Today, I’m sitting here with so many thoughts running through my mind, all the while with the heaviest heart imagineable. I’m preparing to move with my husband and son. It’s a distraction for me, but at times I’m stopped dead in my tracks and given a huge dose of reality. I have pscho-analyzed myself and situations from the beginning of my earliest memories. That could work against me, sometimes it saves me. Today, I’m hoping that it’s towards my benefit that I’m going through it once again.
Several years ago, I heard somebody say that a person won’t go through anything more than what God has been through….that includes temptations.
This morning, I was contemplating Erica, my loss, Bradens’ loss of his mother, and how that pertains to God.
Did God lose His mother? Did Yeshua (Jesus) lose His mother? I know that He went to Lazarus when he died. He wept, and grieved that his friend had died. But then He raised Lazarus from the dead. He raised a 12 year old girl who had died. How many more did He raise from the dead? I don’t remember reading where He lost somebody near and dear to Him for eternity. I read that He gave His life for us. He allowed others’ to kill him. They tortured Him. We hear and read about God sending His only son to die on the cross. We hear about God’s loss. But, we don’t see God. He isn’t tangible. Yeshua had a mother…Mary. Everybody knew about her. She was a real human being….tangible….flesh and blood. She conceived him by the Holy Spirit. Still, she carried him for 9 months and gave birth to him. She raised him. He was her child. Why don’t we hear of her loss of her son, “God”? She had many more children after him, but how did she handle the grief of watching him be tortured? She must have had second thoughts about who he was. She must have been beside herself while watching him die! Her grief must have been very difficult. But, we don’t know, because the Bible doesn’t speak of that. Why not?
Why does losing 1 child stop you dead in your tracks to the point where you’re so frozen in time, you don’t seem to be able to cope with life, proceed on in a normal manner, or even take care of your other children the way they need you? Your views of life are skewed, and it doesn’t seem like there’s any light at the end of the tunnel. We just expect everybody else to go on living their normal lives around you because you’re too undone to participate in anything.
This child of mine was conceived inside my body. She started growing. If she was born too early, she wouldn’t have lived. I took very good care of myself to ensure that she would be healthy. With every movement inside me, I cherished it. It was amazing to me that a baby was actually growing inside my body. She would kick, she would just slightly move a limb, she would get the hiccups, she would bear down and cause pain. She was part of me. I had great anxiety and fear just prior to giving birth. I was scared shitless of the pain I was about to endure. (NO EPIDURALS BACK THEN). I had and to this date never endured such pain as giving birth to her. (Even with the birth of my 3rd child). She would resemble me in a way like no other human on this earth would. She would sound just like me when she grew up. People had trouble telling us apart on the phone at times. She had my eye color. She was so much like me that we didn’t get along at times. I knew why. She knew why. We always agreed to disagree. She would take it in stride. She was my child. Nobody could take that from me. Nobody could take that from her. She grew from me, like my arm grew from my body. Losing her was like losing a limb. I still feel her there. I used to believe that if one of my children died, how would I handle it? I just knew that I would curl up in a ball, and cry and cry and cry until I died. I just knew that I would die. Of course I didn’t….Of course, I didn’t think about the remaining children. I didn’t give it a second thought about other people in my life who would need me to carry on. But, dying myself would be too easy. I would be gone. I HAVE to live. I HAVE to feel this pain. A pain worse than giving birth. The pain of childbirth seems to just disappear the minute you look into your baby’s face. Your baby is worth any amount of pain you endure. The pain of death lingers. It doesn’t go away. In the beginning, it’s too much to even endure. We go into shock. Disbelief. When it finally hits, it’s like a deep dreaded ball of fear in the pit of my stomach. With every memory of the day that I heard, I go through the same emotions all over again. Am I in denial when I push those memories away? I don’t think so. I’ve allowed (and continue to do so) myself to go through the emotions and feelings as they come to me. I’m getting better. They’re fewer and farther apart now. I’m starting to open my eyes when I get up. I’ve realized that just because my child is no longer on this earth, doesn’t mean that she’s still not part of me. She will ALWAYS be in me. An extension of me. Just the same as my other 3 children. The clouds are lifting. I can see blue sky.
I’m clumsily fumbling through my new normal.
When Erica left this earth, yes, she took part of me with her. But, the hole that is healing has glitter around it. She liked glitter. She liked glamour. In my heart and mind, that’s how she’ll be remembered. I also believe with my whole heart that’s how God sees us. We are His children. He doesn’t want to see the negative….only the good in us. Only what makes us happy in the purest sense. I believe that I want to do my best to focus on that.
Erica, you’re my glitter and glamour! Thank you for that revelation.
