The Grieving Process

Moving Forward

It's still hard coming to terms with what happened to Amelia. Some days are better than others.My therapist helps me sometimes, just like the Xanax and the Paxil. The liquor works only for a short time, then the buzz wears off, and I'm left with my loneliness and my memories. My family doesn't come around me much; they know I want to be left alone. I've been on my own since I turned eighteen.Sometimes, I wish I hadn't alienated my parents, but maybe that's how I'm dealing with my grief. Maybe one day, I can go back to my parents and we can rebuild our relationship and heal together.

My sister remarried four years after Danny was sent to jail. She has a son now, Jack, that's three years old. I see him every once in a while; usually when my mother gives me a guilt trip and I go to a holiday dinner. Jack favors Amelia; he has her eyes and her nose. Being around Jack is hard, he is a constant reminder that Amelia should be here, and they should be playing together.

Before turning in the final copy of my journey through grief, I decided to stop at the cemetery to visit Amelia's grave. When I turned sixteen and got my driver's license I visited her grave almost everyday. The trips have become infrequent now, even though I only live ten minutes away. I took her a single long stemmed pink rose. I sat down on the frozen earth. I always feel stupid talking to a gravestone. Still, when I visit I can't stop talking. I tell her my hopes, dreams and that I wish I could have saved her life. I wish that I was in the ground instead of her. I would have given my life to save hers.

"Hi Amelia, it's Auntie. I thought I would stop by for a visit. You're always on my mind. My therapist told me that I should write about how I dealt with your loss. I'm still not over your death. I don't know if I ever will be. I wonder what you would look like. You would be almost ten years old. That's hard for me to fathom. I know that we would be the best of friends, and life would be a lot different. Maybe . . . I don't know. I had all of these hopes for you, and they are all gone now. I just want you to know that I love you, wherever you are." I got up and walked back to my black Mustang. The snow was beginning to fall, covering the headstones like a blanket. Tomorrow, I would turn in the final copy of my story, and maybe begin healing.

I parked my car in front of my therapist's office. I had gone over everything I had written that morning. I was feeling better about my loss and developing a new grieving process. Maybe this little exercise did help in dealing with my grief. While, I still have a long way to go in terms of coping with my feelings, maybe my therapist isn't as full of shit as I first thought. I feel like I can be more open with people now. The snow catches on my black sweater as I walk into her office. I smile to myself, for the first time in a long time. I am getting better.