sajarn

📍 United States

Member since December 2008

I am a happily married RN who is blessed to say that I love my job. Most days. Big Sweetie and I are content in our Colorado home inbetween episodes of keeping the dog from maiming the cat. I am looking forward to another "Springtime in the Rockies" and am getting my ya-yas out by being out snowshoeing, xc skiing. Too big of a chicken to go downhill. Weinie-ville, yes. In one piece, yes.
***haven't updated my profile in quite a while...lots has happened. My darling daughter, my only child, Alice, was killed a year ago March 17th (2015). It's been a brutal time, emptiness, loss, agony...regret. I've been seeing a therapist who specializes in trauma. She's helped me a great deal. But my biggest help has been from the Lord above, Who has soothed by aching heart, assured me of what is true. Given me hope that all will be well one day. I am not the same person anymore. I will never be a grandmother, I will never (in this life) hold my girl in my arms again. People who know you just a little hold back....true friends have stood close by, but even they tend to pull back a bit as well. No one wants to know what it's like to lose a child. Too unspeakable painful. I represent a fear so terrible. No one can imagine it the depth of pain, or would want to...I get it. It's just so awful. I wish it on no one. It was weird. After her death, I heard from people I had not heard from in 20 years, and people with whom I had friendships nearby didn't call or write or visit me, even though they live across town. My message to everyone who reads this: CALL, WRITE, VISIT that grieving person. They may not remember what you talked about, but they will remember you called, that you came by and sat next to them as they cried. A mention on facebook isn't enough. It just isn't. Trust me.
I have, since March 17th, 2015, crawled through broken glass, been drug across the barbed wire of regret. I have lost a certain trajectory that I strive to find once again. I thank Jesus, my Savior that I still stand. I can share the grief of a lost child with someone else who has experienced the same thing because there is just no explaining it to someone who has been spared this particular tragedy.