Saturday, June 30, 2012

Calendar days

Each month, the anniversary of Pipers death comes rambling at our home. Slowly. Lumbering. Leaving me wondering how am I ever going to truly live this life I am left with without measuring each calendar turn.

This month I feel especially weak. Pipers death will have been three months on the 3rd of July. Four very short days later we will have to figure out just how one celebrates the birth of a child who no longer lives. How do I honor her and remember her and miss her without losing myself in the grief that wells up in me and threatens to consume me.

Twenty times a day I fight it.

I hear it will be someday be less painful. That the gaping and fresh wound that is living beyond your child will subside to a dull ache. Even this frightens me, all I am left with of Piper is memories. Reminders of how she smelt and felt and lived and gave and loved me. Even my grief, as physical and aching as it is, is a balm. It allows me to know that she was indeed real. Piper was my child that I chose to fight for...with every fiber of my battered mothers body. I'd do it again in a minute but this is no longer an option so I chose to keep my grief and tears close.

I keep them quietly next to every smile and joke and plan that I deal out in a days length. Mostly I let them escape slow and silent but there are moments like the one I am in where they stream out of me and bring prayers even I cannot comprehend.

I miss Piper. Fervently and fruitlessly.

If I live to be an old lady I will constantly turn the calendar each moth and await the date that took my girl. And once a year I will celebrate her birth with a firm frustration that things went sadly awry from my plan. My only prayer is that I won't miss out on the many other days that are filled with hope and joy and happy occasions.

That is the goal. Today the goal is getting out of bed. Linley wants to go to the pool. Chad is at work. The house is a disaster. And I am crying on the couch and feeling overwhelmed with this sadness that has been thrust upon me.

Mostly I am overwhelmed with the knowledge that I must keep living and missing and turning the calendar.


  1. The way we celebrate my dad's birthday each year is by making his favorite cake, which is actually strawberry pie, and showing the kids photos of him. It's a great way to remember. Maybe make her favorite cake and have a quiet evening with the family. Please let me know if I can help in any way - I'd be happy to come take Linley to play in the pool here or just get a Jittery Joes and chat or listen.

  2. I love you Susanna. I pray that the days ahead are filled with hope for the future amid the grief of the past three years... I miss those cheeks and funny little nose crinkled smile of hers. Please let me know if I can come help clean, do laundry or anything.


  3. thinking of you... and joining miriam in prayer that the days ahead are filled with hope for the future. bless you, friend.

  4. You do not know me as I found your blog through the Pearson's...... but I just want you to know I pray daily for you to be able to find some kind of peace in your broken hearts. I am truly sorry you had to go through this. As I read your blog today I see Piper and I share the same birthday...... I will now think of her even more now on our special day always. Take care always and know you are cared about by me!:)
    May God hold you close each day!

    Amie Schilling

  5. We love you sus and can't imagine the heartache you feel. Piper will be in our memories too, always, along with all the other people who were touched by her incredible, sweet self. And in our memories, she will live on and continue to be with us.

  6. Hi Susanna. I am now in the crap club with you since my son Daniel died six weeks ago after a long time of fighting with everything we had. Like you, I am still swimming in disbelief, but all along your writing has helped me. You have voiced things I feel but cannot express and helped me to feel less isolated in grief.

    I'm just so sorry we're both in this place. Wish we coulda picked a different club.