It has been just over five weeks since Kiyana’s death, and so much has changed. I’ve changed! Each day when I look in the mirror, I see this new person staring back at me, with eyes of complete heartache, a smile that is non-existent, and a face showing evidence of many tears. Each day it gets more difficult to remember the old face that existed in this mirror. Will I ever see that smiling face again?
It feels like I am living a double life. The mirror represents this new me, but before I enter the real world each day I must paint on a different face. A face that represents someone that is okay; smiling, happy and a picture of positivity. I am leading a double life, but I must. I’ve already lost too much, and not able to handle more right now.
When I refer to loss it is much more than the physical loss of Kiyana. Yes, the most significant loss is our “Baby Girl” but the loss extends to the dreams we had for her, the experiences we will miss of her growing into a beautiful young woman, or the holidays we would share together. I read an article that I related to so well.
The article talks about “Secondary Loss”, which is a new term for me. It is something I didn’t consider or associate with grief, but it expresses the grief I feel so well. I do feel like I’m losing everything, and everyone I care for. Many of the losses might seem petty to others, but they are painful and real to me at this moment.
I mentioned the hope and dreams we had for Kiyana. Also, the experiences we will miss with her. What about the hugs, kisses and high fives that were part of our nightly routine. It was so special to the three of us (me, Kiyana and her dad). The hugs she gave made me feel so loved. There are not words to describe this little girls hugs. We will miss so many holidays with her, and they will never be the same. Watching her sit at the window waiting for her friends to come out to play. The foot and back massages she would beg me to let her do. Hearing her scream for me or daddy to come get her up when she woke up in the morning.
The other losses are painful as well. Relationships have been impacted at work, home and with family. People distance themselves, and call get less frequent. I understand because it is difficult enough to manage your own burdens. They are concerned, but it hurts to hear you cry so they hesitate to call. cry. Co-workers and friends shy away from you because they don’t know what to say. Gerald’s mom would come by for coffee regularly, but now it is so painful that it’s hard for her to visit. I miss seeing Kiyana and Grandma laughing, but I also miss the visit with his mom as well. They would sing together, and that was music to my ears.
One of the most significant losses is the relationship I had with Gerald. We have a close relationship, but his agony is evident each day. He finds it difficult to sing or write his songs; something he love to do with Kiyana. He’s lost his passion, and I’ve lost the joy of hearing him sing. I grieve for him every moment, and want to remove the pain from his heart. I wish more than anything that I had this magical power. I miss seeing the huge smile he wore when he was with Kiyana. It was so beautiful, and the love they share was so obvious. He was truly happy. I am scared that happiness will never return.
Noone wants to bring up her name, but I want so desperately to share the great memories I have. I can’t and I won’t sweep her under the rug. That is my reason for a blog. One of my biggest fears is she will be forgotten by everyone. Just a 4 year old girl that was mauled by a dog.
Identity as Kiyana’s mom. I spent so much time with her over the past couple years. I held that identity as her mom close to my heart. It didn’t matter if I was mom, stepmom, or “Bonus mom” as some call it. Even her mom referred to me as her mom (Jacey), but that changed once Kiyana was called to heaven. The special mom bond that I shared with Jacey was stomped on by Jacey and her family once the funeral was over. In my heart I will always be Kiyana’s mom, but to the world I no longer hold that title. I loved being her mom, and all that went with it. I feel like I’ve lost my purpose in life.
There are so many other losses that exist in my life right now. The focus and determination I woke up with every day. Seeing the sunshine instead of the clouds in my life. This could go on and on, but I’ve provided a picture that represents the true picture of grief. The loss of Kiyana is unbearable, but the extenuating losses play a huge part in the pain that consumes me right now. I hope that my words will help another understand why they feel the way they feel. Understanding why you feel this way might help you find your way through the roughest times.