Not a TeenPublished 1 year, 9 months past
She would have become a teenager this morning, but she didn’t. She would have had her bat mitzvah ceremony this past weekend, as her best friend in the world actually did, but she didn’t. So many more nevers.
I find myself not wanting to talk about it at all, and also wanting to talk about it all the time. This hole, this void, this screaming silent tear in the world that so many can feel but nobody outside that circle can see. How do I make someone who didn’t know her understand? Why would I bring it up with someone who already knows? Where can I go to fill it, to make things complete?
Nowhere, of course. No where, no why, no how.
They tell you that some milestones will be hard to accept, when you become a parent.
They don’t tell you how much harder it will be to accept the milestones that were never passed.
I am so sorry as I was when she died. Your memories and your thinking about the milestones which would be happening if she were alive are blessings and miserable at the same time. I think tears for the dead are as close as we can get to kissing them.
there is nothing I can add to Irene’s comment. Just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry for your loss beyond imagination as I was when I read about Rebecca’s death.
You are so brave (as must be your wife and son)!
I feel your pain and I’m really sorry. I don’t know what else could anyone comment on any of your posts about Rebecca without sounding at best clueless, or at worst just plain stupid…
when I read one of your posts about Rebecca it makes look at my own young daughter with fresh appreciation.
Between all the have to’s and ought to’s I forget so often to just have fun with her and just enjoy being around her.
Sharing you writing really helps put things in perspective for me, and makes our lives that little bit more better.
Thank you so much.
I know it’s no consolation for seeing your little girl grow into a big girl, for having your daughter with you, in your family still.
I know the moments of screaming turning to numbness will persist…if inside your soul, without voice.
But you keep Rebecca alive, through your blog. Thousands of people enchanted with her life, followed her struggles with cancer, mourned her death. Are still here as you keep Rebecca alive.
It’s not fair, none of it, there shouldn’t be a struggle you share, there should be a teenager who fills your life with towels dropped on the floor and long texf message chains you wait through and hugs that feel like a rare gift.
None of this is fair, but you gave Rebecca’s struggles to the internet. We mourn and miss her, in the way of strangers, unable to fully comprehend a parent’s pain. None of this is as it should be, but for what it is – many, many people miss and mourn Rebecca. She should be here,
I hear you. I don’t know why I felt the need to leave a comment. I came across your site by happenstance, but I know how the desperation to get it out must feel. Theres still life because of love. You will see her again.
I hear you. I will never understand the grief you must be feeling. I accidentally came across one post about Rebecca and all of the sudden read them all. I left the site feeling hollow inside- it really shows how much you loved her.
If you ever want to talk you can contact me.
Came here to remind myself of rebeccapurple’s origin. This note brought tears. Since you have bravely shared your grief, I want to remark on how your love continues to ripple out here.
thank you so much for sharing so eloquently what you are going through. i am sorry for your pain. your words are beautiful.
This is the kind of situation for which there are no words. A simple internet traveler comes across this article by chance and the emotion comes to seek it. I wish all of your family my most sincere condolences.