My usual post is for The Red Dress Club but as I read the prompt my mind was blank. My amazing and very talented writer of a friend, The Crayon Wrangler (if you have never read her words you must go now), suggested we write about what takes us to our “Happy Place.”
In theory I love this idea. I mean I am surrounded by things that make me truly, smiling from ear-to-ear, happy and I have learned to live life appreciating every ounce of them….
My children, my husband, my family and friends, my love of writing, I soak it all up.
But my true happy place?
That place within yourself of pure bliss?
That feeling you get when you are alone in your car and your favorite song comes on and you can’t help but crank it up and sing while your heartbeat dances?
I can’t find it anymore.
When I’m in my car, alone with my thoughts, I cry.
I sound like a blast, huh?
My blissful, happy, not-a-care-in-the-world feeling left with my daughter three years ago.
Apparently there is a catch to happiness once your child has died.
You can be happy.
But you can’t.
You can smile and laugh and cry tears of joy.
But not too hard or too loud or too many.
Because grief gives you limits.
It can rock you to your core and keep you rocking even when you think you should have your balance back.
It can leave a hole in your chest, right where your child lived, a hole nothing can fill, or patch over, or trace around.
It can take your happy place and hold it over your head, letting your hands skim its possibilities but never quite rest there.
But it can also send you a friend or two to remind you that you need to return to that place again…
Allow yourself guilt-free giggles and unmanageable smiles and an excited heart.
Because what is life without a passport full of all the happy places you have been?
On our honeymoon... one of many happy places.
Pouring my heart out this week with Shell, in honor of her one year anniversary. Take a few minutes to read the many other heartfelt posts…
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Thank you for sharing this post from the past. I obviously cannot even imagine what it is like to have a child disappear from my life like that. But I do believe it is truly heartbreaking and overwhelming. I give you credit for having so much strength to keep on keeping on. You are an incredible woman, and I am so grateful to be your reader.
Thank you for sharing this post from the past. I obviously cannot even imagine what it is like to have your child disappear from my life like that. But I do believe it is truly heartbreaking and overwhelming. I give you credit for having so much strength to keep on keeping on. You are an incredible woman, and I am so grateful to be your reader.
That’s a beautiful picture. I’m sending prayers your way that God can fill that hole for you with His love and reassurance. My heart goes out to you. I have a dear friend who has suffered the loss of a child, and it’s something I won’t pretend I know anything about. I’ve shared heartache and tears with her, but I know I cannot imagine the depths of her grief (or yours) without it actually happening to me. I just know that God has filled some of my holes, and he can fill yours too! Stopped by from Shell’s PYHO link.
How can anyone ever be the same, not different, after such a life event?
Impossible.
The tinge will always be there..because a piece of you is not on earth.
I can’t even imagine your pain. No amount of children replaces one lost. I truly hope that you are able to find your way to your happy place more and more over time, while keeping your memories of your daughter close to you heart. You are brave and strong beyond compare.
Thank you for this, truly. Many people do not understand what you just said. That no about of children or happenings in your life can replace what you have lost. I appreciate your thoughtful comment so much.
Hi Jessica, your post is so beautiful and sad at the same time. I hope you’ll heal soon for your other children. I’m pretty sure your daughter is watching over you because she loves you so much. Lots of hugs!
I am so sorry for your loss. It’s understandable to still be hurting. I can’t even imagine.
I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose a child…I can only think that what you are describing is 100% what anyone would be feeling…
Your family is beautiful and Hadley too was a beauty…I’m so sorry…
While my “before and after” experience is nothing compared to yours, I know the feeling of separating time that way. And it’s a terrible feeling,, and you ask yourself if you’ll ever be able to feel the same way again. I don’t know the answer, but I know that the most we can do is at least try. I hope you manage to find more joyful moments, because you deserve them.
Jessica, what a lovely, heartfelt, and heartbreaking post. I can see how grief would limit you. I can only imagine. Your words are always so beautifully written. So honest and raw.
That is a gorgeous picture of you and your husband. I hope you find more moments in your happy place and allow yourself that freedom to let go and just be…if even for just a moment.
XO
I can’t even imagine. You are a strong woman to even write about all of this. Thank you for sharing and being so honest. It’s extremely refreshing and gave me a much needed reality check.
I got goosebumps reading this.
I pray that you can have more moments in your happy place. That while you will always remember your sweet little girl, you can find moments of pure joy.
God my heart goes out to you. I know I’ve only had Sam for 8 months but god I can’t imagine my life with out her now. You are a strong and beautiful person!
Hi, this is my first time on your blog, coming in from PYHO. I cannot imagine the heartache you must feel about the loss of your daughter. I do know that sharing your feelings only helps take the pain away and allows you to connect with others who have been there too. I know it’s ok to be happy.
Sending hugs to you.
I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you have to deal with on a daily basis…it’s heartbreaking. Just remember that by writing your blog and sharing your grief with others, you are helping so many people who are going through the same thing. Sometimes all people need to hear is that they aren’t alone in their struggle.
A good friend of mine lost all three of her triplets at 22 weeks a couple of months ago. I know that she would nod her head and totally understand if she read this post. I will have to pass it on to her the next time we talk.
Hello sweet Jessica,
You have many happy places, your joy in your life is evident in the way you nurture your children, write teasingly about your husband, banter about the foibles of your day. Those not so happy days, those quiet moments, those moments alone, where you allow yourself to grieve … one day they may also be happy place times, because you will remember her sweet face, and look forward to the time when you will see it again.
