"We are like ghosts, like mirror ghosts really. Instead of spirits without bodies, we are bodies without spirits. Empty shells with the wrong person trapped inside or with no one inside at all. Mirror Ghosts. Half a million, half a billion, geese, half a world, probably, of mirror ghosts. Just Bodies taking up space... Walking around empty."
~Murphy's Boy, Torey Hayden
"Where is your silverware drawer, Nina?" The numbing buzzing in my head was broken. How long had I been sitting at the computer? Was I even doing something? Nina... My Mom's pet name for me. Mom. Oh, Thank God. Mom... But the silverware drawer... A silverware drawer... Did we have one? We must... but where is it? Where... Bart must have seen the confusion on my face. He gave me a knowing glance and pointed Mom in the right direction. He looked at me again for a moment, he must have known, and went back to moving baby stuff.
Mom had gotten in late Tuesday night. A bunch of incredible people moved mountains to get her here. Dad would be here Friday. Mom, thank God, had taken over. Between her and Bart, the baby stuff around the house was being discreetly packed away for when I wanted to deal with it. I don't know where I was, but by the time I "woke up" for a rare moment of regular consciousness, the house was quietly in order.
I won't sound the least bit humble when I say I have always taken pride in my strength and my wit. I am logical more than emotional, which has earned me the title "Ice Queen", on quite a few occasions. It never bothered me. I felt good being stone cold strength and logic... but now my castle was melting and my mind was falling into disrepair... Where is my silverware drawer? Where was I? Who am I now?
It was humbling to be on the opposite side of the spectrum. To find out how truly weak you are. To not have an answer. There were so many questions. Everyone's phones were ringing. I was thankful that my family had jumped into action, and were helping alleviate some of the pressure... but so many questions. I was wanting to scream again. Just turn the damn phones off!!! Let me mourn my baby in peace! How do I know where the flowers should go? What do flowers matter? Bring me back my son!
I was thankful, and truly blessed that so many people reached out to us, in so many ways to help and give peace. Honestly, I do not mean to down play any gift, or comment, or hug. I took comfort in so many peoples love, but I was broken. I am 26, what do I know about planning a funeral? I should have at least 60 years before I have to think of burying a loved one. I'm still just a girl, and though I didn't say or show it, I was clinging desperately to my Mom. My Mom... Who instead of ever being able to hold her grandson, was helping plan his funeral. My heart ached for my parents.
My Aunt had set up a "Go Fund Me" page for Logan. We didn't have life insurance or any savings. The thought of funeral costs and whatever other bills you get was simply overwhelming. She called me and asked if I had looked at the page. No, I hadn't. I was ashamed of getting hand outs. We should have been better prepared, not asking for the welfare of strangers. I pulled up the page and saw that the goal was $10,000. It felt like a punch to the stomach. Ten Thousand, Ten! "My God... Is this how much it costs to die these days?", I asked her. I wanted to be sick. How in the world would we come up with the funds? Then I saw something incredible.
Donations were poring in. I was shocked. Bart and Lucky came running in. "Did you see the site?" Angela was texting me.Everyone was in awe. Donations, anywhere from five dollars to a couple hundred, kept popping up. How? Why? Who? It was again a humbling moment. Someone said something about how there is still good in the world. It wasn't about the money to us (Although thank you so much) it was about the heart. Someone, maybe one of you, took a moment to try and do something positive. To shine a light in the darkness. I was on my knees, later, thanking God for showing us such blessings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We were sitting in the funeral home. I'm looking at the man talking. I can see his moth moving. I'm sure he is saying words. I just feel numb and hear that buzzing and flat line noise. I can smell my Mom's perfume. She is talking to him. Lucky, oh Lucky, you look so tired. Bart? You look like you are fighting this also. Humming. Buzzing. Flat line.
"Nina?" Mom looks worried for a minute.
"Yeah, uh, the simple ones." I think they are talking about the cards for his service. I don't know any more. I don't know what is going on. Urns. We are looking at urns now. My baby is on a table and I am picking out a box for him. How big of a box? Why a box? I know I was glaring at them. None looked decent enough for my baby. A box... All they were were boxes and poorly shaped vases that someone stuck a lid on. I tried to hide my disgust.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I need you to make love to me." I whispered. It was dark. Most everyone in the house was asleep. I was terrified that I had said it, but it was true. I could feel myself shutting down. Falling deeper into a hole that I knew I would never get out of. I needed his love. I needed to feel alive and human again. I just needed to feel.
"Okay, come here."
"No. I can't. I can't do it. I need you to make love to me. I just can't do it right now."
"Whitney, I can't force you."
How do I explain this? How do I tell you that I need your touch. I need you, but I am just so broken and removed that I can't reach out. It hurts. It hurts so bad to touch you. To think of being intimate and to love. I don't want to hurt... I can't lose you...
"You wouldn't be forcing me, but I need you to do this. The longer we go without touching the chances are that it will never happen. I don't want to lose you."
I could feel his hesitation. I knew he didn't understand. I didn't understand. I couldn't explain, but I needed him. I needed the man that God gave me.
