I made the mistake recently of searching grief on Pinterest. \u00a0Now Pinterest fills my feed with poems and quotes about grief. \u00a0Right beside the memes and barn doors I normally search. \u00a0This poem was right at the top. \u00a0It describes what one part of my day is like. \u00a0I could not have written it any better myself.<\/p>\n
Silent Tears<\/strong><\/p>\n Each day as evening starts to set<\/p>\n The ache builds in her chest<\/p>\n She knows that she must go to bed<\/p>\n And try to get some rest<\/p>\n She hugs her tearstained pillow close<\/p>\n When no one is around<\/p>\n And cries for one she loved and lost<\/p>\n And screams without a sound<\/p>\n Others see her in the day<\/p>\n And think she\u2019s doing well<\/p>\n But every day as evening sets<\/p>\n She enters her own hell<\/p>\n Time hasn\u2019t healed her pain at all<\/p>\n Or quieted her fears<\/p>\n So every night, alone in bed<\/p>\n She sheds those silent tears<\/p>\n ~KP<\/p>\n I have mentioned my witching hours before. \u00a0When Hayley was an infant she would start screaming her head off at 4:00 p.m. every single day and continue to be the most unhappy baby on the planet. \u00a0Shortly after 7:00 p.m. it would just stop for no explainable reason and our little sunshine was back. \u00a0Nothing we did or didn’t do started it or stopped it. \u00a0It just was. \u00a0Just as we had done the first time she horrified us by having projectile poop, we rushed her to our pediatrician. \u00a0Just like when we told him something was broken in her digestive track, he told us this was something that happened to some infants and that she would outgrow it. \u00a0It was at this visit that after examining 4 month old Hayley he turned to us and said “you two are in for it, this one is going to be a handful”. \u00a0We looked at the little angel who was already sitting up on her own. \u00a0How do you know? \u00a0He said I have seen thousands of infants in my career and I can always predict which ones will be stubborn, outgoing and spirited. \u00a0He said watch this. \u00a0He showed her the shiny end of his stethoscope while also moving a popsicle stick with an Elmo sticker on it around in front of her. \u00a0No matter how hard he tried to distract her with the stick she would not give up on trying to get a hand on the stethoscope. \u00a0He explained, that single minded attention at 4 months was not average. \u00a0We found a new and even more wonderful pediatrician when we moved to the Eastside, but I have always wished that I had found him and told him how incredibly correct he was.<\/p>\n Ironically my witching hours start at the same time as baby Hayley. \u00a0When 4:00 rolls around I find myself starting to feel even more exhausted, emotional, tears come easily and the pain starts to ratchet up. \u00a0This goes on until I finally can go to sleep usually between 11:30 and 3:00. \u00a0My grief counselor helped me talk through why this time might be worse than others. \u00a0I didn’t miss her any more than every other minute during the day. \u00a0It is because as parents this late afternoon through bedtime, that is when we were truly “on duty” most of our children’s lives. \u00a0That was the time that we picked them up from daycare after work. \u00a0That was the time school and activities ended for the day and all the birds were back in the nest for dinner. \u00a0Of course as they get older sports, activities and friends kept them busy from the time they woke up until they went to sleep. \u00a0But still there is something about the sun setting and the world going dark that would make you hyper focused on your children. \u00a0When it is dark your parental instinct to protect increases. \u00a0Maybe it goes back to the days of the caveman. \u00a0Their children were probably more likely to be prey after dark. \u00a0It was a matter of physical survival to have them in the cave when the sun set.