What am I doing?

What am I doing Kaitlyn? What am I trying to do by my endless blogs about you, the photo albums, the posts on Facebook, the printed out version of my blog, the printed out comments by your friends after you died on your Facebook, in my private messages and by email, the posts I made on Student Doctor Network warning them of what could so easily happen if they don’t heed the warning within them of depression, for posting about you In the off topic sections of forums I belong to that are about motorcycles, RVing, and cats. Posting on suicide survivor forums. Posting every video and song that remotely has to do with what you were and I am going through. Making DVD slides of you. Going through all you music CDs, going through all your recent things, old things, things I put up long ago, things that are newer, cards, diaries, pictures of you all over the place, things that belong to you all over the place. What am I doing?

Is it to commentate your memory, to tell the world what a wonderful person you were and the needlessness and horrendousness of your loss, how it has ruined my life and thrust me into some world I know nothing about. Or am I simply trying to keep you alive? As much as I try I try to put the pieces of you back together and as soon as I get two pieces stuck together good the others fall away. I can’t get you back and I try so hard. Memories are wonderful, but it’s a poor substitute for the real you that I could grab ahold of and love.

So what am I doing? I’m haunted by your memory, I live in a house of ghosts, but yet I don’t want to let go of your memory, and I don’t mind your ghost if that’s all I have. My house surrounded by the symbols of your goals and dreams seem to be lying on the floor taunting me, snickering at me telling me that they will never be. The horror of the worst thing that could ever happen, happened. I love other people, but you and Stephanie are my world and your very being is seared into my soul. Losing either of you would have killed me I thought. And I have lost you and I’m surely dying piece by piece. I don’t know how to endure it. Nothing will leave me alone. My mind that has always served me well so many times in that it is very reflective, sensitive, and inquisitive and forever trying to understand is torturing me by those very things.

What am I doing? Am I going mad? It wouldn’t be hard to do. Am I just trying to keep your memory alive, or am I trying to keep YOU alive? You are gone. The realization of that taunts me, slaps me down, haunts me, tortures me no matter what I do or where I go. I went to South Dakota 2 months after you died, you were there, everywhere. I try to do things and the sadness of you being gone and the circumstances of it eat away at me with each thing I do or I don’t do. I need to get out and go back to some kind of job, but I can’t. I think I would be even more depressed if I do because I tend to get depressed if too stressed and the thought of learning something new is just unbearable.

So what am I doing? I don’t want to ever forget you, your memories are too sweet, too wonderful, you were too great to ever forget, but what am I doing?

I look across the field when I’m outside hoping I will see an image of you, even if it’s my imagination. I look for the dragonflies that to me represent your spirit, and they do come. I look for your black car. But you don’t come Kaitlyn, you are gone.

What do I do? Where do I go? How do I get out of the utter despair I am left here with?

So I try to keep you alive but I can’t. I still smell your scent in the spare bedroom. Please don’t ever leave Kaitlyn. Please let that scent last forever, it’s all I have.

About gatito2

My name is Rhonda. I'm a registered nurse, for the last 20 years, that has not been able to work since the day I learned of my daughter's death by suicide 4-12-13. (She actually died 4-11-13 and her body was not found until the 12th) Me and my husband have been married for 32 years and he's a wonderful man. We grieve in different ways. He works, I write. This is my journey through this horrible land of losing a child..
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9 Responses to What am I doing?

  1. tersiaburger says:

    What a heart wrenching post. My daughter died on the 18th of January 2013 and I am doing EXACTLY what you are doing. Death would have been so much easier. Living with the death of a child is excruciating! I just want to hold my child in my arms just one more time. I can’t so I will write something and burn candles. Cyber hugs.


  2. gatito2 says:

    Thank you and I am SO sorry about the death of your daughter. There is NO pain on Earth like losing one’s child. It would have been much easier to have died with her. But here I still am.


  3. Ray's Mom says:

    You are not alone in your grief. God bless.


  4. SusanB says:

    Tersiaburger lead me here. You are asking questions that will be never be answered, at least not in this lifetime. I hope we will see our kids when we die. If we don’t, well, death will be nothing, no light, no dark, no joy, no pain. You are still very close to the day you lost your lovely girl. It’s been thirteen years for me. I’ve gotten better at living with the grief and I’ve learned to control the pain. I’m so sorry that you have this terrible loss, but, you do not walk this path alone.


  5. jmgoyder says:

    Hi Rhonda, I have been reading your blog posts today due to Tersia’s reblog. You have drawn my attention to issues that beset me at the moment, with my 19-year-old son suffering depression (and me too), partly due to our circumstances, but not always. Your blog is a wonderful gift of insight to all who read it. I salute you and am so glad to meet you. The daughter you have all lost would be proud of you because your love is like lightning. Julie
    ps. please forgive anything I’ve said that seems presumptuous.


  6. gatito2 says:

    Yes, I do ask many questions that will never be answered. But I guess I will ask them until my need to ask them is exhausted. I have no choice because I’m just driven to do so. I guess if nothing else, just to get my feelings out. Thank you.


  7. gatito2 says:

    Hi Julie, nothing you have said seems presumptuous at all. I really appreciate your replies. I hope my blog is helpful and I hope you both are getting as much help for depression as possible. My daughter did not for whatever reason and if she had, I think she would still be here. I wish you well and I thank you so much for your wonderful comments. I hope Kaitlyn is proud of me. I certainly am of her. She was remarkable.


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