I found myself sitting in my van outside a funeral home. I found myself sitting outside the funeral home where I last saw Isabelle. I found myself watching people go in and out, wondering how I could be so stupid as to try and go to a visitation by myself. Stupid.
Duffy was going to go with me, and I worried all day about how he would handle going back into that funeral home. I can't share his story for him, but I can say that I have never seen him struggle with anything the way he is struggling this season, and I am more worried for him now than I have ever been.
When I came home and he was in his pajama pants and sleeping on the couch, I thought he'd decided to stay at home. Then he decides that he is going to go for our friends who are so good to us, and were so good to us when we lost Isabelle. I called a friend to see if she could take the girls, but she couldn't, so he had to stay home, and I was relieved.
I drove to the funeral home, and the closer I got, the more I could remember exactly what I was wearing and thinking and doing the last time I drove there. I could remember what the weather was like, how hot it was, how brilliantly sunny and beautiful the weather was. Great.
I pull into a parking spot and open my door. I don't get out. I sit there for about 15 minutes with the door open. I'm trying not to think about what I feel and what I think. I am trying to think about our friends, and what I need to do for them, and I still can't move. I'm a messy crying blubbering mess at this point and I don't have any tissues. I don't have napkins either. I have my sleeve, the car seat, and my pants. I look in the glove compartment and I have Armor-all wipes and pantiliners. I seriously consider the pantiliners. I see my friend Gretchen and her family pull into the spot and think about walking in with them and decide that's ridiculous and selfish. I should suck it up and go be a good friend. They walk in, and that ship has sailed, and I'm still in the car.
Gretchen texts me and asks if I want her to walk in with me. I reply, "I can do this."
5 minutes later, she walks out to the car and sits with me. We talk and she has tissues. I don't have to use the pantiliners. We cry and then we walk in together. She is a fabulous friend and an even better person, and I am so thankful that she is my friend.
I go in and walk around the room that held my daughter's coffin only 7 months ago. They have flowers in the same places, the chairs are set up the same way. The pictures are different, the coffin much bigger, but I can see 7 months ago right in front of me plain as day. One foot in front of the other. I hug my 2 friends, and I can't make words come out of my mouth. I try, and I can't make a sound. I hope they know how sorry I am. I hope they know how much I hurt for them. I hope they know how unfair I think it is that they can't have Christmas with their husband and father. I hope they know.
I make the circle, and chat briefly and then leave. I need to go see Isabelle. I need to. I call Duffy and I'm crying so hard I don't even know if he understands what I say. I drive to her, and get out of the car, and I barely make it to her grave before I'm on my knees asking her for forgiveness. I should have saved her. I should have done something. I should have done something. I'm so sorry Isabelle. I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I'm not with you. I'm sorry we're not together. I'm sorry. I'm not sure how long I'm there. The cold and wet hit me all at once, and I remember that today is cookie day and I have things to do. I want to curl up with Izzy and spend the day with her, but I can't. I never can. I never will. I hope that they have cookie days in Heaven. I hope when I get there, we can make that memory together.
Duffy was going to go with me, and I worried all day about how he would handle going back into that funeral home. I can't share his story for him, but I can say that I have never seen him struggle with anything the way he is struggling this season, and I am more worried for him now than I have ever been.
When I came home and he was in his pajama pants and sleeping on the couch, I thought he'd decided to stay at home. Then he decides that he is going to go for our friends who are so good to us, and were so good to us when we lost Isabelle. I called a friend to see if she could take the girls, but she couldn't, so he had to stay home, and I was relieved.
I drove to the funeral home, and the closer I got, the more I could remember exactly what I was wearing and thinking and doing the last time I drove there. I could remember what the weather was like, how hot it was, how brilliantly sunny and beautiful the weather was. Great.
I pull into a parking spot and open my door. I don't get out. I sit there for about 15 minutes with the door open. I'm trying not to think about what I feel and what I think. I am trying to think about our friends, and what I need to do for them, and I still can't move. I'm a messy crying blubbering mess at this point and I don't have any tissues. I don't have napkins either. I have my sleeve, the car seat, and my pants. I look in the glove compartment and I have Armor-all wipes and pantiliners. I seriously consider the pantiliners. I see my friend Gretchen and her family pull into the spot and think about walking in with them and decide that's ridiculous and selfish. I should suck it up and go be a good friend. They walk in, and that ship has sailed, and I'm still in the car.
Gretchen texts me and asks if I want her to walk in with me. I reply, "I can do this."
5 minutes later, she walks out to the car and sits with me. We talk and she has tissues. I don't have to use the pantiliners. We cry and then we walk in together. She is a fabulous friend and an even better person, and I am so thankful that she is my friend.
I go in and walk around the room that held my daughter's coffin only 7 months ago. They have flowers in the same places, the chairs are set up the same way. The pictures are different, the coffin much bigger, but I can see 7 months ago right in front of me plain as day. One foot in front of the other. I hug my 2 friends, and I can't make words come out of my mouth. I try, and I can't make a sound. I hope they know how sorry I am. I hope they know how much I hurt for them. I hope they know how unfair I think it is that they can't have Christmas with their husband and father. I hope they know.
I make the circle, and chat briefly and then leave. I need to go see Isabelle. I need to. I call Duffy and I'm crying so hard I don't even know if he understands what I say. I drive to her, and get out of the car, and I barely make it to her grave before I'm on my knees asking her for forgiveness. I should have saved her. I should have done something. I should have done something. I'm so sorry Isabelle. I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I'm not with you. I'm sorry we're not together. I'm sorry. I'm not sure how long I'm there. The cold and wet hit me all at once, and I remember that today is cookie day and I have things to do. I want to curl up with Izzy and spend the day with her, but I can't. I never can. I never will. I hope that they have cookie days in Heaven. I hope when I get there, we can make that memory together.
No words, just pure love for you. Holding your hand and wishing there was something , but knowing there is nothing to say or do to ease the pain. I think of you often and keep you all close to my heart and in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteNo words, just pure love for you. Holding your hand and wishing there was something , but knowing there is nothing to say or do to ease the pain. I think of you often and keep you all close to my heart and in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteKerri
<3x a gabillion, Niki...You can always have all of my kleenex. I'll never make you use panty liners. I'm blessed to call you my friend, and I love you and your family forever.
ReplyDelete