There are a finite amount of days we have in our lives. People dream of material things while others seek the experience of the moment.
In the 17 months and 21 days since Mali died, material things matter little to me anymore. Not that it ever did really.
Life is an undulating, rocky path with small breaks of calm and peacefulness. I just want peace.
The chaos and despair that have ruled my life since she left have slowly moved towards the back of mind instead of front and center. It has to. I push it back, else I am consumed by her loss.
My suffering instead is offered up to God in reparation for the sins I have committed in my life.
How I miss that beautiful, wonderful child and the joy that radiated from every ounce of her being.
That hole in my heart will never fill. I’m holding it for her. I don’t want to fill it. It will always be hers.
I am actually starting to remember small things, moments we shared. Everyday little things that may seem inconsequential. She used to wake up on Saturday morning. If I was still asleep she would hop into bed and pry my eyes open with her little fingers. We would laugh and play. I’d make her whatever she wanted for breakfast or we would hit up the diner. One of her favorite breakfast places.
I dream about her more.
Slowly the agony that was my armor, so heavy and
clumsy I can start to dismantle and start to set aside. I hope that my wounds outside my heart may start to heal a little.
I hope I get to see her at the end of my time here. That’s all I want now. A short life and Mali at the end of it.
It is almost fall. The nights are starting to chill and the sunlight dwindles sooner.
We have 4 seasons in this part of the country.
Each season I count the months and days since Mali left this world. We are approaching 18 months.
Most of the time between my last blog I have been trying to keep a routine. Trying to stay on my feet. It’s an act. But like they say in AA, fake it until you make it right?
I go to work, pick my granddaughter from school and try to have as normal a routine as possible.
My friend Angela did a story on our local news tonight about the loss of her child. Here is the link to her story.
Angela Kennecke Shares Story Of Daughter’s Drug Overdose https://www.keloland.com/news/local-news/angela-kennecke-shares-story-of-daughter-s-drug-overdose/1420591556
In an instance I relived the moment of Mali’s death. The similarities of Angela’s reaction and mine when that fleeting moment wher you hope the worst hasn’t happened, to the the paramedic telling you they couldn’t save her. Even though our loss occurred differently, the end result is still the same. We are grieving Mother’s who will never get to hold their child again. They aren’t walking though that door home again.
Her news story was poignant and hit more than a few buttons.
At the end of the day no matter how our girls lost their lives, we are still member of a group none of us want to be in. The grieving Mothers group.
It’s sucks and there isn’t a fucking thing that can be done to fix it.
The strength Angela showed today is also a testament of how far a mother can go to spin that grief into something positive. She is an amazing lady.
I am walking in memory of my daughter Mali for the AFSP walk against suicide. I have been at our state congress this year to network and work on a bill to reduce the number of Suicides in my state.
I want to fight for all the Parents of Suicide.
Maybe I can find some redemption in that.