It has been two months since I posted. Time when you are grieving goes at a different pace. Some days it feels like it is going at high speed. Other days it drags on and you count the hours until you can go to sleep. Italy was a real treat. I was able to spend quality time with a good friend. I proved that I was brave enough to travel alone. I did have too much time to myself. This is when the thoughts would be about how much I wished Hayley was experiencing this trip with me. My favorite highlights were the museums in Florence and the boat trip around the island of Capri. But all good things come to an end and I came home to reality. Reality has kicked my ass. My grief is as deep and as raw as it was on day one. Time has only made my pain sharper. I have not held my child in over a year. This is what I cannot comprehend. I also have been shy to write because I feel every post is starting to look the same. Dawn is sad, Dawn struggles and Dawn writes about it.
Time marches on. Hayley’s friends continue with their lives. They are older. Some have boyfriends, some have changed majors, some have changed colleges. All of these life moments she is missing. The outpouring of support has slowed. I am not complaining, people have their own lives to live. I am still luckier than most. I still will get a message, flowers on my porch or just a text telling me I am thought of. I have done everything I can to not let my grief impact Henry. He is doing fairly well. If he is not I am afraid I won’t know. Scott is doing better than me. I sometimes am jealous of him. He has the ability, the skill to compartmentalize his grief. I don’t have that skill. Hayley adored her Dad and they were closer than any other father/daughters I know. But she was my best friend. She loved me more than I can ever understand. I feel so lucky to have had the relationship we had. But it makes living more difficult. It seems that my grief is becoming deeper as each day passes.
It is time for me to go back to work full time. I am hopeful to find something I can be passionate about. Something that will distract me from this pain. I need to help support my family, I need to be useful. There is so much that I need to do. I need to have the bathroom remodel done. There are a couple of small items to finish but our guy is not available until December. The remodel was a great distraction, I wish I could move on to Henry’s bathroom. I need to deal with my office/bonus room. In the weeks leading up to Hayley’s death we had moved all of her stuff out of her bedroom. We painted and purchased new furniture. The plan was to slowly move things back in while she recovered. In addition to all of those items in that room, she also had dumped all of her dorm stuff. We had started to pack up things she didn’t needed for the summer that would go to her new apartment. So I have those boxes to deal with. I have the messes to deal with in my room. I have her laundry still sitting in the hamper. I still find her socks all over, it is like they multiply like bunnies. Every time I try to attack that disaster I pick up something that triggers a memory and a flood of emotions that send me to find a place to curl up and try to keep breathing. The last attempt I unearthed a mug she had painted at school at a paint party. A purple mug with a penis painted on it. Yep the girl thought drawing dicks was hysterical. I still find them in my notebooks on random pages or my calendar. It actually makes me sad to think I may not find any more dicks drawn for me. Her room smells less like her. I struggle to imagine how her hair felt in my hands. Will I forget as time passes. My brain is damaged from ptsd and grief. Am I losing memories. I have lost so much I can’t handle more loss.
The holidays are coming round again. We have no Thanksgiving plans. It will just be the three of us this year. A sad holiday. I can’t be thankful. I am feeling like decorating this year with my decorations. I am scared about how I am going to feel when I open those boxes and memories of each ornament hit. Will I be able to do it. Time does not heal. Time is the enemy. The more time that goes by the harder the memories are to recall yet at the same time it feels like it happened yesterday. Grief warps time. Grief settles on my chest and makes it hard to breathe.