<\/p>\n Most recently Hayley would generally be coming home from work around that time. \u00a0I would be waiting for her in the front room and we would each take a red leather chair before she went to change her clothes. \u00a0She would tell me about her day and usually take the remote from me and change it from CNN to one of her many favorite shows. \u00a0Most of the time it was one of the reality shows about little people. \u00a0She loved them. \u00a0When she was at Western Washington University, she was always in her dorm room in the late afternoon. \u00a0I would always hear from her around 4:00 before she went to dinner. \u00a0As many of you have gathered Hayley and I were close. \u00a0Close in a way that is not generally the norm among teen daughters and their mothers. \u00a0Hayley would call me between classes to say hi. \u00a0We would face time when I was home. \u00a0Sometimes she would face time me from dinner or another activity so I could also say hi to her roommate or other friends. \u00a0We never went more than 2-4 hours without some type of communication. \u00a0I didn’t really notice this until it was gone. \u00a0I still find myself checking my phone. \u00a0I briefly think if I don’t respond quickly she will give me a hard time. \u00a0The messages are not there. \u00a0She had become an independent and wonderful student. \u00a0She didn’t need anything most of the time, we just had to communicate. \u00a0Prior to college we had never been away from each other for more than a week. \u00a0That week was one time when she went to Mexico with a friend’s family at the end of Freshman year. \u00a0She wasn’t a big lover of sleep overs. \u00a0She tried. \u00a0But I would always end up having to go get her at about midnight. \u00a0Once she could drive, she would say, bye I am going to a sleep over. \u00a0Both Scott and I would laugh at her and say “see you about 11”. \u00a0She would leave in a huff. \u00a0But always came home before midnight with a big smile on her face and threatening us not to say a word. \u00a0We would say, glad you are home, good night and love you more. \u00a0Sometimes I would poke her and say things like, nice try, maybe next time or did you forget your sleeping bag. \u00a0This girl was a homebody. \u00a0She went out, she socialized but she was very picky about it. \u00a0Her favorite place in the world was home. \u00a0Her second favorite place was her bed in her room with her dvr.<\/p>\n Let me tell you about one of the films that go through my head during the witching hours. \u00a0I am in that time right now as I write this. The films are a combination of thoughts, questions and images. \u00a0It has been 119 days since I had a conversation with her. \u00a0She was laying on my bathroom floor. \u00a0I had helped her shower on a stool and she had to crawl out of the shower and lay on the floor because of how badly she felt. \u00a0She knew Scott and I were exhausted. \u00a0She kept apologizing for being sick. \u00a0This made me mad at myself that she felt she needed to apologize. \u00a0I told her not to do that. \u00a0I snapped out of my stupor briefly to tell her that I absolutely adored her at all times. \u00a0When I put her to bed I sat on the stool on the side and held her hand. \u00a0I have a photo on my phone of my view at that moment; our hands, her washcloth covered face, her new bedding, the new artwork above her bed that said “HOME”. \u00a0She couldn’t handle having anyone lay on the bed. \u00a0Who would know that was her last night. \u00a0I will regret forever telling her to try to let us sleep. \u00a0To only call us if things got worse or she threw up. \u00a0I wish I had stayed with her for every last minute that she was conscious. \u00a0I wish that I had stayed that next night at the hospital and let Henry take care of himself and the dogs on his own. \u00a0But the room only had space for one of us to stay. \u00a0I felt safe. \u00a0I felt she was safe. \u00a0Scott needed to stay and watch over her. \u00a0She was in ICU, they now finally knew what was wrong and the best doctors would take care of her. \u00a0If it was a truly critical situation they would not have let me leave, right? \u00a0Someone would have told us. \u00a0One of the dogs had hurt himself that morning trying to get to the paramedics. \u00a0I needed to check on him. \u00a0I should have sat on a chair all night so that I was there when she woke and said over and over “Call Mom”. \u00a0I wasn’t there when she was the most scared. \u00a0I was not there when she left the conscious world. \u00a0When my friend and I got there, within in a handful of minutes, I watched her die. \u00a0I saw her naked body on the bed as a nurse performed chest compressions. \u00a0I screamed her name over and over as Scott