make a nice, thoughtful post for Fane's birthday yesterday. I really did. And I tried to. I sat here in front of the computer for at least an hour last night just staring at the screen. But nothing came. I used to be really good at this sort of thing. I was the kid who got perfect scores on essay tests and A+'s on book reports and term papers. Putting words on paper in a not only coherent but eloquent fashion was something that had always come easily to me. By the end of last night, however, I had nothing left. I couldn't get past the fog that clouded my mind. I was just done, worn. So I finally gave up and went to bed.
Fun fact about being a grieving parent: it's a lifelong commitment. Many people mistakenly assume it's something that can be beaten. Now, I don't presume to be an authority on the subject so I won't speak in absolutes. I acknowledge that there could be those that do just "get over" it. Whatever that means. For the vast majority, though, it's an ongoing thing. In the same way an alcoholic is considered to always be recovering as opposed to recovered, a grieving parent will likely always be grieving. True, the initial pain fades to an extent. It isn't always as raw as it is in those first dark days following the loss. The cut can heal if you let it but the scar is always there.
The grief never goes away completely. It ebbs and flows. It rears its ugly head at expected times. Like birthdays and anniversaries, special milestones of surviving children, etc. I was at my daughter's 4K graduation a couple weeks ago. As I watched her up on the risers singing her songs with her classmates it hit me that Fane never got to do that. It stung like a slap in the face. And I struggled to put the thought from my mind so I could be happy for and proud of her. Moments like that can be difficult.
Other times the waves are completely unannounced. I could be strolling through a store and something random will trigger a memory. A smell or a song. Or it comes simply becsuse it's Tuesday. I mean, why not just any random Tuesday? Or any day? Or I'll see a little boy who reminds me of him. I was at an event last summer where there was a boy who was probably about the same age Fane would have been. He looked pretty much the exact way I imagined Fane in age progression. I watched him interact with his mom and siblings. And I entertained all of the "what if" thoughts that I usually save for times of solitude.
The truth is that I'm different now. I have been since the day Fane left. They say that losing a child is similar to losing a limb. Your life goes on but you are different. You learn to live without your child/limb but you are never the same. You are never whole again. Such has been the case for me. I've been missing a part of me since the accident. So I'm quiet occasionally. I'm irritable sometimes. Listless, moody, weepy, tired, emotional...the list continues. I like to think that I do a pretty good job of compartmentalizing and keeping it all in check. But there are times when it gets the better of me. This usually happens when I'm around those who are closest to me and I relax enough to just be myself. There are more rare occasions when I'm just so worn down that I'm too tired to try or even care to conceal it. And that's when the fog descends.
The last month or so has probably been the foggiest since the initial period following the accident. It can't solely be attributed to my grief. There have been other factors. The grief itself can be exhausting to manage, especially when it's reaching an overwhelming status. The days leading up to Fane's birthday are often difficult. Perhaps more difficult than his actual birthday in some ways. It's periods like that when the stresses of everyday life end up tipping me into the fog.
I have five surviving children that I try my best to be there for. It's taxing both mentally and emotionally. They're all young and are learning how to get along and control emotions and follow directions. There's potty training and nightmares and missing sippy cups or blankets. Daddy works long hours now that summer is upon us and there doesn't always seem to be enough Mama to go around. And then there's the housework which is never ending. I'm admittedly not gifted in this arena to begin with. So that's always a challenge in itself. Last but surely not least there's the aforementioned Daddy who deserves and needs my time as well. But by the time he's home and the kids are in bed I'm simply depleted.
And it's discouraging to hear both firsthand and through the grapevine that I'm just not measuring up. I have one person suggesting that perhaps my kids are neglected while another tells me that I pay them too much attention. Whatever progress I make is seemingly overshadowed by the depth of the hole I'm trying to climb out of. I'm trying to discern the line between being fair and balanced and being a doormat. I don't mean to be throwing myself a pity party and by no means am I looking for sympathy here. A little more understanding and little less judgement would be great, though.
Like last weekend at the Family Festival. I had taken all five kids by myself and was juggling them as we went from table to table. There was a woman who came up to me and said, "You do such a good job with them." And I just wanted to hug her. After feeling like so many people were telling my what a crummy job I was doing, this stranger totally made my day. It's refreshing to be recognized for my work. Not that recognition is a necessity for a job well done. I don't really expect it. I don't need a badge for doing my "job." But it sure does go a long way in the encouragement department.
I digress, though. The whole point of this long winded epistle was transparency. This was for the people who ask how I'm doing and really want an honest answer. The people who get my reply of fine/good/etc and think, "No, really, how are you doing?" I know there's a few of you out there. This was also for the people who have seen me lately and have thought there's something different about me. Newsflash: I've been different for the past 3 1/2 years. Last I checked Fane was still gone. If you're just now seeing signs of a new me...well, I don't really know what to say. It's been a rough month and behind the back comments really do nothing to help my situation. No, I'm not depressed. Yes, I'm taking good care of my kids. No, my faith is not being shaken. Yes, I know very well where he is, please don't patronize me with a reminder. No, I'm not always okay. Yes, I will be okay again. Like I said, grief ebbs and flows. The accompanying emotions ebb and flow.
Thank you for caring. I don't mean to be cavalier or rude about accepting your concern. I appreciate it. I really do. I know I'm loved and I'm thankful. If you're trying to fix me I just want you to stop. I'm not going to be the pre-accident Haylee again. I can't be fixed. At least not by a person. If you're trying to pull me out of a "funk" I want you to stop. There are times when I just need to be sad and let it pass. I'll be fine soon enough. Even if I'm not at the moment. Tomorrow is a new day.
