Having Space Held For me

 

 

I am a blessed woman.  The day my daughter died, (it is still not real) my best friend’s daughter came to stay with me.  And the next day, The Bee Man’s brother, wife and nephew came to stay for three days. ( a family who lost two sons in their early 50s in the last couple of years).  When they left, that afternoon, another friend’s daughter came to spend three days.  I have never been alone, other than the nights while I ghosted around the house and wandering outside under the night sky trying to sort thigs out.  It softened the blow. 

I had made a quick trip, a week before,  down to Montana to get material for a shawl and the ribbon skirt    We had originally planned to make her shawl and my ribbon skirt.  I was going to spend a day with her, talking and telling, sharing and caring.  Little did I know, it was being involved in such that would help sustain me.  Little did she know what she would be called on to deal with…a heavily grieving mother, following behind her like a lost soul, unable to process anything.  I was truly blessed by her. That first day of grief.

My next young visitor is a young woman who quietly fills space and she is here to help me through The Viewing time.  This young woman has a presence that is huge and full of compassion.  She has seen me through three dark days. 

Few people around me know what has happened.  I chose to tell few.  How do you tell such a thing as a loss so huge?  How do you simply say, “She was ‘estranged’” and not feel like you have to tell a bit more of it...that pain a mother holds in her heart, that bleeds with every thought of her? 

I have made it through the hardest time.  The funeral is on Friday.  I will spend that day in quiet thought and healing. There is not an elephant in the room. There is a daughter in the room.   

I cannot express to any of these wonderful people who came and held space for me.  I am blessed by them.

 

Living On Idle

 

 

I am working hard on sending love through the veil.  I try to keep busy, but take breaks when the wave comes over me.  I have company and they allow me my time too go outside or in the bedroom and have my cry.  At night, I force myself to go through her ages and stages of when she was little and that laughing twinkly-eyed daughter I adored.  I spend as little time as possible trying to wish I was better at knowing what she needed these last decades.  We did not abandon her, she abandoned us.  There was no chance ever given for approach.

The Viewing...  a horrible ritual that is simply devastation as one by one, people file past the family, offer condolenses and walk past my beautiful girl.  What will be said of a mother who is not there?  What would be said if I was?  I will be judged unkindly either way?  The choice was one of the most difficult I have ever made. 

I long to be with my other children, gathering strength and compassion from them.  No one knows the whole story.  The kids know the most.  Each of them had their own relationship problems with her.  These days have been hard emotional work for them, as well.  We all have waited for her to change.  She never did.  She had to hate someone all the time.  We experienced traumatic abandonments.    A few years would go by and she would return and the relationship would build again.  She had her ways of saying she was sorry.  This time, for me, and probably some of them, the “sorry” gesture did not, and cannot come.  It leaves a huge ache in my heart and I am sure, theirs as well.

I have spent this night, like every night, this week, remembering and, all night, I dreamed and spent time thinking about who dressed her, who fixed her hair, who put on her make up.  I worried that they would not know how she did her hair.  I tried to envision how she would look lying down.  Then, abruptly I would wake up or stop the thought.  I simply cannot go there.  I cannot make it real.

Oh, how grateful I am that I have such wonderful memories of her when she was little, when she was beginning to grow up, of holding her first baby in my arms after her rough delivery.  How hard it is when someone is not well, and to feel them draw away from us. 

I loved all my children the same, still do.  They were the first flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone.  I cannot explain the feeling of having one of my newborn babies and know that I truly had flesh and blood on this earth. I cannot imagine how she felt as she would realize, now, how much she missed.   

The days and nights of wonder, of weeping, of wishing and hoping, are over.  They say she looked beautiful.  They say her father is taking it hard.  They said the kids were so sweet and so loving.  They say.. where is their mother.  She is going thrug her own reckoning…kneeling at the soul of grief.  She is trying to stand alone, with those who cannot know the pain of estrangement.  My children are brave, forgiving, each trying to understand their own relationship that has ended. 

The funereal is Friday.  They say the hard part is over.   Say, “there is no healing forever, I have grieved so many times for her, I will simply grieve until my grieving is done.”  My children all said they knew I loved them, and loved her.  I do.  A mother’s love does not die, does not rest, does not stop waiting for a sign, even from heaven, that there was reciprocation of her love… a great heavy stone of need in a mother’s heart.

