Preschool enrollment forms glare at me as I type.
Stacked at the computer they have been sitting partially completed, for a month.
The first several lines are penned in my neatest, I-will-be-the-best-classroom-volunteer-ever handwriting.
The rest is blank.
My perfect penmanship ends right after the line that asks for a list of siblings and their ages.
Do I include their sister?
Put “deceased” in the column where I should be listing her age?
Do I add a note about their past?
Request that they not be called twins before anyone makes the mistake?
I don’t have the answers to these questions so, instead,
I haven’t done a thing.
The reminders of loss are never ending:
the empty space I can find in any picture of my children,
the look on my daughter’s face when there is no one else to appreciate her latest dress,
the tears that surprise me when I least expect them.
Grief continues to rumble through our lives.
I have been following the story of another triplet mom who, sadly, just said goodbye to her son.
Thinking of her just beginning this journey makes my heart ache.
I want to tell her that it will get better, and in some ways it will.
Putting one foot in front of the other and not crying every moment that you are alone, those things get easier.
But the pain and the reminders and the emptiness?
They will always be there.
We will both be sifting through the rubble for years, sorting out life after the unthinkable.
But there is something about digging through the gray and the dismal that makes you appreciate every piece of color racing through your hands.
Reminding you to keep pushing through the aftermath
and treasure every speck of brilliance you still have.
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All those little things you have to do must just bring it all back every time. I can’t imagine, but I love that you are so conscious of the impact on your children.
Jessica,
while your words break my heart, they are so important. You give a voice to so many who have lost and cannot find a way to express their horrible grief.
I wish I could give you some answers, but I can only give you my words in return for yours. So much love and comfort to you.
Thanks you for sharing this. I know it must be a difficult thing to write about let alone having to re-explain to new teachers and parents.
I haven\’t had to explain much yet in the school setting. I\’m hoping I can handle it all without blubbering.
Oh Jessica,
I, too admire your strength as you deal with pain of grief. Losing one of my children is one of my greatest fears. I don’t know how I would go on but you show us how it can be done with such dignity, compassion and grace. My heart goes out to the Bissing family, especially since I have a 1 year old son named Owen who got to live. You’ll be an amazing source of comfort and understanding for them.
I love how Baby Hadley is always with you and your family, even though she is not physically here.
Thank you Melanie, I appreciate all of your thoughts and kind words.
Your words are beautiful. Your strength and perseverance give me chills. I don’t know how I would handle such a loss. Those daily reminders must be so difficult. Bravery resonates in words. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself and your journey. Your story has an impact and leaves your readers forever changed.
Sometimes putting the pen down and waiting to figure it out is all we can do.
This post is both painful and beautiful, and I thank you for sharing it with us all at TRDC and beyond.
Hey Jessica, just stopping by from The Red Dress Club and wanted send some bloggy love your way. I’m speechless and heartbroken for your loss. Bless you guys as you sift through that aftermath.
awww…honestly? this post is out of my ballpark. I NORMALLY have something soothing to say…ALWAYS but this situation isn’t one i have experienced. other than the damn forms which are the bane of my existence.
I suppose you will always need an addendum to describe your situation. You are lovely and you are loved.
That is all
Lynn this is a great comment because sometimes it is much better just to say you don\’t know what to say. Thank you so much.
Those preschool apps? I debated what to do too and I went all out. I listed Alex under siblings, mentioned his death again in the “Significant Family History” section and in the “Other Information” section I wrote “Evan and Jack are not twins, they are surviving triplets”. Nobody has called them twins yet, but there is a set of, um, actual twins who come in later in the day and they don’t call them twins either.
Hmm, well let’s just assume they aren’t calling them twins because of all of your effort. I have decided I am going to write all of the details on their forms too, much easier to write it than say it out loud.
Going to put this arltice to good use now.
This post is why I love you… right in middle of your own continued suffering and sadness, you are thinking of others… beautiful.
Enjoy your specks of brilliance. xoxo
This post reminded me of your recent post, her loss has brought up so many emotions for me. So hard to think of someone just starting this journey.
Beautifully written Jessica. That gorgeous picture to accompany your heartbreaking and raw words brought me to tears.
So sorry to hear of your friend’s family. Truly, an unimaginable loss.
Thank you Melissa.
chills and tears, hugs and admiration. So very much of all of that. You never fail to take my breath away friend! Sending you what I’ve got!
When you’re ready, you’ll fill out the paperwork in just the right way. I feel for you, and I feel for Owen’s family. 🙁
Thank you.
At one point I had a letter to Sunshine’s teacher written out as he was getting ready for 5K, to explain his family and what he knows about life and death. I never sent it, but all the teachers he has encountered since have been wonderful when he shares whatever he chooses to share.
It truly is the little things like that that take your breath away, the reminders that you can’t preapre for. Many (((hug)))
It’s so enlightening to read your posts about loss. Of course I have sympathy for those who have just experienced a tragedy, and I think of them on birthdates/anniversaries/holidays, but it never even occurs to me that simple things like paperwork for school can be a struggle many years down the road. Hugs!
I\’m so glad that you take something away from them Jen, thank you for reading.
My heart aches for you when I read these words Jessica.
As a mom I don’t know what I would write down.
You are filled with tremendous strength and although this bump is painful its just that, a bump.
Thinking of you always!
If only it were just a bump, unfortunately grief and the feeling of loss aren\’t something that ever go away.
I miss my brother on big occasions, like his birthday, but these moments that sneak up on you are the ones that take my breath away. Big hugs, Jess.
