The Hole in my Heart

Zev’s death created not only anger, sorrow and pain in my life, but also an immense void. And no matter what I do, it is never filled. Always the emptiness lives within me.

My love for her is as strong as it ever was; yet she is not here for me shower it upon. My expressions of love and gratitude to those in my world is the only act that quells the aching and the longing.

The rising tide within me grows stronger every day; to have a child in my life to fill my heart and my arms. A young one to lavish with affections, to teach, to encourage and to love.

Even though I am acutely aware of the facts — I will always miss Zev, constantly long for her, feel anger at the universe for cheating her of the life she held so dear — deep within me, I know that nothing else will ever give me even a fraction of completeness. I am and always have been very clear that motherhood is what I was meant for. Nothing this world has to offer will ever bring me the same joy.

Dark Corners

Our minds are so incredibly powerful. We believe, see, and hear only what we choose. Our consciousness is capable of hiding certain dark truths in the deepest corner of our minds; as well as concealing painful memories from constant view. Our human brains can enable us, cripple us, distract us, and even save us.

Often times my subconscious kicks into high gear, offering a temporary respite from the anguish and everyday struggle of existence. I laugh. I smile. I accomplish tasks and chores. More like a robot than a human being. And though there are times when I tell myself I should be focused on grieving and living fully in my sorrow, I ultimately allow the temporary escape to envelope me. I give in. Partly because I do not know what else to do. And partly because I am afraid of that the darkness will otherwise swallow me whole.

The Temptation for Self-Pity

At times, the temptation to give in to self-pity is strong. ♪ “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen; nobody knows my sorrow.” ♫ But to allow myself this overindulgence would be selfish, foolish and an outright lie.

Sadly, I have met many that walk the same path I now face. Many who have walked it, circling, spiraling, progressing, healing, falling, giving in — for years, for decades. And so, I know better. What a disservice to them it would be to allow myself a pity party!

We’ve all heard the term ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps’ and this is not at all what I plan to do or would ever dare to recommend to someone else in the depths of grief. However, finding a middle ground is a coping mechanism that has helped me survive the past couple of years. Somewhere between feeling sorry for oneself and ‘sucking it up’ is a place of tranquil sorrow, bittersweet reflection and a hope for tomorrow.

How I found this place, I couldn’t say for sure or draw a precise map. I can only say that it was part surrendering to my emotions — anguish, fear, sorrow, guilt and desolation — part active grieving — feeling, reading, writing, screaming, crying, sharing — and part making the choice to live again.

My gratitude to everyone who has helped me along my journey. I truly hope that you know who you are.

And my heart reaches out to all of the fathers and mothers who know the depths of my pain. I wish I could ease your suffering. I wish I could cross universes to bring our children back to us in the form we grew to know and love them in.

Facing Facts

I am choosing to face the fact that I have been hiding from my pain and my grief for months now. I fill my days and weeks to overflowing so that I have rarely a spare minute to break down. Even though I know it isn’t healthy for me, I do it anyway. I read, I hike, I drink, I skate, I work… leaving little to no room for sitting still and contemplating. And while I am being honest with myself, I may as well admit that lately I have consciously and habitually chosen to drown my sorrows before they even surface.

Somewhere along my journey I stopped surrendering. And perhaps that was necessary, at least for a while. When I steep myself in the heartache and aimlessness of grief for too long, I feel lost; disconnected from the world. There is also a sense of apathy that is a bit frightening. And if I allow the anger to course through my veins regularly, I would become even more bitter and cynical than I already feel.

I share this with the world in hopes that it will be the catalyst to change. I need to cry. I need to write. I need to allow myself ample time to feel. To be angry. To vent.

In the beginning, I was giving myself at least thirty minutes every day to feel whatever came out after being silent and still for a while. And if nothing came, I would jump-start the process by looking through old photos or listening to sad songs.

Perhaps I am afraid that nothing will change and I will spin off into the grey abyss. Or that I will crack in two and no longer be able to function in society. Whatever the case, I owe it to myself, to my loved ones, and to my darling baby girl, to do what I can to help myself stay as emotionally healthy as possible. Gratitude helps. So does exercise.

Shout it Out Loud

The end of summer, back to school, and the feeling of autumn just around the corner is rough for me. It used to be the time of year I most looked forward to. Planning Zev’s birthday, anticipating the cooler weather, the changing colors of the leaves, Halloween. [sigh]

This morning I was reflecting on how I have changed; what I have learned through this experience of grief and the truth I am painfully reminded of every single day — life is too damn short.

I don’t mince words.
I take more chances.
I seize every opportunity to tell those I care about how much they mean to me.
I allow myself to slow down and relax more.

Life is short and this world is too damn cruel. So, if you are reading this, please, take these words to heart.

If you love someone, tell them. Say it out loud, write it in a letter, post it online. It is not possible to overdo.

Express your gratitude often. Helping someone feel rewarded and appreciated is truly priceless.

Slow down and enjoy your life and the people in it. When you die, it will not matter how much money you have in the bank. What will matter is the relationships you had and the memories you created.

If you are a parent, know that it is an honor and a privilege. Cherish your children and make sure to tell them how much you love them; every single day. If you do this, there will be no room for regret or guilt later. Trust me on that.

The love you share, the bonds you create and the relationships you nurture are the most important things in your life. Value them.

Thank you for listening. I am grateful to have an outlet for my thoughts, rants, musings, and feelings. Now, as a dear friend often says ‘go chase your dreams’!

