"Grieving the loss of a child is a process, it begins the day your child passes and ends the day the parent joins them."

Thursday, February 10, 2011

February Chill.

February in Michigan is often times, more often than not actually, extremely frigged. You step outside and all the way through your body, you feel the February chill.

Today, right now, as I type this post, it's 15* with a -4* wind chill. Which means, the air outside, once the wind is factored in to the actual temperature, feels like -4*. I suppose that this February is right on target with all the other Michigan February's. Brrr....

When you've had to step outside, in Michigan during the month of February, and by the time your my age...you learn to dress appropriately. Boots, gloves, hats, scarves and a nice heavy coat. Which allows you to get to your car, without freezing all body parts!

But, the chill that this February brings us is much more bone chilling. We visit our sweet girl in sub zero temperatures. We trek through the snow, which in some spots are up to our (well, my) knees. To go and stand a few moments with the most missed little girl in the world.... In my eyes anyway.

Sorry for such a teeny tiny picture. It was taken with my dads cell phone. One day, I'll remember to dust off my camera, that doesn't get a whole lot of use these days... (it was purchased to snap photos of Carly 8 month's before we lost her)... and take it with me on one of our visits.

As if the bone chilling weather and the sheer chill, of visiting your 8 year old at a cemetery isn't enough of a February chill...I may as well add this next bit of frustration to the mix! I'm so bent out of shape for the simple fact that the cemetery we buried our daughter in has very poor upkeep, especially during the winter months. NOTHING gets plowed during the winter. NOTHING. Unless of course someone passes away and happen to be getting buried in that cemetery. Carly was buried closer to the main road on which the cemetery sits. But, it's still quite a hike in 3', packed down snow! I pull my Explorer into the messed up drifted, hard, crusted snow that sits over the driveway, back up a couple of times, go forward a few times..not even a 4WD can get through snow that's hard and packed and hasn't been plowed in for ever! I finally decide I'm far enough off the main road to put it in park and make my way to my girl.

As I stood there yesterday, placing a vase of red plastic roses, a small pink teddy bear and a plaque that says, "Hugs & Kisses", I was once again floored that I was standing at the foot of my baby's grave site. How unreal this whole thing still feels to me. 9 months later and I just can not believe where we are today, in comparison to where we were last year at this time. Add those feelings and thoughts added to the frigged temperatures, makes for quiet the extreme, February Chill.

After leaving the cemetery yesterday, I decided that I was going to head to another cemetery which is in the town we live in. I was just curious as to whether or not it was normal...not plowing cemeteries in the winter months. I mean, why would I know this? I never had a reason to visit a cemetery during winter months. Well guess what I found??? The cemetery in our little town, was plowed nicely. All. The. Way. Through. Probably I shouldn't have done that whole drive by thing, because I got home with the anxiety attack from HELL.

"Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow,
May looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow."
~Author Unknown

I really like the above quote. It's so very true. But somehow, I just can't get beyond the sorrow.


Kristen said...

Such extreme chilly air sure does make the tears sting even more. I feel so sad that the cemetery is not plowed for you. It's hard enough fighting through feelings of separation that you can't change. And having to fight through three feet of snow to visit Carly's grave feels unnecessary. It makes me want to run to her grave site and shovel it for you.

Always *hugs*

Beth said...

Kristen, I'll help shovel!

So unnecessary.

Cindy said...

It must be so hard to have the cemetery in such bad shape. Hope the temperatures and your sorrow brighten up soon.

amyl4 said...

Joany, I pray for you every day and wish I could take your pain away. My heart breaks for you, please know that even though we haven't met, you are in my thoughts EVERYDAY!

Unknown said...

I am living the same thing. I cannot get to Laynee's site without trudging a long way through snow drifts. Across town, the other cemetary is cleared and wide open. I didn't realize how much I cherish my time there until now that it's so hard to get there.
GO away winter.

Herownprivatehell said...

All I can say is that every time I read a new blog or hear a certain song, or see what I call a " Carly sky" My heart aches for you and your family. I know we talk almost everyday but I so wished I did not live 800 miles away frome you. I wish I could be there for you when I think you would need it the most. I hope someday you will be able to find your smiles again, but one thing for sure I will always be right here for you and all you have to do is say you need me and I will be on my way to you. Hug and prayers for you all

Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry about the cemetery Joany. There is something so enraging when you go to visit a loved one and the cemetery doesn't take the time to make sure you can get to the grave. I mean really, you paid all that money to bury your beloved girl and they aren't plowing. We have had this happen to our family members. We don't have snow, but now we take gardening tools and such whenever we go. We did complain and that does help sometimes. I wish they understood how disrespectful and painful it is when you see your loved one's grave so overrun by weeds you're not sure if it is the right one.
Praying for you and your family.

Abby said...

I just found your blog. My heart wrenches for you. Really, it does.

Grief feels like a black hole; all the gravity pulls you down until you feel like you weigh four tons.

I don't have any children, nor have I lost a child, but I know on some level (I feel like every person's grief is different) what it's like to mourn like that. I speak from the place of losing my mother in 2009. You said that you feel guilty for laughing, I get it. You're mad at or doubting the belief of God. I get it.

And the wound doesn't heal. Ever. It does get a little easier though. Be encouraged. You're in my prayers.