Sunday, August 23, 2009

Why Callapitter?


"Callapitter" is the word my son, Peter, always used instead of caterpillar. I love his pronunciation and, quite honestly, think it rolls off the tongue far more easily than the correct pronunciation. I hoped he would always pronounce caterpillar that way...as he grew up, went to college, had kids of his own...etc, etc. Unfortunately that won't happen. He and his sister, Kate - my beautiful, amazing, intelligent, incredible children - died in a car accident on April 6, 2009. There are no words to describe the extent of my grief or the degree to which I miss them.

At this point I feel like a callapitter. From where I sit it absolutely feels like the world is over. How does a divorced stay-at-home-mom go on without her children? I have no fucking clue. This blog will be my story as I attempt to find some purpose and reason for living after my devastating loss. It may not be something anyone else wants to read, which is fine. Maybe it will help me. Maybe it won't. Maybe it will give me an outlet for the crazy spectrum of emotions I experience on an hourly basis. Maybe people will read it. Maybe their comments will help me and something I write will be meaningful to them. Maybe I'll find other parents in my situation who understand. I have no idea. I just hope that somehow I will become like a callapitter and will turn into a butterfly (not literally. don't worry I'm not smoking crack...yet). Is there a chance that something beautiful could grow out of a situation that seems so horrible? I guess if I didn't believe it was possible, I would have given up already. We'll see.


A few notes in case anyone does read this blog:

1. I am not a writer. I have never claimed to be a writer and I realize that what I write may not be eloquent or even grammatically correct. Please don't judge me on the quality of my writing.
2. I have a potty mouth. If you don't like reading profanities, please do not read any further. I do not plan to censor any of my feelings as I write so prepare yourself to read every bad word you've ever heard, as well as some I just may make up.
3. This blog most likely will not be a warm and fuzzy, make-you-feel-good kinda thing. It may be dark and scary. It may be sarcastic and mean. It may just be fucked up, like I am right now. It may eventually grow into something more positive...but I'm not making any promises.

26 comments:

  1. Amy...I love it and can't wait to read more. You are a strong beautiful person that will make more beautiful things happen in this world. your determination and movation to keep going is amazing and very encouraging to others!!

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  2. Thank you, Lady. I'm sure you will help put into words better than anyone how many are feeling, including me. I'm just getting used to relying on feelings more than thoughts (I know, a BIG change), so I hope to learn from you.

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  3. Shit, damn, hell, fuck, bitch, c-u-next-tuesday (sorry...I just can't bring myself to use that particular word yet), asshole....I'm sure I'm missing some. Welcome, fellow potty mouth! :) I'm looking forward to reading every word you write. I know that it is easier to write than speak your thoughts some times. A very wise woman once said to me that she rather talk to children who don't know to censor themselves than talk to adults that censor so much that they can't get out a single thought. Love you! Heather (PS...I'm posting as anonymous because I'm too much of a retard to do it otherwise!)

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  4. Kate & Peter are beautiful. My heart goes out to you. Cheesy hugs from a stranger.

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  5. Shit, Amy, I have been hoping you would find a way to scream so that we and this whole world would hear your pain. You have kept it together and kept going but this, this blog, swearing, cursing, thoughts whatever you need to do--- DO IT. Yell it, fuck it all my love. Just be you. At any given moment, be where you are and let the world hear it. I can't do much to help you and I don't kid myself into thinking that I can. But I can sit here on a Sunday night and cry my eyes out because every day I can't grasp that those two are no longer where we are. And I only knew them for a moment of their lives it seems. So I cannot fathom how it feels to be you. None of us can. I love you.

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  6. What the caterpillar calls the end, the world calls a butterfly. Lao Tze Tao

    A caring friend
    :@)

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  7. Amy--I love it. I love that it's real and raw. I think it's brave to put your true thoughts and feelings out there....and I agree with Carley's comment...that there really isn't much we can do...but just be here. Whether we're in your presence or reading this miles away....by you putting it out there, it lets us in to get a glimpse of what you're dealing with....and I am actually thankful for it. Not because I'm a sadist, but by you being so honest, it helps us to be there as best as we can for you. And that's all we can do. love you.

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  8. Hi Amy,
    I know your pain, I've been there. I lost my 15 year old in March 2006 and as much as you won't believe this now, it will get better, I promise. I advise you not to try make sense of any of it, you can't, ever. It goes against the order of things to outlive your children and you could ask "why" 19385738838 times and you will NEVER get an answer.

    This blog is a great idea to get your feelings out, I started a diary and it helped me a lot but I warn you not to revisit your posts a year from now, you will be in a different headspace then and rereading how you feel now will bring all these feelings back, trust me on that. It's not a good idea.

    Cry, cry lots and don't ever feel that those around you can't deal with your grief. You need to take care of you and your needs and if people are uncomfortable with your tears and feelings then they can fuck off.

    Anyways, I'll be reading and sending healing thoughts your way. You are never alone, people like us are everywhere, we are the members of a club which nobody wants to join.

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  9. I am glad you are screaming, it is about time you let those feelings out! You have endured more pain, change, loss, etc., in the last few years than most will in a lifetime. I think you already are a butterfly!!! You are an amazing human and I am glad to call you my friend! I love you!
    Keep moving forward,
    Tara

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  10. Amy, Please keep blogging. I hung on every word so far. I will be checking for new words from you, even the colorful one's we need to express ourselves fully. Great job so far, keep going. Jackie Rock

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  11. I hope this helps you. I cannot imagine ever going through what you have, and I hope and pray that I never do. I am quite sure you can never get over it, but hopefully you can move forward in some way.

