About the Blog

Many may wonder why after 20 years, I have chosen to share something so personal and that happened so long ago. I am sharing this because at the time I felt very alone and if these words would help someone else not feel so alone then that's worth my opening up about this time of my life. I also want to document these events and thoughts for my own two sons so that they have an account of why their Mom was so adamant that they always know how much I loved them. I also share this as a therapeutic release for myself on this twentieth anniversary.

This blog will not likely be an ongoing dialogue, but it may take me a year to share all that I experienced and how I processed the impact of this event for years to come. It still affects how I live my life today and will always shape the way I see the world.

I don't share these stories to ask for sympathy or for anyone to feel sorry for me. Sometimes life sucks and is hard and everyone experiences that in life. I don't feel my life has been any worse or any different that anyone else's. I do ask for prayers, not for myself specifically, but for all those dealing with the loss of loved ones. Pray that they may find the courage and strength to allow themselves to grieve for their loss and continue to live a life full of love and happiness as time passes by.

I was not a perfect daughter, sister, friend, or girlfriend at any point in my life much less during one of the most difficult times. I do not believe the way I grieved and reacted to these events is the right way. I do not believe there is a right or wrong way to grieve. This is the path I took and everyone must find their own path. I did what I thought at the time was best for me and it wasn't always what was best for those around me. That's what my siblings did too and eventually we all came out on the other side of the grief to live full and successful lives.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Tragedy Strikes Again

As I started my second semester of college, tragedy happened again.  Andy grew up in a neighborhood with several close friends.  Chris Hill and Sean Fisher were two of these friends and both were close friends of mine as well.  Both were at USI and were in several classes with me. There was a terrible ice storm in January 1997 and Chris was killed in a car accident on his way to USI.  I had seen him at class a couple of days before and he had waved to me from across the room.  Little did I know, that was the last time I would see him.

Andy was at Purdue and quickly made his way home.  Andy, Sean, and I along with several other friends all gathered together to support one another and share stories of Chris.   It was all so eerily familiar, only the last time I had gathered with these friends in sadness it had been when my Mom died less than two years before. This process was different.  I didn't have anyone to be strong for or anything to really distract myself with.  I cried and cried and cried at this funeral.  I hugged my friends and told them how much I loved them.  I was able to grieve with them.  I again was saying good bye to someone I cared for with Andy and Sean by my side knowing each of them had a lifetime of memories with Chris and this was so hard for them.  My heart was breaking for them and I just couldn't understand why there was so much loss in the last few years in my life, my grandfather, my mom, and now my friend.

Chris's death affected me in a very unexpected way.  It opened my eyes to the grief that I was holding inside.  It was a turning point for me.  I started to open up very privately to feel all that I had kept bottled up inside.  I started writing in a journal again.  I started processing all the sadness.  I relied a lot on my friend Sean.  Sean listened and he was one of the only people I felt comfortable opening up to about the grief I was experiencing.  I don't know why I felt comfortable with him knowing the truth verses others.  He was an 19 year old guy who had no idea what to do with any of the things I was sharing with him, but he listened. He encouraged.  He didn't squirm and act uncomfortable with all the sadness and grief that I was expressing.  He didn't minimize my feelings or question why I was still feeling this way.  As I would start to question my faith or why good people had to die so young, he would just say I don't think you should be questioning that stuff.  He was not a religious guy, but knew that I needed to keep strong in my faith.  His listening to my struggles helped me greatly at this time.  He let me cry when I needed to cry.  He let me share memories and stories of my mom and I was able to start to remember with laughter and smiles.  He was the friend I needed and blessing to me during this time and I don't know if I would have been able to process it all without him.

It still took years, but I came to accept the loss of my mom.  I worked through the grieving process instead of ignoring it.  I spent the majority of my college years working through it, but I did come out the other side with strong faith in God and his plan for me.

One of the greatest gifts my Mom gave me is my faith in God.  She was a faithful woman who taught me by example.  I don't remember many conversations regarding faith, but I saw her pray and serve.  I believe my journey of grief is the one that God planned for me.  He put the right people in my life at the right times to be there to help me.  Andy, his family, my family, my boss Karen, Sean and all my friends, roommates, and dancers were all placed in my life for a reason and whether they knew it or not they each played a role in my healing.  I thank God for the time I had with my mom and with my dear friend Chris.  My faith grew even more during these years as I came to realize that although I felt alone, God had me surrounded with the best people to help me get through it all.

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