Thursday, December 6, 2012

The Lost Moments

The last couple of weeks have been extremely difficult. I've found myself curled up in bed more than I care to admit.

I'm trying not to let the anger and frustration, not to mention the depression, take over. I keep trying to remember all the happy times, all the memories.

But I keep thinking about all the lost moments. The things that we just assume were going to be there for.

Graduation. College. Weddings. Grandkids.

I was 14 when my dad died. 18 years ago. I keep thinking back to everything he missed out on. And now my kids have to go through the same thing.

Sugar Pea has been planning her wedding since she was 6. She already has her dressed designed, colors, flowers, center pieces. I think only thing she's missing is location for it. Her wedding included her daddy walking her down the aisle.

In a few years both of my kids will be graduating. Warrior from high school and Sugar Pea from 8th grade (that's a scary thought!) Tin Man died 2 months before Warrior's 8th grade graduation.

As parents these are moments in our kids lives that we look forward and celebrate with them. We never imagine not being there for them. Our kids never imagine us not being there.

To them we're superheros. We get sick, yet we have to get up and take care of them. We get hurt and we get right back up to make dinner.

We start planning our adult lives while we're still children and every one of those plans involves both parents.
I hate that my kids are going through the same pain I went through 18 years ago, and will continue to go through the rest of their lives. Yes the pain does get bearable as the years go on, but it never goes away, and it pops up just below the surface during each of those lost moments.

I've had so many lost moments with my dad, and so many more to come. My lost moments have taught me how to help my kids through all this, and for years to come.

It kills me seeing them go from happy kids to seeing their hearts break in the blink of an eye. Little things, like seeing a kid hug their dad, causes them so much pain.

I just wish I could take away their pain.


  1. I am so sorry for your loss. May your memories, soften the pain

  2. So very sorry for your loss and sending {{hugs}} your way. I can only imagine the painful road you and your children are walking now. My sister lost her husband just 2 months ago, following surgery, and he was only 29 years old so I feel for you in a special way. I hope that the days ahead are made a little easier by warm and loving thoughts of the all the good times you had together.

  3. I am genuinely sorry for your loss. I must admit, I came across your blog while trying to win a giveaway, and I feel like I stumbled upon a terribly heartbroken mom. Your post made me cry but also made me wake up. Thank you for that. I hope you and your children can get through the future with great memories to last a lifetime.

  4. I often do this as well. They say that dwelling on the past does no good, what is done is done, but it's hard not to wonder about all the 'what-if's?' Nothing will take away the pain of the loss of your loved one, but I am sure they are looking down on you and wishing you would stop torturing yourself. you have made it this far. Now is time to hold your head up and focus on the good things in life :)


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