Our perception of life is often based on time, divided into past, present, and future moments, measured in hours, days, months, and years. On December 20th, 2011, all-time measurements stopped for me, freezing me at that very moment. My beautiful 27-year-old daughter was killed in a car accident. A texting transport truck driver hit the vehicle she was a passenger in. Andrea was removed from my life in seconds, instantly, they said. The destruction of my past, present, and future is indescribable. How the minutes, hours, days, months, and years pushed me to where I am today is something I will never comprehend. The profound impact of child loss leaves a ball of grief that will take a lifetime to unravel.
The changes that happen teach us that we are not the same person. Mentally, our confidence and security of life are entirely demolished. Some days, I feel empty, and some days full. Some days, I scream so loud my throat hurts; some days, I smile and laugh without guilt. Most days, I experience depression on some level. The sadness goes deep into my soul, and I am learning to live with it. I have lived with triggers, insomnia, anxiety, and much more. Living with the unpredictability of grief is preparing the shattered heart to accommodate life again. Eventually, the love for our child pushes the pain aside, allowing some joy to enter.
The passage of time is necessary for healing but is painful. Time becomes our teacher and our friend as we learn to cope over and over again. It is the only thing that can allow the sharp edges of grief to become dull and with less intensity. Yes, the broken heart with all the sharp edges will piece together, and grief and love will co-exist. I never knew it could happen, but it does. My daughter loved mosaics. She was creative and talked about making a table from broken ceramic pieces. She could look beyond the brokenness and see the possibilities of beauty. As I walk this journey, I have learned to take the crushed pieces of my broken heart and make something unique and beautiful. As we re-adjust, reconnect, and rebuild our new life piece by piece, smiles, and happiness will happen. The meaning is different and feels different because we are new people. For all parents on this road, our life is divided forever into the before when our child was here, and the now without their physical presence.
We need to embrace the precious gift of time. How do we do this? Today is the only segment of time in our hands that we can control. Living in these moments requires one to make a conscious effort to shift the grief aside momentarily. What we do with the minutes and hours is within our control and determines the essence of that time. By creating a mindset of the present-time, we open ourselves up to let life enter, whether through a connection with nature or the company of family or friends. Smiles or sunshine will move us forward in honor of our child.
Cherishing memories is easier said than done with a broken heart, but it is necessary. Tomorrow is waiting because yesterday existed. Memories are connected with many things. Photographs, sounds, smells, colors, music, or events remind us of our beautiful child. The tears and smiles will take us to that moment when happiness and joy existed. It is difficult to see beyond sorrow, but eventually, memories will ease our lives. Amid the darkness, the memories that feel suffocating will partner with the love, providing courage and energy to continue. We must preserve the memories tightly within our hearts and minds, for they give honor to and keep our children alive.
The eternal love and bond with our child are our beacon of shining hope. Love is the highest energy source, and it is untouched by death. As we step into tomorrow and the unknown, we must embrace the moments, cherish the memories, and cling to hope that tomorrow will be better. We have been blessed with a permanent love and connection with our child. As we reconcile with life, we will move further away from the darkness of grief to hope and see a brighter tomorrow. We will always be their parent and the only vessel for their voice now.
Sometimes, we have to let faith lead us even though the destination is unknown because that is what faith is. I have decided to honor my Andrea the best I can for her. I will tell the world our story of love and honor her every day. I have written a book about my journey of loss and grief.
For today, try to measure the moments of life with love, not pain. Grief sometimes needs space, but I will not let it consume me because love never fails.
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