The Missing Piece

It has been one year, two months, and three days since my husband, Liam, passed away. How long is the grieving process? Is there a time limit on it? People seem to think there is one. Who are these people?? Haven’t they ever lost anyone? I have been a complete mess for the entire time. My daughter, Emalin, has been a mess. Maybe she is a mess because of grieving in her own way, or maybe she is drawing her emotions off of mine. She was only 6 when it happened. She went through her first Christmas and birthday without her father. People keep saying that we were lucky to have him that long. People… why do I keep listening to these people? He wasn’t terminally ill, and he wasn’t in a job that was hazardous. He was in a car crash. A driver was texting, and drove straight into the other lane. It was a head on collision that could not be avoided.  Why would they say we were lucky to have him as long as we did? Was it because we were making a marriage work in a time where divorce happens over the slightest argument? Was it because my daughter lived in a two parent home? I didn’t grow up in one, but I also never considered myself unlucky.  I drive my daughter to school everyday. She is emotionally stronger than me, or at least she pretends to be. If she is pretending she is good actress. She might just be young enough to where it won’t scar her for life. Is she blocking out the trauma? Pushing it so far into the back of her memory that she won’t remember? Do I want her to not remember? We had a lot of wonderful times. I guess people are right in saying that the good always comes with the bad.  I walk her in, because I want her to feel safe at all times. I don’t think she needs me to walk her in, but I want to do it for her..I guess I mean me. I want to do it for me. I need to know that she is safe. I can’t go through another loss. She is all I have. After I walk her in, I walk back through the school. I can feel the eyes of people who are either judging me or feel bad for me. Everyday I feel like I’m doing a walk of shame. I don’t really care what they think, but then again I do care. These are the people that can tell social services that they think I am an unfit mother. No matter how I feel or look, I make sure she is dressed properly, has eaten breakfast, and packed her a lunch with all the necessary food groups. Whether she eats all the food or not is another issue. At least the school knows I’m taking care of her.  I go home and do the same routine everyday. I do the bare minimum to get by; I let my dogs out and feed them, I feed the fish, and I go back to bed. I have to set an alarm so as not to forget to pick Emalin up from school. If I wake up before the alarm I will take a shower. I have been in such a deep depression since Liam’s passing. I tried to go back to work, but I couldn’t get through a day without breaking down. My mother, Liam’s mother, and the insurance money are what we are living on.. for now. Who knows when they will decide my grieving period should be over and stop helping.