It's all in a lyric

Have you ever had a moment where a song that you have known and have loved forever suddenly contains so much more depth and meaning that you somehow missed before? That's exactly what happened to me today. This morning as I was driving to work the song My Immortal came on. A couple of lines into the song I could feel the emotion in it. The deep sadness and the pain. It really hit me hard. For the first time my perspective of this song completely changed. I never before really understood the meaning of every single word until now. As the chorus came on, tears welded in my eyes as I related it to my own life.

I'm so tired of being here

Suppressed by all my childish fears

And if you have to leave

I wish that you would just leave

'Cause your presence still lingers here

And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have, all of me

You used to captivate me by your resonating light

Now I'm bound by the life you left behind

Your face—it haunts my once pleasant dreams

Your voice—it chased away all the sanity in me

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone

But though you're still with me

I've been alone all along

And really there isn't a whole lot more to say because it's all said right here in these lyrics. This song depicts so much emotion. You can hear the pain through her voice and every note. Very powerful, especially to someone who has been through such a deep and emotional loss.

Mr. Clark, it was a pleasure

The inevitable finally happened last week. A patient who has been coming in for blood draws who I came to just love passed away last week and for the first time, it really just breaks my heart to know that he won't be around anymore.

With the work that I do, it's common to see people come in and out of the hospital at various stages of illnesses. Acute. Chronic. Terminal. Within the 6 months that I've worked as a phlebotomist I have seen several patients come into the hospital and not leave. And when you're from a small town, you get to know everyone incredibly well -- especially those frequent flyers that need lab work on a daily to weekly basis. By far, this is certainly one of the hardest parts of my job. Having to go into their hospital room and drawing their blood as they sharply inhale and exhale a breath as their ribcage forcefully expands to accommodate what may be their last breath of air. Standing there while a patient breaths at a rate of only 3 to 4 breaths a minute, praying that that breath was not their last and anxiously anticipating them to once again fill their lungs, but knowing that the last breath will come at any moment. Knowing they can hear you, whispering to them how wonderful of a patient they've always been for you. Letting them know they are loved and cared about by many.

And then there are the experiences with patients who know that they are dying. It's such a tender moment when a patient knows that they are dying. When they confess to you, like one elderly woman did this morning, that they are "nearly dead", and as a man had to tell me 2 weeks ago that, "it's only a matter of time." You try to reassure them, comfort them, and be compassionate towards them, but what do you say? Being an outsider it's difficult to asses how they are dealing with their own mortality. With Spencer, for example, I knew where he was at and how he was processing everything. I may not have known what to say, but our intimate relationship allowed me more comfort to express my sadness and to help him through it. But as a professional, it's hard to know the right words to say.

A couple of Friday's ago I went up to the nursing home to draw a patient. I was looking forward to going up there because this was a man I had really come to enjoy seeing in the lab. He hadn't been in in a little over a month as he was recovering from a surgery that he had. I walked into his room and he was laying on his bed not looking so good. I looked over at him and smiled and told him that I had been thinking about him constantly and that it was good to see him.

I asked him how he was feeling. How his surgery went. I was genuinely interested and concerned about him. As I was palpating for a vein in his arm which had grown thinner, veins becoming harder to find, he told me that things did not go well. The look on his face and in his eyes told me that was quite a grim response. He then proceeded to tell me, "It's just now a matter of time." At that point I wasn't sure of the full extent of everything so I replied with, "Just a long road to recovery now, huh?" but he shook his head no and I suddenly understood. I'm sure my face went ghost white, my heart sank down to my stomach, hands started shaking, and as a slight tear started to form in the corner of my eye I fought it back, knowing I had a job to do and I had to get through it. I had to be strong for my patient.

After drawing his blood, I stood up and took a moment to chat with him. I had been considering coming up after work some day and visiting him, and so I decided that there was no better time like the present to ask him if he liked visitors. So I did and he told me that yes, he loves them. The moment I asked him, "Would you like me to come up here in a few days and visit you so that we can chat a little more?" his face completely lit up. It was the first time in the entire conversation where his eyes opened wide and he actually held a smile on his face. He told me he would like that very much. I knew instantly I had to do it as soon as I could. I was really looking forward to visiting with him more.

After saying my goodbyes to him I left the room and just felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. My leaned my elbows on my cart as tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn't believe it. It just wasn't fair.

