i wrote the following 7 years into my grief journey. it has now been 11 years since my 3 kids were in the accident. i still cling to the joys and wonders i can find to counter balance the devastation i feel at the loss of my beautiful Melissa:

"It is now February of 2001, more than six years since our beautiful daughter Melissa died. I look back and recall the progression of my grief.

It is late evening, September 15, 1994…

This is not real. I am moving and talking but I do not recognize myself or this place. You know how you feel when you wake up from a dream and know that you were in the dream but the surroundings were unfamiliar? I am in the dream. Will I ever wake up? I see family and other loved ones around us which makes me feel safe but at the same time I am lost and alone.

Melissa is dead. Darick is lying on a gurney, inconsolable in his loss. Wade is still in x-ray, we haven’t seen him yet. He has not been told.

A numbness has washed over me. I am trying to absorb all that I’m being told, all that I see.

Months later…

I am still numb, semi awake. I struggle to move one foot beyond the other in the heaviness of my grief. My guts are raw from the pain. I go through the motions of life but I feel very little of it. What I feel the most is pain. Excruciating, inescapable pain.

I want Melissa. I want to hold her, talk to her, feel her hair, the softness of her face in the caress of my hand. Her skin was like silk and her hair was the beautiful brown of her Dad’s with streaks of purest gold to reflect the light in her heart. And Melissa’s eyes; how I miss her eyes. They twinkled with joy, sparked in anger, seared me when she was hurt. Those hurting eyes haunt me still. I want her back, God! Why did you give her to me only to take her away so soon? I needed more time with her.

February 2001 again…

It is after midnight and Daryl and I have just finished the evening chores. I stop to look at the night sky stretching itself over the prairie and discover that the stars are literally twinkling! I think it may be my tired eyes playing tricks on my tired brain so I tell Daryl to look up and tell me if he notices anything special about the stars. Yes, he too, says they are twinkling.

I realize now that I have been magnetically drawn to the night skies throughout the progression of my grief. What comfort is in the awesome beauty displayed there! My numb outer shell is breaking away, bit by bit, exposing my heart once again to feel both pain and joy. As I stare at the brilliant fire of the northern lights, catch a falling star or thrill at the dazzle of twinkling stardust, I conjure a picture of Melissa in flights of glee. She is free from the bonds of earth to dance in the heavens. How can I not smile at the sight of her joy, even if seen only in the theatre of my mind?

I have no doubt that I will feel the pain of Melissa’s absence fighting despondency, depression and bitterness as long as I live and breathe. I also know that if I quit fighting, quit seeing the wonders above and around me, I will truly be defeated. Melissa’s life was a treasure beyond words, a celebration of all that is holy. I refuse to blemish the miracle of her life with the devastation of her death. Someday I will dance among the stars with her and together we will celebrate two lives well spent.

JoAnne Rademacher 2/5/01

Oh my,
You brought the first morning tears, only I can't figure out if they are tears of sadness for you, or tears of joy for you. You should have titled your post "Honoring a Lost Daughter" or something like that, because "Progression of Grief" does not do justice to this stunning bit of prose.
I am sorry for your loss, but rejoice in the beauty in the memories you created. Truly, your words are inspiring.

thank you for your kindness, fifty - every time another person reads my words, missi is remembered and that is of huge importance to a grieving parent.

some days i am back to the first, most days i keep moving. we have a beautiful granddaughter, brianna melissa, named for the aunt she will never know but through our words.

please don't be sad for me, just know that you have made my day be reading about missi!

flipperjo, that is a beautiful tribute to Melissa. Thank you for sharing it.

This brought tear to my eyes too. I can't even imagine losing my precious daughter, my Vicky. About two years ago our son had a spontaneous pneumo-thorax. We didn't know what was happening and later learned it's very common. While Rob was in the hospital having his lung re-inflated I cried my eyes out telling my husband, "if that boy dies I don't want to live."
Rob is fine and healthy and it never happened again but it does give you a bitter taste of what it is remotely like to those who have lost a child.
My prayers are for your precious Melissa. Hugs to you!