Goodnight My Bean
Mon, October 8, 2007 We had the most amazing times at night. Times only for us, no matter what age. I remember you would call me when you stayed at Dad’s house. He was sleeping and you were awake so we would talk until you fell asleep. We had so many routines that changed over the years. When someone loses a spouse the memories become like little touchstones. When I lost you the memories have become like fire and razors.
I saw Dad day before yesterday at The Hill. He and D-E-B were married and I am happy for him, and for her. He said it was bittersweet. I asked him where the ring was and he said “You know I don’t wear jewlery.” Ha… Dad. We both knew him so well. You knew me so well. He says that to cope he talks to you all the time. When I try this I end up sobbing because you do not answer back. Maybe this is selfish. People have had worse tragedies under much worse circumstances yet I cannot seem to move from you and this makes me feel like I am being a baby about it, or not appreciative, or not honoring your life (what life?) etc.
When I try to sleep I go through so many scenes, mostly in the accident. My mind automatically does this. or I think about how Dad and I promised we would never get divorced, and we did, and how it was promised you would never leave Hanover and six months later you did… All unresolvable. All circular paths leading nowhere.
Dan is the first friend that has actually spoken a little bit to me about that day. I am so thankful for him. He somehow understands how my need to know is so deep.
I have always been honest with you Booze. No need to stop now. I am drawn out so thin from the pain. Keeping it in is the right thing because no one can fix it. Just me. or God. Can you? All the ways it could have been different, all the times I was less than what you deserved.
Please answer Dad back when he talks to you.
I love you, please know, please please please make it so you always knew.
Reader Comments (5)
oh lucy, when you try to talk to her and she doesn't answer back and then you sob it is not selfish. you aren't crying for what you didn't get back...you are crying because the silence speaks of the absence, the missing, the unknown. as her mom, how many times did you talk to Torri and not get heard? or get ignored over the cartoons? and how many times--when she was little or medium or bigger....when you were so tired and busy and had nothing left to give at the end of a day--did you continue to give and do and be for her with very little back? no sobs then,though, i bet. no, this is not selfishness to want some reassurance that she is out there, and is ok, and knows with certainty your love. it's almost like saying 'ok god, if she is not here, just let me know she is safe, and loved, and whole.' this isn't selfish at all. it's just you being her mom....asking for a call when she gets there. now....if we could only figure out what the call looks like....
p.s.--i loooooove all the new nooks and crannies around here. very kewwllll.
Hi Wightman,
Oh how my heart breaks for you. I am here wanting so badly to say the words that will help, but alas there are no such words and there never will be. Your right no one can fix the pain you are in. I don’t think keeping it in is healthy. Keeping all the hurt and pain to yourself, I don’t see how that is the right thing to do. In all your years of helping people you never once told me to keep it in. You encouraged me to tell you all about my pain. Why should it be any different for you? To sit alone with this pain I cannot even fathom it. You are so drawn out and an so thin from the pain. Oh my poor sweet fragile Wightman. It is ok to let people see you hurting. I worry about you all the time and how you are keeping it all in. You said to me one time how you can’t imagine the pain I must have been in when I hurt my wrist. You said even now after losing Torri I could not ever do that. I’m too much of a wimp. Here is the thing though I was a young kid who kept everything in. I told no one about my feelings. One night all alone in my room keeping it in on impulse I almost died. Keeping it in could drive you to do something similar. I am by no means telling you what to do. I am simply offering you an ear. I have no answers and no right words, but I have a big heart and would listen to you for all eternity. I would keep whatever you say to me to myself. I am here for you for the long haul. I just want you to know if you ever decide to not keep it all in and let a little out I’m willing to listen. Any hour of the night.
I talk to Torri too. Every night I pray to her and to God and ask them to let her presence be known to you and Donny. I know it feels like she is not answering you, but you must believe she is there listening to you and answering maybe in a way you have not yet discovered. Look at all the unexplained things.
I love you so much.... Hang in there ~CS~
what beautiful and sad things you have written Lucy. Hang in there.
My mind cannot fathom a worse tragedy or a worse circumstance than loosing a child, never mind your only child. You are not selfish in any respect, you are human, and a much stronger person than I could ever dream of being. I remember our first session after Torri died, and I sat on the purple couch (with my blanket that you threw away!), and said...How can you possibly sit here and listen to my petty little problems when you lost your daughter just a few weeks ago? You replied "Pain is Pain". I shook my head in disbelief and disagreement, and moved on to my stupid shit because I thought/hoped work could be a distraction for you. Now you no longer have your life's work either, which I know you would give up a million times over to have Torri back. No one has suffered greater pain than you have Lucy. I love when you share your personal thoughts and feelings about Torri, even though there is never a dry eye in the house. Please keep them coming...
Lucy said the same thing to me...pain is pain...and I think I have referred to this statement many times here...and I completely disagree. Pain is not pain, as I have said before. There are different, varying degrees of it, some comes, some goes, and some always stays with you, a pain that never goes away. I cannot imagine my life without either one of my children, and I can't imagine the pain any parent must feel after such tragedy. Peace and strength.