The Battle

"Denial helps us to pace our feelings of grief. There is a grace in denial. It is nature's way of letting in only as much as we can handle." -Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

When the denial starts wearing off, the grief starts coming in bigger waves again. There is a constant battle of wanting to live a life for your child, and wanting to lock yourself away because you can't bear to face life that day.

As grieving parents, we are told time and time again that our children would want us to live our lives. They'd want us to enjoy life and to do whatever makes us happy. But how can we possibly be happy when our child is not enjoying our life with us? At least not in the physical sense.

I wake up. I see the beautiful sunrise. And I tell myself-you got this. You will get up. You will enjoy the day the best you can. I make an effort to smile more. I sing along in the car. I go out of my way to make someone else's day. I appreciate the little things. I can do what I need to do with somewhat ease.

Then the very next day, I see just as beautiful of a sunrise, but I hate it. I'd much rather it be a cloudy, gloomy day because then I came blame my mood on that. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to face anything. I could care less about the dishes in the sink and the pile of laundry waiting to be done. I just want to stay in the safe bubble at home. 

My husband and I often discuss how we miss the innocence we had before Arianna passed away. We had gone through tough situations. We watched the man who raised me (and the Gonz's main man) pass away right in front of our eyes. In fact, my incredible husband, held him in his arms for what seemed like forever. Talking to him, letting him know to hang in there. It was an incredibly difficult situation. But even that didn't take away our innocence. We had this image of what our life would still look like. That we would miss Lenny incredibly, but we knew we could still be happy.

After losing a child, you lose that innocence, at least for us. There's no longer this mindset that we want to be happy. No promotion, no other children, no million dollar lottery ticket could give us that pure sense of happiness we had with Arianna. Don't get me wrong, we have happy moments. But every time something good happens, we look at each other and say we wish Arianna was here to enjoy it with us. She will forever be missing. 

I have this image of being at a park, watching Gonz run around with other children (ours I'm assuming). It's a beautiful day. I'm standing there smiling, but just wishing Arianna was there with us. 

The denial continues to wear off with every single day that passes. I am reminded that this is the new normal. That everyday will be a battle. That good days no longer come with ease. That happiness is a mindset that I need to embrace first thing in the morning. There will be days when I can't do it. The days where the grief is just too much, and I lay in bed all day instead of checking things off my to do list. And that's okay too. As long as I don't stay in that dark spot too long. You know yourself best. I know personally, the longer I go without actively trying to have a good day, the harder those good days are to come by. So I allow myself a bad day, and then tell myself I need to put my best foot forward the next day. The happier days don't mean I miss Arianna any less. They are the days where I know I'm making her proud. All those smiles are for her. 

A wonderful woman told me when Arianna was on hospice to make sure we are kind to ourselves. That will always be my advice to other grieving parents. Take a bath. Go to the gym. Read a book. Take a nap. Eat a tub of ice cream. Do what gets you through the day. Don't be hard on yourself.