Tag Archives: crying

Why is your name on a tombstone?

08 Tuesday Apr 2014

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Yesterday was the first time I saw a picture of David’s name on his tombstone. It was in the ground above his final resting place. And yesterday was the first time I really lost it crying, an uncontrollable and violent cry, a screaming and wailing cry.  I cried until it hurt and I still could not stop, even when I finally stopped, the tears were still streaming down my face.

I was MAD. Mad because the world seems so unfair, mad at the disease, mad that we did not get a MIRACLE, mad at the  lack of progress in cancer research in making better progress at preventing or curing cancer, a disease that has devasted so many lives.

The picture with David’s name on a tombstone struck a cord so deep. The grass had not fully covered the area, making it clear that it was dug out, David’s body was laid there and the dirty was placed back over. It made the death of David real, it is real, David is gone, his full name is on a tombstone with an end date.

I was MAD, I am MAD. How can you David be lying below ground buried? How can your name be on a tombstone?  This should not have been our destiny yet. It was cut too short, it is OVER, you are never walking through the doors again. Why was our story cut so short? You had the zeal and energy for life, you wanted to live, you needed to live, I needed you to live. We all did.

This is the hardest I have cried because it is confirmation that even though I want to feel that you are home, you are not, you are gone. The picture of the tombstone confirms it.  As my Sister helped console me, I finally remembered that it was Monday and Mondays always seem to be my worse days and through my tears I was able to joke about the fact.

My evening ended putting the girls in bed, they were so full of energy and so happy to see me. They reminded me of the joy of life and where my happiness resides as they hugged and kissed me until the fell asleep.

 

Too bad you are not Daddy

11 Tuesday Mar 2014

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As we brought out the pieces of the “Marker maker” one of the additions to the girls collection for art and craft, I looked a bit overwhelming.  My older daughter looked at me and she knew exactly what was on my mind and said “we have to build it, too bad you are not Daddy”. She was right.  There were so many pieces, where do I start? David will have figured it out immediately. Thanks to youtube, I watched a video and voilà we were making makers.

It breaks my heart knowing I can never fill that void for my children. My daughter now attributes most things that upset her to the absence of her Dad.  She cries every night, she is sensitive about most things, runs to her room at the smallest things and cries passionately for Daddy, she says she wants her old life back, I do too.

Good days, bad days

06 Thursday Mar 2014

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There is no logic to predicting which days will be bad or good for me. Some mornings, I wake up just knowing it is a crappy day. However, most days, I wake up with no clue how the day will turn out.

Yesterday, I woke up indifferent, got ready for worked, dropped my daughter at school and when I was less than a minute from work, the uncontrollable tears began. I continued to cry in parking lot then took time to recompose myself.  Once I thought I was ok, I proceeded to the office, suddenly, the tears started streaming down my face. Imagine the horror when I ran into a co-worker…oh no….no one is suppose to see me crying definitely not at work and there I was still crying uncontrollably. Eventually, I made it to my office and finally the tears stop and I proceeded my work day.

Today, was different, it was a better day, in fact I refer to it as a good day. Like yesterday, I woke up indifferent but managed to drive to work without crying, sang along to some songs on the radio, and maintained a decent demeanor for the rest of the day.

What makes some days better than others remains unclear. I wish I knew what sets me off some days and what keeps me calmer on other days. I am just relieved that today was better than yesterday.

How can you be gone?

02 Sunday Mar 2014

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Seriously, how am I suppose to live without you? How can I really live without you? You were everything for me. You balanced me, you were my go to person, bad day – David will fix it, silly question – David will answer it, frustrated – David will bear the brunt of it.

When you went on business trips, we used to joke about how I barely managed to hold things down for a few days without falling apart. Now how am I suppose to hold things together for years, decades?  It has been a month since you have been gone,  it has been horrid. How can I manage for a year?

Seriously, how do I live without you? I do not know how, I have spent ALL my adult life with you. Where do I go now? How do I move on?  How can you be gone forever? NO

This is not fair…..i feel broken. I am broken. I miss you. I need you.

Sad even when happy

01 Saturday Mar 2014

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Yesterday, I took the girls to a play at the local community theatre.  The tickets were purchased a while back.  They were excited about going. Since I have taken them out to other shows or activities in the past year alone, I thought we could manage. The play was very well done, they enjoyed it, singing and dancing along. However, it was not void of the emotions of missing their Daddy. There were moments of sadness even while being happy.

Just before the show started, my younger daughter persistently asked, “Mommy, where is Daddy”. Frustrated she said “I want my Daddy now”, again she asked “Where is my Daddy” pounding lightly on my chest in annoyance. I told her Daddy was not here.  Pointing to the celling, she looked up and said, “Daddy is up in the sky”. She still had a questioning look on her face as she looked around the theater and noticed many other Daddies in the audience. It was clear to me that she was puzzled why these Dads are here and hers is up in the sky.

At intermission, my older daughter also said she missed her Dad. At the end of the show she wanted a souvenir that I did not buy because I told her she already had something similar at home. This was a very big mistake on my part as she cried hysterically in the car. Apparently something happened earlier in school that saddened her and my decision not to buy the doll trigger emotions from her rough day at school and also the loss of her Dad. She was so emotional that she said she is sad everyday since Daddy died. How can it be that my happy princess is sad everyday?

I regret the decision not to buy the doll.  While my goal is not to raise children that are overindulged, moving forward, I am suspending some of life’s little lesson to allow them as much sunshine and happiness because there is nothing left of me, if my children lose their sparkles and happiness.

I wish I could take their grief away and make it mine. I wish I can better prepare them for the series of emotions ahead and to understand that even in happiness the sadness of Daddy’s loss will be present. Beginning next week, we will start attending a grieving program focused on children….I hope this will help.

Cry me a river

08 Saturday Feb 2014

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Gosh I hate crying, I recall someone telling me it is therapeutic to cry.  I am completely unconvinced because the more I cry, the more mental and physical pain I feel.

How can I stop the uncontrollable tears? I recall that after my Dad passed, crying was constant and when I went back to work, I deliberately used mascara and eyeliner to avoid crying. It worked sometimes and other times I ended up looking like a singer from the band “KISS”.