Her Name

I have certainly learned how each individual, couple, sibling, grandparent, aunt, uncle, or friend deals with the knowledge that their loved one is gone from our physical lives. It is such a personal journey, yet, we have to "fit in" with others from time to time, and surely respect that their way may not be our way. Saying Allison's name and sharing stories has been one such step, but for each of us, the way of handling it is different. For some, it is still too painful and early to bring her into the stories, for others, it's as if the comfort comes in knowing she is still with us, just in a different way. For me, I still get choked up and find it hard to swallow when I must refer to a deceased daughter...I shouldn't have a child who has gone before me, therefore, when I am forced to say it or think it, it reconfirms for me what I already know, Allison's life as we knew it is over.

I am pleased that Jennifer can very easily share the "remember when" stories, just as we would do if Allison were present and among us. To me, it is natural to share the stories, for they have always been, and always will be, part of who we are as a family. It's also very hard to do, because with each utterance of her name, is that heartache or missed beat and conscious reality that we are living here without her. While beautiful, the memories can be so painful, just like saying her name. Yet, as her mother, I have always felt it part of my responsibility to keep her part of us and not ignore the fact that she was part of us, not to move or remove photographs, yet not create a shrine either. I am still, and always will be, her mother, and just as if she were here, I have to set the tone for how others will react or respond by the way that I do...therefore, sometimes during blessings or special occasions she will be mentioned, or toasted, or simply remembered or honored, not by words, always, but by actions or surrounding ourselves with something we know she would like or enjoy. We may have the white cake with chocolate icing on or around her birthday and not say a word, but we will know. I may light my daily candle and send my love to her, needing no words. I may linger a bit as I get the scent of her from something that was moved or removed from her closet. I may notice all the Allison's now on television shows or hear the name and think of her, or we may celebrate a special day by simply going to her favorite restaurant. All in all, it is important to me to keep the door open to her life, not closed. But sometimes that makes others unsure or uncomfortable, and for that I am truly sorry. I never want to inflict emotional pain on anyone, or cause an uneasiness in those who don't know what to do or say. This has been an awkward dance for all of us, to be the family who lost a daughter, who is forever changed, who will never be the same again. So many do not know how to respond to that, and I would not have either, until God chose this path for us. It is amazing to me that there are so many people who shared our lives before who I have never heard from or seen since the day of Allison's service. I truly understand why, I grasp the pain it causes when they see Joe, Jennifer or me, they don't comprehend how we appear normal or can even speak of her. They don't understand, and I pray God they never do, but I do, and I know no words are necessary. No words but sometimes a simple story or just hearing her name acknowledges she existed and still does. The mere mention of her name is not going to cause us any more grief than we already carry or any more pain than is already raging through our hearts.

This one I have loved, my daughter, is with us, always, and we can speak her name. We can cry when we do, we can fall to our knees, we can laugh at her antics, and the way she always got her way, we can remember that sincere, immense smile and her spirited eyes, and we can one day, I hope, do it with some decreased heaviness in our souls.