Differences in Grief

This weekend I ran and hid.  I took my family for a mini-vacation in an attempt to escape the date.  This Saturday was seven years. The weight of this date slowed me down for weeks leading up to it, consumed my thoughts, and filled me with dread.  So last week I decided that I was not going to give in, was not going to sit at home and drown in my own sorrow.  We headed three hours down the road, stayed in a fancy hotel, ate at restaurants and did family things.  For the most part it worked. I felt okay.

But Saturday evening, I was quiet, I was staring at the ceiling.  My husband asked me what I was thinking about.  I quietly replied that “it was February 19th”. To which he replied “Is that when I proposed to you?”

He forgot. It never crossed his mind.  And that hurt.  I wanted to scream at him, I felt he had betrayed our daughter.  I felt like he didn’t know or understand me at all.  He quickly drifted off to sleep, and I laid awake for hours.  Crying silent tears.  Tears for the daughter I never knew, and tears for knowing that she is the only child I will have with my husband.  Tears for never having a happy pregnancy with a man who loved me.  Tears for knowing that imperfect angel is the last child I will have.  And tears for her father who has forgotten her.

I am disappointed that he forgot, but I can’t say that I am surprised.  My husband is very much a typical male.  He wants to fix things, and if he can’t fix it, then you move on.  He is not sentimental, and he doesn’t dwell on the past.  When we lost our daughter, he couldn’t understand the depth of what I was feeling.  He didn’t know why I spent so much time thinking about her, when it just made me sad.  Likely he still feels the same way.  Why waste your energy on something that hurts and you can never fix?

And perhaps he is right, perhaps he is the smart one.  Maybe I am just hurting myself.  But I can’t change it.  She was so real to me, she was OUR child, and I don’t want to forget that.  I wish he understood.  I wish he felt the same.  But he doesn’t.  And I can’t be mad at him for that. Can I?

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About mcwhclan

Mom of two, student, wife, daughter... where does one keep all these hats?
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