June 8, 2015

June 8, 2015

I have finally reached the week that I have been dreading for the last few months…the week approaching the 1 year marker of Aja’s murder.  It still hurts to connect that word to Aja.  Murder.  It doesn’t feel right.  Murder is harsh.  Ugly.  Aja wasn’t any of those things.  She was a gentle being.  A free spirit.  My black butterfly.  Just like the Deniece Williams song *Black Butterfly*

“Now you’re free, and the world has come to see….Just how proud and beautiful you are”

Rationally, I can tell myself that I will simply put one foot in front of the other and get through that day much the same as I have gotten through every other painful day.   But man, when I tell you…EVERY fiber of my being is crying out, every beat of my heart wants to be the last beat. I close my eyes to shelter myself from the images in my head, but they just become more vivid.  I block my ears, but I can’t stop hearing Aja crying out for me. 

I think about and already miss the grandbabies that will never be born of Aja, or the husband she will never marry, the college she will never graduate from, the first house she will never get a chance to celebrate.  I think about the holidays that I will never have a chance to celebrate with her and her family, or the visits I will never get to look forward to as I get older..eagerly looking forward to having ALL of my children together with me for the holidays.  

I will still eagerly look forward to seeing my son, daughter and grandchildren; but there will always be a piece of me that keeps glancing at the door, praying that this nightmare will finally come to an end and she will come bopping through the door, arms bursting because she was carrying way too much of everything, ( because she always went overboard with gifts and decorations on holidays).. *hey Mummyyyyy!!!!  I missed you so much!!!* with that sweet smile that lit up a room.  

I miss the girly giggles between Aja, Michelle and Mani late at night.  The relentless teasing poor Aaron had to put up with from his sisters, and even worse if Kia , Jauhara and April were there too!  I miss Aja climbing her big adult self up into my bed to snuggle with me; or when I’d walk into my room to find Aja with all of her nail supplies..announcing she was doing my nails.  Even her walking in and demanding that I lay down so she could *clean up these ugly ass eyebrows* as she sang along to her favorite songs, with that sweet voice of hers.  It was always so pretty, but she didn’t believe so.  

I looked forward to those times that we spent together; I enjoyed her company so much in such an organic way.  I was so proud of the woman that she was growing into and I loved to just sit there and sort of observe her in her element, and watch how everyone responded to her..she was kind, thoughtful, hardworking, humble...and oh so funny.

Everyone says all of this will lessen with time.  I don’t know how that can be possible.  I don’t think the pain will go anywhere.  I just find different ways to navigate it and to accept the pain, welcome it home like an old friend and to understand…that the depth of my pain is simply a reflection of the depth of the love that I had and continue to have for Aja.

Heavy Is My Grief

                                 Heavy Is My Grief

Weighing down my arms and legs

My eyes, feeling too heavy to open

Grief making each breath feel trapped

Halfway between my stomach and my throat

Where it would catch

And then each time, I would come back in a panic

To the future that I didn’t want to be a part of

And I’d remember to inhale            exhale             inhale

Just to start the process all over again

I started to talk to you, and tell you

How life has been going

But I stopped

Because this time I couldn’t.

So heavy is my grief

This time, I don’t want to imagine what your life would be like now

The what if’s don’t matter anymore

They’ve been taken away and now you are just GONE

Just gone.  Never to be held, touched, hugged, caressed, kissed again.

I’ll never get to listen to your silly jokes, or hear that laugh, so full of joy 

Who will I make whole bowls of potato salad for now?

Or watch, amazed as you hit the buffet 3-4 times before you stuff food into your cheeks and gums “for later”

My silly, beautiful, greedy, kind, funny, generous, forgiving girl is just GONE

And right now, I’m just feeling real heavy and real angry in my grief.  Not healed at all.  I feel like I need to start my healing journey all over again, yet I know that this is actually a part of the journey.  We go back and forth.  But right now.  Heavy is my grief.

Scattered Thoughts of a Broken Me

Scattered Thoughts of a Broken Me

 

I’m sorry for my scattered thoughts, but that is just how they come to me.  Some days, I wake up with a smile on my face and life is okay.  But more often than not..I wake up and it’s like a gut punch, with my first thought *It’s not a nightmare..this is my reality*  Because I’ve always been open and honest about my struggles, I’m able to say to people *I hurt*.

 

But I don’t tell them just how much it hurts.  I don’t tell them about the days when the tears are just sitting on my eyelids all day long.  Waiting for any excuse to start falling.  I don’t tell them about the nights when I bury my face in my pillow and attempt to muffle the screams that come pouring out, because I don’t wanna scare or sadden anyone.  I hold off describing how sometimes, my head spins with so many sad thoughts and memories, that it feels as though I’m having a stroke.  Or how it feels like the worst physical pain you could ever feel and multiply it by 1000.   I don’t usually tell them how much I wish there was someone who was here to hold me and let me cry when the sadness hits.

 

I long for one of her hugs.  Or to walk in the door and hear *Hi Mummy!!,* and giggle in her sweet voice.  I long to be able to experience her wedding, or her pregnancies.  To see her hold her first child and feel the intense love that only a mother can understand.   To watch her grow into the amazing woman that I was so sure she was going to be.  I miss seeing her with her brother and sister, loving on them and being silly.  And watching her struggle to hold Onyx and yell at him *Love me dammit!!* Or doing her happy dance when I cooked one of her many favorite foods.

 

I just miss.  I miss so damn much.  I miss the Lisa that I used to be.  I call her “June 12, 2014 Lisa”.  I miss being happy.  I miss feeling like the world is a good place.  I miss not having to explain why I no longer have 3 kids.  I miss being able to look at a picture of my child and not wanting to remember every minute detail of what was happening when we took the picture.  I miss being able to sing.  I miss talking to my daughter, who was also…my friend.  I miss her voice and I’m terrified that one day, I will not be able to hear it in my head.  I just miss.