Tag: loss of a child

It’s About Service, It’s About Love

stephaniemoorewrites
Totes filled with donated school supplies.

One of the struggles when someone passes away is how do you keep them with you.

When someone does, they’re gone from everyday life. The concerns, the events, the joys, the sorrows, that person is no longer part of them.

Each member of my family has different ways that we include Rory in our everyday life. But one that we do as a family is her birthday service projects, which we turned into the Rory Ann Moore Foundation.

It’s a time we spend together. It’s a time we gather in her name.

Last night we sorted all the school supplies that were donated the last few months.

The boys were completely overwhelmed.

“Where did this all come from???”

They witnessed people dropping stuff off or see stuff come in the mail but to see it all together.

It brought tears to my eyes.

These were donated by people that loved Rory.

Donated by people that love our family.

Donated by people that have been touched by our story and the love we try to spread in Rory’s name.

I’m so happy to announce:

We surpassed our goal for school supplies!

If I said this a million times, it would never be enough.

Thank you!

Thank you for your love and support.

Thank you for reaching out.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

If you are still wanting to donate, we need the following food items to include in Rory’s Bags of Love: Goldfish, Cup of Noodles, and juice boxes. You can find details on the following page:

https://writingthroughgrief.com/rory-ann-moore-foundation/

For a Moment, She’s Back

stephaniemoorewrites

For a very long time, every morning, I’d wake up and the realization would sink in again.

Rory is gone.

It wasn’t a nightmare.

It’s real.

She’s not coming back.

It’s a hard realization to get hit with every day.

The hit isn’t as hard as it used to be. I still feel it every morning. Now, I mostly tell her how much I miss her.

Last night I had a dream. (I know I keep telling you about dreams! Sorry!)

We were on a cruise as a family and Rory showed up.

She came back to us in all her 8-year-old glory!

She ran up and held my hand.

I stared at her for a minute. Then I asked around to no one in particular, “Is she here to stay?”

Then I seemed to get a confirmation.

I told everyone as we walked. “It took two years but we got it. We finally got our miracle. She was gone but she came back to us.”

I couldn’t help but spread the word to everyone we saw. I was elated! She was back!

It took two years, but she was back.

I couldn’t let her go. I just kept holding her hand, giving her hugs.

Talking to her.

Loving on her.

Listening to her.

Then I woke up.

Normally a dream like that sends me spiraling. Because I miss her so dang much.

This morning, I was grateful to have a few minutes with her. Even if it was just all in my head.

To feel her close to me.

To hear her laugh and have fun.

To have my family whole.

To imagine what our reunion might be.

It was a beautiful few minutes.

Love you, Baby Girl.

Memory- Fake Crying

stephaniemoorewrites

The other day one of the boys shared a dream with me.

He said that he was sitting in our front room, watching something on TV.

Rory was there.

Her feet were up on his lap and they were laughing about something.

Then she started fake crying.

As he was telling me, I froze.

Rory used to fake cry!

I’d forgotten that!

She’s do it as a joke.

Like I said, she always kept on laughing and on our toes.

Oh man.

I’d love to hear that laugh again.

That silly fake laugh.

That Feeling After Death

stephaniemoorewrites

I’ve been thinking a lot about death experiences people have shared with me. What they experienced when they died or had a near death experience.

A few have described being above their bodies. They talked about knowing what happened the minutes after they died.

Did Rory see me fight for her?

Did she see me do everything I could possibly do to keep her on the Earth?

Was she aware of the bargaining that was going on?

Take me. Not her.

Did she stay long enough to see family and friends gather around her?

Hoping for her. Praying for her.

Was she there when I ran my finger down nose for the last time in the ambulance to say goodbye?

The unknowns can be rather painful.

But one of the consistency in almost all of the stories was a feeling of peace.

She was experiencing peace.

She is at peace.

It’s a mantra I repeat over and over again in my head. Many times a day.

She’s okay.

She’s happy.

She’s at peace.

World Mental Health Day

stephaniemoorewrites

Since Rory’s death our family has dealt with depression, panic attacks, anxiety, suicide ideation, and PTSD.

The trauma of her loss, the trauma of the night, has brought each of us to our knees in different ways.

The road we’re walking with each other is painful and difficult.

As we each deal with our grief in diverse ways, there are times we struggle to understand the other’s.

As the panic engulfs one of us, literally taking his breath away, we search for the right words to say.

As depression and guilt grip one of us, squeezing us to the point it feels easier to give in than to fight, we hold on to the one.

When the thoughts play over and over in one of our minds relentlessly, we try to love and distract.

This is an unexpected road and, if I’m being honest, really terrifying.

In many ways I don’t know how to help or what to do. I’m so grateful for the professional help we’re receiving.

The one thing I tell my boys and I always want them to know is that I’m here.

I’m here.

I love them.

No matter what.

Forever.

If you know someone who’s struggling, reach out.

If you’re struggling, reach out.

You’re important.

You’re loved.

You’re not alone.