In the quiet...

I guess I haven't blogged in a little while. I have decided to go ahead and host a support group for other parents in the Durant area who have lost a child or children. I've ordered a bunch of books for resources for anyone who wants to borrow them. My friend, Stacey, sent me a bunch of pamphlets from Compassionate Friends to have available, also. I'm going to use the booklets that our church has had sent to us, also. The group is called Grief Care and starts May 7 at 6 p.m. whether one or none shows. Detective Laxton has given me the contact info for a few ladies in the area; one is the dispatcher who took the call about Amanda. She also lost her son prior to Amanda from an overdose. I've also told one of the home health nurses, Allie, about it and wrote down all of the information about the group for her. Her son and his girlfriend died in a house fire a little over a year ago. She had recently taken a 3-month leave of absence and just came back to work. Also, my friend, Karen, from back home is a counselor and has been helpful with websites and info. Also, my friend, Teddi Sharpton, used to lead a Grief Share group and gave me some great ideas to incorporate, things that worked really well in the group. I'm anxious about it as this is an area that I've never thought of delving into, but I feel this is what God has been preparing me for, that this is my purpose in this tragedy, to reach out to other parents on the grief journey and be His heart, His compassion, and His love. I want a place where I can air my heart and hurts and where others can too, in a safe place, where others understand the depth of our pain, the loss of present and future life with our children in the physical. While we don't know how long our time here is, it feels too long, when your heart just wants your child. I miss you, Amanda, so very much. 

Last night was a little hard. I just miss her so much. It's in the quiet times, when I get still and put all of the baggage of the day away that I am really able to feel. No masks. No agendas. Just being a mom who misses her daughter. I was staring at her Baby Bop just sitting in the closet next to Amanda's temporary urn and it just breaks my heart. Amanda was always holding onto Baby Bop as her comfort, and I would love to snuggle with her, but I don't want her ruined, either. And so in the quiet, the tears come, my heart breaks, and the cries are guttural. My mommy heart can't be consoled in these times. I just want my baby. I miss my baby and want to hold her. I want to hear her, feel her, be with her. And I can't do any of those things now and so I cry. 

I was ashamed of some thoughts I had last night. Sometimes I get so tired...tired of always having to take care of someone else. Tired of taking care of Ann. Tired of being woken in the middle of the night, rolling her over, listening to gibberish, hearing her cry out in pain. I try to be compassionate toward her. She can't help it. Everything does hurt her. She's barely eating. She doesn't understand why she's still here, and frankly, neither do I. And sometimes I find myself getting mad or having ugly thoughts...why IS she still here when she has no quality of life, is in pain always, and has no hope of recovery here in the physical. And in that same train of thought, I wonder, why did Amanda die? Why didn't God intervene and spare her life, stop her from going over there with, I don't know, a flat tire, vomiting, anything, just to keep her from going there. Maybe I just don't see the picture like God does. I know I don't. I know he sees in total when I only see in part and through the lens of grief and pain. Maybe he DID intervene, and this was a kinder, gentler death than where she was headed. I do know where she is, I just wish she didn't have to get there so soon, and I know that's selfish. I wouldn't have wanted her to suffer, to stay depressed, to struggle with the bipolar and her identity. I just miss her. I miss her laughter, her hugs, her ticklish feet, her goofiness, her singing. I miss everything, too numerous to list.  I guess I just don't understand why one's life is prolonged in agony when another's is shortened. I'm not wise enough, nor am I God, to be able to answer that question.

I still have a hard time dealing with others...especially if there's a lot of drama involved, constant stress and ups and downs in their life. Two people in particular I've had to distance myself from some as I just can't deal with it in a positive, encouraging, supportive manner. I listen and give advice, the same advice given by Tim, Pastor John, and Pastor Dewey, and then they go and do just the opposite, and then come back crying. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! 

