If you follow
Team Mona Rabiosa on Facebook - you are pretty much aware of all that has happened since I last wrote a post here.
Nayelis lost her batter to AML M7, and earned her angel wings on 5/5/2012.
I haven't sat down to fully write for many reasons.
(Though I still provide updates here and there on her Facebook page, there's a lot more going on inside of me than what I have shared. Even though it's true what they say, fewer words paint a bigger picture.)
But I think one of the main reasons I haven't been able to fully write, as much as I've tried and as much as I've wanted to, is because I am afraid. Afraid of what emotions would result if I were to free what imprisons my inner being since the last minute I was able to hold her in my arms.
And well today, a friend asked me, "How do you breathe?" I immediately knew what she was referring to. It got me thinking because it's something I battle on a daily basis. The art of breathing after losing my baby girl. And this was my reply:
That's a very good question that I continue to ask myself daily. Trust me, it's not easy at all. Sometimes I feel like I have no air and I commence to hyperventilate. Everyday is a new struggle, and I miss her even more each day that passes by. I try to find comfort in the memories that I built with her these past three years, the three years that I had her.
I have been experiencing some Highs & Lows these past couple of weeks. When she first passed, I was calm (don't get me wrong, I was hurting and missing her, but I had this tranquility over me because I felt/knew that I did anything and everything possible in my power to fight for her). And that is why I continue to do what I do. Because I promised her that I wouldn't stop fighting. That I would continue so that other families wouldn't have to go through what we went through.
When I feel like I can't no more, (and it's a daily feeling) I think of Nandy. I think of how much he needs me right now. I think of how he must have felt these past three years when everything was going on, and I was at Sloan with Nayelis two times, or the overnights inpatient stays at Yale, being away from his mom, who he needed as much as his sister did. I think of him, and how he is also going through the loss as much as we the parents are. And if we that are older, and know about the life/death process, are having a difficult time accepting this all, well imagine what is going through the mind of a 6 year old boy who know longer has his sister with him. The one he was closest to. That he shared his room, his toys, and everything with. I think of him, and somehow I find the strength to force myself to breathe.
Losing one's child has to be the most heartbreaking experience a parent would ever endure. We are not supposed to outlive our children, especially when they have their whole lives still to live. Every day that passes is a new day filled with pain. Having to wear these shoes I wear, involuntarily, is the worst.
And yes, sometimes it's better not to say anything at all, but just be there for the person.
At times family and/or friends are not sure of what to say or if to say anything at all. And they don't realize that when they say, "Oh I don't even know what to say", well it just makes things a bit awkward and that's the last thing you would want.
Well, I should be getting some sleep. Or at least try.
But before I go I wanted to remind you that September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Spread the word. Consider donating towards childhood cancer research.
Good Night <3
My heart breaks for you. :( *hugs*
ReplyDeleteWe'll always be there Yvette and family <3 <3
ReplyDeleteNancy & Emily