Do you ever forget something?? For a moment, for a second it slips your mind. I was watching a tv show and the mom had everything of her childs. All the grade cards, all the color sheets, practically everything her child had ever did, and thats when it happened.
My first thought was my mom has alot of my kindergarten stuff packed away in a box in her closet. I forgot. Its like for a few moments the storm never happened. The house wasnt gone and that box was still there safely tucked in the closet, but then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks I felt my heart come crashing down just like the house did that day.
And all at once there I was again. Wrapped up in so much grief, all because for a mere second I forgot. I know its just stuff, and honestly I wouldnt consider myself a materialistic person. And yet I came undone over a box of macaroni noodles glued to paper and my scribblings on color pages. Maybe it wasn't entirely about the stuff in the box even, more so the fact that I forgot. That for a second I didnt remember one of the worst days of my life. The fact that when it came back to me It was like grieving for the first time all over again. All the memories flooded back at once and for a few minutes it seemed too much to take because at least before it all played out over days, weeks. Instead of it all flashing before me in seconds.
Im well aware that its been two months, and life is back to normal, well the new normal. But grief doesn't care about time. Things have never felt so out of sorts, Things have never felt so wrong. For those who dont know my parents for the time being are in a rental house just two door down from me. Perfect right, and dont get me wrong it is. They never bother us, if anything I bother them. And its been wonderful to have them right here. To be able to be there for them through this. To have them so close all the time. It has been wonderful, and yet it feels wrong. I love them being here, and yet when I walk into their house it feels completely wrong. That isnt home. That isnt where they are suppose to be. It just doesnt feel like my parents home, it feels wrong to me and if it feels wrong to me imagine how it feels to them.
The plan is to put another home back on their property thats the end goal. So then there is this thought of how will I cope when the day comes for them to move back. I know that 25 minutes away is not a big deal, but going from my neighbors for months to being that far away is a big deal. I know it will feel amazing to have them back to the land thats always been home, but its also difficult to even think about. my heart breaks that they are here and yet my heart breaks thinking about them leaving. So alot of nights after Connor and Jeremy go to bed, I find myself walking down to hangout with my parents. Obviously I do this because I want to spend time with them, and im alone and bored but I also do it because I know one day soon walking down after everyone at my house is asleep wont be a option. There will be a last time I get to do that, and everyday is a day closer to that day. I certainly dont wanna look back and wish I had went down there more while they were right her, practically within arms reach.
Then theres my precious Connor. I try so hard to shelter him from so many things. I remember the first time I took him out to the house after everything had happen. I had kept him from there for weeks but we needed to run down and get a few things and it was only gonna take a few minutes and so we went. He showed no reaction and I was glad. He loved that house. He would clap the minute we started up the driveway because he knew where we were. He would prance up those stairs and go running through the door. He knew that house, he loved that house.
The day my parents moved into the rental my aunt kept him for me while we moved everything. I got him later that evening and took him to the rental while I helped them unpack, and when he walked in and saw his LaLa aand G this look came over him. He looked surprised, he looked confused. It made me so sad and then of course he went to play and all was fine, but his reaction was saddening to me. A few weeks ago we arrived home from church and he pointed down toward the rental house and said LaLa. And its then I realized that he isnt gonna understand when they are gone again. He will point and want to go see them and he wont understand when I dont take him. He wont understand that they arent there anymore. Obviously I know he will eventually forget and stop referring to it as LaLas but the process of that will be tough. I cant protect him from that. I can explain it, but I cant make him fully understand. That hurts me to imagine, and yet soon it will be our reality and we will figure it all out, but I really really dread it.
So theres my thoughts lately. They are scattered and all over the place. I know I worry way too much and I need to let the what ifs go, but thats so much easier said than done. I still dont understand why all this had to happen. I dont understand why the house that built me is gone, forever. I dont understand why that box of my kindergarten stuff isnt tucked away in the closet where it always was. Why that craft I made in VBS when I was 6 isnt still hanging on my parents bedroom wall. Why all the pictures and memories are gone. Why did it have to happen?? How could this happen??
And then another thought crosses my mind. Alot of people dont know this but Connor spent the night at LaLa and Gs the weekend before the storm. I remember vividly walking to the extra bedroom window and looking in and there was the pack and play. The walls had caved in on that room, but from the window you could see inside. There was no way to get to the pack and play and that window wasnt even broken and as I stared in, in utter disbelief at the place my child had slept just three days earlier I let the tears fall. I was broken, defeated, crushed, and yet I was relieved, and thankful that God is a on time God and He holds us so perfectly in His hands. I know anything can happen, and obviously if the storm taught me anything it taught me that life can change in a instant and things happen no matter how safe you think you are. And yet I watch the weather and if it even says it may possibly storm I wont let Connor out of my sight. Which I know is crazy because something can happen at our house and hes no more safer with me, but I want him with me, I need him close.
So here is just a glimpse into my grief two months later. Im not even the same person in alot of ways. I like to think im better, but in reality im probably just crazier and much more paranoid. One thing I know for sure though is I now know more than ever that life is short and we cant take anything for granted. Whenever Connor and I go to leave and Connor gives G a hug, G always says the same thing to him. He hugs him and he always says " I love you, Man." This is something I might have never noticed before, I wouldnt have even paid attention, but I listen for it everytime now because its by Gods grace that my Dad made it out alive. And im reminded of that everytime I hear him say : I love you, Man."