restrained me from getting to her, the voice of reason, let them do their job. \u00a0I thought if she heard me and knew I was there everything would be okay. \u00a0I lost control of my bladder as I made animal sounds and kicked and scratched Scott to try to get to her. \u00a0I truly believe that she waited until I got there. \u00a0It happen so fast. \u00a0It was July 18th at 2:09 am. \u00a0I know this not because I looked at the clock, but because my pacemaker recorded the event for me to see in black and white. \u00a0I have a print out that shows my heart’s reaction to her leaving me. \u00a0It was 2:09 am. \u00a0If I fall asleep early it seems I always wake up around 2 am. \u00a0Once I am awake of course being 46 years old, I have to go pee. \u00a0When I go pee, I wake up more. \u00a0When I wake up and it is 2:00 am I am alone with my thoughts. \u00a0This is one of the most common reels that my mind plays for me at night. \u00a0Believe it or not there are some that are equally traumatizing.<\/p>\n I learned that you never take a day for granted. \u00a0You never assume that modern medicine is perfect. \u00a0The dog could have waited. \u00a0Henry could have gone to a friend’s. \u00a0But you know what, my mom was coming to town, I needed to clean up my house. \u00a0I knew I was going back to the hospital around 4 or 5 am in order to make sure I was there for rounds. \u00a0I knew I wouldn’t be coming home until she did so I felt the compulsive need to make sure everything was in order. \u00a0I felt it had to be me to do it right. \u00a0But I was wrong so wrong. \u00a0Our house is always a mess, cluttered. \u00a0None of that mattered. \u00a0In fact the dog was not fixable, hundreds of dollars in vet bills tells me this. \u00a0He continues to use only three of his legs most of the time. \u00a0He is a constant reminder of that day and what was going on when he hurt himself. \u00a0He sleeps at my feet every night or curled up against my back or the back of my knees. \u00a0When I have a sliver of my sense of humor surface I refer to him as “tripod”.<\/p>\n The witching hours are brutal. \u00a0But every minute of every day is difficult. \u00a0It is just that during the day there are times and activities that make it easier to hide the silent tears. \u00a0I hate to say this because I know you will read and be thinking, I have told her to call me any time, I told her we are here for her. \u00a0But honestly I am telling the truth when I say it does not even occur to me to call at these dark times. \u00a0I have this strong maybe misplaced desire to protect everyone from my pain. \u00a0I really like getting the texts, emails and messages of support. \u00a0Just knowing it is there is a life raft in a sea of tears. \u00a0 \u00a0I know I will eventually ask you for that support. \u00a0I can feel it coming as I become more and more weak. \u00a0Unable to control the emotion, unable to hide the pain and the rock in the pit of my stomach gets heavier. \u00a0There are a handful of people that I have chosen to bear some of the rock’s weight for me. \u00a0I know I can call and cry. \u00a0My bottom is when I say to them “I can’t do this”. \u00a0Sometimes I will say, “Henry doesn’t really need me”. \u00a0I am ashamed when I do. \u00a0I know he does, what I mean is he just won’t ever need me the way she did. \u00a0When I say I can’t do this, what a stupid thing to say. \u00a0What do I mean? \u00a0Am I going to leave, am I going to end the pain? No, Hayley would never forgive me. \u00a0So when I can’t do this, I mean I can’t bear this pain right now. \u00a0At that moment the rock is too heavy for me to carry. \u00a0I can no longer show my pain in front of Scott. \u00a0He can’t, he just can’t. \u00a0We are opposites in how we express ourselves, how we deal with emotion. \u00a0It hurts that I can’t, but if I am honest I couldn’t handle seeing him cry too. \u00a0I have witnessed his grief and it is unbearable. \u00a0It is like seeing my own pain reflected back at me. \u00a0They say the divorce rate is very high for couples that lose a child. I can understand. \u00a0Seeing your pain reflected back at you every day takes strength and commitment to navigate.