We all are here on this earth because we were meant to be born. We are also meant to die. That’s a fact. Nobody can escape the inevitable.
We all just need to find our “glitter”.
She sits sometimes in silence,
This woman, this child, this little girl.
She sits sometimes inside herself,
And quietly hides from the world.
She cries sometimes when she’s alone
And doesn’t know quite why.
She cries sometimes on the inside,
And wishes she could die
She screams sometimes till she can’t speak,
But she’s the only one that hears.
She screams sometimes without a sound,
As she is drowning in her fears.
She goes crazy sometimes without warning
But it gets lost amongst the madness.
She goes crazy, but sometimes she welcomes it;
It locks her away from the sadness.
She remembers sometimes long dead freedom,
But she thinks it was illusion.
She remembers sometimes who she was,
But memories mingle with her delusions
She revives sometimes and seeks escape.
But her terror keeps her frozen
She revives sometimes from her weariness
And wonder what path should have been chosen.
She dreams sometimes of her baby girl,
And finds secret solace when she sleeps.
She dreams sometimes when she dares to dream,
But even the dreams are out of her reach.
She dies sometimes, and feels the pain,
But still she continues to live.
She dies sometimes when it gets too hard,
For her secret sins she can’t forgive.
She begs sometimes for mercy from a cruel God,
But mercy seems an intangible fairie tale.
She begs sometimes to be somebody else,
As they turn deaf ears when they hear her wail.
She prays sometimes for her release,
As she lives this nightmare by herself.
She prays sometimes for the child she was,
Thankful that child escaped this hell.
She reaches sometimes for distant hope,
But hope vanished some time ago.
She reaches sometimes for elusive help,
But into captivity she’s again thrown.
She’s desperate sometimes to fade away,
And this desire’s always there.
She’s desperate sometimes for an open heart,
Someone who knows she needs fragile care.
She sits sometimes in silence,
This woman, this child, this little girl.
She sits sometimes inside herself,
And my sister is my world.
December 22, 2001 (22 years old)
…….I love you now, always, for eternity
For Vonnie Lynn Roberts
With each day that goes by,
The past slips further away.
I learn to live a little more,
And I welcome each new day.
With each new day that I live,
I belong that much more to me.
I respect myself a little more,
And it is quite plain to see.
With each day that we share,
Our love just gets stronger.
We give a little more,
And our future seems longer
With each day free of trouble,
I smile to myself.
I laugh a little more,
And leave my fears upon their shelf.
With each day the sun rises,
I’m convinced I am blessed
I love life a little more,
And this serenity’s the best.
With each day we see through
I’m that much more amazed.
We strive for goals a little more,
And we’re prepared for future days.
December 14, 2001 (22 years old)
34 years ago today, I gave birth to my daughter…Erica. Today as I reflect on that day, I remember the overwhelming joy I had when I found out my baby was a girl. (no sonograms back then). I never knew my heart was able to expand once again with the birth of my second child. Now, I have a hole that’s beginning to heal, but still there. I am celebrating her freedom now. I know that she knew how much I loved her and how much she loved me. I miss you terribly, Erica. Someday we will be together once again. You were my daughter then, and you are today and always.
Sometimes I wish I could dance….
I’d dance on clouds with silver linings,
Feel the wind toss me into the sky,
And delight in the magical feeling of freedom.
Sometimes I wish I could fall…
Fall back through the sands of time,
To a beautiful place where love was real,
And enchantment ruled the heart.
Sometimes I wish I could sing…
And tell the world that the world was good,
When fairies and dragons lived and played.
Before everything fell apart.
I wish I could remind the world to dream,
And give everyone a voice to sing…
I’d give them wings so they could fly,
And everyone would touch the sky.
July 21, 2002 (23 yrs old)
Tomorrow will be Mother’s Day. It will be the first time in almost 34 years that I will spend it without Erica. For 33 years, she was with me physically. Now, she will be with me in memories. I thank God every single day that I was blessed with her. I thought as she was growing up how much I was teaching her by watching her grow. In reality, I was the one who was being taught. So many lessons that has made me who I am today. The biggest thing she taught me was how to love somebody’s heart. I’ll be thinking about her as I go throughout my day, knowing that she would definitely call me if she could.
I Love You so much, Erica! You will never stop being my daughter just because you’re not here physically.
Whirling, tumbling, rolling thoughts,
My head is reeling, my mind is seething.
Unsteadily living, uneasily moving,
The world is spinning, hard is my breathing.
It’s damn hard to think and harder to write.
When mi vida loca is my crazy life;
When my life is almost nothing.