So he did. He kissed where my tears should have been. He offered quiet words and he gave himself to me... but I couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end.
~Murphy's Boy, Torey Hayden
"Where is your silverware drawer, Nina?" The numbing buzzing in my head was broken. How long had I been sitting at the computer? Was I even doing something? Nina... My Mom's pet name for me. Mom. Oh, Thank God. Mom... But the silverware drawer... A silverware drawer... Did we have one? We must... but where is it? Where... Bart must have seen the confusion on my face. He gave me a knowing glance and pointed Mom in the right direction. He looked at me again for a moment, he must have known, and went back to moving baby stuff.
Mom had gotten in late Tuesday night. A bunch of incredible people moved mountains to get her here. Dad would be here Friday. Mom, thank God, had taken over. Between her and Bart, the baby stuff around the house was being discreetly packed away for when I wanted to deal with it. I don't know where I was, but by the time I "woke up" for a rare moment of regular consciousness, the house was quietly in order.
I won't sound the least bit humble when I say I have always taken pride in my strength and my wit. I am logical more than emotional, which has earned me the title "Ice Queen", on quite a few occasions. It never bothered me. I felt good being stone cold strength and logic... but now my castle was melting and my mind was falling into disrepair... Where is my silverware drawer? Where was I? Who am I now?
It was humbling to be on the opposite side of the spectrum. To find out how truly weak you are. To not have an answer. There were so many questions. Everyone's phones were ringing. I was thankful that my family had jumped into action, and were helping alleviate some of the pressure... but so many questions. I was wanting to scream again. Just turn the damn phones off!!! Let me mourn my baby in peace! How do I know where the flowers should go? What do flowers matter? Bring me back my son!
I was thankful, and truly blessed that so many people reached out to us, in so many ways to help and give peace. Honestly, I do not mean to down play any gift, or comment, or hug. I took comfort in so many peoples love, but I was broken. I am 26, what do I know about planning a funeral? I should have at least 60 years before I have to think of burying a loved one. I'm still just a girl, and though I didn't say or show it, I was clinging desperately to my Mom. My Mom... Who instead of ever being able to hold her grandson, was helping plan his funeral. My heart ached for my parents.
My Aunt had set up a "Go Fund Me" page for Logan. We didn't have life insurance or any savings. The thought of funeral costs and whatever other bills you get was simply overwhelming. She called me and asked if I had looked at the page. No, I hadn't. I was ashamed of getting hand outs. We should have been better prepared, not asking for the welfare of strangers. I pulled up the page and saw that the goal was $10,000. It felt like a punch to the stomach. Ten Thousand, Ten! "My God... Is this how much it costs to die these days?", I asked her. I wanted to be sick. How in the world would we come up with the funds? Then I saw something incredible.
Donations were poring in. I was shocked. Bart and Lucky came running in. "Did you see the site?" Angela was texting me.Everyone was in awe. Donations, anywhere from five dollars to a couple hundred, kept popping up. How? Why? Who? It was again a humbling moment. Someone said something about how there is still good in the world. It wasn't about the money to us (Although thank you so much) it was about the heart. Someone, maybe one of you, took a moment to try and do something positive. To shine a light in the darkness. I was on my knees, later, thanking God for showing us such blessings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We were sitting in the funeral home. I'm looking at the man talking. I can see his moth moving. I'm sure he is saying words. I just feel numb and hear that buzzing and flat line noise. I can smell my Mom's perfume. She is talking to him. Lucky, oh Lucky, you look so tired. Bart? You look like you are fighting this also. Humming. Buzzing. Flat line.
"Nina?" Mom looks worried for a minute.
"Yeah, uh, the simple ones." I think they are talking about the cards for his service. I don't know any more. I don't know what is going on. Urns. We are looking at urns now. My baby is on a table and I am picking out a box for him. How big of a box? Why a box? I know I was glaring at them. None looked decent enough for my baby. A box... All they were were boxes and poorly shaped vases that someone stuck a lid on. I tried to hide my disgust.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I need you to make love to me." I whispered. It was dark. Most everyone in the house was asleep. I was terrified that I had said it, but it was true. I could feel myself shutting down. Falling deeper into a hole that I knew I would never get out of. I needed his love. I needed to feel alive and human again. I just needed to feel.
"Okay, come here."
"No. I can't. I can't do it. I need you to make love to me. I just can't do it right now."
"Whitney, I can't force you."
How do I explain this? How do I tell you that I need your touch. I need you, but I am just so broken and removed that I can't reach out. It hurts. It hurts so bad to touch you. To think of being intimate and to love. I don't want to hurt... I can't lose you...
"You wouldn't be forcing me, but I need you to do this. The longer we go without touching the chances are that it will never happen. I don't want to lose you."
I could feel his hesitation. I knew he didn't understand. I didn't understand. I couldn't explain, but I needed him. I needed the man that God gave me.
So he did. He kissed where my tears should have been. He offered quiet words and he gave himself to me... but I couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end.
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