I periodically check in on Erica H. - just creeping on her FB really, and saw she'd updated her profile picture:
She looks good, right? Clear eyes, face no longer sunken in...she looks healthy and clean. And I'm happy for her. I'm proud of the progress she's made and is making, and then those voices start...Why her? Why does she get that chance? Why not Amanda? I hate those questions. They are for naught, but still my heart hurts because I guess when it comes down to it, I still want to know the answer to them. I know it's just from my pain.
Yesterday Tim and I went fishing at Lake Texoma. That was the first time we'd been there since doing the balloon release for Amanda's 21st birthday in September. I was sitting there and rubbed my thumb on the inside of my arm near my wrist and noted that the skin was really soft. That's all it took for a big ugly meltdown to happen. My brain automatically jumped to when Amanda was in the hospital. I was holding her hands, rubbing my thumb over the top of her hand and noting how soft her skin was and just wanting her to wake up. Sitting there at the lake, with the sun shining down and the wind lightly blowing and I wasn't there at all. The tears were streaming down my cheeks and I was just so sorry.
Tim scooted over to me and we sat there and cried. I still feel so guilty. I am guilty. I made us move here and it cost us Amanda. I. MADE. us. move. here. For what? Because still, after 46 years, I'm still trying to gain my dad's approval, because I've never felt "enough." Like I have always felt he would've been happier if I'd been a boy, that he doesn't really know how to relate to me and that I constantly need to prove my value. For this reason, I feel compelled to honor what I told him all those years ago, to be there for him whenever he needed me. But what about MY family? Did God not give me the gift of MY CHILDREN?? Weren't THEY supposed to be my top priority? But no, I stomp my foot and basically demand that we move to the armpit that is Oklahoma. Amanda didn't want to go. If we hadn't moved, I feel that Amanda would still be with us. Why didn't I just put off the move until Amanda got through cosmetology school??? Why?? If we had stayed, she could've gotten into which ever school, Alexander Paul or even Miller-Motte...she would've had that base under her and been able to stay. Her dying is MY fault. I know people would try to talk me out of those feelings, but they ARE my feelings and I've been carrying them around with me every single day for the past 2 years, 2 months and 9 days.
I'm so very sorry, Amanda. You said this place was going to kill you. I thought you were just being melodramatic. You hated it here. Hell, I hate it here. I had a responsibility to you and my selfishness, my "need for acceptance" by my dad, cost you your life. And I STILL don't feel accepted, ain't that the kicker?! Moving us here, I singlehandedly ripped our family apart. Yay me...
Today Tim and I were in the sunroom and I had yet another meltdown over the stupidest thing. I was going through my sock/underwear drawer and since losing weight, I have all of these underwear that are too big for me. I need to throw them away and you know what? I felt almost like I was betraying Amanda to throw them away! What?? Like in my head, I know that's ridiculous. They are underwear for crying out loud. Underwear! But guess what? Amanda would borrow them sometimes when she would run out. They were underwear I wore when she was alive. She was still here. And to throw them out "feels" like I'm throwing "her" away, moving further away from her, which I am, but I'm also moving closer to her. Sigh. Underwear...I had a meltdown over underwear. That's how twisted this grief journey can be. Don't want to use the last of the shampoo she had in her apartment, or don't want to throw away makeup that was hers, even if I can't use it...it was hers...she used it, she touched it, it's proof that she was here and I look around and need all of the proof of her existence as I can as time keeps marching on and my heart needs tangible evidence that demonstrates her presence.
Speaking of presence...Tim and I were in the kitchen today. I was preparing the veggies for a soup and he was next to me. Suddenly the fan for the range hood came on. Just like that. Poof. He and I looked at each other and asked if the other had done it. I was busy chopping veggies and had no reason to have turned it on yet. I just say it's Amanda letting me know she's here. What I wouldn't give to feel her arms around me, to hear her voice telling me she forgives me, that she loves me, though I know she does love me. I can't wait to see you, Sugarbear...this waiting is so long.
