Bigger Than Life

This journey is bigger than Life, it really is...sometimes it seems as if I am the only one I know who could be in this much pain as I face every day without Allison. It is as though I am walking with the suffering and pain and loss and memories all bound up, causing me to think only of myself. I wonder, is there anyone out there who knows this grief, this breathless moment when I don't think I can go another minute without her, these memories that wake me up in the middle of the night, this pain of wishing it could have been me, not her. Those moments that enter my mind, the ones I try to shut out, the unanswered questions, the "whys" and the "what ifs", the valley of darkness knowing what I now know. My heart and soul feels so alone, as I grapple with the reality of the physical death of my own child.

Yet, my inner sense and mind and spirit, tells me that I am not alone. Every day, another joins my ever widening circle of those who DO understand, who live with their own memories, their own last moments, their own questions, issues, and pain. We carry that special look, that unique bond and that everlasting turmoil in our very existence. We find each other in a crowd or we seek one another when the hole is so deep we don't know how to find our way out. We need the comfort of another who has walked in our shoes, who shares this experience in ways we would have never imagined as we walked the linear pattern of life. Our very being is shattered to the core and we now live in a world that can feel foreign and off course.

I have many breathless moments lately, ones where I want to cry and cannot, ones where I simply whisper her name, as though the mere mention will carry me through to the next breath...and it does. Of course, all the while, I ask God to help me find my way in all of this, to help me stay the course, to find the harmony in my life, the balance and the good...and to help me know I am not alone. He never forsakes me and always, always sends me my answers. They come in many forms. One came the other day as I wanted to cry, needed to cry, didn't understand how a mother can bury a child and live strong. I needed something but I didn't know what, but He did, and in the form of a letter from a former colleague, who now travels her own unbelievable journey, came my answers. Not only did she write the words I needed to hear, and inspire me, but she sent an article. Yes, an article written by another grieving mother, who, my friend said, reminded her of my/our story. I so related to that mother, a teacher, also, who lost her daughter, Ann, the day the twin towers were attacked. Four years into this and she was still wondering when her grief would ease. She lives with the numbness that I can barely describe to others. And another similar situation, she needs no novocaine at the dentist because she feels nothing, absolutely nothing. How I can understand as I have pinched myself, literally, to see if I can feel something again, or to know if my whole body has gone numb. The article went on to explain how this mother found a beautiful legacy on Ann's laptop, one that has given her some peace in knowing the memory never fades. It was a list of her Top 100 things to do in her lifetime, and while she only got to number 36, there were beautiful memories for this mom to know her daughter had accomplished. Some of the list included, "learn to cook", "be a person to be proud of", "be a good listener", and "remember birthdays". It reminds me of the college paper Allie wrote entitled "A Happy Life" and how, now, it means something different than the time I read it and helped her edit!

This mother, Ann's mother, is finding, as I pray I am that this is how we live, by moving forward. Sometimes the movement may not be far or monumental, but still, movement, nonetheless, helps us in our grief. It doesn't take it away, it doesn't diminish the need to cry, or ask God for the peace that passes all understanding, but it does allow us to live. Thank you, dear Beverly, for the message on a day when I asked God for His guidance and support, knowing I cannot do any of this without His wisdom, grace and mercy.