Saturday, October 2, 2010


El and our nephew Baby Danny taking a little nap
It is a rare occasion when I actually want to sleep. I feel tired and exhausted all the time but sleep usually comes as a last resort. In theory it would seem like I should want to sleep all the time, to check out a bit, escape, maybe even have a dream with El in it. But in reality sleep stresses me out. It's not the escape it should be.

I need an off button for my brain ( actually I need one for my life). I have always been a night owl, and my brain has always been overactive at night. The difference is now the thoughts are unbearable. I can hear the gun shot, I can see my tall, strong and healthy husband crumpled over, I hear his last words "I'M SHOT". I think of all the things that happened, all the things we'll miss out on together, the children we'll never have, the kisses I'll never feel, the life that was supposed to be .... 

Though I can never really avoid those thoughts, because I carry them with me throughout day, I can avoid laying in bed by myself in the quiet while letting my brain run ramped. My solution - stay up all hours of the night doing who knows what ; reading, writing, staring, a whole lot of staring, maybe watching tv .... Until I am so utterly drained that I can close my eyes and drift off to sleep while saying a prayer. 

Most the time I just start the prayer because I do not know what to pray for anymore, I no longer have the words. I used to always thank God for my Husband, for my life and my family. I would pray he kept them safe. The worst has happened, Elliott is gone. I need a new prayer.

So once I finally get to sleep, all is well while while I'm somewhere in dreamland hoping to stumble across my hubby ( which hasn't really happened yet ). Unfortunately, the battle resumes when I wake up again the morning, or if your me the afternoon since I didn't go to sleep until 6am. I just think "oh crap I F****ING woke up again." Then my chest tightens and the pit in my stomach grows deeper. I am brutally aware that I must do this for one more day. I have to walk the path without Elliott by my side. The cycle of torture begins again.

1 comment:

  1. I am so sorry Lace. Your posts are truly bringing me to tears, maybe because I can relate just a bit. I hated waking up in the weeks after I lost Kaysen because every morning was the same during my pregnancy with him. I would wake up, put my hand on my stomach, and he would start kicking. Every morning I woke up and absentmindedly placed my hand on my belly was like a cruel reminder, a slap in the face when I felt no kicking and remembered he was gone.