Friday, April 6, 2012

One moment to the next

I hate having Akila so far away.  I know that she can't live in our home anymore, but 4 hours away is ridiculous.

We are having a nice spring break.  The weather has been beautiful and kids have been playing with friends a lot.  I haven't cried for two days, so that is good.  Still having huge waves of sadness.

One moment, I am folding laundry and get choked up over Akila's clothes that are still in the laundry pile.  The next moment, I am thankful that I don't have to lock up the knives anymore.  One moment, I am sad when I walk by her room.  The next moment, I am thankful that I have been able to sleep in.  One moment, I am sad when I have to empty out her backpack from her last day at school.  The next moment, I am thankful the kids are able to have a friend over to play.

What is really strange, is that there are a few parallels to when a loved one dies.  I am not trying to be overly dramatic, and I know this is not nearly as serious as losing someone you love to death.  But I remember the waves of emotions that would come over me after my mom died when I would see something of hers.  I feel similar feelings with Akila, although I know she is just gone.  It is just so unnatural to not have your child with you, or at least close enough to visit.  And it has only been one week.

I did not speak with her tonight, nor on Sunday night, but have talked every other night to her.  She is still happy, although the last three phone calls she has asked when she is coming home.  I tell her not for awhile, and that I don't know when exactly.  She is satisfied with that answer.  She is enjoying the new school (which is within the RTC), and is even liking the food.

I have been working this evening on painting my kitchen.  You might remember that when we left last week to drop Akila off in Wisconsin, that we had a painter here to paint.  Well the color I chose is horrid.  So I have the pleasure of redoing it.  It was not helpful to get home from that long emotional day to a kitchen that looked like crap.  But I'm taking care of that problem.

I think that for the next week or more, I will be living one moment to the next, trying to come to grip with Akila being gone.  Strange that as hard as I fought to have her placed, I am having a hard time with the placement.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

This is totally how it goes. You are completely normal in your grieving. I think in some ways these separations are WORSE than death and i am not trying to be overly-dramatic either: but having someone out there that you love that you cannot see/or live with or in some cases like a foster re-unification, you have no way of knowing how they are or what they will be, is excruciating and there is no "closure"- ever. God bless your day, your relief, your mourning.

Blessed said...

Maybe the painting of your kitchen will feel redemptive--a catharsis for your current grieving over Akila's placement. All things can be redeemed; all things can be made new.

Have a blessed Good Friday, Barb, and may all of you have a Happy Easter.

Wendy said...

Wish I could help somehow - consider yourself hugged. I know that doesn't do much good, but our good thoughts are with you, along with a prayer or two.

AKBrady said...

This is absolutely okay. Everything you are feeling is yours, own it and don't be afraid of it. It takes a while, and you'll have to retrace your steps, and refold the laundry, and cry buckets over what you did and said and agreed to...But then you'll also look at your family and say "We did this because we love Akila, and us."
Know that our family is praying for you, and thinking about you, even as we enter our fifth year of our son being out of our home.

Jane said...

My dear, I appreciate how you feel. It will become your "new normal", but it may never feel right.

Toots has been living away from home for 5 1/2 of the last six years, since she was 12. The house is calmer, but my husband and I have never really gotten used to it.

I will continue to add my prayers.