The Hiatus


My dearest Zach,

It has been over a year since I last wrote, but mere seconds since I last thought of you.  One year ago I posted saying that I was going to do better, write more, process more, handle my grief.  The exact opposite has happened.

A year ago I lost my voice, my ability to speak.  I lost the ability to process what I was going through.  I lost my words to you, which were the only thing keeping me functioning.  A year ago I succumbed to the weight of my grief and everything just stopped.

Three months ago my best friend begged me to write something.  Anything.  One sentence.  She saw, she recognized the darkness that had taken over me.  She knew I was giving up and that if I wasn’t talking to her about what was going on and I was not writing then something was wrong.

It has taken me this long to take her advice and to write something….. anything.

Was something wrong? Worse? Worrisome? I don’t know.  All I know is everything just stopped.  I didn’t know how to describe what I was feeling or thinking anymore.  Not that I stopped feeling or thinking, but it was almost as if my brain threw its hands up in frustration and said, “Well I don’t know WHAT will fix this!!”

I still don’t know where to start, but I recognize the need to return to my feeble attempt at processing my extreme grief.  It isn’t getting better.  It isn’t fading away.  It lives with me every single moment of every single day like a cancerous tumor eating away at my very existence.

I lost my words, my voice, my ability to process….. but I am still grieving.

So this is my prayer to you, my desperate plea.  Help me to find my voice.  Help me to find my words because I can not continue this way.

11 comments on “The Hiatus

  1. Esther says:

    I have thought about you so often, wondered if you were still functioning, going through the motions, as often seems to be the way I “live through” my grief. I’m glad you wrote.

    • brenner1543 says:

      Hello Esther, Thank you for keeping me in your thoughts. Living through grief seems to be the only way to survive, but at some point you recognize that you aren’t even really surviving. The grief has gotten the best of me even though I am still up and functioning in my daily. Our loved ones would want better for us so I have to try….. as feeble as my attempts may be.

  2. Lauren says:

    You are one of the strongest people I know Krista, and I wanted to say to you that even though it might feel like you aren’t, You ARE getting through this tragedy.

    I think to you, it feels as if you aren’t doing it right, that you should be feeling at least a little better. But there is no right way to go through this. The fact that you get up every morning and go to work, that you make it through each day, even if it is with a mask hiding your true feelings, is something you should be proud of, not punishing yourself for.

    Unfortunately, for some of us, we have to wear masks. You’ve been given more then enough reasons in this life to feel pain, and if you need to cover up that pain in order to get through a day, that shows strength to me. Because you do it. Every day. And I know some days are impossible. I know some days you don’t want to wear the mask. But other days, I think you take the mask off, even if it’s only for a couple minutes to smile with your niece and nephew at Disney World. Even just for a few moments, I think a smile peeks through and I think it’s real. And all you can do is hope that those moments last longer. Hope that those moments of brief happiness carry you through until the next moment. And one day, the moment might last for a full hour, and after that a full day. And I know you’ll get there because you’re strong. You’re a fighter.

    Keep writing, Krista. It’s a gift not everyone has, but you have a talent. And I think putting everything you’re feeling into words will help you feel things in the moment, as they are, instead of reliving that horrible day and all the horrible days since then. Keep writing. And never forget I’m always here for you. Even if you are still wearing your mask ten years from now, I will be beside you hoping I can catch even a moment of your real happiness.

    I love you.

    • brenner1543 says:

      You are my best friend for so many reasons, but your patience with me and constant encouragement can never be repaid. I listened to you eventually…. I am trying to write again and claw myself back to some semblance to dealing with things. Couldn’t do it without you. I love you!

  3. You have been constantly on my heart, and there are many days when I have said to myself “if Krista can do it, I can do it.” Even though it can feel as though you are just barely surviving, “just surviving” takes so much. I hope that your prayers are answered, that some new light helps you to continue drawing words from yourself. Lots of love.

    • brenner1543 says:

      Jennelle, my online blog blessing in disguise. I have been so lost and MIA from writing, but you are always on my mind. I appreciate your words of support as always and I also tell myself that if Jennelle can do it…. so can I.

  4. SusanB says:

    You’re broken. It’s all broken, everything you knew, the way it was done, or said or thought and now you’re finding a way around, or under, or through and it’s hard work. Nice to see you here again. I wondered about you. You’ll find your voice. And take your time, don’t forced it, because you’ll feel it will be different every time (you sit down to write).

    • brenner1543 says:

      It is all broken and I so appreciate you keeping me in your thoughts. I am still lost, but still here and trying to find my way back. Thank you for still being out there!

  5. Laure A vassall says:

    I read something the other day….” After all this time? ” ” Always…..” That’s how it is for me and know it will always be this way. For me it’s only been almost 2 1/2 years, feels like a lifetime ago and then just yesterday. I just keep getting up and putting one foot in front of the other but if I had my way I would just lie down and die…I’d rather be with my boy anyways but it’s not really an option, people depend on me and I have to force myself to keep going….I hope for you some measure of peace or whatever helps you get thru each day because as you know that’s all there is right now and I can’t think that far ahead to even guess what will be helpful for us broken ones.

    • brenner1543 says:

      It is amazing that it can feel like a lifetime at the exact same time as feeling like a blink. I understand entirely too well! Keep forcing yourself to keep going… that is all we can really do and no matter how hard it is we have to remember this is what our loved ones would want.

  6. Stephanie says:

    You have your voice…it’s right here–and it’s taking us through the clouds. Sometimes we need a little push from someone who loves us and knows what we need. In my case one of my daughters noticed me deteriorating when I had stopped writing about my husband, her dad, and three years ago today she set me up with my blog. Sometimes I can write and sometimes I can’t, and sometimes I need to write about something other than grief, and I’ve given myself that latitude. Maybe it’s not so much that you’ve lost your voice as that you might feel there’s no one other than Zach who understands and hears that voice as he did? No one will ever understand me or my voice the way my husband did. He revisited me in a dream a couple of nights ago and I found that after nearly four years I could cry just a little, instead of torrentially, and speak to him and thank him for coming back.

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