Dorien: Unplugged

Last Friday marked 5 months since Kyle died.

People like to say "passed on" or "moved on", it doesn't sound
as harsh or final as dead, or died----but the fact of the matter
is that he is dead.  He died.  And he is no longer here with us.
So I like to say he died.
Well, because he did.
Die.
Dammit.

And then it was Memorial Day on Monday.

And the entire day I worked in the yard and did homework and worked in the yard
some more.

My mind conveniently ignored the fact that this was the day I should go by
and visit Kyle's grave site.  It was a conscious choice on my part.

I was practicing avoidance.

Ironically it was ME who insisted on having a site, somewhere to go
and visit for me and the kids, when HE would've preferred
the whole ashes to ashes and wolves in the mountains thing.

And yet, I cannot bring myself to go there.
To where he was laid to rest.

Not yet.

The wound is so raw still.
And this place, the hole in the ground, makes it so real.

My sweet sister in law posted the above picture on her Instagram and Facebook
page late in the day.

It was innocuous enough.

Just a picture of some grass, a rock cairn and some flowers.

Yet it wasn't quite so innocent to me.

And the visceral reaction that tore through my heart and soul
reminded me I have a long way to go on my journey to healing.

It ripped through me and shocked me at how deeply and
profoundly it grabbed me and would not let me go.

Just the sight of that, the rock cairn, the flowers and the grass,
marking where he had been laid to rest, ripped open my scab again
and my heart and soul poured out of body in the form of tears.

Heart rending, soul wrenching, body shaking sobs.

Hard as I might try---there was no escaping the moment.

The "moment" lasted two hours and I lay in bed and wept and wept
for Kyle and his absence from our lives and all that he was missing
and all that he was yet to miss.

Grace, she graduates from High School next Friday
and Josh, he graduates from the University of Utah in 8 more weeks.

Their daddy would be so proud, as am I.

But his absence is looming, this huge shadow of what should have
been witnessed by him and it aches to the depths of my soul in these moments.

So many hours and days and weeks that he won't be here.

Months upon months that add up to years and years of living without him.

So many ups and downs that we must do on our own.

Without Him.

And so many days I wonder if I can....go forward, move ahead, keep going.

There are years and years of space and time to fill and they seem daunting to me.

I gather my children and am reminded of Kyle in the things they do and say.

It's not quite enough to fill what he left behind, but they help remind me of
all that was good in the world, in him.  And I chuckle to see "him" in so
many of the things they do and I sigh and think to myself, "there you are Kyle,
there you are."

And that's what I've got for today.

The Hole He Left .....

When Kyle died at 3:30 on Christmas Eve last year,
there was a lot of hustle and bustle that followed.

Doctors and nurses and family and friends who all
came to say goodbye and confirm death and help us
get his body ready for the mortuary.

There were tears and hugs and a quiet stillness 
in the air.

After the last stragglers left and I stood, almost
alone, in the hospital room we had called home
for 6 days, I looked out the west facing window.

It was Christmas Eve, the sky was already dark
and ironically all the traffic lights were flashing
red and green.

Christmas colors.

My mind, body, spirit and soul were deeply fatigued
with all they had been through, not only in the past
6 days, but the past 21 months.

I was weary.  A weariness I had never felt before 
in my life.

As I looked out the window, I happened upon my 
tired reflection looking back at me and I thought 
to myself,  "I have just watched my husband DIE.
Die. I can do anything after this."

Little did I know what "anything" would entail for 
the coming 4 months.

As I have struggled to literally just survive, wave after
wave of (expected and unexpected) hard things have hit my
children and family.

Many days bringing me to tears, on top of tears, for 
my already grieving heart and soul.

Remember that I am in "survival mode" at best on many
days.  I am doing the bare minimum JUST to get by.

My heart, mind, soul, body, spirit ACHES for Kyle
on all of those days.

If you haven't walked here---then please don't judge me.

I am doing the very best that I can.

And while I realize that "MY" best is not "someone
else's best"--please always kindly remember it is mine.

With that said, we just passed 4 months.

Can you believe it?  It's only been four months.

Four months and 1000 years all wrapped up together
in the time warp that grief is.

And for the record I am NO WHERE near done missing
Kyle and grieving this loss.

In fact, in some ways I believe it gets harder.

People are tired of hearing me say I miss him and how
hard it is now.  Most people are tired of checking in.

Life has moved on for many, and with it I have had to as well.
There have been birthdays and proms and soon there
will be graduations.  So many firsts without Him.
The empty chair at the table, the empty side of the bed.
The reminders everywhere of the spaces he filled in 
our lives.  In our hearts.

Yet, one has to remember (maybe I need the reminder
most of all) that a piece of me died on 
that Wednesday afternoon in December. 
The piece that belonged to Kyle.  

The part that died has left a huge hole inside of me.  
It is waiting to heal, it is working through the
process and taking baby steps forward.

It is there though and it thrums with every beat of my
very broken heart.  I feel it tenderly sitting there 
inside of me, the freshly ripped open piece of flesh
that is tied both literally to my heart and soul.

It's raw and painful still.

It's trying to just squeak by each day as it 
carries me with it.

Sometimes thoughts or people or memories scratch
and rub at the already raw wound and make it bleed 
again.

And it hurts.

Our family is doing what we know.

We are rising again each day and trying to claw
and laugh and cry our way through all the challenges
we have faced and are facing.

It's a process though, on top of trying to heal the hole
that Kyle left.

But we ARE trying.

And that's what I've got for today.