Why I Blog

My beautiful daughter, Dannica, was killed in an auto accident, a head on collision, November 14, 2012.  Just over a month later I started writing here; my heart shattered, my spirit weary, the strength I was complimented on having as I moved through the first weeks without her gone and I, left feeling so sad and certainly not strong.

I’ve learned how isolating an experience grief can be and I’ve learned that having this place to feel, question, vent, cry, scream… openly, is a healing experience for me.  I’m trying to make sense of something that just doesn’t make sense and never will; not to my heart.

25 thoughts on “Why I Blog”

  1. Hi, I’ve just read your “Six Years” post. I’m commenting here because I wasn’t able to comment on the post. If I live to be 100 years old I’ll be in no “better” place than where I am now 18 years after Nicholas’ death. Some days I’m sure I’m glad to be alive and other days I wish I was dead. I always wish I had died instead of Nicholas. Frances Gunther used the words: “shame, wonder, joy, grief, and sadness,” among others. I have felt these emotions, one after the other, or all together, in 10 minutes or less. That was yesterday. And it’s been 18 years! Six years is no time at all, you only have to look over your shoulder and you’re back at the moment when you lost your sweet girl. It feels like she just left you. I’m proud of you in writing this blog, in sharing this really beautiful post. Well done.

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    • Susan, Thank you. Everything you said, I feel in this moment, all at once, as you said, all together. Thanks, also, for finding a way to reach me. That means more than you know ❤

  2. My sympathies on your awful loss. My great friend lost her 13 year old boy Daniel to leukemia. She is soldiering on bravely. It is impossible to imagine your loss.

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  3. I am so sorry that you are on this painful journey as well. Your daughter died almost 6 months after my son died. So many of us out here know the emptiness, or as you so appropriately put it, the ‘hollowed out’ feeling… where our hearts used to beat.

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  6. Though our daughters died in different ways, reading the pain in your blog reflects the same pain I reflect in my blog. It hurts so very much. My 23 year old daughter, who was the light of my life, a 3rd year medical student, took her own life 4-11-13. I thought she was the happiest person in the world and had the whole world in her hands. However, according to her suicide note she had been depressed all her life and hid it. We never, ever knew. She never told anyone and never sought help. It’s amazing how an intelligent person can hide depression so well, but they can I unfortunately learned. I’m so sorry for the loss of your daughter. The pain is excruciating I know.

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    • Truly… there is nothing like it. Love to you as you move through this. Know that you are not alone. I have found some incredible support here ❤

    • My nephew killed himself too. I wonder so many times why he didn’t reach out to me? Anyone? I think if he knew the pain he caused he would not have done it. I think of him every day. The pain is less but it is always there. I miss him terribly. It has been 21 years but time doesn’t matter any more. He was like a son to me. I have given myself permission to never get over it. In this I have found some peace. I hope you do too!

    • Thank you. I knew from the first moment that I would never get over the death of my daughter. I am so sorry about the death of your nephew.

  8. Since I learned about Dannica’s death, I have wanted to reach out to you. I am so sorry for your loss. I know from my own experience how very painful it is to loose a child. So much life yet to be lived, plans, hopes, dreams for my daughter, Alex.. All came to a screeching halt. I am sorry we have this in common. Writing has been so very helpful to me, and it is wonderful to see your blog.

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  9. I am tired and must get back to sleep! I have not worked out the days since Sulien died, I know its saturday and its 9 weeks tonight. Tired, yet drawn to how you write. I need to hear others share, like you, of the physical, emotional and spiritual loss through our childs death, within the context of the beautiful life, they once shared with us, which remains. I will return to your soulfully written blog later thankyou

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    • Writing helps me more than anything else has so far. My mind never stops. Every thought I have includes Dannica, no matter what I’m doing, no matter who I’m interacting with or how. May peace find you a moment at a time, as is its nature. I find great comfort in knowing I’m not alone here in my head. Thank you for letting me know that my writing has touched your heart.

    • Dear Tersia… my son wrote of his 100 days of searing pain as you have. I wish I could say for a certainty that this gets easier. We are up to 167 days. I recently read another blog who’s day counter is over 1200 and this dear one spoke of some shift in the sting of things. It gives me hope. I know I am pushing myself at times; to feel better, to move on in even a small way. It’s too soon. A dear friend of mine reminds me of this and I so appreciate it. She hugs me and softly says, “It hasn’t been that long.” She’s right. You say you prayed for Vic to die. Don’t hate yourself. You didn’t really, you just wanted her suffering to end. You blessed her every moment of her life. ❤

  14. I compliment you on your spirit. On Jan 4 it was 13 years since my 12 year old son’s death from leukemia. Last year, I was able to begin sharing the journal I wrote through his illness and kept writing after his death.
    I really like your heading “Why I Blog.” Right away I felt I was going to read an honest account of your heart. We will hold each others hand.

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