A day of healing (loss of my daughter)

The last two weeks have been hard. I cried more tears than I ever knew could exist within one body. I found the energy to get through what felt impossible. And once those tasks were done, I realized new levels of exhaustion. I have experienced doubt in myself, along with a bit of an identity crisis. Of all the things I have identified myself as over the years, “Cheyenne’s mom” has been the most treasured.

Then yesterday happened. It was a little easier to get out of bed. If you ask the 10 cats and 2 dogs that were waiting for breakfast, I was entirely too slow. They are used to me springing out of bed within minutes of the alarm, eager to see a new day of possibilities. But yesterday, I woke up before my alarm and I got out of bed within 20 minutes. That was an accomplishment.

Yesterday, I unloaded the dishwasher and I put up all the dishes all by myself. I even started a new load. I swept the floor (a small section of it) and threw away a few things that are no longer of use. Friends and family have offered to help. But my temper is short these days. I get frustrated if somebody walks too close and their footsteps are not in time with whatever song is playing in my head. I did not want to snap if somebody puts a dish in the wrong spot or drops a cup.

Yesterday, I actually felt like getting out of the house, as opposed to forcing myself to get out. The dogs looked sad. They do not understand why I am acting so differently or why Cheyenne is not coming out of her room to play. So I put the little dog in her favorite dress, and the three of us went to Dairy Queen for a pup cup and a salad.

Yesterday, my cousin called and offered to bring my daughter’s ashes home. I cannot identify the intense wave of emotions I felt, knowing that what was left of my baby’s body would soon be home in a very different form.

My cousin stayed for about an hour, and we talked about so many things. She reminded me of the good times, things that made me a good mother. She said some very nice things about my daughter. I told her some of the thoughts and questions that have been running around in my head. We talked about where to go from here. There are so many things I wanted to do when my daughter was finished growing up. When I knew she would not need me on the same level.

It feels strange to think about doing those things now that she is gone. But they were good and meaningful things that have been on my heart for over 20 years. I will no longer be able to do those things while looking forward to my next visit with Cheyenne or without wondering if and on what level she would want to be involved. But maybe I can do them with a new level of understanding toward people who are at a point where it feels like their lives are out of control and falling apart.

Thankyou

I know that people are asking about me. I love my community. I knew they would be here if ever I needed them. As sad as it is that these are the circumstances, it is good to know that I was right.

Thank you to those of you who have given me space to process. I love my people, but mostly I have needed this time to reflect and to talk over things with God. He is the only one who truly understands, who truly knows. I trust in Him to reveal what I need to know in time. I know he will always be there for me and never leave. So do not worry about me when you think I am alone. I am not. God and I go back a long way. As a child I knew that if he is truly “everywhere” then he is always holding me. I would curl up in an oversized chair when nobody else was around for that physical feeling of being held while I talked with him about whatever was on my mind. I do not have an oversized chair anymore. (nor do I need one) But he is still here.

Also thank you to the few who would not leave me alone. I was a little scared to face people. Ashamed that I did not finish growing my baby up. That she was gone too soon. I was embarrassed that the house was a mess and even more embarrassed after y’all left and I realized that I was supposed to clean the litter box the night she died, and it hadn’t crossed my mind since. But it was nice to have company. … It was nice, but between family and my daughter’s best friend coming over to help with planning the funeral, it was all I could handle.

I had to ask a few people to stop texting me. I know your intentions were good, and it helps to know that you care – but it was just too much. I still love you and hope that you understand. I know you are hurting too. I am sorry that I can not be there for you as you are going through the loss of somebody we both loved so much. I feel guilty for not being able to help you. But this is overwhelming. I know you would not want to make me feel more overwhelmed. So I am telling you what I need. But please know that I still love you. I would help you if I could. I just can’t right now.

Getting There

I am not all better. But I am starting to feel more like me again. Yesterday was a big step toward healing. And today – today I got out of bed even faster. I did not feed the animals breakfast. I let somebody else take that task. But I sat in the livingroom and watched as our two feral porch kitties came in the house to eat – while the dogs were walking around. I got my own breakfast and ate the whole thing. I played 3 rounds of uno and only a few tears dripped from my eyes. Not because I refuse to let anybody see me cry, but because I only had a few tears this morning.

I found more tears as I typed this update to let y’all know how I am doing. But I am still going to say that all things considered, this is a good day.

I know I am still going to have sad moments. I know I am still going to have sad days. I suspect they will sometimes creep up on me unexpectedly, and sometimes I will know they are coming. I expect a lot of those sad moments and days of feeling lost in the weeks and months to come. … I am having one right now as I think about sorting through a few more of my daughter’s things so I can collect some for me and other family members before I call her friends over to see what they want. But I will be OK. There will be happy days again too.

I miss my friends. I hope to see you again soon. I thought I would at least see my church friends last weekend, but while I was trying to decide if I was ready, one of my cats decided to follow us for a walk. He got spooked and ran off into the woods. Maybe that was a day of healing too. I have been telling people I need to disappear for a few hours, away from other people so I can just soak in the feel-goods that come with being in nature.

Worrying about a disappeared cat that I didn’t want to be eaten by coyotes wasn’t exactly relaxing. Quite the opposite – it was so frustrating that I just sat on the squishy, rotted log of a fallen tree and cried. I cried about so many things. And after I cried, I sang. And when I started singing, I heard a distant “meow,” and the cat came back. Something went right. (Michael, the cat, loves to cuddle up and take a nap when I sing. I thought that might bring him back.)