I hear your pain and heartache and I am amazingly reluctant to write. I’m not sure what that is about… maybe because I am tempted to relate my experience and if there is one thing I know for sure, no one has ever walked in your shoes.
My journey losing my son cannot give me a glimpse into your heart- it only defines my heart. So I want to honor your pain and that means I must set mine aside. That’s hard. I want to tell you I know how you feel… but the truth is, I don’t. I know how I feel when I read your thoughts.
All of that said, I do so understand that there are blessings in the pain. We share that experience. It is all true all at the same time… the joy, the wonder at what is in front of me AND the pain of loss. That much we do share.
Much love
Tawanda Bee
You can share your story in my comments any time you feel the need to. Don\’t ever feel like you can\’t share. I would love to hear about your son and your journey.
Sending hugs!
Six years since my firstborn died of SIDS. Her siblings, our Four year-old and one year-old twins hear about her all the time. She is a daily presence at our house. Those who have not lost, don’t really know that they die again for us in many ways again each and every day. The “how many children and what are their ages” question is one of those deaths, and we are in that season.
I always make sure I tell my four year-old’s teachers about his big sister in heaven. I want them to know that we engage him in talk of her, and that if he draws a picture of our family, and Brady (his sister) shows up in heaven, he’s not making something up. And then I get angry, because normal moms don’t have to think like that…
But, you’re right, it gets better… or really just different. The pain changes, but never is erased.
I\’m sorry that you understand so well. I get bitter too, that this is something I have to deal with and my children will have to grow up with their whole lives. We should have all of our children here.
I have no words. I am so sorry for your heartache and I cannot even imagine.
I am crying. You are a strong woman – even if you don’t feel like it sometimes. Thank you for sharing this powerful post. ~M
I could be reading about myself. Whilst I haven’t lost one from a multiple birth, I lost my son 2 years ago, and have an 8 month old daughter. I still get stopped in my tracks when someone I dont know asks me if we have other children. I stopped going to mum and baby classes that dont have a point to them (Im ok if we are doing something, cos I just dont speak to anyone!) because I never knew what to say. Say yes and get the pity look, or worse the oh well you have her now, you must be so happy comment. say no and go home feeling like i have rubbed another bit of finley away. Yes it does get easier. Yes my heart to hurts when i meet newly bereaved because I never want to go back to that place, but it never goes away.
It catches you at times, mainly unexpected. We went to a baby sign class, thought i’d be ok because its a class with a point, and i dont have to speak to the other happy naive mums. And the boy next to us is called Finley. Deal with that. And then burst into tears because at the end of the class they turned on a bubble machine, and Toni-Joi looked up trying to catch the bubbles. My heart just broke.
It is always those unexpected moments that get us isn\’t it? I have a hard time doing many casual things with my kids and socializing with other moms too because there are always those questions that are naturally going to come up and there is no easy way to get through them.
The brilliance that is your life … and brilliant as are your words – always xxx
I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry for your loss.
I sometimes wonder if we were graced with the oh-too-quick presence of our children in Heaven just to appreciate what we have right now that much more poignantly. Well, at least, that thought gets me through the day.
I have no words – I can’t even imagine. You are one of the strongest moms I know and you have an amazing ability to put these very difficult thoughts and emotions into text which helps us to make sense of it all.
“Reminding you to keep pushing through the aftermath and treasure every speck of brilliance you still have,” <—–beautifully written…
Thanks so much Heather, means so much coming from you.
Oh gosh. I am so sorry for their loss of Owen. I also can not imagine the heartache you are going through. Their family and your will be in my prayers.
Thank you Sarah, you are a great friend, as always.
I have seen friends deal with the loss of a child. My husband and I learned a lot from their experience. Very, very hard lessons we wish we hadn’t been forced to learn. I was most impressed by how my friends accepted help. They really invited their friends into their grief and folded them into their journey. As my friend said, “Help helps.” I think it could be such an alienating experience otherwise. And then you end up mourning the loss of your child AND your friends. I hope your blog extends your circle of friends for you and spreads an even wider net of support.
Thank you Christine, it definitely has extended my circle of support and I think helps others close to me understand what I am going through. It sounds like you have been a great friend to your friend.
You have such a way of putting all of these complicated feelings into perfect words. I can’t imagine your struggle, yet I know that you handle it with a grace that is a shining example to everyone who reads/knows you. My heart hurts for the Bissing family 🙁
There are no words for the loss of a child. Except yours, somehow. Thanks for putting them together.
I know it’s incredibly difficult for you to share these feelings, but I want to thank you for doing so. You sharing this helps people like me to understand the pain, so that maybe I will know what to say to someone else that is hurting.
What a perfect compliment, I couldn\’t ask for more than this.
I’m so very sorry for this Jessica. I will have to check out the page for the family you mentioned – my heart goes out to them for their loss.
Thank you Elena.
Wrapping my arms around you. xoxo
Thank you Alison. xo
Beautifully written again Jessica. I don’t suppose it will ever be other than cope-able. My sympathies to the Bissing family.
You are such an amazing and strong woman. You have had to endure more than any woman should and your words never cease to inspire and to help other women! My thoughts and prayers are with the Bissing family!
Thanks so much Barbara.
Your strength and perseverance is something I have always admired. I don’t know how you do it. I haven’t gone through the pain of losing a child, but I simply cannot fathom the agony and then continuing with life afterwards. I will pray for your friends and they have a wonderful friend in you. I will also let others know about how they can help.
Thank you so much for your kind words and for spreading the information Margie. Can\’t tell you how much I appreciate it.