still grieving...

i read a friend's blog post tonight about her friend who's been battling cancer for 10 years. 


responding to her post, i wrote, crying as i read this because that's still all i can do when i think about sydney. i can't even write about her yet. i have an entire blank section in my journal from the day/week she died. i keep telling myself i'll go back and fill it in... but i can't. i won't. and, so the tears come and i try to burn her laugh, her smile, her accent, her walk, her hugs, her hilarious voice mails... burn them into my memory.


and it's true. i wonder when the day will come that i'll be able to let loose... i suppose i fear letting go of the memory of her. i'm afraid if i write about her, it becomes permanent. more real. makes me want to write less. 


i'm asking the Lord to ready my heart for the day i can sit down and write my sydney entry. just as she would slip on a beautiful, colorful necklace, i realize i need to embrace this new season of life without her. she would want me to. she would give me an awesome, funky, beautiful necklace to wear with her and be obsessed with... then she'd tell me to, "get going, amber rosalina."


i miss her more than words can say.

From December 30, 2008 (updated)

Driving from Raleigh to Greensboro on Sunday night, in the rain, I felt a wave of panic.

Saturday night around midnight I received a phone call informing me that my dear friend, Sydney has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. A surge of nausea welled up in the pit of my stomach and my body went limp. 

Crying is my way of showing intense feeling. I cry when I'm happy, joyful, sorrowful, angry, sick, exhausted, passionate, sensing the Holy Spirit or empathizing with others. I can't stop it and I don't always know when it's going to happen.

A lot has happened this year. It has been a hard few months. Many changes and too much transition... personally and professionally. And recently being adult has just, quite frankly, sucked.

I've had the desire to revert to a stage in life where I had no worries, could let my parents figure everything out and didn't have to be "grown up."

The wave of panic that washed over me on my drive was a mixture of helplessness and anger that felt unexplainable. But the worst feeling was knowing I couldn't continue alone, even with my iPod exuding rhythms composed by Copeland. I needed a friend. A human being. Cursing and pleading with God only dredged up more emotional gunk. My thoughts were consuming me as rain and tears obstructed my view through the windshield...

My nonexistent devotional life cannot be held against God as some "threat" as if saying, See, I don't need to talk to you or come to you with my needs and hurt, because you only ignore me. I know it's not true. The panic comes in realizing I must face my thoughts, but not alone. I have to take them to Christ and that is much more difficult than phoning a friend.

Intellectually I might be able to tell you all the right answers about this weird Christian life. Emotionally, I can even relate with you in your hurt, fear and confusion. But when it comes right down to it, I know my negligence is a matter of disobedience and pride. But also a deep longing. A longing to be loved and appreciated. To be noticed and missed. To be held and comforted. What I long for cannot be found on earth. I long to be in heaven with my  glorious Lord. My Redeemer.

But for now, I am to persevere amidst the trials of this life. Enduring the pain and brokenness of a fallen world. To cry, love, laugh and live a life that glorifies Him. I won't give up.

In my weakness, He is strong.

-----
Sydney passed away August 29, 2011. 


If I thought I cried a lot the day she was diagnosed, it's nothing compared to the despair and sorrow I felt the Monday evening I read Todd's email, "After a difficult weekend of fighting, massive brain swelling and several seizures, Sydney's brain stopped functioning, and eventually her lungs and her heart failed. Although we are grieving deeply, Sydney is in heaven now, more radiant than ever."


Nothing prepared me for that news. 


Nothing. 


My heart felt like it had fallen out of my body as I crumpled onto the bed in front of me. 


I wept for hours. 


Yesterday, I bought an iPhone 4. It's been a long time coming. I finally caved. However, I was not prepared for what happened when the sales lady, Lisa, took my old phone to transfer numbers. She failed to mention that I would be losing all of my voicemails (29 after periodic deleting) I had saved for the past seven years. 


