January 13

I had a horrible angry day today. Today I knew I had entered the ugly stage of my grieving. Shock had passed, and it was time for the tough work of feeling everything. I felt frustrated by well meaning sentiments from friends and loved ones who offered comfort by telling me that God has a plan, or that everything happens for a reason. It felt like they said those things because THEY found comfort in them, and they thought they might give me comfort too. I wasn’t upset at anybody, because people’s love and support made each day bearable, but I found no comfort in those words, and I was angry. I HAD A PLAN. Our FAMILY had a plan. Her name is Mara.

I used to believe that there was a purpose or a design for everything that happens. Through everything I have experienced, I have been able to focus on my own growth and appreciate the role each event or hardship has played in my life. But I guess you could call January 13 the day I changed my mind about that. Now I know that a child dying has no greater purpose, and it is not part of any plan. There is no silver lining. The kindness that people have shown us, the love and support we have received, the strengthened bond between me and Chris, the sharp focus of attention on Aaron, those are all good things. But they don’t make Mara’s death good, they don’t make it make sense, they don’t make it okay. None of it.

While I was out walking today in the clean and healing January air, I had a twisting collection of horrible ungrateful thoughts that raged around in my mind, and were hard to quiet. I felt like I had borne too much, and that I would never be able to recover from this. Why has this happened to us?  I want to be happy, I want my daughter, I want my life the way I imagined it. We are good people, we work hard, we are loving, and I want to stop hurting. I didn’t have these thoughts for long before I felt wretched and ungrateful. Aaron is fine, after the seriousness of his surgery, he is in perfect health and I am so grateful. I am loved and close to my family, and comfortable and successful and have the career of my dreams. I am not ungrateful or unmindful of those things. But my heart is surely broken. It is impossible to imagine that these overwhelming feelings of despair will someday pass.

I realized today that I hadn’t had a single nightmare since the day Mara died. I have a nearly lifelong history of awful nightmares, some have been recurring since I was old enough to describe them to my parents. I find it odd that I haven’t had any about Mara or her death. Instead, sleeping is my only true relief these days. It’s as if the nightmare is when I’m awake, where the worst thing that could possibly happen has already happened. My brain can’t make room for any more pain, so I get a break while I sleep.

I had good moments today too. I knew today that I would definitely go back to work eventually, at least to see if I still have what it takes. It was a decision of immeasurable significance. I am very afraid of how it might go. I’m afraid that when I go back to work and start being around people again, they won’t like me as much as they did before. I am so sad now. So different, and quiet and still and sad. The things my friends liked about me before might be gone, or altered forever. I am not the same, I will never be the same as before Mara died. What if people look at me with sad eyes forever? What if the people I love only see me as a shell of who I was, and miss who I used to be before Mara died? Well if they did, they would be feeling exactly the same way I feel about myself. What if my relationships change, and I have that grief to bear too?

I have no appetite. I love to eat, I love food, but it is now one of many things that make no difference to me, and that I don’t enjoy anymore.

 

Here is Aaron with a gift Chris brought home from one of my former students with a letter so moving that I cry about it writing this post in September. She told me that I have lots of children, and hundreds of daughters, and that they were ready to support and comfort me as I had done for them.