Tim and I actually had some struggles in our marriage. It came to a head on Easter Sunday after church. All of this is taking a toll. Tim and I don't get enough "us" time, living with my parents in the sticks is so isolating and stressful, his jobs are very, very time-consuming, and this one girl it seems is always with us. She calls Tim, "Dad," and I'm sorry, that didn't fly with me. Tim is Amanda and Michael's Dad. Period. Tim would also introduce her as his daughter (she's black - so, no question she wasn't), but still...this Momma's heart was NOT happy about this. I know she doesn't feel love from her own family, I know she has a lot she's dealing with, but I NEED MY HUSBAND, TOO. I felt like I was coming in last place and always, always this girl was with us. She is NOT our daughter. We can love on her, we can do nice things for her periodically, but I felt like Tim was replacing Amanda with her, and I didn't like it one little bit. All of this can just be too much. I get mad about living here. I get mad at Ann's daughter, Marian, when she makes comments about how we take care of her mother. Oh she does such and such all the time with her dad and he weighs more than Ann, she will just have to show us how to do it right. My dad is NOT hurting himself anymore just to take Ann to the doctor for a visit when nothing can be done for her. I understand taking her if there is an actual problem, like a UTI, but the doctor even said there's no point in her coming out anymore. Anything she needs, the home health aides can do, or, when we need the three-month eval, the doctor's nurse practitioner can come out and see Ann and give the doctor the proper paperwork to fill out. But that's not good enough for Marian. Well you know what? Miss Know-it-all can just MOVE her butt down here and take over care permanently since we are doing things so wrong. I would welcome it! We could move into town and not be spending an arm and a leg in gas each month per vehicle. SHE could get up all night long, losing sleep and still trying to work the next day. She could do the cooking and cleaning and buying all the groceries. She could pay the water and trash bills. Meanwhile, Tim and I could move to town and have time to be a couple again, have time to grieve as we need to, when and how we need to. I know I'm on a rant, it just gets my blood boiling. 

And another thing that I struggle with is my anger at my dad. I KNOW it's a moot point, but we gave up soooo much, now including our daughter, to move to this place, to help him take care of Ann. I get mad because he COULD have moved to NC. We begged him for five years, but nooooo. The land, blah blah blah, the house, blah blah blah. Now we are here, our daughter is dead, and it's like pulling teeth sometimes to get him to spend time with HIS wife. Maybe it's his self-preservation, knowing she's not here for long, but watching TV or fiddling with something in the garage should not trump spending time with Ann. It's like he can't get out of there fast enough sometimes. And now that she's in the hospital bed and he's sleeping in the other room, he doesn't hear her at all when he's sleeping (really wish he'd go see an audiologist - We already know he's hard of hearing in one ear at least, but I bet he's past due for a hearing aid). Sooo, Tim and I are up and down all night long tending to her. But then, the other day he ran across all of her scrapbooking stuff and he broke down crying, saying that she kept everything from concerts they went to, camping trips, birthday parties, etc. and now seeing her how she is, it's just hard to take in. I told him that he knows she won't be here for long, so he needs to make sure and spend time with her now. I just don't want him having regrets and kicking himself for spending time doing all of this other, non-essential stuff, when Ann is here, right now, with him and he could be spending time with her, and taking care of that other stuff after she's gone. Everyone has their own way of dealing with things, though.

I guess I'm done whining for now. A home health nurse is on her way to see Ann, which is nice. It's always a little reprieve for me. Her physical therapy just started back and he was astonished at her condition. He can barely move her legs and arms a little anymore. Everything hurts her. Bless her heart. And she wonders at times why she is still even here. She said she's ready to go, that she just wants to go to sleep. I asked her if she's told Jesus she's ready to go, and she said, "Not yet. Do you think I should?" Yes, tell Jesus. 

Mixed bag

Remember these? I used to love Kaleidoscopes when I was a kid and I still think they're pretty cool. You take a variety of colors and shapes and depending on which way you turn the end piece, you got a different picture. The same shapes and colors, when the end piece is moved a different way, creates a different picture. Well, that's sort of how my emotions are right now. 

For instance, Mother's Day is coming up. I'm not any less a mother than I was before Amanda passed (same shapes and colors), but now there is this new twist, and my picture looks completely different to me.  But it doesn't have to be an event to make things look different, it's a daily, hourly, minute-by-minute twisting of the scope. I can have the same set of circumstances and in one day I go through a myriad of twists and I go from being "okay" to a basket case. Let me tell you, it's exhausting. And I keep thinking about the empty platitudes that people offer and sometimes I really want to smack some folks upside the head. I know it's not their fault; they don't know what to say so they say what they think will be comforting, and it just...gahhh...makes me want to scream. But I guess in all honesty, I've probably said some of those same things but now that the shoe is on the other foot, I realize how ridiculous some they are, or how ridiculous they sound to a heart that is broken. 

