I feel like he is disappearing. This is what I whispered in the phone to one of my dearest friends after my third therapy session.
Yes, let’s get that elephant out of the room first shall we – I started therapy. I tried so hard, so very hard, to handle the death of my child on my own. I tried to bury all of my feelings and emotions in the busyness of life and advocacy. But this weird thing happens when you try to suppress – it has a funny way of creeping up anyway and usually uglier than you ever thought possible. This was my December. I sank to an all-time low. This is when I realized I really can’t do this on my own. These demons I want so desperately to avoid are eating me away.
My first two sessions seemed to be okay, but the third – wow! Those demons, those emotions I was afraid were going to come out if I did therapy – yep, that all exploded like fireworks on the fourth of July. Third time is a charm I guess.
And when I left, I didn’t feel good. It was like all at once I was hit by a tsunami of emotion and that’s when I realized…therapy is actually working.
I feel like he is disappearing.
This is the end result of that third session. I can’t really hear him laugh anymore. I have to concentrate so hard in my brain to try and listen for it. I knew eventually this would happen, but it’s only been six months. I should have more time than this. And I’m mad at Nikolai for not coming to me in my dreams to talk to me or let me know he’s okay. I’m open to it. I’ve always been open to it. I had numerous visits from my mother-in-law and both of my grandparents, but only one from Kola. Why? Was that the only one I get?
That third session brought out more anger than I have experienced these last six months.
I am angry that the normalcy of life has taken over and seems to be washing him away.
I am angry and I feel guilty for moving on, for lack of a better term.
I am angry that the world moved on from Kola’s death long ago.
I am angry that I spontaneously combust on the daily still.
I am angry that I still can’t do Monday’s and now I have no choice.
I am angry about so many things that I can’t even verbalize.
The angrier I get, the lonelier I get. Grief is very lonely. No one gets how you feel, nor can they – the death of a child is not something most have experienced (thank God). My tribe is so huge, loving and supportive that I feel guilty even saying that out loud. What I can say, is that without this tribe of mine, things would be so much worse. I feel your love every single day. And I use it like air to breathe from, to keep me going, to cry and scream and laugh when I need to.
While therapy didn’t feel so great this week, it was necessary and I realize that now. All these feelings have to come out in order for me to move through and let go. And even though I can’t hear Kola laugh hardly at all anymore, I know that he isn’t really disappearing. We have a million memories of his amazing life and I cling to those with all of my might.