Messages to me last night:

“We made it to Jana’s viewing. She looked great. I had not seen her for a long time. Your kids were very loving and kind. They all looked great. Paul seems to be taking this very hard. It was a very beautiful d

ay.”

“The day is almost done… you made it through…💕💕💕

I know it’s been a tough day. I understand why you were not able to attend. I know this pain Carol…

Even though others do not let you be part today in ceremonies with love and support know I see you as your daughter’s mother. A mother gives so much in so many ways. 

We can have our own ceremonies and celebrations in our positive , nurturing, loving way. 

🐚🦅🍃✨🌙

Try to rest xo“

 

Processing Death of an Estranged Daughter

 

 

I am alone to honor my grief which is a good thing.  I am surrounded by memories of my first little girl and how much I wanted her, adore her, spoiled her.  We got her when she was 13 days old. 

I remember walking into that bare office and being told to wait.  They brought her in and I could hardly wait to have her I my arms.  The worker finally came and she was handed to me.  The moment I saw her face, I knew she was mine.  She was all pear faced and beautiful.  We were left with her for aa few minutes and then the administrator came in and invited us in to his office to sign the final papers. He said, “Do you want her?”  I was insulted... omg I wanted a baby girl. I had two boys 4 years old and 2 years old and I had had to have my tubes tied so there would be no more pregnancies…  oh I wanted her,

We all doted on her.  She was beautiful.  Her hair turned blond and her eyes were brown.  She was a smiling happy baby, toddler, and little girl.  I dressed her like a dream.  She had the most giggling beautiful laugh and her eyes sparkled mischievously  Yes, I adored her and she was a mama’s girl. 

When she was ten, things started to show up that made me know she was struggling with emotional issues.  I eventually took her to a doctor and he explained genetic issues could be showing up.  I then adopted another baby girl that was given to me by a grandmother.  Then two years later I had my tubal reversed and had three babies in three years.  JanaDee struggled with the addition of each new baby.  She was no longer The Baby. 

With the years, came the coming and goings.  She came to live with us several times.  The last time she lived with us (by us, I mean the four youngest ones) when she first graduated, then when she found that she was pregnant and abandoned by the father.  Those were the priceless years.  She lived with us during her pregnancy and then when her baby was born, I aw her through the whole birthing and held my grandson first.  They lived with us for two years until she met her soon-to-be husband.  Oh how we loved her and her son… so many wonderful memories.  We were so close and I even quit work to take care of my grandson and another granddaughter.  What joy they all brought to our lives. 

There was a great upheaval then.  I took the blame for something someone else did.  They never forgave me.  Let it go and was the recipient of her hate, of their hate, for all these years.  She continued to have problems with everyone of our families.  She would hate her dad, then one of the other kids, and life with her was difficult… but I never gave up hope that her truths would come out and she would simply come and say she was sorry.  It never happened.

Now it can never happen.  We are left with unfinished business.  It makes the grief all the sharper.  I, again, grieve from afar.  And, now, one more great sorrow to go through.

I am not going to my daughter’s funeral.  I am afraid of all the emotion and that her family would not see me as a grieving mother and there would be drama.   I will grieve on my own, as seems to be my wont.  I am holding space for myself.  I have grieved over and for her so many times.  Now there is the loss of hope that she will ever come to me an say she was sorry and I could give her all the love she had missed.  The relationship can never be repaired.  So much regret. No hope for reconciliation.  I have held that hope and held the door open for her for two decades. 

My emotions are all over the place.  I go through sadness, anger, guilt, and a loss so deep I can not fathom how to move out of it other than to love myself, to acknowledge the sadness, to acknowledge that there had to be a way I could have resolved this, and honor that I loved her fiercely, more than she could even know.

My oldest son sent a beautiful message:

“I imagine her with Grandma… right now.  Getting from her as she makes this transition., . As she has unburdened herself from the physical things of this world.  Grandma… is showing her all the true love people have for her.  Jana will have no more insecurities, jealousies and hate in her soul.  It will be filled with pure love.  I’m positive Grandma … who Jana loved dearly, is by her side showing her a mother who has always loved her dearly. “

That is where he places his hope.  That is where he counsels me to put mine. 

©Carol Desjarlais 6.16.23