This past week was especially difficult for me and I do not know why. Not a second passed that Jennifer wasn’t on my mind. This is nothing new for me but the past week was different. The longing to call her, to see her, was so strong that at times, I didn’t think I could continue to function. There were times when I just wanted to get in the car and ride because maybe I would somehow get a glimpse of her or hear her voice.
Every night I hug her baby pillow that is wrapped in the shirt that she was wearing the day she was admitted to the hospital. I hug the pillow, kiss it, and tell her that I love her and miss her so much and then I cry myself to sleep, most nights anyway. I don’t sleep well anymore. My sleep pattern is interrupted several times during the night. I wake up and it takes me a while to go back to sleep and then I wake up again.
Two days ago we went to our son and daughter-in-law’s home to see them and to see our precious grandsons. As I sat holding our 3 1/2 week old grandson I thought of Jennifer and how immensely thrilled she would be to have another nephew to love. I thought about how she and I would not want to let the other one hold him. I thought about the kisses and hugs that she would lavish on him. I thought about how she would love his beautiful, uuncontrollable hair and his blue eyes and his sweet little face. I thought about… everything.
I remember the laughter and the huge smile that she would have when Wesley would see her, run to her and give her a big hug. He loved his Aunt Jenn and oh, how she loved him. I pray that he will never forget her and I hope that Britton will come to know her through the many stories that will be told about her to him. Both of them need to know that Aunt Jenn is their guardian angel and that she is always watching over them.
I received a text from Doug yesterday and I was so thankful. He is and always will be a very important member of our family. I love him so much and I miss him.
My heart is broken and it will never be the same. Most days I go through the motions because I have to in order to maintain some sense of normalcy and sanity. Some days I would prefer to stay in bed or in a corner by myself and simply not think. That way, perhaps I would feel nothing and maybe there would be no tears, but I never see that happening. The loss and the pain is simply too great. Unless a person has lost a child, there is no way that one can even try to understand the depth of the pain and the loss. There are no words that can be said to help ease the pain. Sometimes simply being there when needed is all that is necessary. Presence without words.
I look for signs; I look towards the heavens; I pray for something, anything. Perhaps I am searching too hard. Perhaps I should just “be” but it’s so hard.
So. Very. Hard.