I'll get her back...
…when I’ve endured this long enough. When I’ve proven myself somehow. When I’ve lasted with heartbreak. Reached a specific milestone. She’ll come back.
This is my heart speaking.
At the same time, my mind knows that she is not coming back.
My heart and my mind run parallel, with completely different feelings and thoughts. It’s one of the most painful parts of grief. The feeling that she will come back but at the same time, knowing she won’t.
Someone who hasn’t experienced grief will probably think it’s ridiculous. That I’m crazy. But that’s grief. It’s not logical. It can be crazy. Insane. Senseless.
Those first few days after Raelyne passed away, I had this feeling, constantly, that I would get her back. That once I got through the funeral, she was mine again. She would just be here, back in my arms. Alive. Breathing. And life would go back to normal.
Once the funeral came and went, that feeling continued. This time, I would get her back once I made it her birthday. And then it was Christmas. Eventually the feeling faded. But it’s back.
Tonight, as I sit here with my teared stained face, my heart is telling me that she is coming back. She can’t possibly be gone. An almost 2-year-old child can’t just die, unexpectedly. All while my mind is telling me that she’s not coming back.
Do I believe in miracles? Yes. Do I believe that God could do anything? Yes. Do I believe that God could raise her from the dead? Yes. But as much as those are my beliefs, I also know that it likely won’t happen. Just because I desperately want something and I beg and cry for her to come back, it doesn’t mean it will happen. I am not God. And God wouldn’t be God, if he did everything I wanted. And as much as I believe it can happen, I don’t think it will.
Maybe it’s that hope that keeps this feeling coming back. Maybe it’s a protection mechanism. Maybe it’s my desperate longing to have my daughter back, so my heart is telling me I'm right and she's coming back.
It doesn’t really matter what makes the feeling come. It’s just an awful, torturous feeling to have. Conflict within myself. Believing with my heart one thing but knowing that it’s not true. And then reliving again and again, that my child is gone and she’s not coming back.