The "in betweens"

      Today started out just like any other. I woke up, too tired to put a proper thought together and walked out into the living room to turn on the news and read my email while trying to wake up. Instead of email, I clicked on iphoto and looked through a huge selection of pictures of Willow. Shelby has taken thousands and I am so very grateful for that. As I looked through them, seeing her smiles and adventures i kept having one overwhelming thought. Why am I not crying? I had no emotional responses to seeing her, so full of life, so happy, so beautiful, so gone from my life. I tried to make myself weep, make myself be overcome and mourn but there was nothing. I just do not understand these times.

     Looking back on one incident in particular, I was in the hospital the day they were to take Willow's body off of the machines and harvest her organs. It had been so important to me not to break down in front of Alice, Carpenter and Shelby, and I had not been as successful as I had wished to be. This morning however, my dad was there and I knew he was going to want to talk and he is as close to deaf as is possible without being deaf so I took him, just the two of us, away from everyone else and went down to the cafeteria. We went through the line, got our food, sat down in a booth, and I began to weep. No, I began to wail. I know I must have been seen all over that cafeteria because I didn't hold anything back. I just kept saying, "My baby, my baby, no, no, no..." and crying out loud, unabashedly weeping. At one point a nurse came over and asked my dad if I was okay. Just one more of those stupid well intended questions people have been asking. Of course I was not okay, my baby was dead. There was no holding anything back and I didn't care who heard or who was there or what anyone thought. I needed to let it out and I did. I am okay with that. I have no regrets about that and do not question why I behaved in such a manner. It was healthy, it was pure emotion and no one who heard it had any question as to what was going on, although I didn't care. Inappropriate? Some may think so, but it was true and it was pure and raw emotion is cleansing. It was healing to let it all out. I don't question that.

     Just over a week ago we had two great friends drive all the way down to Michigan to see us. Our dear friends Tim and Vikki, whom I hadn't seen since we left Michigan in 2004 and Alice and the kids had seen a couple of times while visiting Michigan over the last several years, they drove all the way through to Louisiana just to see us. We had a great time with them. There was so much laughter and merriment. We went out to a little pastry cafe that I take care of and we had a fantastic time trying different pastries, drinking coffee, and making fun of me for being Mr. Sunshine. One of the chefs had been wanting to meet my wife and daughter for a while and told them that they have had other milkmen but there is something different about me as I bring sunshine in with me when I come. Of course, this well intentioned compliment led to me being teased mercilessly about being Mr. Sunshine and I loved every minute of it, although from what I hear my face turned several shades of red. We had so much fun, so much laughter, such a sweet time, and this makes sense to me too. In the midst of our loss, the greatest loss anyone will ever be able to comprehend, we had true joy and laughter and such a sweet and wonderful time. I understand this too because in all of our anguish we have so much to celebrate. It is like I have quoted Pooh bear as saying, "I am glad to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." Willow was such a wonderful human being and brought pure joy and light wherever and whenever and she left this life before the evils of it got to her. She was spared from so much ugliness and evil in this world. She knew nothing but love and comfort and happiness. We had our dear friends with us. They had made a huge sacrifice to drive 17 hours straight to spend a couple of days and then drive 17 hours back. Such a gesture was so wonderful and meant the world to me. How could someone not be happy in such a time as this. This made sense.

   That Sunday morning was my first time to return to church since Willow's passing. It was the same church where her funeral was held. I parked next to the side door that we carried her little casket out from. I went through the doors that led to the sanctuary where her little body lay on display and saw the aching looks on people's faces as they greeted me. I also learned that if you're holding two cups of coffee you don't have to shake people's hands. (A personal phobia of mine.) I never made it to the beginning of the singing. It was all too much. I went in the back room and wept, wept such bitter tears and hurt so deeply that I felt as if there was no escape from this deep abyss I was sinking into. I started to feel like I was sinking beyond the point of coming back, which scares me. I fear that if I ever let myself fall far enough I'll never get up. So I got up. My wife was kneeling with me, comforting me. My daughter came and took me away. She asked me to take her for coffee, she actually took me, and we went away from that bittersweet place and we had a time of distraction. All of this makes sense to me. Of course I will have times of unspeakable grief, and of course I will have times of such deep heartfelt joy and love.

   Then there are the "in betweens." These are the times I cannot wrap my mind around. The times when I stand next to Willow's Willow tree in the back yard, the one we planted for Shelby's first mothers day and I feel nothing. The times when I look at the multitude of pictures of Willow and I feel nothing. The times, more often than not, when I cannot remember what she sounded like. Why can I not remember the sound of her voice? Why can I not remember the feeling of picking her up? Her hugs? Her kisses? Why am I forgetting her? Why is she slipping away? Why are there times when I can watch a video of her, like the video I shot of her on her last day, seeing her run with pollen all over her little bottom and not have an emotional reaction? How come I can see a video of me singing "Hello Brother" by Louis Armstrong to her and not be moved? No emotion. These are the times that I don't understand. These are the times that torture me and feel me with such guilt, such shame. I feel as though it is such a dishonor to Willow's memory to, less than a month from her death, not be able to remember her voice? She was my world! She was my angel. She was my reason for breathing. Of course, just one of my reasons. I still have my wife and kids and they are my everything and I would have laid down and died already had I not had them. But why are there times like these? Why are there these cursed "in betweens" that make me feel as though I've forgotten her, as though I am the most cold and wretched man alive? How can such a thing possibly be? I need help. I need someone to help me make sense of this. There are two options I've come across so far. One, I can go to a therapist and talk one on one. Two, I can go to a grief support group with other people who have lost little ones. No therapist will understand. They may have all of the book knowledge there is but unless they have burst into a room and picked their lifeless child up off the floor and lost a part of their soul as that child died, they have no idea. It is clear to me that I need to speak with some people who know what I am going through. I am blessed to have such good friends who are aching to help. A dear friend, Ray, called me today just to check on me. I didn't answer and I listened to his sweet voicemail where he was just encouraging me that whatever I need is fine and he understands but he hopes we can get together soon to talk. He is right. I don't know if I know of someone with a bigger heart than Ray and Sharon. No, he hasn't lost a child but he loves his as dearly as I love mine. It feels a bit selfish, but it is very comforting to know that someone hurts so deeply for me. I don't want anyone to hurt and I don't want to be a burden on anyone, but at the same time I have to admit that it does take a bit of that burden off of my shoulders. No one can bear this burden alone.

     There is so much more to say, so many more topics to go over and in time perhaps I will hit them all. Today though, I simply ask God to help me. Help me with the "in betweens." Give me more of the bitter tears, the painful wailing. Give me more of the laughter with good friends and love of people whose love I do not deserve. Give me the good times, give me the painful times, but dear God please help me with these cursed "in betweens."