<\/p>\n This past weekend I attended the Holiday Bazaar at our high school. \u00a0My oldest friend joined me. \u00a0She seems to know when she needs to come and give me a few hours. \u00a0She does this even though she lives 45 minutes away, works full time, has three kids and two dogs. \u00a0As we wandered the halls, the booths disguised the fact that I was at the school. \u00a0I volunteered a lot at the school. \u00a0I was there often manning tables at lunch. \u00a0Hayley would joke about how mortifying it was to see me at school. \u00a0 I knew she lied because she always acknowledged me, she sat with me, she even asked for bathroom passes when she knew I was there. \u00a0On Saturday I stared at the student store. \u00a0She spent a semester there, her last semester senior year. \u00a0I was thrilled that she spent this time with another mom that I grew to admire and love. \u00a0Hayley was spending time around another strong female role model. \u00a0I would sit at my table and see her in the student store from my view. \u00a0On Saturday the store looked the same, the same woman was there waiting to hug me. \u00a0It felt surreal. \u00a0We ran into the school janitor. \u00a0She was someone I really got to know during my time hanging out at the school. \u00a0I know about her taking care of her ailing mom. \u00a0I knew when her mom was not going to make it. \u00a0Hayley always made a point to see her when many students don’t see the staff that keeps a school running, they blend into the background. \u00a0Hayley greeted her every day. \u00a0She was working Saturday. \u00a0I went to say Hi. \u00a0I could tell immediately from the tone of her greeting she did not know about Hayley. \u00a0I hugged her and while I held her I told her Hayley is gone. \u00a0She didn’t understand, she pulled away, I think briefly she thought I meant she was at college. \u00a0I had to say bluntly, Hayley died. \u00a0She immediately teared up and I had to go. \u00a0I felt bad, I had dropped a bomb on her and then left her to continue to do her job. \u00a0I told her I would seek her out in the next couple of weeks. \u00a0My friend and I continued. \u00a0I noticed on the walls above the lockers were framed photos of teams from over the years. \u00a0We were at 2011. \u00a0I almost frantically followed the frames until I found the one of the dance team 2012-2013, her freshman year. \u00a0There she was in the top row, fourth from the right. \u00a0I started to cry. \u00a0Many of the people that have reached out to me were there. \u00a0They seemed sincerely happy to see me. \u00a0I was surprised that I was happy to see them too. \u00a0For no other reason than I thought it would be awkward or when they say how are you, I wouldn’t know how to answer. \u00a0My advice is to always answer as honestly as you can. \u00a0Of course I don’t say in public with Christmas music overhead from the student band that I am barely surviving and am in the depths of hell. \u00a0But I don’t say the automatic “good” any more. \u00a0I might say Ok, but usually the honest answer is “as good as I can”. \u00a0Last week was constant crying. \u00a0That hour of hugs and greetings gave me a small shot of strength. \u00a0It reminded me that a lot of people care even when you feel so very alone. \u00a0Hugs are fuel. \u00a0I no longer pull away. \u00a0I have thrown the “rules” out the window. \u00a0I will hug as long as it feels ok. \u00a0If it gets weird I end it.<\/p>\n The rock I am carrying around is so very heavy right now. \u00a0It feels like it is growing every day. \u00a0Maybe I have been numb some of the first 119 days. \u00a0I know I was the first 4 weeks. \u00a0I got through a candlelight vigil, a memorial service with over 500 people, started a blog and a website, created a legacy for Hayley and put it on a bracelet. \u00a0I must have been numb because I cannot imagine doing any of those things right now. \u00a0Grief is all of the love you had for that person. \u00a0It is the love that has nowhere to go right now. \u00a0So it manifests itself into pain, guilt, regret, sadness, depression, anger, denial, anguish, headache, misery, sorrow, bleakness, darkness, agony, and bitterness. \u00a0All of these emotions form this heavy rock that makes your body feel so very heavy. You are exhausted carrying it around. \u00a0It has jagged edges. \u00a0If you are not careful, if you come upon a trigger of a memory those jagged points will cut you and make you cry. \u00a0So you move and navigate very