Tag: sad

It’s Still Here.

stephaniemoorewrites

I thought I’d feel some relief coming down off Rory’s birthday. It was officially the end of our “holiday season.”

It just hasn’t come.

Like the weather outside, I feel like I’m surrounded by clouds.

I feel maxed with stress. With emotions. With frustration.

Things that might have just blown right over me, aren’t. My emotions are at a place where they’re to the rim, ready to overflow at the next thing that hurts.

I’m angry.

Sad.

Upset.

I try to breathe through it. I mean, I’m acknowledging that I’m getting set off. But it’s just not possible right now.

I’m exhausted.

Physically and emotionally.

Trying to be “normal” right now requires so much energy.

I remember a few weeks ago going to an event and I practiced smiling as I walked in.

I had to practice smiling because it just doesn’t come as naturally. Or as often.

Especially right now.

I took that picture above last week as snow was coming down. I looked over at the sun and it was fighting.

It was fighting its way through the clouds to provide light to us.

That’s what I’m doing right now. I’m fighting. I’m trying to figure a way out of the grief clouds that are surrounding me.

I have hope that I’ll break through.

I will.

I always do.

There are four men that need me to.

That One Picture

stephaniemoorewrites

I’ve had an aversion for a long time. For as long as I can remember.

This is totally just a crazy Stephanie thing. But I have never liked seeing pictures hanging on the wall where it was obvious one child didn’t make it to adulthood.

That one picture is dated in clothes and style.

It has more discoloring than the pictures that surround it.

That one picture didn’t get replaced year after year like the ones of his/her siblings.

Seeing pictures like that have always made me sad. I would look at them and think, that must be a constant reminder that, that child never had the opportunity to grow up. A missed future.

It just hurt my heart. It made me never want anything like it.

So much so, we never bought school pictures and hung them on the wall.

The pictures we hung up on our walls were candid and with more than one kid for the most part. Other than the canvas prints Lance had made for me for Mother’s Day a few of years ago. (See in picture below.)

I think that’s why pictures growing old affect me so much.

Now, that sad situation is my situation.

Our family picture wall is filled with pictures of our Rory. The face we don’t get to see everyday. And those pictures will probably never change.

In My Arms

stephaniemoorewrites

She was placed in my arms,

The moment she was born.

I rocked her in my arms,

When she needed to sleep.

I held her in my arms,

When she was hurt.

I cuddled her in my arms,

When she awoke in the mornings.

I squeezed her in my arms,

When she ran to me after school.

I kissed her while in my arms,

Almost every day of her life.

I carried her in my arms,

As she passed away from this life.

I have emptier arms now,

As she’s no longer here.

But she left my arms,

To be enveloped in His.

Now, I’ll fill my arms,

With those that she loved.

Until my arms surround,

Her once again.

My Goodbye

stephaniemoorewrites

The beautiful program Ann Gardner created.

The morning of Rory’s service I kept getting this feeling, “You need to say something.”

I kept trying to push it aside. I’ll never be able to keep it together. How am I supposed to speak?

I pulled out a notebook and just wrote. It wasn’t much, but it’s what I needed to say.

My dad was the last speaker from our family, so I asked him to look down at me. If I give you the go ahead announce that I’m going to speak.

At the end, I nodded my head and walked to the stand.

This is what I said:

I want to thank everyone for their love and support. We feel like we’re drowning right now. 10 feet under. But as I look up I see hundreds of life preservers there waiting for us to grasp. Each one of them is thrown by one of you. We might be down here for a while. A long while. But we know and we feel each of your support.

We’ve had wonderful memories shared by my parents and Xander. I would like to share a few of my own.

Rory has always been my sweet baby girl. That’s what I call her. As she grew up I told her, so that there wouldn’t be any confusion, she would always be my sweet baby girl.

Rory asked me frequently when she could start wearing make up. I thought it was so funny because 5 out of 7 days I don’t wear any make up myself. But she’d look through my meager amount of make up and put a little on. I was always so jealous of her eye lashes. They’re so long and perfectly curled. Sometimes I would allow her to put mascara on just to see those beauties more closely.

Rory was silly and funny. The last few years she invented a fake laugh. She couldn’t just laugh with her mouth. She’d fall back and pound the couch and let out the fakest laugh there is. It was so fake.

Rory’s imagination never ceased to amaze me. Last week she carried around a fondant cutter and imagined it to be a million different things. At night she would sit up and read her books and play with her toys. When she’d sit next to me as church she was always moving her arms, imagining she was doing something. Well, when she was leading the music from our row.

I’m going to miss her running into my arms after school. Her kisses on my lips. Because she always wanted them in the lips. Her sweet smile. Her spunky attitude. Man, she got away with everything. Her kind spirit. Her everything.

Look at those lashes!