JANUARY 11, 2018: “14 Years And Grief Just SUCKS!” …


I didn’t want this day to end without acknowledging my little girl’s birthday. Year 14. I did my best to keep my head above the clouds today, but I think the gray and frigid weather at the cemetery late this afternoon threw me for a loop. You know what? Grief sucks! Truly, it does. It’s so unpredictable, and I hate the fact that I just can’t trust it at all. Some say it comes in waves, and nothing could be further from the truth. Days go by, weeks, sometimes even months that I don’t feel that something is just missing from my soul. Yet in that space where her very full life was supposed to be exists a dark, empty void filled with questions, confusion, regrets and “what if’s”. What would she look like today? What would her voice sound like? Would she have had my hair? His eyes? Been short, or tall? Who would she have been and where could she possibly have gone? What if I hadn’t picked up that Godforsaken box of Christmas decorations that I promised him I wouldn’t? And worst of the thoughts never far from the forefront of my mind – was her fate some twisted pay off for the many others of my sins? The questions are infinite and annoying and random and I really just actually hate them!

I waited to post this until it was late tonight because I know that grief can make others feel uncomfortable at times and I didn’t want to make anyone feel sad or sorry for me. Besides, no one seems to really know what to say when it comes to another’s loss which is totally understandable. And I’m so worn out from the last two days of holding back everything I was feeling that I am going to cut this short, which is probably for the best. Every person in the world that I love and care about is more than likely sleeping peacefully right now, except for probably my mom and sister. Mom was literally holding my hand when Gina Marie was born and the both of them were there with me the moment that she left. So they both know how much I struggle on this day every year and are always empathetic and mindful. But alas, these three sobering facts remain:




For now I’ll just have to cry it out, which is most often the only thing I can do and hope that tomorrow it will all be over. Sounds like a plan to me!