While the orbits were set in motion and all people and their
satellites played well together, no major planetary mishaps on her watch unless
she caused or righted them. Taylor navigated her atmosphere quite well. She
knew who needed help with alignment, who to turn to for solace, food, and
missions to buy the latest phone on the market, find the right hair color (and
leave traces of it all over the bathroom and towels) or create her next tattoo
that she would not like to be asked about.
 |
| Florida! From left: Taylor, TJ, Paulie, Tommy, Haley |
I’ve read that the 2nd
year in grief is harder than the first. I think this is true in the case of
the torn fabric of Taylor’s Universe. You see, the people who love Taylor, the
people who she collected and loved, nurtured and explored with did not
necessarily bond together with each other outside of their relationship with
Taylor. Some did, of course. Lifelong friendships were forged with and because
of her. But, it’s only been since this June, a year and a few months after
Taylor left the physical Universe that I discovered the tear. I can push my
hand through to the nothingness, to the space outside. It’s lonely out there.
Taylor held everyone together and while in the first year of
her departure due to Borderline Personality
Disorder I tried desperately to celebrate her birthday and plan a vigil or Christmas
party for her friends who I happened to find in my home and on my couch for
most of their lives. Most years I babysat or just planned parties with so many
growing kids. I remember scenes of pillows, blankets, wet towels on my couch,
clothes and random socks on the floor or in the wash, and dirty dishes for most
of Taylor’s 22 short years.
 |
| Taylor and cousin Nick |
The planets, sun, moons and stars could not remain woven in
this web of Taylor’s love because Taylor was and is the sun and without her
there is no gravity that bonds them to each other and in some of the most
painful losses is the people with whom I’m no longer in contact. Tommy, her
brother, is in college now 15 hours away. People and circumstances change. I
remain lonely for her and the people who will always remain “my kids” are loved
unconditionally. No one was handed a grief manual as I distributed her clothes,
jewelry, mementos, memories. My reality is without most of them, the ones I
love as is natural even if I were the mother of these grown up children. I am in
flux, flotsam and jetsam under a wobbly moon.
I look at my new space without my son in college and still
wish for dirty dishes, clothes on the floor, the sounds of occasional yelling
at the computer from the basement. I cried a lot before and after he left for
college. When I returned from Africa to the devastation that was all of our
lives, the house was not silent for a few months. Gradually, people returned to
life. The quiet and physical pain are my only memories of those first months. I
waited for someone to need me, to call me, to text me, anyone. I did not
realize at the time that I was waiting and wanting and needing her. I’m
immensely proud of “my” kids. They have relationships, children, attend school,
maintain jobs, and they’re self-actuating, something Taylor craved but was not
able to do. It is natural that they, too would be leaving my continual space
but not completely. Fear is part of grief. I fear loss. Fear of loss leads to
depression, loss of hope. I had to break through.
 |
| Trevor Hall concert from left Amanda, TJ, Taylor, and Mom |
This time of my life has been difficult not just because I
miss my daughter or her friends or even my son. I lived in service to them, I
loved to care for them, I learned to care for others before my Self. I forged
an identity when she was born. It was based on giving to others, to her and
then Tommy. Tommy played an integral role in Taylor’s life. She seemed to see
him as a playmate and then, although 4 years younger, the big brother who she
could trust.
As a parent suffering the aftershocks of the Universe trembling
and tearing and them silently slipping into new orbits and habits and homes, I
am still here. My mission is to see my Self as Love, to see Taylor in me, to
see and to know I am needed and worth more than the condemnation I throw at
myself because my daughter took her life. I want to be a living example of the
her who was an extension of me, sometimes. If people learn to love by first
loving themselves, I must make good choices and take a proactive stance in my
self-care. It’s a struggle and sometimes, I can take a step forward. I have a
support system I can count on. I don’t reach out nearly enough. If you’re
grieving now, you probably understand the race to get home after work, the
exhaustion of “grief
brain” and fog. You may understand the feeling of loneliness and
simultaneous inability to pick up the phone yourself.
 |
| Six Flags Ariel, Mom, and Taylor |
I love my life partner (and king of patience), son, family,
and friends. I must try to forgive and love my Self. Until I do, that tear in
her Universe? It allowed me to see into mine. It’s a topsy-turvy view with
wonky space junk, a few solid strong planets, moons and stars…and a struggling
sun striving to shine brightly and right the Universe I live in. Tonight, I
just want to see the 3D universe and live my dream, in the country, sitting
outside and staring at the stars.
If you or someone you know is
considering suicide text HELLO to 741741, call The National Suicide Prevention
Hotline at Call 1-800-273-8255 or chat online through Google.
