Tag: my story

Sleep, Dream, and Our Family of Five

stephaniemoorewrites

I don’t sleep well.

I had trouble sleeping before Rory died.

Since, it plunged to a whole new depth.

One of the side effects of not sleeping is I don’t dream very often. It seems like I don’t get into a deep enough sleep.

So when I do sleep, when I do dream, it’s significant to me.

Last night, though, was hard.

I did dream.

I dreamt we were at a restaurant and people kept taking our seats. Finally I got kind of irritated and told someone off.

I said something like, “We’ve been waiting and that table should be ours. Plus, it’s big enough to sit our family of five.”

I woke up.

My subconscious is now used to thinking “family of five”.

Sigh.

I hate that.

We’re not a family of five.

We’re a family of six.

But one is no longer here to sit with us.

One no longer needs a ticket.

One no longer needs a seat in the car.

Or a place to sleep in our hotel room.

While she’ll always be a part of our family.

She no longer gets to be involved in our everyday.

So for many things we are a family of five now.

With our sixth waiting for us in heaven.

Lance’s Birthday

stephaniemoorewrites

It’s this dudes birthday today. Happy birthday, Love.

Birthdays aren’t easy anymore. They’re reminders of lost years and the gaping hole.

But I’m so glad you were born.

I’m lucky to be your wife and best friend.

Since Rory died, life feels long.

It feels shorter walking next you.

Love you.

Readying for the Fall Storm

stephaniemoorewrites

I went to Costco the other day and they have this big Halloween costume display.

Front and center was the Wonder Woman costume.

I gripped the cart, fought back tears.

Here we go again.

What gives Fall the right?

Why does Fall have the audacity to keep coming every year?

It gave up that right the day my daughter died.

It’s not okay.

Previously, it was cooler temperatures, changing leaves, school starting, pumpkin treats, and fun holidays.

Now, it’s dread, panic, sadness, loss, and missing. So much missing.

I can it feel inside me already.

I’m planting my feet.

Readying my legs.

I’ve got my head down.

The wind stirs around me.

Please, Heavenly Father, give us strength to weather this storm.

Where Would I Find Her Next?

stephaniemoorewrites

I thought I’d share a memory from the more mischievous side of Rory. : )

Rory was quite the busy body. If I didn’t hear her for a few minutes, I knew something was up.

Whether she climbed up into the dryer or into the recycle bin, she always kept my life interesting and kept me laughing.

So much laughing with this girl!

Miss you.

Getting Stuck in the “Why” Cycle

stephaniemoorewrites

The last couple of weeks have been hard for me.

They’ve been, “Why Rory” weeks.

Why didn’t Rory have temperature?

Why was she walking around, doing okay-ish until it was too late?

Why did we only get 36 hour from the time any symptoms hit?

Why didn’t we get inspired to do more?

Why were other family members throwing up with her?

Why wasn’t she buckled over in pain?

Why weren’t her symptoms more severe to alert us?

Why is my daughter gone?

Why?

Why?

Why?

I allow myself time to be sad and angry. I allow myself to cry in bed. I allow myself to hit pillows. To scream and shake my fists. Those feelings are real and have to be felt. To do otherwise is just pushing down emotions and that’s not effective for me.

But I don’t allow myself to live in that head space.

It doesn’t bring her back.

It doesn’t change the past.

It doesn’t help me be a better person.

It doesn’t make me a better support for my husband and sons.

In fact, it does the very opposite for the last two. I think if you were to ask Lance, he’d say I’ve been rather irritable the last couple of weeks.

I’ve had trouble fighting my way out of the depths I was in.

But I feel like I’m starting to see lights above the water.

Lots of lights.

Beautiful purple lights.