Skip to main content

Grief Isn't Easy.....




Hi my name is Ashley and I am a mother, daughter, sister, niece, cousin, aunt and friend. I am sensitive and get my feelings hurt easily. I am respectful of my elders and to people in general. I am a loyal and honest friend who would drop what I am doing to come help you. I am broken hearted and sad most of the time. I day dream about the future, but question if I will live long enough to experience it. I sometimes don’t feel worthy of love. I often wonder who would love me and why would they love me. I question where I belong in this world. I have friends, but each of us are in different places in our lives that it’s hard to know where I fit into their lives, and theirs into mine.

 I’m a bereaved mom. I try very hard to live this life and become someone and make a life for myself that doesn’t always reflect the fact that I have a dead daughter. I am discovering that, that is impossible. I have a dead daughter and that isn’t going to change. She is my life and how can I have a life that doesn’t reflect her beautiful soul?

I am a motherless and fatherless daughter. Each death was very different and each one knocked the breath out of me. I have tried my best to move forward since my mother’s death, but I am finding it hard to do. I am sad more often than not, and I often get frustrated and judge my own grief because I think, it’s not supposed to hurt this much, I’ve lost a child why does this hurt so much? Though I feel as if I can’t express that. I’ve lost a child and that grief is like no other so how can I express just how much my mother’s death hurts my heart?

I am not the person I once was. Death has changed me and the death of my mother has changed me into a person I’m not sure I recognize.

I am more like my mother, the mother I tried so desperately to not be like. I did not want to be like her, but here I am seeing in me, her.


I am finding my way in this life and I am sad more often than not but I am doing the best I can. Accept me for who I am, all of me or don’t. I miss my mom, I miss my daughter, and I miss me. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My treasured last week

Today I have been reflecting on the last week I had with Mckenna. It seems like I can recall every detail of the last week I had her in  my arms and thought I would share my last week.  My last day with Mckenna  Sat Sept 20th : Billy had Mckenna that weekend but left her with Tammy to come move our stuff into storage. I missed her but thankful to have someone to watch her while we moved  MOST of our stuff. Sun Sept 21st, 2008 : I worked that day and couldn't wait to get off work because I was getting Mckenna back. Billy dropped her off at my work I waited with her outside for Mare to get done because we rode together. She was happy to see her mommy. Mon Sept 22nd, 2008 : I had started this class at Pheonix college for my CCT at work so I could draw blood and put in and take out foley's. Mare couldn't watch her that day so my friend Lisa took the day off work to watch her for me. I had to wake up extra early to get ready just in case Mckenna was up earlier ...

Closing the Book of my Childhood...

Growing up I went to my Nana and Papa's house frequently. She would keep us weeks at a time in the summers. Nana was for a grandmother but also didn't take any back talk or attitude. When I was 10 years old, I moved in with Nana and Papa. My room was downstairs, without a door and had the washer and dryer in the room. Eventually they put on saloon like doors for a little privacy. I lived there until I turned 13. Big years living with your grandparents. Vital years really, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I always felt connected to my Nana. We were a lot a like. I still wonder what she would think of me now and how I turned out. I would help around the property, help plant cactus (and laugh hysterically together after because we were so sweaty and gross), helped feed the animals, water the trees, water the plants, ride my bike all the time. I actually played out doors every day. Sometimes I was allowed to eat ice cream for dinner when no one wanted to c...

Fight for Your Healing

Not long ago one of my soul sister friends said to me, fight for your healing. This has been weighing heavy on my heart lately because I have not been fighting for my healing.   Those who know me very well know that I am kind of a melancholy person. I have always been this way even as a child. I guess maybe I was born this way and when you are born with a certain personality trait it is hard to be anything else. I may not be able to fully get rid of the inner melancholy but I can at least try and find things that bring me out of my shell, things that make me laugh, things that require me to step outside of my comfort zone. Sitting in my room by myself all the time is not healthy (yes I still do this).  Darkness continues to fall upon me more often than not. The older I get the harder it is to wade through the dark to find the light. I try and allow it to come and go but when it comes so frequently I become discouraged and disappointed in myself causing the cyc...