Much love to you xxxx
I thought of you recently when I was reading abook in which one of the character’s brothers had died. They said “there was an Emil shaped hole in the universe.” My universe’s hole is shaped like my brother Billy, gone almost 9 years now.
There will always be “before” and “after.” I hope you are able to let your grief and your happiness co-exist.
There will always be the before and after, that quote is so perfect. I can’t imagine losing a brother, anyone gone too soon is just so tragic.
Sweetheart this is beautiful and agonizing to read. There is nothing I can do to help or to bring you to that happy place. But I do think you will find that happy place again. I have tried to help with close friends and with my own mother, who lost both her sisters. But it just takes time. I have learned that what I can do is be here when you want to laugh and be here when you need to cry. And honey, I am here.
Thank you so much, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your understanding and your being “here.”
Oh hon, so raw. Huge hugs to you. xoxo
This is beautiful! I’m in tears because I know exactly how you feel. Grief is unforgiving and cruel and inescapable.
I wish you nothing but “guilt-free giggles and unmanageable smiles and an excited heart.”
Lovely piece.
I know your happy place is still out there Jessica.
And I have faith you’ll find it.
After all, you have an angel to guide the way.
Gosh this made my heart hurt for you. love you Jess! Keep finding your happy places.
I have a hole in my heart too. It’s been there for 6 years, 3 months, 1 week, and 2 days. There has been healing, and I do find a happy place when I look in the eyes of my almost 4 year old. But I wonder what life would be like with both of our girls with us.
From one mom to another, hugs.
Heather, your comment has me all choked up for both of us. I keep waiting for that hole to not feel so deep but it hasn’t happened yet. I’m so sorry that your little girl is not here either.
I have a dear friend who lost a child many years ago. I remember a conversation with him about his memories of the first time he said that he really laughed hard. He told me that he laughed for a solid three minutes and then ended up sobbing,
But he also said that after that he found moments where he could feel the warmth of the sun upon his back again and little moments of rest. It didn’t take away the pain or the loss, but it eased it a bit.
I hope that you find that too.
I think our grief just has to come out sometimes. So when we’re on our own and things are quiet, it makes it’s way up to the surface. I still find myself crying when I exercise. Not sure why that is. If I had a car I’m sure I’d cry there too. But since I live in Central London I don’t drive anywhere.
Love the honeymoon photo by the way.
Oh, Crayon! I had no idea! I cannot fathom. I’m so, so, so sorry for such a tremendous loss.
Love,
S.B.D.
Such an honest post. I can tell from your words that you know a happy place and I have to believe that you will find it again.
(Might I also recommend you link up to Shell’s Pour your heart out link up on Wednesday: http://thingsicantsay-shell.blogspot.com/2010/03/pour-your-heart-out-with-me.html)
I can’t even imagine what you have endured from the loss of your daughter. I can only say that I hope you find you are able to reach those guilt-free giggle days. Hugs to you. I’m glad you wrote about this – maybe it will help in some way.
Your words are so honest and heart felt.
Thank you for sharing this piece of you.
I’m glad to hear that you know your limits when it comes to your happy place, but I am sorry to hear that you feel as though you cannot find it any longer. 🙁 I cannot begin to imagine what this experience is like for you, and what you’ll feel throughout your days forever and always, but I hope that the strands of happiness that may surface now and then remind you that you have it in you. To hope, to dream a little dream and to smile. {Hugs}
That was so great to read! Thanks for sharing that friend.
You’re such a great person and a wonderful writer!
That was really beautiful.
OK…my Happy Place is where I am in control of everything…every one knows me here…If anyone ticks me off… I “write” them off by my rapid backspacing skills 😉 Loved the Post. Happy Places are a wonderful place… However, no crying allowed in mine…Unless of course, it’s from laughing so hard u cry (better than peeing UR pants) Toodles, Sweetie xxoo
I’m glad you wrote about a happy place. Even if you don’t always see it, which is OK, too – it’s part of the healing process.
Oh, sweetie. A big old Internet (but not real) hug over here. You DO sound like a blast
As much as I have enjoyed reading the memoir pieces about fruits and vegetables I think it was better that you wrote about your happy place instead. I hope one day you find your happy place again and can enjoy the guilt-free giggles.
I’m not sure if this makes me feel better or worse, that your loss is a year further out than mine, and you still get sad being alone. I went food shopping yesterday, and just like every other time I go somewhere by myself, I feel like there is this heavy weight on me, and I want to scream at all the people who pass me by and ask them how can they not SEE that my daughter is gone and I am still not okay with it. And I thought when is this feeling going to go away, when will I be able to run to the store for a stick of deodorant and not feel this way. Ugh. I am there with you and I hate it.
Well I’m glad, but not glad, to hear that it’s not just me. Sometimes I think that it is because our kids keep us so busy that we are constantly distracted from the serious grief and then the minute we are alone it hits.
Whatever the reason I hope that one of these days we are both taking carefree trips to the store.
This hurts my heart. I shouldn’t complain, I shouldn’t be sad, but I do and I am. And I’ve experienced nothing as close to this in terms of hard. I can understand perfectly how you would feel that way. I hope you find your happy place again.
I know it won’t make it better.
I know I would be lost and searching for a happy place if I’d suffered such a loss.
Yet I know, your angel would want you to be happy – to have a happy place. How could she not want that for such an amazing mother, who loves her to this day with such fierceness?
Keep writing, and I think you will find it sooner than you imagined.
Many hugs.
Oh sweet friend. This was so…transparent. Thank you for writing it. I feel like I opened up and entered into one more notch of *you.* What a gift! I’m sending you the good thoughts that I’ve got. I’m glad for your words. XO