This is the first of many letters in my Letters to Lisa series of posts. While I will post them chronologically, they’ll, of course, appear in backwards order in the category listings. I hope they bring comfort to others in grief, explanation to those who have supported me during this process and confirmation that those strange feelings you get while desperately missing someone are really okay. While we might feel alone, we really aren’t.
Lisa -
This is my first attempt at writing something like this. You always said I communicated well in writing. Hopefully, it will live up to your expectations.
Can you even have expectations where you are? Is that even feasible? I’ve been going through a grief workbook and they ask what questions I’d have for you if I could ask them. I think the following question boils them all down to one.
==WHAT’S IT LIKE!!??==
Is it truly heaven or do the Catholics have it right and there is a purgatory or place of limbo? If so, what happens there? Is it like a constant state of dreaming or do you really have a new “shell” for your soul and you exist? Will I know you when my time comes? Is this all just a farce to comfort the survivors?
Did you hurt? I know your final 24 hours or so were awful, but when you coded, did you just stop, or did you have to make a decision? If so, forgive my selfishness, but did you think of me at all? Did you feel any regret that you’d not seen Abby graduate? That I’d be completely lost without you? That your presence in my life was such a part of me that your absence would leave me a walking, gaping, bleeding wound? In realizing that, did you feel bad, or were you so completely fed up with the way your body continually betrayed you that you had to only think of yourself? Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t blame you at all for any of that. I often wondered how you got up and functioned as you did anyway. They say anger is a part of mourning, but at the moment anyway, I can’t see being angry with you for saying, “To hell with this,” and just checking out.
It’s just that I feel more alone than I ever imagined I would. Alex tries, you know he does, but he’s dealing with some of his own demons right now and isn’t as pampering and receptive as I’d like sometimes. My kids are awesome, but they’re kids. They’re incapable of being what I need all the time. I couldn’t ask it of them anyway. Otherwise, my friends are mostly online, and while they’re lovely and caring and supportive, they’re just.not.you.
Who can I tell my secrets to without judgment? Who can I share my deepest fears with – even the ones that sound so stupid and silly? Hell, who can tell me something looks awful on me without squashing my already questionable self-esteem? Who will be my medical resource? Who will understand why I act the way I do about all sorts of things simply because they’ve been around for the root of that behavior?
Who will harmonize with me on “Summer of ’69??
Shit.
I miss you so damned much. I’m so incredibly happy that you have no more pain, truly I am. But, my god, the hole you left…
…is it bigger than the pain you felt?
It should be.
You were.
I love you. Painfully, unendingly, desperately.
~Heidi
Good for you, Heidi…I’m so proud of you.
[Reply]
curlykew Reply:
June 22nd, 2009 at 7:09 pm
Proud of me why?
That I finally did this instead of just talking about it?
[Reply]
I love you. It takes courage to put this out for the world to see.
[Reply]
I agree with Alex. This is extremely courageous of you, and I hope that people will share their stories of how reading your blog has helped them through their own grief. It’s going to happen. You’re real, you’re open, and you’re honest…and people are going to pay attention to that. Mark my words.
[Reply]
You’ve put into words things that I have felt and yet had no words to express. This was an amazing thing you did here, Heidi.
[Reply]
curlykew Reply:
June 23rd, 2009 at 1:56 pm
Ah, thanks, Bec. I can’t tell you how writing these letters has helped me get through this year.
[Reply]
This is just wow; you put your feelings into words and I can almost feel all that you feel/felt. This couldn’t have been any easy decision, putting yourself out here like this, I’m very proud of you Heidi and feel blessed to know you!
[Reply]
You put into such descriptive words the deep pain many people feel following the death of a loved one. Being able to “talk” to Lisa through your writing took a great deal of strength. I’m glad you are to the point you can share the raw pain you felt with others. I’m certain it will be a help to folks who are experiencing similar feelings. I love you.
[Reply]
Wow, I am sitting here after reading your letter to Lisa crying. That was a beautiful letter and I am sure Lisa has read it over and over again. You two had a special friendship that went full circle. Something you both will cherish forever. I know it will help out others like myself thinking and missing Lisa as well. She was such a fighter and NEVER gave up. WE will all see her again some day. Thanks so much for sharing your beautiful words..
[Reply]
curlykew Reply:
June 26th, 2009 at 4:57 pm
Thanks, Crystal. There will be more – I’ve been writing them for a year now. It has helped me SO much in my healing.
[Reply]
Wow. This made me cry. I’ve had almost these same thoughts about my Mom. Hugs to you for doing this. I have written my Mom a letter on the anniversary of her death every year … just telling her about my life since the last time I wrote. It helps, but in a way it just makes me sadder. Wishing that she could be here in person to experience these events with me.
Keep writing! Anything to get you through. *hugs*
[Reply]
You make me teary. I just SO feel your pain.
[Reply]