And I am surrounded by angry strife.
All I want is to be let out,
Set free so I can fly out on my own.
But all that happens is I am kept caged,
Locked away, “safe” in my parents’ home.
I have discovered why caged birds sing,
Whey they sound so wistful in the morn.
Not because they love their lives,
But between cage and sky, they are torn.
America the beautiful, America the bold.
But what about the part of us
That has not yet been told?
Land of freedom, shining bright,
Will those people agree for
Whom their lives they have to fight?
All you see is gold when you see a sunrise
But will you see something else when
The wonder’s gone from your eyes?
The fog comes sneaking up like a wall,
But will the fog completely mask
Those bodies as they fall?
What is going on in this country where we live?
When there are so many of us
Who can give all that we can give?
Land of honey, flowing free
But has the honey become poisoned;
Will it kill you or me?
Strongest nation, dominating the world.
But is this the place we want
To raise our little boys and girls?
Sing a pretty, happy song, dance along the streets
Try not to worry about our despair
As you run on those light feet.
September 25, 1996 (17 yrs. old)
Imagine if I was given one moment,
just a single slice of my past.
I could hold it close forever,
and that moment would always last.
I’d put the moment in a safe,
within my hearts abode.
I could open it when I wanted,
and only I would know the code.
I could choose a time of laughing,
a time of happiness and fun.
I could choose a time that tried me,
through everything I’ve done.
I sat and thought about what moment,
would always make me smile.
One that would always push me,
to walk that extra mile.
If I’m feeling sad and low,
if I’m struggling with what to do.
I can go and open my little safe,
and watch my moment through.
There are moments I can think of,
that would lift my spirits everytime.
The moments when you picked me up,
when the road was hard to climb.
For me to only pick one moment,
to cherish, save and keep,
Is proving really difficult,
as I’ve gathered up a heap!
I’ve dug deep inside my heart,
found the safe and looked inside,
there was room for lots of moments,
in fact hundreds if I tried.
I’m building my own little library,
embedded in my heart,
for all the moments spent with you,
before you had to part.
I can open it up whenever I like,
pick a moment and watch it through,
My little library acts as a promise,
I’ll never ever forget you .
The question has haunted me for many years. When Erica was born, the head pediatrician of the hospital came to see me. She informed me that her soft spot on her head (very large – down into her forehead) is indicative of either mental retardation, or high intelligence. In Erica’s case, it turned out to be high intelligence.
Throughout her entire life, she would wake up in the night screaming. When I would wake up, go to her, she would be sleeping soundly. I would always wake her up and question her. She never had any memories of anything. When she was 7, the Dr. removed her tonsils and adnoids, believing that they were responsible somehow for her lack of breathing. That procedure failed. The night terrors, screams continued. Not every night. She would (from a very young age) tell me that she remembered certain situations that never happened. I don’t know if in her dreams, she actually believed them, and was unable to separate them from reality, or what? She struggled with herself, her own thoughts, and her attempts to articulate what it was she was really thinking. Her poetry, and journal entries are enlightening to me. She very rarely shared what she wrote with me. From a very young age (starting at 12), she would have stories and thoughts that were very unusual. Generally these types of stories and thoughts came from a person of an adult age of 30’s to 40’s.
I’m writing this, to prelude to the stuff that I will be posting in the future. I was only going to post her stuff that was uplifting, and emotionally soothing to read, but I’m going to be true to Erica and post ALL of her stuff. Please, bear in mind that there were times when she was growing up that our talks about her dreams, and her own personal recollections of her past were very skewed. Lots of what she remembered never happened. No, she wasn’t subjected to witchcraft, horror movies, rated R movies, or anything of the sorts. I was a stay-at-home mom, and loved my children so much that I wanted to protect them from the horrible things of this world. I’ve learned that you can’t protect them from Satan if God allows him to do his thing. I also know that we are all born with our lives laid out before us. I always felt like Erica was her own worst enemy at times, and I believe there was too much truth to that. I don’t think she could help what was going on with her. I believe in my core that she was tormented….from birth.
She would fight with me so viciously, and then without feeling any remorse, have conversations like nothing ever happened. That would always puzzle (as well as confuse) me. She has throughout the years told me how much she loved me, and how she valued my advice.
My only consolation in her being gone is that she’s not being tormented any longer. She’s at peace, and walking with Jesus, and the angels that she writes about.
This is about Erica. If you know about her, please take the time to add anything you want. Please, let the rest of the world know the side of her that I didn’t know. I’m moving forward with my life and all of this writing has brought such healing to me.
Her birthday is in just 1 week. I’m OK, and looking forward to celebrating her freedom with her.