Monday, September 5, 2011


Drowning. What a terrible word. It's such a hard word for us to hear now, but it's constantly on my mind, like a recurring nightmare or an unwelcome guest.

Drowning. It's how I feel. Inundated with emotional trauma, sometimes gasping for peace, for solace, overwhelmed. I've come to experience mental illness in a very real, very personal and physical way. For the first 6 months of your passing I felt I did so great, but then, seemlingly out of nowhere, came the PTSD, the anxiety, the insomnia, and the crowning jewel of them all, depression. It's interesting how big of a difference it makes when your brain is not quite all right. The world turned grey. Things that once filled me with laughter, color, excitement, ambition, joy, happiness, peace, rendered effectless. It's hard to focus, and sometimes even harder to find energy to make myself focus. I feel like such a different person than I used to be.

Fortunately, I have my family, your mother, your sister, your future baby brother, my parents, and the rest of my loved ones, and that is the core thing that gives me meaning and purpose. And, of course, returning to be with you again. Without that, I'm not really sure what I would do. A while ago in Sunday school we were asked to think of Heaven, what it would be like. I immediately thought of being with you, and my whole family again. If that didn't happen in heaven, then I would say, without the slightest hesitation, to sign me up for whatever program that did include us being together forever. The teacher then explained that we could create that heaven on earth and have it now. Oh how I wish! It seems that a big piece of my heaven has to wait.

I've written some songs for you since you passed. They'll never be radio hits, they're full of emotions that will make most people probably feel uncomfortable, but they are from my heart. I was working on becomming a better singer so I could record them, but became so much involved in other important priorities in my life that I had to put singing on the shelf for a bit. I'll continue again and I will record them. When I play them on the piano it makes your mom cry. Here are the words to the one I sang by your grave last month:

I close my eyes, I think that I can see your face
And feel your embrace, leave a warm impression on my soul
I open my eyes, I see photos and marks on the wall
They remind me that you were real after all

I gasp, because the air is thick
I can't breath anymore, I'm feeling scared
Come quick, because I'm feeling sick
I don't know how much longer I will last

How can I consolidate all of my regret?
In a single breath: Every day I didn't bless!
Time goes fast, and yet now it seems to stand so still
Leaving me here, halfway between well and ill.

I gasp, because the air is thick
I can't breath anymore, I'm feeling scared
Come quick, because I'm feeling sick
I don't know how much longer I will last

I hope an angel came to your side!
I pray that you had a warm guide!
I feel like part of me has died, inside.

After I wrote this, I had these words come to my mind, and I'm pretty certain that they came from you, so this is how the song ends:

I'll pray I can always be by your side
I'll always be your warm guide
I hope that you have joy and peace, inside

I love you Mikayla and I miss you sorely. Heartache is real physical pain, and sometimes it just hits me so hard, how awful it is to be here in life without you, to have lost you for a time. My muscles give way and I collapse into a ball, crying uncontrollably, sobbing like a man who has lost what is most dear to him. Because I absolutely have. I know I will be able to be with you again, but it just seems SO FAR AWAY. This isn't to take away from how grateful I feel that I have your mom and sister with me. If anything, my pain of missing you has enabled me to feel more love and more gratitude for every day I have with them. I feel more in love with your mom right now than ever before, she is an amazing person (I know you know it, but it is worthy of repeating for repeatings sake). And you're an amazing person. I love you Mikayla, I miss you, I sometimes think I can feel your hugs, and I really appreciate them. Keep them coming, please, until the day I will be able to hold you in my arms once again and once again get the full thing.




swankypup said...

Tim, how WONDERFUL you add your thoughts on the blog. There are tears running down my face as I read through your words and emotions. How I wish there was a way I could lighten your sorrow!!! It's a very hard thing to see your child drowning! Mikayla's drowning was most horrible, but it's over; she has moved on. It's continuingly difficult to see the "drowning" that the rest of your sweet family has experienced over the past 12 months. How fortunate we are to be able to reach up and take the hand of our Savior. He loves us and will prevent our drowning. When you are in depression though, sometimes there is too much fog to see that hand there. Seek medical help if you need it. Mental illness IS an illness, and it is treatable.

Winston and Adrienne said...

I am glad you posted on here Tim! I am still getting to know you, and reading this post makes me feel like I know you more. I am so sorry for your loss and heartache! But I know that feeling in your home is amazing! Heaven is closer then it feels sometimes! I love the added lyrics to your song, what a tender mercy to receive words like that from your little one!!