When the damn breaks

Saturday September 23, 2017

So many emotions...where to start?

Earlier in the week my Dad and I had a conversation, he was going to visit family in another city.  This city happened to be close to the cemetery where are babies are buried. 

I worry about weeds taking it over, I worry about the stone sinking, I worry about the stone being lost, I worry about my children being forgotten.  We live so far away, well, we are in North Carolina!  My babies are in Maryland at a charming church and cemetery where my Father's family is buried.  But still, that's Maryland!

I asked my dad if he would mind driving over and uncovering the grave.  Not difficult for most, but not an easy task for my dad.  He cannot get on the ground and get back up. 

The days past and I had forgotten my request.

It was Saturday morning and Lexie was getting a ride to the fair with a classmates Mom.  I hadn't met her yet, very nice, personable...she was talking about her toddler, the schedule, the napping..."you know how toddlers are..."

Like a knife, straight through my heart.  (thoughts creep in, I should have a toddler...)

Later, looking on facebook, a family member (too old for babies) got a new dog, a post was made, "after almost three years of marriage, my husband and I decided it was time to hear the pitter patter of little feet".  (what?  dogs don't pitter patter...I should hear pitter patter of little feet...)

Salt in a wound.

My oldest face timed me, I was a bit weepy, just couldn't really overcome the emotion. Trying to explain a bit how I feel, the overwhelming emotion.  I just couldn't hold it in!

My dad calls through interrupting our conversation.  I'm taking the call on the house phone, while Lindsay is on the other end of the FaceTime. 

My dad says, "You're not going to believe this, but I am over here at the cemetery and I cannot find the marker".  My heart sunk, all those things I worry about are coming true. I could hear the panic in his voice, the defeat in having to call me.  I remained calm, tried not to let him hear my own panic. 

I talked him through the cemetery. 

"You know where Grandma and PapPap Young are buried?"

"Yes"

"If you are looking at the words on their headstone, you would be facing one of the roads in the cemetery."

"Yes, my car is parked on that next road"

"Ok, then walk directly up towards that road, and on the other side of it, to the right a little you will find their headstone."

"Oh, I've went up two roads, Well, let me try this again..." 

I hear walking, rustling...his doubt...still not finding his way.

"Dad, there are several headstones near the babies, one is a big black rock labeled Midnight Rider, do you see it?"

"Wait a minute, yes, I see it."

"There is another one, an infant one born and died on my birthday 10/27/1971, a lamb and heart..."

"Yes, I see that one..."

"Look along the road, you'll find it."

"Oh, my gosh...it's right here near the back tire of may car, I can't believe it!"

He tells me, he's going to go, get to work...just before we end the conversation I say, "Take a picture".

and then the damn broke, the tears could not stop, the emotion, the relief, the sadness of it all.  Having heard the panic and desperation in my dads voice, why do we have this pain too?  Lindsay had to go, and I couldn't talk anyway.  I had to go into my room, to regain composure. 

Once I had emerged from my room my eyes were cool and wet, they remained that way for the rest of the day. I just could not ever shake that feeling. 

About two hours later, Dad sends me this picture.  Again, relief and pain, gratitude and sorrow.

I called him and asked him about it, he went on to tell me his phone had died.  He finished cleaning around the stone.  Drove into town, bought a car charger, charged his phone while having a sandwich and snapped this picture.  My dad has so little extra money in his life, he no longer can work, and social security is meager. To clean around the stone, he had borrowed a shovel from the neighbor!  He went through all that extra work for me, for his grandchildren.  The tears started again, and now as I write.  

The season of their loss is among us, and while I don't allow it to overtake me, I was unceasingly  immersed in it on Saturday.  My eye lashes remained cool and wet, my heart was pained...the loss equals that of the love and so Sunday I started anew.  

Isolation

I don't know what it is that I need to learn these days.  And it's hard to admit, that at nearly 46 years old I have to beg for Heavenly Father to bless me with a friend, but oh my gosh, how lonely this time in my life.

Rick travels Wednesday-Saturday, spends Sunday recuperating, only to spend Monday and Tuesday preparing to leave.

I used to have a best friend here, her husband kept a similar schedule as mine, so we could commiserate together, we could have family dinners together.  She was my life line, gosh how I miss her.

In every area I've lived, church was my family, since my family lives so far away.  That's not the case here, after nearly 3 years in our ward, it's a family, but no "friends" (except the one who is about to move away)

I work in a shop full of men (9 of them) they are awesome, I love them...but they travel, and you just don't hang out with your male coworkers on the weekend, ya know?  Church is so far, people in our ward so far and most women work.  Work is a place for associations, but I work with men.

Some days I feel the isolation is slowly killing any joy I have for life, along with the pressures I raising teenagers.  The isolation is shutting me down, it's taking me over in the form of depression.

People say, "get involved with the kids school, the PTO, or something".  I do not have time for that! I'm involved in work, church, orchestra (only one night a week)...there is little other time for anything.

I talk to my bff nearly everyday, I Marco Polo with others...but to have lunch or go to a movie, I'm alone, then why bother...how pathetic, to go alone.

Our move to NC was riddled with depression, our move to Catawba could be described by the one work:  ISOLATION.

14

14.

September 14th.

two months away from November 14th.

three years away from Lainey then.

Looked at her shutterfly book I made tonight, felt this tinge of anger, "why give her to me at all?"

Some times the 14th of the month goes unnoticed, other times it's noticed very well.

I do think some would be so surprised by the amount of suffering there still is over the death of my girl.

I'm not suicidal, but I am ready for this earthly life to be over.  I shouldn't be wishing it away, but it sucks so bad at times.

Salt to the wound these days:  After Ricky passed, there were all these anniversaries, birthdays, holidays he missed.  We had envisioned him in them, and one by one as they approached, the pain was so close to the surface.

Knowing Lainey's condition was fatal, a blessing and a curse.  We didn't place her in our holidays, birthdays and such.  However, as I look back on Facebook memories, September 8th, 2014 I announced we were moving.  (didn't know I was pregnant)  Saw my college graduation pictures, look at myself and realize, I was pregnant there.  Pregnant in Kodi's graduation pictures, pregnant in this, in that, going here, going there.  I now look at those memories and realize I had her with me and I didn't even know it.  I had her with me longer than I knew, I could have loved her longer, I could have cherished her more.  But I didn't know.

As those memories pop up, particularly of the year 2014, of all those things I did, while I didn't even know I was pregnant, it's salt in a wound.

How would our world look today, with Lainey in it?  I know how it looks without her, it sucks.