Dear Anon 1,
There are so many things that I want to say to you. I look forward to reading your blog everyday - and not because it's filled with cute kid or funny fart stories. Far from it. Reading your blog is painful, it makes the center of my heart hurt and my eyes fill with tears. But I check - usually 2 to 3 times a day - to see if you've posted anything new.
You've mentioned a couple times that you don't want people to feel sorry for you. I promise that I won't - I can tell that you really fear this. What I do feel is a deep sadness for what you went through as a child losing your parent, and the grieving process that you have to continue to confront. But what I feel even more than that is admiration for you. Admiration for being willing to take this on - to confront your grief for the good of your family and your own mental health. Admiration for speaking out loud your fears of death.
It's pretty amazing.
After almost every post, I want to write a long comment, because many times the things that you say resonate so strongly with me - sometimes because my husband also suffers from the loss of a parent at a young age. But other times what resonates is your emotion - even though we have such different situations with our parents. The way that you describe your emotion seems to cut across the circumstantial situation. I identify with your longing to make things right and the unyielding, unbearable pressure of trying to get it right all the time is just too much. I feel that sometimes too - that I want to squeeze my head and freeze time so that I can get this "just right."
What I think you have failed to realize (understandably so since writing your entries must be mentally and emotionally exhausting) is that you are helping people and making an impact. You remind me to cherish the moments with my children, yet allow me to laugh at myself for trying to inject meaning into everything. You encourage others to confront those things which keep them awake and night and interfere with total mental health. If your worst fears are realized (which I pray they will not be but I don't want to trivialize them all the same) and you die young, you are leaving a love letter of sorts for your children. What better reason to keep writing ?
You recently said, "what I am able to express in writing pales in comparison to the intensity of the moments and feelings I want to relate." I fear that this is the case with this very blog entry, so I am going to try again.
1. You write a great blog.
2. I believe that it is good for you.
3. I know that it is good for me and for others.
4. While I am deeply, deeply, sad for you, I do not feel sorry for you (per your request).
5. Please keep writing.
6. Please keep writing.
Thrift Store Mama
P.S. Sorry for the cryptic blog post. A friend recently started an anonymous private blog. It has affected me profoundly and I wanted to record that for myself - and for my friend.
12 hours ago