I save the funny ones. The ones that make me laugh so hard I almost cry. And sometimes at night when I can't fall asleep, I listen to them... sweet memories.


Immediately I thought of the many messages from Syd that I've listened to over and over again these past few months. My favorites because she calls me nick-names like "Ambie-lambie," and sings funny songs, makes jokes about the women's retreat at our church in Charlotte ("Ugh, I don't wanna go. But, I asked the Lord about it and He told me I had to go... women's retreat virgin, Ambie, first time, first time..." in her thick southern accent) and another of how she explains she is running late as usual or is obsessed with something or someone and "...ok, I'm driving to bum frickin' west Charlotte now... was supposed to be there 20 minutes ago. Luuuuuv ya!" 


At first I took a deep breath and explained to Lisa, "Every other time I've updated a phone, the voicemails stay." Apparently it doesn't work that way with the iPhone. I would have had to extract them before Lisa made the transfer. 


Standing in the middle of the Verizon store at 1:30pm on a Sunday afternoon, with absolutely no warning, I began sobbing. I'm not talking a few tears... I lost it. I had to catch my breath and walk away for a few moments. 


Poor Lisa touched my arm and apologized while I tried to explain to her why I was so upset. 


It didn't matter. My last traces of Syd were wiped away. 


Sadness washed over me.


Grief is funny like that, I guess. Sneaks up on you when you think you've "properly grieved" or "gotten over it."


And yet, in the sorrow, there have been many moments of joy and smiles as I'm reminded of Sydney these past few weeks. Just this weekend, my sweet friend Jess gave me a beautiful sassy green clutch with square, silver handles. Looked like something right out of Syd's closet. And, at church yesterday my friend, Christy was wearing a beautiful gold and teal necklace like Syd used to wear. 


I know she isn't here anymore, but she remains in my thoughts and part of my brief life here. I learned so much from her.


The day will be sweet when we see each other again. We'll slip on our gold ballet flats and sashay our way down heavenly paths, colors blazing all around in shades we ne'er knew existed. 


Sydney Boone Gaylord -- the blue rose, radiant and beautiful
13.April.1976 - 29.August.2011

you just never know

today sucked

save for a few laughs and a moment to pose with cyclops at islands of adventure, the 14 hours i spent awake felt like a waste.

perhaps i shouldn't blog when i'm upset, angry, frustrated, confused, pessimistic... whatever. ::insert random emotion here:: but i can't sleep. i'm a writer. i often process in written or typed form.

two pieces of pizza around 8pm gave me acid indigestion. awesome.

my mother called today to tell me grandma died. my aunt was helping her into the bathtub this morning and grandma's breathing slowed, then stopped. that was it. she was gone.

last weekend during a whirlwind, unrestful trip to north carolina, my parents unexpectedly decided to drive to pennsylvania to see grandma who had been hospitalized for a few days. we were supposed to have a family birthday celebration, complete with grilled burgers, baked beans, corn on the cob and ice cream cake. no dice. i was bummed but understood the importance of their last-minute trip.

little did we know she would leave us only one week later.

i now have no living grandparents.

munching on my carmel candy apple on the way out of islands of adventure, i never expected to hear such grim news.

my dad lost his mother today.

that breaks my heart.

and to think i was upset to not have a birthday celebration with my family.

another reason today sucked: la nouba didn't happen.

i was under the impression we had tickets to the show. i've been telling co-workers and friends about it all week -- the anticipation building to what felt like a kid on christmas morning. birthday present and end to a week of fun. celebration of my 28th year of life.

i woke up excited. i woke up hopeful. elated.

within minutes of hearing the disappointing news (no la nouba) a cloud of grumpiness and general dissatisfaction grew over my head that lingered all day.

it's not about me. it's not about my happiness. it's not about what i want or think i need. but today was hard. today was really hard. i want it to go away or start over.

i guess what people always say is true: shit happens.

you just never know.

grieving?

