So today is my daughter Aryssa’s birthday. She would have been 12 years old today. And it still hurts just as much as ever.
This day makes me sad, and angry. All these years later, I still have a lot of anger. And I don’t have anyone to direct it at. Most days the anger is hidden behind a thin veil, but on 2 days a year, her birthday and the anniversary of her death, that anger and sadness renders me useless.
And it really makes me angry when people tell me it gets easier, or that things happen for a reason. Well first, it never gets any easier. Each year I miss the milestones she would have reached. Her first words, her first steps, her first day of school, her first best friend, starting junior high, I have missed them all. I have missed playing with Barbies and My Little Ponies and dolls. Missed dressing her in pretty dresses and pink shoes and bows in her hair. Each year is a different set of accomplishments she would have had that I have had to miss. So to thise, who I really believe anyllmndre trying to help, it does not get any easier. You learn to function around the pain and hurt, but it’s no easier.
And this did not happen for a reason. I am agnostic, so I don’t really have am belief system, so this phrase really upsets me. What was the purpose of my daughter dying? Why can drug addicts and abusers have kids and those poor kids have to suffer..but my daughter had to die. And no, I do not wish anyone dead, but it just seems so unfair sometimes. There is no purpose or reason for any child to die. It’s not to make me stronger, and it “wasn’t her time” and she didn’t “go to be with God”. So why, why my baby?
So today, I sit here almost useless. I’m not sure how I make it through work every uear, the day is just a blur. My poor boys have deal with pizza rolls for dinner because I just can’t even make a meal. They have to deal with the sadness and the fact that I don’t want to be around anyone.
Tomorrow will be a new day. The anger will be mostly hidden and the sadness will still be there, but I will pick up the pieces and go on. These questions will still be on my mind, but only here and there. And in 4 months and 1 week, on the anniversary of her death, I will enter the same depths of hell again…