I will never forget the short and sweet relationship that I built with this man in the time that I knew him. The very first time that he came into the lab he was a bit grumpy and really not feeling well. His wife accompanied him. At that time we didn't exchange too many words, but I thought that I recognized them. I knew that I had seen them somewhere before but I couldn't place who it was. The next time that he came into the lab, a few short weeks later, it finally dawned on me who he was. I asked him if he had any relation to a family whose son I used to date, and he told me, "Oh ya! I sure do" with a grin on his face. He told me that he thought he and his wife recognized me. He said that his wife asked if that's who I was but he couldn't be certain. He remembered exactly who I was and I couldn't believe that he remembered me spending time at their house one Christmas with their family. We chatted some more while I drew his blood and then he left.

He came back many, many times after that and after that conversation we had, his whole demeanor changed towards me after we found common ground. He always greeted me with a family at 6 am in the morning. Never left without the routine of telling me, "Thank you, you take care, sweetie."

We often talked about the extent of his health and how he was feeling. Some days were good for him, but most days he struggled. We bonded over doctors appointments and a doctor that we both shared out in Colorado, agreeing how amazing he is. Sometimes we would laugh together and smile when he was having a good day, and sometimes it was somber when he was having a particularly rough time.

I truly began enjoying seeing him at the lab. He was one of those people who just made my morning a little bit better. He was always so sweet, gentle, and very kind to me. I can't pinpoint exactly what I liked so much about him, but I think it was just his over all attitude towards me when he was there.

Unfortunately I was not able to go back up to the home and see him. It's a hard pill to swallow. My grandpa passed away after that and didn't get the opportunity to visit him that weekend. The day that I was planning on going up after my first day back at work he was admitted into the hospital and had passed away. It really happened quick, a lot faster than I thought it would. I'm sad that I didn't get the opportunity to visit him again, but I am beyond thankful that I spent a few extra minutes that day that I drew his blood to talk with him.

He was so sweet and I really miss seeing him around. It was a truly a pleasure Mr. Clark. Rest Easy.

Another close loss

The first week of January has been a bit of a sad one for my family and I. Yes, I have been through almost more losses than I can count in my 23 years of life, but it doesn't stop them from happening. Life doesn't see that your still trying to work through the last 5, or more. Life doesn't give you a reprieve.

January second my grandpa Johnson passed away. We knew that it was coming for awhile now. On Christmas when we went to visit him he couldn't respond to us. We were able to talk to him, take pictures with him, and he ate lunch with us, but shortly after lunch he went to his room, they gave him some morphine and he went to sleep. I knew it was just a matter of time before we lost him.

One shouldn't be able to recognize the early stages of death so personally at 23 years old. But I saw it in my husband and unfortunately I see in it patients who come into the hospital and never leave. There are also times when I almost feel sensitized to death, and that feels all but right. I hear of someone passing away, such as my grandpa, and my body tenses up and flushes, my eyes fill with tears, my heart skips a beat. But that is only for a moment.

I hate how that has become my reaction to death. But I have seen so much of it that if I got hung up on what has been lost I don't know if I would be able to function.

It seems as if I have become excellent in realizing that what is, just is, and while it is sad and I will always, always miss him and have him in my heart, there isn't anything that I, or anyone, can do to change it. It is almost like a blessing that he has passed because he fought for such a long time with his cancer, seizures, lung problems, and etc. When I saw him at Christmas I just wanted him to let go because I knew that there wasn't any reason for him to stay with the way that his health was.

I know that things haven't really hit me. I went to work on Friday and had several people asking me, "Well why are you here?" "Why are you not at home?" "What are you doing here?!". I'm here because it's my job. I'm not at home because there isn't anything for me to help with. I am just simply working and keeping my mind busy. I also had a couple people come up to me and tell me what a great man he was and some memories and stories of him. All in past tense. A couple of times it took me off guard. What do you mean "he was" and "he did" "he fought". Oh, right. He's dead. That's all in the past now. It's just proof to me that I haven't quite thought about it.

I also was not all that close with my grandpa. We didn't have that type of a relationship. I remember him teasing me a lot as a kid, especially changing the channel to the weather while I was watching Barney! As an adult he always enjoyed seeing me, I know. He loved to talk about my car, gas mileage, mechanical things and fixing things. But I just don't remember a lot.