This is a word I need to become familiar with. Apparently I am smack in the middle of the process.

Tears have been coming, ever since my parents drove off last Sunday.

But here's what I'm learning: the feelings of loneliness, left-behindness, sadness, uncertainty and frustration are ok. Life doesn't stink but this summer it has sure been hard.

A friend was helping me process tonight and reminded me that it's not "all good or all bad" it's a mixture. One that I am struggling with. Why? Well, if I had an emotional/character resume, it would look something like this:

-loves deeply

-loyal

-builds solid friendships

-has too many goals (things I want to accomplish)

-empathetic

-circumstantial

-perfectionist

-realist (pessimist in denial)

-overachiever

-passionate

-doesn't deal well with change

The past 3 years I've moved. A lot. I also lived out of a suitcase for 11 months out of those 3 years. No joke.

Friends move away, I move away, friends come back, I move away...

I want to start a business. Heck, I want to start 3. But I feel stuck.

Now that I'm 26 I feel like I'm finally starting to wrap my mind around what it means to grow up.

Many of my friends are married. Many are not. Some of my married friends are having children. Some are not.

Here I stand while this people-mover of a life seems to pass me by at an annoying pace. 

But is it really passing me? Or have I stopped walking?

Reality is, no one can stop. We are each moving forward but at different paces.

So I didn't feel like swing dancing last night (I know, can you even believe it?). I wasn't in the mood. It didn't feel right. I would have probably gotten sad and ended up leaving early. So I didn't go. I went and watched a DVD with a small group of friends instead.

I got to sail on a lake with 2 friends on a beautiful sunny afternoon yesterday. I was thankful to be alive, experiencing that moment with those people.

And tonight, as I sat and felt hot tears breaking over my eyelids with 10 other people in the room around me (but not focused on me- whew, thank goodness...), it finally felt like it was ok to say I'm grieving.

I'm not a little girl anymore. My friends aren't all going to stay 24 and 30 years old. They aren't going to stop living life. They aren't going to stop having children. They might move away. They might get married. They might have a baby. But this is life. This is where God has me. This is where I've been told to be for this time. 

May He give me the strength to never stop living and keep moving forward, even when I feel like I'm being passed. I don't ever want to lose that edge. I don't ever want to lose the will to put one foot in front of the other, suck it up and say, "ok, God... now what?" Just like everyone else, I want my life to count for something. Who knows where He'll take me or what it will look like. But I'm so glad I get to serve my Savior while living in this wreck and beauty of a world.

intense

Facebook is so crazy. Tonight I was on my friend, Nicole's page and found a link to her friends' page who lost their baby boy recently to a disease called hydrocephalus. Then I found this web site called Now I lay Me Down to Sleep and just completely lost it sitting here reading what they do. You should check it out.

Why did I lose it? Well, about twenty-four years ago a little baby boy was born. I was two years old and don't remember anything but wearing a dress and being with my grandma at the hospital. Memory is a funny thing. What causes us to forget things that we wish years later we could recall? I'll give myself a break since I was only two. 

His name was Justin. The doctors said he was born with a heart condition and could not be operated on because his heart was too weak for the surgery. He lived for 48 hours and then passed away in my mother's arms. 

Then about seven years ago I witnessed a family go through a terrible year of loss. I used to babysit for this family and their 5 year old daughter and 9 month old son passed away within four months of each other. Talk about tragedy.

I guess that's why I lost it. I wish my parents would have had even just one picture with Justin. The hospital lost his picture and his bracelet. All we have is a lock of hair. But pictures. Wow. I mean, talk about something to be cherished. What an incredibly powerful way to remember. 

I am in awe that there is an organization of 5,000 volunteers doing something like this for families. What a way to serve and help begin a grieving process that may last a lifetime. I know my mother's has.

Crying is therapeutic. Many times it will hit me out of nowhere and I'll find myself weeping and wondering why. So tonight, I wanted to write about it.