The Hulk
"Immortality" by Seether (acoustic Pearl Jam cover)
"... grief is not a bottomless pit. Instead, imagine a tunnel. It may be dark and cold inside, but there is a light at the end, where the rest of your life is waiting for you. Milling around at the entrance can keep you from getting on with your life. You can't go over it or around it. You just have to go through it. If you get stuck in the middle, it isn't quicksand. You are the one who controls whether you move forward."
- "Empty Cradle, Broken Heart" by Deborah L. David Ph.D
I have no idea "how I am doing".
I have no idea if I am "handling this" any better or worse than I am "supposed" to.
On any given day I feel like I am too depressed... but in that same day I will feel that I am not depressed enough.
Every smile is immediately followed by a knot in my throat... I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment.
Because I am thinking of them. Of Graham and Savannah. Of their faces. Of what their perfectly soft skin felt like when I gave them a kiss.
So perfect. So beautiful. But so cold. Oh God I will never forget that... that feeling. Their skin so incredibly perfect and beautiful... yet so heartbreakingly cold.
That is the torture that haunts me daily... the most special moments of being with our babies is accompanied by the most grief-stricken as well.
So all of these things are now a part of our daily struggle... minute after minute, ups and downs... one minute desperately trying to distract yourself from the pain and the very next immersing yourself in the pain and just feeling all of it as much as you can because you suddenly can't accept, don't want to accept what has happened.
And then there is this anger... this ball of anger. I can feel it inside. Its like an ugly tree on the lawn of a beautiful home. It doesn't do anything but its always there...
But then sometimes... sometimes someone says something. Someone tells me what I should feel. What my wife should feel. Someone speaks dismissively of my children by just not speaking of them at all.
Facebook. Instagram. TV. The supermarket. On the streets. Happy mothers everywhere with their pregnant bellies pushing their healthy little children in their perfect little strollers with their healthy little children following them.
Birth announcements. Gender reveals. First birthdays. Communions. Softball and baseball games.
Suddenly my docile anger isn't so docile anymore... it wants to be let out. It wants to scream. It wants to find out who was responsible for taking my babies. Who can I blame? Who can I go after? God? The Devil? I would give my life in an instant to figure that answer out and have that anguish and rage inside just go away...
But there is no answer. Never an answer. Just more visions of people living out our dreams. More reminders of what Graham and Savannah can never be here on earth and can never have. More knives in our heart, twisting and turning and driving deeper and deeper with every single word or picture or image.
So this rage just sits heavier and heavier on my heart... I know I can control it. If for no other reason, for my wife and for Graham and Savannah I will always control it. But I know its never going to go away. I know at times it will get pushed closer to the surface, and I know at times it will be suppressed deeper and deeper into places I hope actually feel like - even if its for a brief moment - like its gone.
For the rest of my life then I will be like the Hulk. Without ever becoming the Hulk. The world will just see me as a normal person, going about his daily duties. At work. At parties. During holidays. They won't see what is happening inside... no-one ever will. I will be sure of that.
"... grief is not a bottomless pit. Instead, imagine a tunnel. It may be dark and cold inside, but there is a light at the end, where the rest of your life is waiting for you. Milling around at the entrance can keep you from getting on with your life. You can't go over it or around it. You just have to go through it. If you get stuck in the middle, it isn't quicksand. You are the one who controls whether you move forward."
- "Empty Cradle, Broken Heart" by Deborah L. David Ph.D
I have no idea "how I am doing".
I have no idea if I am "handling this" any better or worse than I am "supposed" to.
On any given day I feel like I am too depressed... but in that same day I will feel that I am not depressed enough.
Every smile is immediately followed by a knot in my throat... I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment.
Because I am thinking of them. Of Graham and Savannah. Of their faces. Of what their perfectly soft skin felt like when I gave them a kiss.
So perfect. So beautiful. But so cold. Oh God I will never forget that... that feeling. Their skin so incredibly perfect and beautiful... yet so heartbreakingly cold.
That is the torture that haunts me daily... the most special moments of being with our babies is accompanied by the most grief-stricken as well.
So all of these things are now a part of our daily struggle... minute after minute, ups and downs... one minute desperately trying to distract yourself from the pain and the very next immersing yourself in the pain and just feeling all of it as much as you can because you suddenly can't accept, don't want to accept what has happened.
And then there is this anger... this ball of anger. I can feel it inside. Its like an ugly tree on the lawn of a beautiful home. It doesn't do anything but its always there...
But then sometimes... sometimes someone says something. Someone tells me what I should feel. What my wife should feel. Someone speaks dismissively of my children by just not speaking of them at all.
Facebook. Instagram. TV. The supermarket. On the streets. Happy mothers everywhere with their pregnant bellies pushing their healthy little children in their perfect little strollers with their healthy little children following them.
Birth announcements. Gender reveals. First birthdays. Communions. Softball and baseball games.
Suddenly my docile anger isn't so docile anymore... it wants to be let out. It wants to scream. It wants to find out who was responsible for taking my babies. Who can I blame? Who can I go after? God? The Devil? I would give my life in an instant to figure that answer out and have that anguish and rage inside just go away...
But there is no answer. Never an answer. Just more visions of people living out our dreams. More reminders of what Graham and Savannah can never be here on earth and can never have. More knives in our heart, twisting and turning and driving deeper and deeper with every single word or picture or image.
So this rage just sits heavier and heavier on my heart... I know I can control it. If for no other reason, for my wife and for Graham and Savannah I will always control it. But I know its never going to go away. I know at times it will get pushed closer to the surface, and I know at times it will be suppressed deeper and deeper into places I hope actually feel like - even if its for a brief moment - like its gone.
For the rest of my life then I will be like the Hulk. Without ever becoming the Hulk. The world will just see me as a normal person, going about his daily duties. At work. At parties. During holidays. They won't see what is happening inside... no-one ever will. I will be sure of that.
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