I have this beautiful image of my being curled up in Jesus' lap, just letting him hold me and all of my brokenness. The tenderness, gentleness, acceptance, and love, the compassion there is what I need most. It's been four months and 5 days and I feel like I'm going crazy and so, so lost. I wonder how others have done it for years without their children. Not that I think they love their kids any less by any means, it just is a wonder to me how they have gotten through, but I guess it's just one step at a time, one foot in front of the other just like me, not because they want to, but because they don't know anything else to do and not curl up and die. 

I feel so lost. This despair is so deep it's almost palpable. I want my baby. All I ever wanted to do when I was little was be a wife and mommy. And it's not that I'm not still those things, just everything else to me was secondary. And now that part of one of those jobs is over and I never wanted it to be over, I feel like I've completely been sucker punched. I don't know how to catch my breath, or really if I even want to, but part of me does. I want to honor my daughter's life by living. I want to be able to move forward, but at the same time I have such guilt every single day of if I move forward, if I laugh, if I enjoy life again, what does that say about my love of my child, of the deep loss I have experienced? Does it say, "I'm over it"?? I will never be over it and I don't know how to marry these two warring thoughts. 

Papa God, please help me. I want to curl up in your arms and have you soothe my shattered heart. I want to hear you say you are with me, though I know you are. I need your comfort. Thank you for walking with me through this. I know you have never and never will leave me. Thank you for the Psalms that reassure me. My favorite is Ps. 139: 7-12: 

7 

Where can I go from your Spirit?

    Where can I flee from your presence?

8 

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

9 

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

    if I settle on the far side of the sea,

10 

even there your hand will guide me,

    your right hand will hold me fast.

11 

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

    and the light become night around me,”

12 

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

    the night will shine like the day,

    for darkness is as light to you.

While I don't like this new season of life and know that you didn't "Take" Amanda, I do know that you have a plan for this and that you will be glorified. I am yours, Father, and I will do your will in this plan to bring you honor and glory. 

In Jesus' name,

Amen

Tiny annoyance...

Okay, so last week I finally took a step into higher technology from my old cell phone to a smartphone. And I have to admit, I was terrified of it, but am having fun with it. First, though, we had two weeks to test it out and make sure (A) I had signal out here in the sticks and could do everything I needed it to do, and (B) that I liked it. The answer was "Yes" on both counts. 

Today I went into AT&T to have them port my old phone number onto this phone. I guess I hadn't thought the whole thing through about getting a new phone that in doing that, whether I got a new number or the same number, that I might lose my old voicemails, specifically my last call from Amanda. I was heartbroken but tried not to show it there. I cried the whole way back to work. It is the little things but it was a big deal to me. Her voice. My baby's voice calling to tell me she loved me. Someone suggested I could contact Virgin Mobile and ask them if they could make it into an MP3 and let me download it. Tim is trying that now, on the phone with them.

But here's my annoyance, and I guess I should just keep the above things to myself...I get posts like, "Well she's with God now and you'll hear her voice every day." or "just feel her arms around you." I know people mean well, I do, but it makes me cringe when I get statements like that. I know where she's at and am eternally grateful for it, but this was a tiny piece of my daughter that I cherished still having the ability to hear her call me and tell me she loved me and hearing it in her voice. When someone you love passes away, you are bombarded with well-meaning cliches and it is so hard (at times) to just smile and be gracious. What I would prefer to hear, what anyone grieving would prefer to hear is, "I understand" and/or "I'm so sorry."

So Tim just got off the phone with Virgin Mobile. No dice. Once AT&T requested the number be ported over, Virgin Mobile automatically eradicates all of the data, including voicemails. I love him so much for trying. At least I still have the texts on the old phone between she and I and videos of her singing and being silly. 

The Dance

This post on Facebook really spoke to me. You always hear the cliche about grief getting better with time. The line about it not being linear is what really struck a chord with me. It's more like a dance that you are unfamiliar with the steps. Two forward, one back, sidestep, more back, one forward and twirl where you are just spinning your wheels, sort of stuck.  On and on it goes, changing tempo and tune as it plays out.