When I let myself think about it, I think I hurt the most for my dad. It's hard to know how to communicate with my dad as we have never had the heart-to-heart hugging type of relationship, but I know, I know that he's hurting. I think of the relationship that dad and grandpa had. Before grandpa went into the home my dad went up to his house nearly every single night to visit and spend time with him. Often times he spent more than an hour down there. They would also talk every single day, sometimes multiple times a day and it would be for hours at a time. Dad would complain a lot about how he kept him on the phone, but I think dad was just as guilty!

When grandpa got really sick with cancer my dad took him to doctors appointments and took him to get the treatment that he needed. He would stay away from home days at a time to be with grandpa at his treatments. He'd drop anything to help him. I saw my dad get very emotional when he talked about it and when grandpas health would again decline. My dad doesn't cry often, but going through all of that took it's toll on him.

And then when they had to put him into the home the nightly routine of phone calls continued. It continued even after grandpa had a very difficult time remembering how to work the phone and communicating. Eventually those nightly calls moved to a few times a week, once a week, and then eventually never. But dad still went up to the home to be with grandpa as often as he could, at least once a week and usually even more.

And then my dad was at grandpas side when he took his last breath. They got the call at 2am so my dad rushed over to be with him. I learned of all of this at work and shortly after talking to my mom we got the word that he was gone.

So yes, I know that what hurts for me the most is to know what my dad lost and it truly breaks my heart. They seemed to have a really, really good relationship and I hate that it's now over.

Monday is the funeral and I know that emotions will come rushing in, they do quite often at funerals. I suppose it will be then when I finally, truly realize that he is gone. But he's in a better place and not struggling anymore, just like we say with everyone else we've lost. But it's true, and it's the one comforting thing in the whole journey.

My experience

Last weekend I attended a memorial service for a wonderful woman. A woman that I am so happy to have been able to call a friend. It was such an emotional day, but if one could look past the sadness, you could see a room overflowing with love.

Saturday was a very difficult day for me as I struggled to sort through the hundreds of emotions that I was feeling all at once. We [my mom, sister, and myself] arrived a little bit late because, for some reason, my GPS led us about 20 miles astray. We were in a completely different city and in a small community. We were lost and extremely frustrated and that started a flood of emotions. I just knew we were going to miss the entire memorial and I could barely stand myself I was so upset. But thankfully we arrived in Longmont and found the church about half way through the service. I'm so grateful for that.

I walked in to her service and I don't think there was a dry eye in the church. As we were ushered to our seats, we were listening to Molly's Eulogy. He had just begun to talk about Starbright World and shortly after sitting down they mentioned Molly's beloved friendship with Spencer. My emotions got the best of me very suddenly, more suddenly than I expected, and I was doubled over in inconsolable sobs and anguish at the loss of both my soul mate and good friend. I cannot ever remember crying as hard as I did when their friendship was mentioned. It hurt me so deeply words cannot even describe. Molly and Spencer were are so very special to me and thinking about their friendship both warms my heart and slices through it deeply at the very same time. I wish that I could talk to them both, together, about the times they shared together. In that moment I suddenly missed them more than I ever knew was possible.

I was a complete mess through the rest of the service. It was really hard for me to sit there and listen to what was being said. The love shared between Molly and her husband, Corey, really got to me. He was so right when he said most people search a lifetime to find the love that Corey and Molly shared. Spencer and I were told that countless times, and I still am to this day. Knowing that they found that love, together, is beautiful and they are so lucky they were able to share it. While they were talking about the relationship that they had, I nearly left the sanctuary. I was so overcome with grief and heartache it took everything that I could possible give to not sob so loudly. It was the first time since I lost Spencer that I really felt the need to let everything out. That I ACTUALLY had the ability to let it out, as every time before that I had tried numbness would set it. And it was the need not only to let out pent up emotions about Molls, but also about Spencer.

The emotions that were building up in my heart were was literally more than I could process. Tears sprung out from the corners of my eyes. My bottom lip and jaw trembled uncontrollably. Sobs that I was desperately trying to hold back kept escaping from my throat. My hands, legs, and really just my whole body was shaking. I couldn't open my eyes as they were stained with tears. I could hardly sit upright. Using my muscles and holding myself up was almost more than I could manage in that moment. I felt like I was going to explode. I was completely overwhelmed. I missed my husband more than ever in that moment, and I was so, so sad that my friend is no longer here.