carefully. \u00a0You withdrawal. \u00a0You isolate yourself. \u00a0I have spent many of these 119 days sitting on the couch as motionless as possible. \u00a0Hoping if I don’t think, if I don’t move, it won’t hurt. \u00a0I could do this because Scott was home. \u00a0He didn’t need to sit still, he needed to keep busy. \u00a0He could give rides and go to the store. \u00a0He has been my crutch. \u00a0Tomorrow he has to return to work. \u00a0I know he has so much anxiety about it, I feel helpless. \u00a0I feel guilty that I don’t have a job. \u00a0I don’t even have any prospects of a job. \u00a0My job right now is to keep breathing. \u00a0So I will have to move off the couch this week. \u00a0A new puppy a week ago has had me moving more than probably all the prior weeks combined. \u00a0So the rock is going to be jostled and tossed around. \u00a0I can only hope that it will be like rocks and glass in the ocean. \u00a0As items gets tossed around in the sea the jagged edges become smooth. \u00a0Smooth edges would really help.<\/p>\n I will end this post with another Hayley memory that just came to me as I was considering the Rock metaphor. \u00a0Remember where this started, the infant that didn’t sleep much and was stubborn. \u00a0That never changed. \u00a0She always has been unique and did things her way regardless of social norms. \u00a0She must have been about 18 months old when she found a rock in our Snoqualmie Ridge yard. \u00a0Trust me this was not hard as all of the land there was covered in rocks, making planting a yard a challenge. \u00a0The rock was about the size of her little hand. \u00a0Even then she had beautiful hands. \u00a0Not cute chubby toddler hands, but long graceful fingers and a firm, confident grip. \u00a0When it was time to go to bed, she didn’t want a special blanket or stuffed animal or even a toy. \u00a0She wanted her rock. \u00a0She went to sleep with a rock in her hand. \u00a0Just one. \u00a0Didn’t have to be the same rock. \u00a0She would bring them in and out of the house daily. \u00a0I was telling a coworker about her rock habit. \u00a0As a first time mother it drove me nuts to think of a dirty rock being in her clean crib with the clean sheet and her clean hands. \u00a0What if she put it in her mouth? \u00a0What if she got dirt in her mouth? \u00a0What if an animal had peed or crapped on that rock? \u00a0It was not like I could disinfect the rock every night. \u00a0We would try to talk her out of it but the tantrum that might trigger had us giving in very quickly. \u00a0I would try to sneak back into her room later and try to pry the rock out of her grip. \u00a0I gave this up when she would wake up and think it was morning cause why else would Mommy wake me up. \u00a0And those were long nights. \u00a0My coworker laughed. \u00a0I told her about the rock collection I had bought her. \u00a0It was a little plastic case with dividers that contained shiny, smooth, quartz and minerals. \u00a0They were labeled and were meant to encourage little geologists every where. \u00a0In fact that only got given away in the last 4 years. \u00a0I thought this would satisfy her rock fetish. \u00a0She suggested I give Hayley one of the shiny pretty rocks. \u00a0Nope, I can’t they can fit in a toilet paper tube. \u00a0She might swallow it while she slept. \u00a0About a week later she left a gift on my desk. It was a shiny, polished rock. \u00a0It was brown. \u00a0It kind of looked like petrified poop. \u00a0But it was the perfect size. \u00a0It was the exact size of Hayley’s little hand. \u00a0Plus, it could be cleaned! \u00a0Heck, it could go through the dishwasher. \u00a0I brought it home and presented Hayley with her brand new “night-night rock”. \u00a0She loved it. \u00a0It fit perfectly. \u00a0She slept holding that rock for many years. \u00a0I know that the rock is currently sitting in her jewelry box in her closet in her room. \u00a0I can only hope that my rock will fit in my hand some day.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I made the mistake recently of searching grief on Pinterest. \u00a0Now Pinterest fills my feed with poems and quotes about grief. \u00a0Right beside the memes and barn doors I normally search. \u00a0This poem was right at the top. \u00a0It describes what one part of my day is like. \u00a0I could not have written it any … <\/p>\n