The most dreaded question I'm asked each day is "How are you doing?" Prior to Catherine's death it wasn't a big deal. We are southerners and tend to be polite. Post Catherine's death it is my most dreaded question. I want to answer with "How the hell do you think I'm doing? My daughter died and I'm barely holding it together" or "What kind of dumb ass question is that?" or "I am miserable." Instead I answer in the best southern way with "I'm here" or my favorite "How are YOU doing" or "I'm good, thank you for asking." It feels like I'm lying but I don't want to make people uncomfortable and any of the answers I want to give are rude and irrational. I'm crabby and I hate to let it show around the people that care. At the end of the day, 80% of the time it is asked it is just small talk. The other 20% is from people that care. Regardless, I feel like I'm lying 100% of the time. That isn't to say that I want people to stop asking. In the rational part of my brain, it is nice to be spoken to and not treated like a carnival side show.
The most awful statement is "I don't know how you are doing so well!" or "I couldn't do it if I lost a child!" I used to be that person. When Catherine's friend died last year, his mother went to the fair the day after. I looked at her and wondered how in the hell she could be at the fair? Turns out, she wanted to see the band march in the opening parade because that is what her son would have been doing if he hadn't died the day before. When my cousin's daughter died, I sat and wondered how in the world she was sitting there chatting and visiting with everyone. I just knew that if MY child died, I would be in a straight jacket in a rubber room because I wouldn't be able to survive it. Boy was I wrong and quite the judgy bitch. When people make that awful statement, I realize it is a compliment but in some ways it is an insult. It's as if I don't cry enough, then I don't miss her. Because I'm at work with makeup on and my hair fixed, I'm moving on. Because I'm taking care of my kids, I must be fine. Here's the truth; you don't know how the hell you would act if your child died unless you go through it. Do I want to be in a straight jacket in a rubber room? Absolutely. But here's the thing, life goes on. The sun comes up each day, babies are born, people die, jobs have to be done, band competitions go on, Friday night football is played, bills have to be paid, and we have to keep living. On the days that my hair is fixed and I have on makeup and my clothes aren't wrinkled are my worst days. Those are the days when I "fake it until I make it" because if by some chance I look good on the outside, maybe I will look better on the inside. Getting out of bed is a struggle. Feeding children is overwhelming. I have overwhelming anxiety attacks with no known trigger while at work. I have overwhelming anxiety attacks while driving or at bedtime. Food tastes awful and I don't eat. I'm terrified to walk up the stairs to wake up the boys in the morning. I run up there, make sure they are awake and run downstairs. I have irrational fears that horrible things are going to happen to my kids. BUT life goes on. There are these 4 little boys that are looking to us for guidance. There are these 4 little boys that need food, love, clothing, support, and a roof over their head. There are these 4 little boys that need their parents present while they are grieving the loss of their sister. There is a marriage that has to survive. But if someone out there knows a better way, I beg them to share.
But in all that darkness and sadness and irrational anger, there are unexpected gifts. I've received a beautiful bracelet in the mail. One of Catherine's friends purchased matching bracelets for her best friend and myself. Beautiful flowers show up from a dear friend as a just because gift. My lunch is randomly paid for at work. We are fed delicious dinners. And the boys are getting to escape the sadness because of an amazing unexpected gift. All 3 bigger boys have fall break at the same time this year. Hughes is going to Panama City Beach for his week of vacation. He mentioned to his mother (my husband's ex-wife) that he wished Max and Charlie could go with them. She agreed and called Josh, who called me, and then I called Chas. After thinking about it and discussing it, we decided it was a great idea. A week at the beach!! Fun and sun and the beach! It was unexpected and quite shocking. The boys are so excited and while I'm a bit anxious about them being gone that long, I know they will have the best time ever.
So while we get asked the dreaded question and hear the awful statement, we are still given wonderful unexpected gifts. It is those hugs and love and gifts that keep us going and don't make the dreaded question and awful statement so terrible and scary. Yes, we are still irrational and sad and angry and can't make sense of the situation but we are getting through each day. Every day is a challenge and at the end of each day, we consider ourselves victorious.
The most awful statement is "I don't know how you are doing so well!" or "I couldn't do it if I lost a child!" I used to be that person. When Catherine's friend died last year, his mother went to the fair the day after. I looked at her and wondered how in the hell she could be at the fair? Turns out, she wanted to see the band march in the opening parade because that is what her son would have been doing if he hadn't died the day before. When my cousin's daughter died, I sat and wondered how in the world she was sitting there chatting and visiting with everyone. I just knew that if MY child died, I would be in a straight jacket in a rubber room because I wouldn't be able to survive it. Boy was I wrong and quite the judgy bitch. When people make that awful statement, I realize it is a compliment but in some ways it is an insult. It's as if I don't cry enough, then I don't miss her. Because I'm at work with makeup on and my hair fixed, I'm moving on. Because I'm taking care of my kids, I must be fine. Here's the truth; you don't know how the hell you would act if your child died unless you go through it. Do I want to be in a straight jacket in a rubber room? Absolutely. But here's the thing, life goes on. The sun comes up each day, babies are born, people die, jobs have to be done, band competitions go on, Friday night football is played, bills have to be paid, and we have to keep living. On the days that my hair is fixed and I have on makeup and my clothes aren't wrinkled are my worst days. Those are the days when I "fake it until I make it" because if by some chance I look good on the outside, maybe I will look better on the inside. Getting out of bed is a struggle. Feeding children is overwhelming. I have overwhelming anxiety attacks with no known trigger while at work. I have overwhelming anxiety attacks while driving or at bedtime. Food tastes awful and I don't eat. I'm terrified to walk up the stairs to wake up the boys in the morning. I run up there, make sure they are awake and run downstairs. I have irrational fears that horrible things are going to happen to my kids. BUT life goes on. There are these 4 little boys that are looking to us for guidance. There are these 4 little boys that need food, love, clothing, support, and a roof over their head. There are these 4 little boys that need their parents present while they are grieving the loss of their sister. There is a marriage that has to survive. But if someone out there knows a better way, I beg them to share.
But in all that darkness and sadness and irrational anger, there are unexpected gifts. I've received a beautiful bracelet in the mail. One of Catherine's friends purchased matching bracelets for her best friend and myself. Beautiful flowers show up from a dear friend as a just because gift. My lunch is randomly paid for at work. We are fed delicious dinners. And the boys are getting to escape the sadness because of an amazing unexpected gift. All 3 bigger boys have fall break at the same time this year. Hughes is going to Panama City Beach for his week of vacation. He mentioned to his mother (my husband's ex-wife) that he wished Max and Charlie could go with them. She agreed and called Josh, who called me, and then I called Chas. After thinking about it and discussing it, we decided it was a great idea. A week at the beach!! Fun and sun and the beach! It was unexpected and quite shocking. The boys are so excited and while I'm a bit anxious about them being gone that long, I know they will have the best time ever.
So while we get asked the dreaded question and hear the awful statement, we are still given wonderful unexpected gifts. It is those hugs and love and gifts that keep us going and don't make the dreaded question and awful statement so terrible and scary. Yes, we are still irrational and sad and angry and can't make sense of the situation but we are getting through each day. Every day is a challenge and at the end of each day, we consider ourselves victorious.
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