As people smiled at me I was physically unable to smile back. I just wanted someone to take me in their arms and cry with me but at the very same time I wanted to run off and be by myself. The presence of people, whether I knew them or not, was almost too much. I was so lost and there was no understanding to be had.

I am just stunned that the emotions I experienced were so intense. I never expected them to be. That whole day I felt completely shattered, and to be honest with you, I still do. I feel like I have lost so much and it's unbearable. I don't really know how to keep on going. I know a lot of this, a lot of this, relates back to Spence. I feel like perhaps there are some feelings that I have not been able to identify or express that are lingering from Spencer's death. Maybe since things have been able to soak in from his death and the fact that it's been about a year since I've lost anyone close to me, I've had time to process things and it's given me the ability to express whatever it is that is festering in my poor, broken heart. Whatever it is, I was pretty blind sighted with the way that I felt last Saturday.

It was also so strange to me that I almost felt worse on Saturday then I did when I lost Spencer. I don't remember feeling any of those emotions until Saturday. I think part of it is because of the fact I was able to accept Spencer's decline and death and I gave him the final say as to when it was ok to let go; whereas I was not with Molly before she passed away and I wasn't able to accept anything that was happening. The loss of a friend is so, so different than the loss of a spouse. I didn't really expect it to be. I thought losing Spencer was the ultimate pain, if that makes sense. As I said, I know that Spencer's death ties into Molly's quite a bit making it a lot harder.

I don't know... last weekend was just hard. Very hard. And I'm glad that I got through it and that day is now in the past. I can't help but think about Corey, Melissa, and Lauren every single day. They are just starting the journey of missing and longing for their wife, daughter, and very best friend and I know they are feeling her loss so much more than I am.

The hand of death

*I say the word "we" in this a lot because I was talking to a dear friend of mine today and I think I am speaking for all of us who have lost a lot of the same influential people in a short amount of time*

When you lose your husband you kinda think and hope that the worse is over. You've lost the one you love and treasure the very most. The one that you choose to spend the rest of your life with, so the worse must be over, right?

Wrong.

It has been proven to me time after time again that that is just not true. The hand of death doesn't stop just because you've been broken once before.

I've never lost a good friend until now, and the emotions and feelings I have been having are much different and more difficult to accept and express. I am much more seasoned in the area of loss than a 22 year old should ever be. I've experienced more loss in the last 2 years than I ever thought was possible. I feel kind of like an expert in the subject.

Through all the people I have lost, I have found that I unknowingly and unintentionally put up a front. I appear to be so much stronger than I really am. I look at the positives, I remain optimistic, I remain confident that I will see them once again. Around people I have the ability to be my normal bubbly self. I walk around telling myself things are okay, that I have to much to be thankful for and that I will be okay. I do my best to not express any sadness what-so-ever. I would almost convince myself that everything was okay even though my whole world was shattering around me.  I realized several months ago that the only change that happens when my strong front is up, is that with each person I lose, the more light I lose, the duller my eyes get, the weaker my smile gets. Only those close to me recognize these signs of hurt and the signs that I am breaking down. Through all the losses I have become a lot more numb to loss. I experience sadness, but none as deep as what I did when my Spencer passed away. When I'm by myself and I am actually able to put my strong front down, the numbness sets in and I'm unable to cry, get angry, be sad.

But through this loss of my dear friend, most of the above has went out the window. That strong front is getting so much weaker and I am unable to convince myself that everything is okay. I can't look at the positive, I can't be optimistic, and I certainly am not longer certain that I will see the ones I love again. When I'm in public and trying to keep it together, on the inside I am crying out in pain, wishing anyone who saw me would understand the inner turmoil I'm going through.

I'm not certain that this will make sense to you, but half of me feels numb while half of me is feeling every single thing that I could possibly feel. Losing Molly has kind of pushed me over the edge. The part of me that feels numb, I think is in part disbelief that this happened. We all knew it was coming. I knew for several days and in all those days I have been incredibly angry. But the part that is feeling every single thing that I could feel.... well it is just too big to even begin to sort through the emotions and piece them together. It's too big to be able to express, in writing or in words.