My first thought was my mom has alot of my kindergarten stuff packed away in a box in her closet. I forgot. Its like for a few moments the storm never happened. The house wasnt gone and that box was still there safely tucked in the closet, but then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks I felt my heart come crashing down just like the house did that day.
And all at once there I was again. Wrapped up in so much grief, all because for a mere second I forgot. I know its just stuff, and honestly I wouldnt consider myself a materialistic person. And yet I came undone over a box of macaroni noodles glued to paper and my scribblings on color pages. Maybe it wasn't entirely about the stuff in the box even, more so the fact that I forgot. That for a second I didnt remember one of the worst days of my life. The fact that when it came back to me It was like grieving for the first time all over again. All the memories flooded back at once and for a few minutes it seemed too much to take because at least before it all played out over days, weeks. Instead of it all flashing before me in seconds.
Im well aware that its been two months, and life is back to normal, well the new normal. But grief doesn't care about time. Things have never felt so out of sorts, Things have never felt so wrong. For those who dont know my parents for the time being are in a rental house just two door down from me. Perfect right, and dont get me wrong it is. They never bother us, if anything I bother them. And its been wonderful to have them right here. To be able to be there for them through this. To have them so close all the time. It has been wonderful, and yet it feels wrong. I love them being here, and yet when I walk into their house it feels completely wrong. That isnt home. That isnt where they are suppose to be. It just doesnt feel like my parents home, it feels wrong to me and if it feels wrong to me imagine how it feels to them.
The plan is to put another home back on their property thats the end goal. So then there is this thought of how will I cope when the day comes for them to move back. I know that 25 minutes away is not a big deal, but going from my neighbors for months to being that far away is a big deal. I know it will feel amazing to have them back to the land thats always been home, but its also difficult to even think about. my heart breaks that they are here and yet my heart breaks thinking about them leaving. So alot of nights after Connor and Jeremy go to bed, I find myself walking down to hangout with my parents. Obviously I do this because I want to spend time with them, and im alone and bored but I also do it because I know one day soon walking down after everyone at my house is asleep wont be a option. There will be a last time I get to do that, and everyday is a day closer to that day. I certainly dont wanna look back and wish I had went down there more while they were right her, practically within arms reach.
Then theres my precious Connor. I try so hard to shelter him from so many things. I remember the first time I took him out to the house after everything had happen. I had kept him from there for weeks but we needed to run down and get a few things and it was only gonna take a few minutes and so we went. He showed no reaction and I was glad. He loved that house. He would clap the minute we started up the driveway because he knew where we were. He would prance up those stairs and go running through the door. He knew that house, he loved that house.
The day my parents moved into the rental my aunt kept him for me while we moved everything. I got him later that evening and took him to the rental while I helped them unpack, and when he walked in and saw his LaLa aand G this look came over him. He looked surprised, he looked confused. It made me so sad and then of course he went to play and all was fine, but his reaction was saddening to me. A few weeks ago we arrived home from church and he pointed down toward the rental house and said LaLa. And its then I realized that he isnt gonna understand when they are gone again. He will point and want to go see them and he wont understand when I dont take him. He wont understand that they arent there anymore. Obviously I know he will eventually forget and stop referring to it as LaLas but the process of that will be tough. I cant protect him from that. I can explain it, but I cant make him fully understand. That hurts me to imagine, and yet soon it will be our reality and we will figure it all out, but I really really dread it.
So theres my thoughts lately. They are scattered and all over the place. I know I worry way too much and I need to let the what ifs go, but thats so much easier said than done. I still dont understand why all this had to happen. I dont understand why the house that built me is gone, forever. I dont understand why that box of my kindergarten stuff isnt tucked away in the closet where it always was. Why that craft I made in VBS when I was 6 isnt still hanging on my parents bedroom wall. Why all the pictures and memories are gone. Why did it have to happen?? How could this happen??
And then another thought crosses my mind. Alot of people dont know this but Connor spent the night at LaLa and Gs the weekend before the storm. I remember vividly walking to the extra bedroom window and looking in and there was the pack and play. The walls had caved in on that room, but from the window you could see inside. There was no way to get to the pack and play and that window wasnt even broken and as I stared in, in utter disbelief at the place my child had slept just three days earlier I let the tears fall. I was broken, defeated, crushed, and yet I was relieved, and thankful that God is a on time God and He holds us so perfectly in His hands. I know anything can happen, and obviously if the storm taught me anything it taught me that life can change in a instant and things happen no matter how safe you think you are. And yet I watch the weather and if it even says it may possibly storm I wont let Connor out of my sight. Which I know is crazy because something can happen at our house and hes no more safer with me, but I want him with me, I need him close.
So here is just a glimpse into my grief two months later. Im not even the same person in alot of ways. I like to think im better, but in reality im probably just crazier and much more paranoid. One thing I know for sure though is I now know more than ever that life is short and we cant take anything for granted. Whenever Connor and I go to leave and Connor gives G a hug, G always says the same thing to him. He hugs him and he always says " I love you, Man." This is something I might have never noticed before, I wouldnt have even paid attention, but I listen for it everytime now because its by Gods grace that my Dad made it out alive. And im reminded of that everytime I hear him say : I love you, Man."
