Surviving summer

 The weight of July had been absolutely crushing me. I found myself truly struggling to function from day to day. Thankfully, my children are literally keeping my alive. I truly believe that if it weren’t for Luke and Greta, and of course my husband, I would barely be able to function at this point.

That month, the loss, the alone time with Michael away at baseball, and the birth month of Bridget, had been slowly eating away at me. I’d been questioning everything in my life. I still feel as though I’m trudging through drying cement, while everyone else around me is as light as a feather with hope on the horizon. What do you do, however, when you’ve felt the devastating loss of your own child pass away? Hope is very hard to come by these days. 

Lately, I can tell that the littles are very in tune to my feelings and emotions. Greta, especially, has been very observant…and practically glued to my side. I am absolutely guilt-ridden that Greta is always asking “if I’m sad because I miss Bridget”. In our learning about helping children who have lost a sibling, (while also navigating our own loss) we learned that it is incredibly important to share our thoughts, feelings, and journey openly with them. She is the one consoling me…just shy of 3 years old…and I feel horrible about that. I’m hoping that in the long run, this journey will teach her to continue to be aware and conscientious of others needs and feelings too.

I’ve been attempting to put on a brave face daily…I don’t feel like it’s truly working at all times…but I’m doing my best. I was so anxious to get to summer to be able to sit in my waves of emotions and attempt to deal with them and work through them without what feels like an audience watching over me. And somehow summer is now coming to an end and I don’t even know what I did with myself these last couple of months. It’s comparable to feeling like I have 1 foot in my grave at all times. Just barely living…trying to evoke strength from the last bit of a dried out well. I’m terrified of being on full display again, going back out into the real world where I have to be a normal functioning human being without a storm cloud following my every step.

Obviously I’m biased with my love and adoration towards Bridget. However, I truly believe she was/is an angel. I’ve done A LOT of thinking on this topic…and can’t believe anything of the contrary. She was never angry with others (didn’t have the capability of doing so), she had smiles for days, and she loved everyone no matter what. She truly was the best human being I have ever met. I aspire to be more like her as I navigate this rocky road we’re on. So on those REALLY hard days…the days my kids even have to encourage me to get out into the sunlight…I cling to those beliefs, and I’m so proud of her, and that gives me some strength to keep going. 

I’m worried that people will view me as that crazy mom that can’t quit talking about her child. I know I’ve voiced it before…but I’m terrified of people forgetting the absolutely incredible person that she was. I want to be able to continue to share her legacy of kindness and love. Recently I had someone who didn’t know me mention that “life has chapters and we’re constantly closing them to open new ones”. Inside, I was doing everything in my power to hold back my tears. What if I don’t want the chapters involving Bridget to close? I want them to be open and accessible at all times. So maybe that is my calling…to continue to share who she was, how she viewed life from her vantage point, to continue to share the best things about her and try to make this world a more caring and inclusive environment. I won’t ever be able to close out her chapters….

I know that many of you reading this had the extreme pleasure of knowing Bridget in person, while others may have not had the chance. By listening, reading, or chatting with us, her memory continues on and that is the greatest gift I could receive….so thank you for that. 

Navigating this is still so raw and fresh…but we are grateful to everyone who is still invested in Bridget’s life and legacy.