With every loss that we experience, the more we continue to be broken down; The more tired we become; The more we tend to bottle it in, whether we mean to or not, because it all added together becomes way too much to process; The more we become afraid to express the hurt that we feel because we are terrified that the hurt will never stop, that the tears won't stop when they start; The more afraid we are to start the process because we know how much it hurt from the previous loss and we know it will be even worse this time.

With every loss that happens, the more vulnerable we become.


And because I am vulnerable? I am feeling completely 100% broken and shattered. More-so thank any other time. There is too much going on in my mind and in my heart and I almost feel like I can't be in my own skin right now. Because I am vulnerable I am experiencing emotions from my past that I have dealt with and moved on from and those chronic emotions that are now only temporary, only coming and going every once in awhile. Emotions come flooding back that I forgot were even possible.

I'm naturally really missing Spencer all over again. I want him here for comfort. My emotions for my husband are very high right now. Molly and Spencer were best friends and shared a lot of memories together. It really hurts me that I feel like I've lost another part of Spencer. I have lost memories of Spencer. A connection to Spencer that I no longer have. I am so thankful that I spent time with Molls last summer and heard some of her memories of my husband. I will cherish them even more now that she's gone.

I am so, so heartbroken because of the empathy I have for Molly's new husband. I'm so sad for her family. I'm now understanding some of the feelings Spencer's friends went through when he passed away. The helplessness. The anger. The hurt. It's all different when you lose a friend compared to when you lose a spouse. I didn't expect it to be.

We continue to add to the number of people that we need to grieve. It makes it so hard to even start the process because we know how much more time it is going to add onto the process as a whole. I know that Molly's loss is going to tack on a significant amount of time to my grieving. For me, I am finally starting to get to a good spot in my healing journey with the loss of Spencer. But with that, I am noticing the loss of my mother-in-law more, my grandma more, and my grandpa a little bit more. I am just now starting to grieve their loss. It's been 18 months since I lost my husband. I'm just NOW getting to that point. I still have 3 other people to grieve.... and now 4. It seems like a never ending process. This loss has really thrown me for a loop. Every loss I experience the more complicated my grieving process becomes.  Each and every time things get harder.

For some reason losing Molly has me questioning every single thing I once believed -- and that's really hard for me to swallow. Before I was very firm in my belief that I was going to see Spencer again. We were going to live eternity together. I guess what other choice did I have but to believe that? I needed that comfort and that reassurance. That through the heartache and pain I was experiencing there would be a reward in the end. There have been several times where I have briefly questioned my beliefs... My belief in the afterlife and even my belief in a higher power. But I was always able to recover and dismiss those thoughts very quickly. It hurt to much to think that I'll never see my husband again. But with Molly being gone I feel like I have lost all of my faith. How can this happen AGAIN. Why does this happen so often. I am so ANGRY that this has happened. I am torn between whether to believe Spencer and Molly are together, or whether to dismiss that idea and wonder if we will all be reunited again. It's a very, very hard thing to think about. Right now I'm just going with it because I don't have the strength to try and correct it and work through it.

People say to give it time. Time will heal you. With time things will get better, easier. But as a good friend put it today, "That's the one thing I feel like we don't have. [Time] is what we keep losing to." I can't express that any better then she did. When I have now lost 6 very close people whom I love very much in less than 2 years.... I feel like I am rushing against the clock. Our concept of time has completely changed and it's very hard to alter it back to the way it once was.

And with so many losses in such a short amount of time.... it makes one question who is going to be next and when is it going to happen. I mean how much time do we really have with one another? It's an awful thing to think, and a thought that I hate, but it's too hard to get it out of my mind whether I want to or not. I think of our close knit group, all of us living with chronic illnesses. We're more susceptible to death (I guess you could say) and it's scary to think about who might be next. You think that it's finally done now, at least for awhile -- but then life is cruel and steals another one away. I know for a fact that thought gets a little bit better the further out from a loss that you get, but it's a hard thought to live with.

I don't know how to end this. I have no words of advice for my friends experiencing her loss. I have no words of encouragement or hope. I am completely broken and I'm struggling to hold it all together. I am glad I have a close knit group of friends who understand most everything expressed above. Talking out things with one of them was extremely helpful for me to sort through a couple of my thoughts.

If I know anything, I know this -- I feel an overwhelming need to tell those I care about and love just how much they mean to me. It's so important to let them know, and often. I hope to be able to make more of an effort to do just that.