Tuesday, February 4, 2014

The Game Nobody Wants to Play...

For awhile now my mind has been playing a game with me that I cannot make stop.  It started in September:

"Last year at this time we knew something was wrong"

In October:

"Last year at this time she had to stop keeping Henry and mom and dad started staying with her all the time"

In December:

"Last year on this day we found out there was nothing more we could do."

They have been coming on ever more frequently as we get closer and closer to February 8th.

"Last year on this day she stayed the night with us and we talked and laughed."

"Last year on this day I told work I would be taking long lunches everyday to have more time with her"

And then this weekend.

"Last year on this day we watched our last movie together."

"Last year on this day we had dinner together for the last time."

"Last year on this night it was so scary.  We knew everything was changing."

And then this morning.

"Last year on this day we took her to the hospital, not knowing she wouldn't come home again"

And I am already going over again and again in my head how the mind game will play out over this coming week.

"... when we realized she wouldn't wake up"

"...when loved ones said goodbye"

"...saying goodbye."

I don't talk about those last weeks in detail often... or ever.  But I relive them often.   Playing them over in my head, wishing I could focus on the good memories, but instead having my mind decide to relive the heartbreaking ones more often than I would ever choose.  That balance of good vs. heartbreaking has gotten better as the year has moved forward, but now as we approach the first anniversary of the loss of our sweet Missy I feel like I am transported back in time, and my mind will not let me ignore the anniversaries of these memories.  I am constantly bombarded with the loss, and I cannot decide if the pressure in my chest is from the anxiety surrounding these days or if it's just my heart breaking again and again.  Because in a lot of ways reliving these days is worse than living them the first time.  Then we were numb, in shock.  Now, we know what this all means.  Now we know how it ends, when it ends, so we are looking back with more clarity than we had in the moment.  And it is utterly heartbreaking.

Sweet Missy



  1. I'll be holding space for you as you wade through the memories and grief this week. Love to you and your family.

  2. Oh Sarah, my heart is breaking for you so much right now! I think it is always hard when it comes around to the time of year something awful happened. Though on a completely different level, I now always dread the winter months as when I look out my bedroom window it takes me right back to staring out of it the weeks I spent lying in bed trying so hard not to be sick when pregnant and worrying needlessly. It's like the time of year is so deeply imprinted in your memory that you went through something truly traumatic, that you cannot help but flashback to those moments and memories when something triggers it. I do so hope that doesn't sound like I am comparing your grief to my experience, I just mean that my heart is breaking for you as I know those triggers must be everywhere for you right now!

    I am thinking of you and sending you so much love xxx

  3. I know, I know. My close friend's son was murdered in Feb a few years ago and she says when the snow starts falling in Michigan, she starts getting more and more anxious with the bad memories.

    XXX big hugs

  4. Sending hugs......

  5. *hugs* I'm so sorry for your loss.
    I have these same sort of thoughts and conversations in my head regarding my mom and the "lasts" I had with her or the "never" going to happen again or at all. It's so hard to lose someone you love.

  6. My middle sister (I'm the oldest of us 3 sisters) passed away just 3.5 months ago from leukemia... she fought for 6 months but it was just too aggressive. I feel for you so much, and I'm glad to know that as time passes the good memories start to win. For now, I am reliving the last week a lot, her last stint in the hospital (we knew her chance was over for only 10 days before her death)...
    Sometimes I feel OK because I am swamped with looking after my 2 little girls, and I worry that I'm over it. And then other times, it just seems like my heart cannot break hard enough. I'm scared to write down all the memories I have of her illness and death, because I'm afraid of remembering them, but I can't stop thinking about them in case I forget.
    Anyway just wanted to say-- thanks for sharing. x