from
Heidi Ciepielinski
Hi everyone,
I started to reply to
everyone individually,
but there just aren't enough
hours in the day. Yet,
I really want you all to
know what amazing people
you are, so wise, so compassionate,
so insightful. Your words
and support were so helpful
to me. Reading your replies
truly brought me "aha!
moments", I am still
shaking my head and saying "yes!", "they
get it!".
The majority of you are
also at the point where
the years of early intense
grief have passed and many
of you offered that you
were struggling with similar
doubts. Doubts about your
current ways of mothering
your heavenly children,
guilt over feeling happiness,
the lack of tears & heavy
heartache, trouble getting
beyond the self imposed
rituals of the past, and
many other things.
I thought it might be
helpful to you if I shared
some of great comments
I received. Maybe they
will help you accept where
you're at too, or maybe
they will help you help
others. Here are just a
few quotes (without identifying
the sources):
"All that "woulda,
coulda, shoulda" stuff
is just illusion. So
easy to make myself crazy
with guilt over what
I shoulda done, etc.
But it sucks all my energy.
So I've just found it
easier to let myself
deal in whatever way
seems reasonable at the
time.
Yeah, there's probably
hard work in there
somewhere. And when it's
ready -- whey you're
ready -- it'll still
be there and it will
surface right on cue
for you to deal with
it. And then maybe you
are already working thru
small chunks of it at
a time and you won't
have a huge tidal wave
arise. Grief is like
weather -- you can't
predict it."
"I know that
you love and miss Natalie
with everything you have
and no matter how you
are handling it these
days, your love for her
will not and has not
changed. As long as you
are coping and your boys
are thriving, then I
believe you are on track.
Remember that there are
no rules for grief, especially
the grief for a child."
"Maybe that
means that his presence
is interwoven into
our lives in such a
way that we can release
some of our hold on
him, maybe in the same
way that we would with
a living (child). The
pain is still there,
the pain that his and
all of our childrens'
absence creates, but
there is an evolution
too."
" (my child's) birthday
just passed, and I realized
and even wrote to her, "Please
don't think that just
because I don't cry every
time I think of you,
I love you any less.
. ."
And one last message:
A
quote from Harold Kushner, "When
Bad Things Happen to Good
People"
"But of course, we cannot
choose. We can only try to
cope. That is what one does with
sorrow, with tragedy, with any
misfortune. We do not try to explain
it. We do not justify it by telling
ourselves that we somehow deserve
it. We do not even accept it. We
survive it. We recognize its unfairness
and defiantly choose to go
on living. I now tell bereaved
parents: You have inherited from
your child all the years he never
got to live. Just as you inherited
his books and toys and stereo,
you inherited his unlived years.
They are a precious legacy from
him to you; use them well. Don't
be afraid to enjoy life because
your loved one isn't there to enjoy
it with you. Live his years along
with your own, and feel his presence
as you do so."
Pretty amazing stuff,
huh? Obviously, you know
what I am describing and
really understand. There
is a wisdom that is so
far beyond that of "normal" people...
Your comments really helped
me feel ok about where
I'm at right now. I had
envisioned what those specials
days would always be like,
and the never-ending role
I would play in them. When
that didn't happen as I
had planned, I was completely
caught up in the "woulda,
coulda, shouldas".
(and tremendous guilt).
And yes, I was completed
exhausted by it too. But
what I hadn't realized
was that I had changed,
my grief had changed, and
what was once "right" for
me and Natalie, wasn't "right" anymore.
I don't love her any less,
I'm just mothering her
in a different way, a more
matured, less emotional,
more insightful way. Almost
as if the strong heartache
has been replaced by a
sense of peace, a calmness
that now comes with my
thoughts of her.
I was thinking that I
had to be the one in control,
all the time. (I am a bit
of a control addict anyway!)
Carefully choosing when
the tears will come, when
I will remember... But
in reality, it just doesn't
always work that way. As
Natalie's Cardiologist
wrote, "It's in cases
like this we are reminded,
we are not always in control
after all". I think
I'll try just to let go
of some of the expectations
~ some of the guilt ~ and
just accept the way I feel
and the way it is. THIS
is "normal" for
me.
So, instead of forcing
myself to open the door
to her memories and the
pain that will forever
live inside me, I think
I will wait until it opens
on it's own. When the time
is right, it will happen.
Thank you, thank you for
your honesty, reassurance,
and support. You are truly
amazing women....
Hugs to every one of you,
Heidi Ciepielinski |