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Is it two weeks or one day?

I still can't believe you're gone

Written by Connie Small, November 20, 2000

I look at the calendar and see that it was two weeks ago that you left this world. It feels like it happened today. Everyone has their favorite bit of grieving advice to give.

"Get out of the house at least once a day." I don't want to face what's out there waiting for me. The expected and even more so, the unexpected. I don't want to see happy people who have no idea my child died and don't care either.

"Go to a Compassionate Friends meeting. They'll help you." By telling me what I already know? That only time will help? That the pain will lessen, but never go away?

"Go see a therapist. They'll know the right thing to tell you." That I'm grieving and the way I feel is normal?

"You have to do something to distract yourself from your grief." You're telling me to forget about my daughter?

"It hurts me to see you grieve so." Don't you think I'd rather be doing ANYTHING but grieve?

"I know you have to grieve. I'll let you grieve for a little while." You'll LET me? Please tell me, how will you take my grief away when you decide it's time to end? And if you have that power, why do I have to wait until YOU decide? Why can't you stop my pain NOW?

"You look so sad." That's because I am.

"What do you mean, you don't want to go anywhere for Thanksgiving Dinner?!? You STILL have a lot to be thankful for!" Just because I grieve for my child, doesn't mean I'm not thankful for the rest of my family.

"You should go on with your life. Cassy would want you to." I AM 'going on' with my life. It just doesn't happen to be in the way you want me to.

"You have to EAT something! You can't go on just drinking those Boost things!!" When I think I can eat and keep it down, I will. If my doctor isn't worried, why are you?

I don't want to grieve. I want to be happy again. I don't like hurting more than I ever have in my life. I don't want to cry until my eyes are bruised. I want my child back. If you can't give me that, then at least let me grieve for her in my own way.

I love and miss you terribly, Cassy! I just want to see you one more time.
Mom