My Story.

There are said to be 5 stages of grief... denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But, did you know they were developed for the dying, not for the ones left behind? That's what I am, one of those who have been left behind.

I have spent the last 7 months trying to cope with the death of my father, and I have spent the last 5 months trying to cope with the death of my mother. I do not believe that there is any wrong way to grieve, I am certain we all do it differently. I am also certain that I feel like I am drowning in a sea of emotions, confusion, frustration and questions... This is my way of trying to fight back to the top. My way of trying to breathe...

I am not sure what I am hoping to get from this, other than getting my feelings out there, sharing them with someone other than myself. I hope that maybe along the way my experiences may even help someone else. At the very least I hope it helps my family and friends to understand a little more of what I am going through, how I am doing, I know the generic answer of "I'm OK" is a little vague.

There are a few things you should know first, to help you understand... I am not going through this alone, I have an amazing support system made up of incredible people. But, that doesn't always help. Although some days I find myself considerably sad and depressed, it always fades when I see my beautiful daughter, or feel the one I have yet to meet kick me. And lastly, my story is shared with 3 other people, although our versions of those 3 months may vary a little, we all go through things a little differently, they are still the only 3 people on this earth who experienced the 2 biggest heartbreaks of their lives at exactly the same time as I did. I can't tell you how my brothers are coping, what they go through on a daily basis, the 4 of us do not communicate our emotions very well. I guess you can say its a common fault we share. I don't know if they will read this, I hope that if they do it helps them, even if it is just in a small way.

My story, starts the way a lot of stories do, with a phone call...
It was November 1, 2010, my oldest brother Shane was calling, for the brief second before I answered, I thought he was calling to talk about the game. That phone call changed my life. He was breathless, "you need to get to the hospital, its dad, its bad." I asked if he was alive, he couldn't answer me, he honestly didn't know. I cant remember more of that conversation, I don't know if there is more. I just know that 2 days later he was gone.
On December 26, 2010, I took a test, the kind you don't have to study for. I had no real reason to believe I was pregnant, no reason not to either, it was positive, my mom was the 1st person I told, even before my husband. It was a good day.
On January 2, 2011, another phone call, they were rushing my mom to the hospital, they didn't know what was wrong. The next day she went into a coma. 21 days later, she was gone.

(That is only a brief run down of the events of those 3 months, I will go into detail of each of them, if you care to continue, thank you, if you don't thanks for making it this far!)

I have no way of going back to being the person I was on October 31, 2010, and yet I still am not sure of the person I am now.

"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal." --From a Headstone in Ireland