First of the dreaded dates is upon us. Tomas is still in Canuck Place and I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. I find that every time I’m relieved of the care duties I invent high pressure projects to continue living with the extreme level of stress we have in our lives. I was doing exactly the same during this break, only to be given extra two nights of “caregiving freedom” and the shit just came crashing down.
Since early morning J and I are playing the tip toe game. We suffer in silence, each in our rooms making ourselves busy, trying to trick our brains into thinking it is not Sara’s birthday…
We have been silently hugging each other for the past week, carefully choosing our words as not to upset each other.
Yesterday CBC Radio reporter Cathy Browne asked me how do I go on. I told her that I just don’t know how to quit. But I do know how to quit, the problem is, quitting on our current life means abdicating on our responsibilities towards Tomas, towards our parents. And that can only happen in two ways, we will forever live in guilt for abandoning our son or we kill ourselves. Just to be clear, we will not do either of those things, so we just have to go on, since there is no real alternative.
Not many parents celebrate their child’s 12th birthday by talking about suicide, but here we are. Again, I’m not suicidal, I’m incredibly sad, my whole being in pain that I carry in my soul. This deep pain and emptiness is forever part of my life. It has robbed me of happiness, but it also gave me a great gratefulness, that only people who have lost everything can experience.
I’m trying to remember how I survived the previous 3 birthdays, but it must have been the same crap, since it got buried deep in my brain, actively trying to forget the experience.
I’m surviving this year purely by ignoring my thoughts and feelings. I know that is not a way to deal with grief, but this is my process, so bore off grief experts. I know when I’m strong enough to face my grief, today is not the day. I don’t want to sit with my feelings, I have no intentions to analyze them. I will keep up this charade for myself, but also for J, carefully observing his mood, protecting him from the pain, at least on the surface.
In two weeks we will remind ourselves of all the pain of our last goodbye, again revisiting all the conversations, the bizarre moments, the unsuccessful attempts to memorize every little detail of her body.
June sucks the life out of us, because the black hole opens and pulls everything into the deep void of existence. Poisoning every moment of our lives. We have very little life left in us right now. Surviving COVID lockdown, surviving living on one income, surviving having no help for 3 months, surviving future without any help, other than 7 more nights for Tomas at Canuck Place. Surviving being on the years long waiting lists for my surgery, surviving the endless wait for Tomas’ medical equipment.
I know there is always hope, but I can’t see any silver lining now, because I’m slipping deeper and deeper into the black hole and the light is being replaced by emptiness of the void.
Deep inside I wish this black hole to be an inter dimensional portal, spitting me out in a different universe. But for now I’m forever suspended in the moment I kissed my daughter for the very last time and whispered “Be brave”.
ktojoy 