Some days I feel sort of okay. I miss Amanda terribly. I'm beating myself up less and less. I know that it was just a bad choice, and that's not okay but it's okay. I mean I should have and could have been dead from plenty of my poor choices, but that wasn't my journey. I'm having to really learn to trust that God is the tour guide. He knows the route. He created the route, and I have to trust him in all things. It's not easy. I know there will be setbacks, anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, and those will be unbearable. I also know I have to learn to dance whether I like it or not. God isn't finished with me yet. I don't have the luxury of giving up. There is something that He is going to use me for because of this. I have seen and fully believe that God doesn't waste a hurt, and this is a hurt. I can pour into other hurting kids, but I still have a hesitation about me. They're not Amanda, and she's the one I want to love on, but she's not here. I have a hard time really letting people in, but that's always been the case. Now it's just even harder. I put up a barrier. 

But there is another thing I can do. I can reach out to other hurting moms and dads. There is a boy back home who Amanda used to know who was just killed in a drug deal on Saturday. I can identify with some of the feelings/thoughts that she may be having. Even though Amanda's death wasn't publicized like his was, it was drug related, and I know the shame that comes with that, the thoughts and feelings like you as the parent are being judged for the actions of the children. I wrote her a letter. I haven't sent it out yet, but I will. I just want her to hear, whenever she reads it, that she is not alone, though if she's like me, she still feels alone. I do know now from being in the support group online that while our experiences are not the same as far as how our children died, there are commonalities in our grief reactions, and that has offered validation for me. Everyone is going to grieve differently. We each have different relationships with our children, different regrets, different things we can celebrate or grieve that we missed out on, etc. We are walking a parallel path, not the same one. No two are alike, but we can care for one another, support one another. I'm thinking of taking Detective Laxton up on getting some of the other grieving moms together in Durant to offer a means of support for one another so we don't feel so alone as we learn to dance.

Frustrated

I am just so stinking mad. Frustrated. We got Amanda's phone back yesterday, April 1, from Detective Laxton. It was good but heartbreaking to have it again. I broke down and sobbed, again. Tim wants to try and help me, but there is no help. There is nothing any person can do for me. I am losing confidence in the police. 

I am fully aware and becoming more so in looking over Amanda's phone and messages, that my daughter was no saint. I'm also fully aware that she was apparently a willing participant in obtaining the heroin and using...but she was still my daughter and I loved her!!! She wasn't "just" some dead junky or a case number. She was Amanda Christine Garrett, my daughter, my pain in the butt who could make me laugh til I snorted and grossed out like no other. She was stubborn and silly and sassy and had a potty mouth and could be so loving and sweet. She put on a tough act to cover up her very tender heart. She wanted to be loved so much by someone besides just her family. She wanted to find her place in this world. But I get the feeling that the police pretty much don't care as she was a drug user who died. "Oh well, one more off the streets...NEXT!" And it pisses me off! 

I KNOW they have to be able to prove things no matter how much they do or don't believe them to be true, it's just so maddening to know that Ryan and Erika are "out there" somewhere and Amanda's in an urn in my closet. 

And I fight with myself...this life, here, is maybe all they will have, but Amanda has eternity with Jesus. I KNOW that...and I know I'm being shortsighted in thinking there's no justice being served NOW when justice will ultimately be God's, but I am a mom. I did everything I could from the time I was pregnant with her to protect her, even from herself, and you don't just turn that off when they die. I still want to protect her. I want someone to have to pay for this crap. I want someone to have to pay for all of the brokenness I have now. I want someone to know how I don't want to get up in the morning. And I have thoughts of driving my car into a tree. Of wishing I never had to wake up again. But I can't do that. I don't have that much selfishness in me and wouldn't want my family to grieve me like I am over Amanda. I'm just so angry!!!

So I'm looking over Amanda's phone and see calls the day Amanda died starting at like 6:40 in the morning. I'm certain Amanda was already gone by then. I also saw 9 calls the night she died to a Dallas number that, based on the times, were most likely to the dealer. I email the detective and he acts like this is news to them and they will "look into it" and let me know. Excuse me?? Did you say you WILL look into it? They had this phone for almost 4 months. That pissed me off. I'm thinking I have the Abbott and Costello version of cops working this case. Who's on First? I emailed him and probably sounded pretty much like a B, and he responds that they knew about those numbers, blah blah blah. He did say that he contacted YESTERDAY the Dallas narcotics division to have them call him back about the Dallas number, but what. the. heck???? WHY is this JUST being done if they supposedly already had that info??? Nothing makes sense to me and I just feel like (and I may be way wrong) if THIS crime had happened back home, I would feel more confident in the way things would be handled AND we know several police there and would have at least someone we knew we could talk to about it and be given straight answers.  Heaven help me.