Waking Nightmare

There are times I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to turn my anger on the world. I spend long moments thinking of what it would be like to put pedal to the metal and dive headlong over a cliff in my car. Fantasizing about death. Longing for an end to this.

I would bleed and suffer and die a thousand painful deaths if it would bring her back. In acute agony it feels as though the emptiness inside will swallow me whole. Leaving not a trace. No memory of what once was.

The questions gnaw at my insides. Loneliness, sorrow, anguish, pain. Unbearable weight.

I beg, plead, attempt to bargain. The indifference of the universe imparts her cruel truth. Etching the sufferings of this world upon my very soul. Some like whispers; long forgotten memories. Others like the raging surf; pounding, unforgiving.

Death, the great equalizer…

Senseless

Lately, I have felt an overwhelming need to articulate the sense of injustice within me that rears it’s head so often.

How can anyone say, feel or believe that there is any sense to be made of this world? This life is full of suffering. All the positive thoughts, love, or prayers in the world cannot and will not change that.

Since the start of this month, a local boy’s cancer claimed his life,
a friend’s infant daughter died from SMA, and I stumbled across the story of a young girl who was killed in a car crash just days after making her birthday wish to help get clean water to kids in Africa.

The worst part is, this happens every single day. There is not a damn thing any of us can do about it. Death permeates all things.

How is it that so many children have to suffer? To have their lives taken from them before they even have a chance to get started. Little souls so full of love and generosity. It does not and will never make any sense to me. I can feel the pit in my stomach turn to rage. All I can do is shed tears for these children and their families. Sobs that go unheard, anger that eats away at my insides. I am absolutely powerless. All the questioning and fighting will not change the senselessness of our world… all we can do is surrender.

Filling the Void

There exists within me a vast emptiness…

In the first year I fell into the void. Living there and almost nowhere else. Tears, anguish, sorrow, fear, doubt, rage. Longing to die. Every single day, like a song that won’t stop playing in your head.

I looked out on the world from my darkness. I could not relate to anything or anyone. Sleep was my only respite. And yet it was often both elusive and fitful.

Somewhere in this journey of grief, I made the choice to continue to live. Not just to exist, but to be a part of the world. To contribute. I was hit by an overwhelmingly intense need to ensure that Zev is never forgotten. And to bring her joyous spirit and positive attitude to everyone I meet.

Now I spend most of my days filling the hole in my heart. Mostly, I fail. But I continue to give it my all. Roller derby. Music. Movies. Books. Skating. Gardening. Charity. Friends. Family. Adventures. Projects. Writing. Alcohol. Food.

None of these will ever be a replacement. But I must continue to fill this aching empty space within me. Otherwise I will surely slip back, descending into darkness. Falling, falling, falling. With no one and nothing there to catch me.

No Prisoners

Do you ever ask yourself ‘what is the point?’…

Why are we here? For what purpose? Will the good we do truly matter one hundred years from now? Will the choices we make have any bearing in the grand scheme of the universe and the space time continuum?

What on earth was the point in all the time, love, effort, and energy invested in one small human, if she was simply to die before barely getting started. Logic cannot help with this. Time cannot either. And certainly my emotions, no matter how deep or complex, will not ever bring me any closer to knowing or understanding why.

We raised an amazing daughter from an infant to the magical age of eight years old. She was brilliant. Smart, witty, beautiful, thoughtful, giving, kind, overflowing with joy and love. No matter how I approach the reality, I cannot ‘swallow’ it. I cannot wrap my mind around the truth. I suspect that is how it will always be.

Many hours, sometimes days, have I spent wanting to die. To simply blink out. No more separation, no more heartache, no more anger, no more anguish. No more! I fantasize about speeding at over 100mph and crashing into a wall or a tree. I think about possibilities for my death and wonder why I am still here. And yet, I know that I have within me a steely strong mechanism that will not indulge me; suicide is not a real option. I do not know exactly what it is, but some invisible source continues to propel me forward.

Until two years ago, I didn’t ever think about whether there was a purpose – for life in general – or for us as individuals. It simply didn’t matter to me one way or the other. I was content to live my small, quiet life with the people I loved. Did I seek to make the world a better place? Perhaps, in little ways. Was I kind and giving? Sure. But I did not think about the world as a whole, at least with regard to my impact, or any reason for why we are here. I was focused only on my own microcosm. As long as I led by example, taught my children respect, right from wrong, and fostered compassion, what else was there?

Now, I live in a world deconstructed. No longer whole or simple. My heart feels the suffering of others with an intensity I cannot describe. From the unfathomable down to the infinitesimal. I know now that no matter how much we contribute to the world, no matter how much love we radiate, no matter who we are, we all die. There is nothing else any one of us can be sure of; only our mortality. Our fragility. And the truly small amount of time we have here, together. For, death takes no prisoners.

Words

I am keenly aware of the words I use when I speak and write. And because I love language and have always done my best to say what I truly mean, I do not say ‘Good Morning’ or ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ or ‘Merry Christmas’ or anything else of that nature. To anyone. Deep inside I don’t feel it.

Some part of me feels that not speaking those words is selfish. Like I should say ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ to all the Mothers in my life that I love so much. And all the friends in my circle that are great Mom’s. I want to acknowledge those women but I have to find other ways to do so. For now anyway. This is the only way I know to be true and real; to not force sentiments out because of societal pressure or any feelings of guilt that I put upon myself.