Tag: grief

Loss Can Happen So Quickly

stephaniemoorewrites

My thoughts have been on the New Zealand volcano eruption.

Most of the deceased were on a cruise.

They’d saved up their money.

Excitedly told their family about the new adventure they would be going on.

Hopefully they hugged their loved ones. Then probably told them, “See you in 12 days.”

While cruising, they embarked on a tour, to see something new, to see a volcano.

And life will never be the same for any of them.

Or for their loved ones.

My heart breaks for their families.

Life can change so quickly.

It can go from high to low in ten beats of the heart.

Part of me wants to hold onto my men and huddle in a shelter.

But we know too well that loss can happen when you’re sitting at the feet of a loved one, watching and caring for her.

Lance and I will be on that boat, on that cruise, in 80 days.

Part of me is ready to hand in my ticket.

I can’t go!

Look at that loss!

What about my boys?

So, what do I do?

All I can think of is to take every moment I can and make it count.

Lance and I will be celebrating 20 years of marriage. And we made BIG plans.

We’re traveling to destinations we’ve dreamed about visiting together. And making it happen.

I don’t want to live in fear.

I want to live.

But I promise we will not be visiting any volcanoes.

Long Days, Short Years

stephaniemoorewrites

I’ve been really missing Rory lately.

There will be moments that I’m okay.

Then the next moment a memory will come to me and I have to do everything in my power to not completely breakdown.

It’s reoccurring.

And reoccurring.

I think the adage for toddlers is true for grief.

“The days are long but the years are short.”

The minutes of the day can drag. It’s exhausting to miss someone. To yearn for them. To search for peace. To search for joy.

But by the end of November 13th, we’d survived two years without her.

There were so many days where I thought the grief might win.

When I thought I couldn’t do it anymore and wished I could curl up in my bed and disappear.

Those days are long.

But it’s been two years now.

The twins have out grown me.

Dax’s feet are bigger than mine.

The twins are driving.

They’re liking girls.

Two years.

They go by fast.

So much changes.

But the days have felt pretty long.

Missing her.

Chocolate Milk and Regrets

stephaniemoorewrites

Rory loved chocolate milk.

She wanted to drink it so often we bought Nesquik mix so she would have extra vitamins and minerals.

The day she died she asked me for chocolate milk.

Is there a worse thing for someone who’s throwing up to drink???

I said, “The second you’re better I will get you chocolate milk. The real kind from the store.”

Ugh.

I wish I would’ve given her the chocolate milk.

I’m so sad she missed the opportunity to have one last sip of the drink she loved so much.

If I could give people advise from this new life, one would definitely be to live as closely as you can to no regrets.

It was something I learned my first semester at college and I took it to heart. I wasn’t perfect. I’ve made lots mistakes, but I try so hard to live with no regrets.

Tomorrow isn’t promised.

Take the opportunities that speak to you.

Make time for love.

Watch a show you might not like if it means you get to spend a couple more hours with your loved one.

Don’t wait to make the perfect batch of cookies when you feel like you need to visit someone. Just go.

Tell people you love them. Frequently.

Give compliments freely.

Whether we live to 80 or 8, life is too short.

Spread all the love you can.

With no regrets.

Beautiful Quilt, Sad Realization

stephaniemoorewrites

When my sister-in-law, Rachel, came for Rory’s funeral she offered to make a quilt with Rory’s clothes.

It was an amazing offer.

Because of the move, ready or not, we were going to have to go through Rory’s clothes and possessions.

We had to decide what to keep, what to giveaway.

So, sending her clothes to a different state with a beloved aunt felt fine.

She called me with updates. She shared moments of love and tears as her and her friend labored over the quilt.

Within a few months Rory’s clothes were back with us in quilt form.

She did such an incredible job. It surpassed any expectation I ever had.

I touched her clothes.

Laid my head down on them.

The thought came to me.

“How is this all I have left of my daughter?”

She was vibrant.

Vivacious.

And spirited.

Now, there were things.

Clothes, toys, hair brush.

And memories. So many memories of this loving girl.

But there would be no more hugs.

No more loves.

No more giggles.

No more hand holds.

How is that possible?

How is this all I have left of my daughter?

Deaths from Unknown Causes Get Investigated

stephaniemoorewrites

The night Rory died.

The ambulance and paramedics arrived.

They relieved me from the chest compressions.

One of the paramedics pulled me aside and asked for details of the situation.

I said, “I don’t know. She was throwing up. That’s it. I don’t know.”

He asked about fever or any other symptoms.

“No. She was throwing up. Then she went limp in my arms.”

He left me and joined the rest of the paramedics who were busy trying to save my daughter.

Then more uniformed officers arrived. Police included.

A policeman pulled me aside and asked similar questions.

I said again.

I don’t know. I don’t understand. She was throwing up. That’s it. Throwing up. I don’t know. I don’t understand what happened.

He followed up. “Why was she in the garage?”

“I tried to get her to the emergency room. Then I realized it was too late so I laid her down and called 911.”

Then after time of death was called, we went to my parent’s house. While we were there I had multiple people tell me that our ecclesiastical leader, who was also a lawyer, was watching over our house while people were there.

I just kept saying okay.

After a long night of conjecture and questions, a police officer stopped by the next day.

He knew why Rory died.

He said something like this. As police officers we’re trained to look for the worse case scenarios all the time. We have to look for things that are out of place. And investigate.

Then he followed it up with, he didn’t have to go there with our situation.

He was so sorry for our loss. She died of appendicitis.

It took me until that moment to realize it.

They had been investigating me for Rory’s death.

I understand it.

I do.

But it was and is a sobering thought.

I would’ve given almost anything for her to have survived that night.