Thursday, August 15, 2013

Just a Minute


August 15, 2013                                                                              11:33 a.m

Dear Brynna,

I feel like I’m losing you.  Like the further that time marches, the more distance there is between my heart and your memory.  And that breaks me all over again.

There is a very distinct part of me that misses the all-encompassing grief.  That was the time I was consumed by you.  Now, as moments, hours, days, and months pass by, life demands my participation.  It’s twisted, right? Longing for the dark hours, alone, crying, curled up in the fetal position in my bed…

But it was in those darkest, saddest moments, that I got to focus just on you.  Focus just on missing you, needing you, loving you.  Life wasn’t demanding my participation in those moments.  I wasn’t expected at work.  There were people here to care for your brothers, and tend to the house.  Daddy was right by my side, and we were holding each other, rocking each other in our tiny boat in our vast ocean of grief, as we held tight to your precious memory.

And now, as always, the world continues to spin madly on.  And I am finding myself swept up in its torrential wind.  There are so many times I feel out of breath because I don’t think I can keep up with all of it when my heart is broken this way.  There is so much that just doesn’t matter like it used to.  The only thing that matters to me now is being the best mom I can be to you and your brothers, and a loving life partner to your Daddy.

But, I have to go to work, and I have to go through the motions about so many things that, in the end, won’t really matter.  Not in the way that love and relationships do anyway…

I listen to the song, “Beam Me Up,” by Pink a lot.

“There’s a whole ‘nother conversation going on
In a parallel universe.
Where nothing breaks and nothing hurts.
There’s a waltz playing frozen in time
Blades of grass on tiny bare feet
I look at you and you’re lookin’ at me.

Could you beam me up,
Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it
I’d probably just stare, happy just to be there, holding your face
Beam me up,
Let me be lighter, I’m tired of being a fighter,
I think a minute’s enough,
Just beam me up.”

I need another minute. 

I need another minute to focus on just you, my sweet, sweet girl.  I am so, so tired of “being a fighter” and carrying on in this crazy life.  It’s so hard being a parent to children both here on earth, and also where you are.  It’s too long to be without you.  I can’t go the rest of my life without seeing you, without knowing you, without holding you. 

It’s too long and it’s too hard to know I have to face all my tomorrows without you.

I need to see you.  Your face.  Your sweet fingers and toes.

I just miss you so much and I want so badly for you to be here with us.  With Daddy and me and the boys.  Our Finnegan Family of 6, here on earth together.

I know I can’t have you back in the way that I want, but please stay with me in the ways that you can.  Keep talking to me, keep showing me signs and pointing out to me that we are connected, even if there are so many times I seem to forget.  I am a work in progress, Brynna.  I am doing my best to make sense of what seems to be a very non-sensical thing; our losing you.  Please be patient with me and continue to hold my hand as I trudge down this road, with a Brynna shaped hole in my heart.

I love you so very much more than the distance between us right now. 

Stay with me.

Love,
Momma 


1 comment:

bonibabyjourney said...

Laura,
I wanted you to know I feel exactly the same way about my Evan and the way the world is just moving on. It's so hard trying to make sense of it all. I, too, think of how I could go back to those first several months after Evan died - that deep, raw, new grief. The heartache is still the same, but the expectations weren't there. Now, the expectations are there for us to go through our day-to-day as before. It's just not fair. Thank you for sharing how you feel - I know that I am not alone.
Sending you hugs and thinking of sweet Brynna. Hang in there, mama.

-Rachel