In Memory of my daughter
Julie Ann Christiansen
April 8, 1976 - May 29, 2010
Name It
Grief
You come and visit again on days like this.
You know the date well because you always show up on this day. Always.
I know you.
I know your name.
I know all the thoughts and feelings that bring with you when you visit.
Sometimes you enter the door of my heart in bursts.
Yes, Grief, your short, unexpected visits are named ‘Grief bursts.’
Other times you come and visit and stay for days, longer than I would like you to stay.
But let me tell you something, Grief. While I am well acquainted with you and your visits, I have learned something about another visitor that makes you seem like a rather simple emotion.
The name of that other visitor to my life is
Bereavement.
Bereavement is more complex than you are Grief.
Bereavement speaks of the tearing apart that was left in my soul, in my heart, in my body, in my family circle when my dear Julie left me.
Bereavement left me unable to function, to get out of bed, to cook a meal, to pick up one foot and put it in front of the other.
Bereavement left me feeling robbed. Yes, robbed. When I wonder just what my beautiful daughter would like like today on what would have been her forty-third birthday, I feel robbed.
I feel robbed when she isn’t here for family holidays, for special occasions, for memorable event.
I feel robbed when I can’t call her up and hear her voice. When I can’t hear her speak of her take on events, politics, movies, books, family matters, work, life, and love, I feel robbed.
And, more than that, I think of how she was robbed of a life that, “woulda, coulda, shoulda” been her's to live.
My thoughts are with you, Sally...
ReplyDeleteOh Sally, you express your grief and love so eloquently and with such love and passion. I hope that it was not so much painful as healing to write this but I suspect it could be both.
ReplyDeleteYou write out your sadness magnificently. I hope it helps heal your pain.
ReplyDeleteSally, this is powerful and beautiful. If you can stand to do it, I think you should submit it to some poetry sites or publications. Anyone who has suffered such a loss will identify with it immediately. And those who have never had to endure it will have a better understanding of your pain.
ReplyDeleteOwning our feelings through writing is healing. We all have grief of some kind to deal with, that's part of the education for everyone. Not that that makes it easy but acceptance and looking forward to a reunion with our loved one makes it all possible...
ReplyDeleteA beautiful and sincerely written piece and like Elizabeth said, perhaps this should be seen and shared my other people like yourself as it could be a great encouragement to them.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully and poignantly expressed, Sally. There can be no greater loss than the loss of a beloved child. Sending you hugs.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you Sally.
ReplyDeleteI know this pain of loss all too well, too many times too and in my case even more recently losing my mom suddenly in 2017. My heart, thoughts and prayers go out to you. Take all the time you need... that pain never really goes away. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Jill
Anniversaries are the saddest times. Maybe the sharpest edges are knocked off the pain over years but grieving never stops. We have been left bereft. I am so sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteDo you spend time reliving the good times with her? How lucky you were to have had her in your life? I hope you can remember that.
I am so sorry not to have commented here for such a long time, Blogger messed up my ‘moderate’ box and I have only just realised that for several years there were 100s of comments I never even knew about. Thank you for your comments during my own hard times.