The anniversary of goodbye
It’s that time of year again. My heart knows it without looking at the calendar. The grief washes over me like powerful, drowning waves. I find it hard to stand and resist the undertow. I just want to let go and wash out in to the vast ocean of pain that threatens to engulf me. I cannot fight it anymore. I am tired and defeated. There is little I can do to alleviate the pain. It permeates every aspect of my life. It invades my dreams, and my subconscious mind. I cannot escape it. It’s that time of year again, the anniversary of goodbye.
The tears flood my eyes uncontrollably at a moment’s notice. Like a gag reflex, grief washes over me with the smallest reminder of Lauren. Everything seems to remind me of her this time of year. There is no distraction to fill my mind, because the pain resonates from the inside out. I can’t control it, no matter how bad I want to, or how hard I try. It is that time of year again, the anniversary of the worst day of my life, the anniversary of goodbye.
I find myself in a haggard state of limbo, painfully unable to look back or forward. I am just able to exist from moment to moment in a nauseating state of pain. I feel so alone. It’s just me and my broken heart. I cannot feel God or Lauren, or anything that usually brings me peace. I cannot overcome this anniversary of goodbye, it overcomes me. My body shakes from the inside and my soul weeps incessantly. I cannot find comfort anywhere, and my life feels empty and hollow. Anger rises from my depths, and hate fills my heart and my mind. I have to fight it, or it will overtake me. I insulate myself. I retreat within the sanctuary of my home. I am not fit for company. It’s the anniversary of goodbye.
The cool breeze that usually brings me peace is a sobering reminder of that night. I stood on the blacktop road, looking at what I could see. Her little Lauren feet were sticking out from under a hideous blue tarp where her broken body lay in the grass. One sock was on, and one sock was halfway off. I remember that Terry just wanted to fix her socks, but they wouldn’t let him. He pleaded and even tried to force his way to her, but it was no use. They would not let us go to our daughter. We had to stand and watch like some kind of morbid spectators. We were her parents. We just wanted to be with her and to hold her one last time. We wanted to pray with her, and to tell her it would be okay, but they held us back. It was the first point of separation. She was no longer ours. She was no longer here. It was too late to say “I love you”, or “goodbye”.
I just stood and watched in a state of disbelief and bewilderment. What happened?!? The blinding blue lights of the police cars were flashing in my eyes and making me dizzy. I was weak and confused and trying to process what was taking place in front of my eyes. It seemed like a horrible dream, but the cold and biting wind kept blowing the reality of goodbye in my face. I watched as the ambulance took away the living, and left my baby there in the ditch. I stood, unable to do anything but wait with Lauren until the shiny black hearse arrived for her. It was the only thing left that I could do for her. I watched as they loaded her into the back of the hearse. I would never leave her side, until I had to. As the hearse drove past us standing there in the road, it was the beginning of goodbye. I just wanted to go with her. I was her mother, and I should be with her. But this was just the beginning of a lifetime of goodbye.
I tried to never learn the date that Lauren died because I never wanted to have an anniversary of her death, but that was not possible. February 20th is the date, and it always will be. It is the anniversary of the day that Lauren left this earth. It is the anniversary of the day my life changed. It is the anniversary of so many things. I have to search deep inside myself to find that seed of faith that reminds me that it is also the anniversary of the day that God took Lauren home. With that in mind, it would also seem to be the anniversary of the best day of her life. February 20th was the date of her graduation from this life to the next. By all accounts, she was extra bubbly and happy that day. She had a great day at school, and enjoyed time with her friends. Maybe her soul knew that she would go to heaven that night. I hope so.
The memory of her death is as vivid as the memory of the day she was born. Today, they both sting my heart. I hope that with time, I can learn to overcome the pain of those anniversaries with the joy of them. For every moment of pain, I can find an opposite moment of joy to celebrate. The world was a better place because Lauren was born, and because she died. Both of those events changed many lives, especially mine. Who would I be today without those dates? As painful as the anniversary of goodbye is, it makes me who I am. It brings me faith. It makes me a deeper person. I can do nothing to change or eliminate the anniversary of goodbye. I can only do something to change the effect it has on my life. Once I have changed the effect, I can use my pain for good. I can be a witness to God’s loving grace and the power it has in our daily lives to overcome what seems impossible, even the anniversary of goodbye.
So it is with much soul searching that I come to the conclusion that with every hello comes a goodbye, and with every goodbye comes a hello. This anniversary of goodbye is also an anniversary of hello. Hello to a new spiritual life for Lauren, and for me. Hello to faith in God that I never knew existed. Hello to the reality of life beyond this life. Hello to heaven for Lauren! For now, I find peace in the knowledge that the last time I saw my beloved Lauren Elizabeth, it was a painful goodbye, but the next time I see her, it will be a most glorious hello!
Tara Rodney
1/30/12