The Reality of Grief

Yesterday marked the 5 month mark since Catherine died so unexpectedly. In case you were wondering, that equals 155 days without my daughter. Everyday I wake up with a level of anxiety. When I have to go upstairs to wake up the boys, I take my phone, just in case. The anxiety remains as I wonder if the boys are going to make it to school safely. It continues as I drop Henry off at school and he cries to stay with me. It elevates on the way to work when I have time to think and my mind wanders. By mid morning I'm taking a Xanax to stop the impending major panic attack that I sense is coming around the corner. I live with anxiety. EVERYTHING makes me anxious. In my last blog post, I said that despite Catherine's case being closed, it would never be closed because someone would bring it up the next time a student dies. Last week I found out that it will be brought back up when a teenager, that claimed to be my daughter's friend, posted a video on YouTube that went viral. T

Those were the words from the detective last week. Autopsy is in and the case is closed. Sixteen years and three months, and the case is closed. I'm angry and have been since last week. I'm angry at Catherine and the whole situation. I'm angry that she is gone. I'm angry that I'm barely keeping my head above water to deal with the aftermath. I'm angry that I don't hear her walking around at night. I'm angry at all of it. But the case is closed. Here is the problem. This case will never be closed. Maybe for the detective, but not for anyone else. Because for the rest of my life, I will be dealing with this. The town of Lebanon will never let the case be closed. Every time a teenager dies, my daughter will be drug into it. The case will never be closed. Our wounds will start to heal and then something will happen to open them back up again. But again, the case is closed. My level of anger is hard to describe. I'm following the rule of not making

Grief is miserable. There are days I just want to escape it. There are also days when I see why some people act as though the person that died didn't exist. That is where I am right now. I am pushing down all my grief and there are days that I try to forget her because remembering Catherine is just too damn sad. I'm missing so much right now. I miss hearing her walk around her room that is above ours. I miss the music in our house. She was always playing an instrument or singing. I miss her laugh and running my hands through her hair. The other night I had a dream and all I did in the dream was run my fingers through her thick hair. I miss her baked goods that were never quite what she wanted them to be. I miss her texts during the day. I miss time spent with her when Josh and the boys were doing boy stuff. I HATE being the only female in the house. We were a team. On each of the boys' birthday weekend, they are allowed to choose any movie and we take them to the store