    I like the blog name. My daughter used to say "rainbrella" for umbrella. She stopped, though, when she was probably four or a little older.

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  12. Thank you all for your kind words and encouragement! Facie, I love "rainbrella". It makes so much sense.

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  13. I am so proud to call you my friend. I have always been so. Having a "potty" mouth can sometimes be theraputic. I have faith in you as I have always have that only GREAT things will come your way. I am looking forward in reading along with the world through this journey. I look forward in feeling your pain and laughing when it is needed. Which we must laugh often. Love you friend! Keep it going.

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  14. Dear Amy,

    We don’t know each other personally, but I know your story, cried with the news and smiled looking at your pictures in your cause in Facebook, and wished I heard about your kids under different circumstances. I know there is no one word that can relieve a bit the pain you must feel in your heart, but just wanted you to know that you and your children, and the love that surrounds you, have touched thousands of hearts and have changed the way many people feel and see life, even people you or them haven’t met or won't ever met. So many times we give for granted what we have in each moment... I wish other way, and not your tragedy, was what taught people like me to embrace every second, every love, every moment. Just the thought that your children are acting through your kindness, strength, friendship, and love, and that they are sure proud and lucky to have a mom that still teaches them (an so many others) great lessons in life, soothes the lack of sense in all this. Funny how a little callapitter and a sweet worm become the examples of beauty and love. Keep showing them how much love and strength and hope someone in this world can have and share. Not everything is what it looks like... keep fighting but take a breath once in a while.

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  15. I am so happy you started blogging. You are such a wonderful, beautiful and intelligent daughter and I am so proud of you. You were the best mother I have ever had the privilege to know. I feel certain there is another great purpose for you in this life and I know that Peter and Kate will be very proud of you as they look down from above. I love you. Mom

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  16. Carley shared your story with me a while back, and I'm honored to be able to read your thoughts and witness your journey. The blogosphere is richer for you being in it. I look forward to reading you and passing your blog on to others. And your writing style is fucking dandy as far as I'm concerned. ;-)

    And...I'm so terribly, painfully sorry for what you've gone through, and for the unimaginable pain you are forced to live with every day. Your kids are beautiful, and I cannot imagine how much you ache for them. At the risk of using a cliche, "any friend of Carley's is a friend of mine", so I will say to you what I say to all of my internet friends . . . I am hugging you from here. Write, and write, and scream and rage, and write some more. You have a great many people praying for you, and hoping for the best for your life.

    Look forward to reading more from you.

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  17. I love you and I love Kate and Peter. That's all I can say. kpl

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  18. I hope this blog does whatever you need it to do on any given day.
    I don't know what to say, and doubt any words help much right now anyway.
    Swear, scream, cry, flip-the-fuck out.. whatever you need to do... and know you are not doing it alone.
    Most of us don't know you it seems, but we share in a little bit of your pain.
    Peter and Kate were beautiful people and they are with you. Now and always.

    ((HUGS))

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  19. That's my girl!!! I love the rules from one potty mouth to another!!! Julie :-)

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  20. just came across your blog tonight from a fellow artist/blogger... as i said to her, i can unfortunately relate all too much... i know that getting the thoughts out is so helpful, indeed balm for the wounded heart... express yourself how ever you can... 20 years later i am still healing...

    i am so terribly sorry for your loss... for the thoughts that go through your mind about their last moments, about your own guilt feelings for not being there to protect them... none of which you could have changed... but it fucking hurts anyways... i know... and for that i am sorry...

    you are a strong, brave, smart, talented, loved human and you will be a great person just because you lived and loved those babies of yours and touched the hearts of strangers and made it through hell just to show us all its possible...

    you are loved...
    xoxo
    jul

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  21. Amy, I found your blog through That's Church. I am also a stay at home mom residing in Pittsburgh. I am so sorry for your loss, I cannot imagine. I am praying for you and your beautiful children. They are so precious. And keep blogging, I certainly want to know about how you are doing.

    Carmen

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  22. What a beautiful way to remember your children. I'm so glad Ginny told us about this blog. What a sad, tragic thing to have to live through. I can't say I have any idea what you may be feeling, but just know that even though I don't know you, I love you and your children. I can't say it will get better, but stay strong, and it will get easier.

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  23. I think you're very brave.

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  24. Also, not that it matters at all, but you're really a very good writer.

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  25. You are the most amazing person I have ever come across in this world! Hang in there, and follow your dreams.

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  26. if it's ANY consolation?
    i really think he would have pronounced it just the way you remember. because that was part of him, and part of you. and just a family thing.
    stuff like that just 'sticks'. ya know.

    anyhow-- i'm kinda new around here-- obviously-- you don't have to be eloquent, or a 'writer" for folks to read what you have to say.

    btw-- we have some things in common. unfortunately, those things aren't that we like to shop- or dance, etc.
    i lost one son, 21 years ago.
    another almost 14 years ago.

    it never goes away.
    but we never stop loving them either.

    maybe THAT is what keeps us going.

    i still 'feel' mine, at times.

    but i know they are with God.
    no matter how mad i get at HIM, they are safe and waiting for me. and watching over me. Lord knows i wouldn't be here if they weren't.

    keep writing. it matters---and it helps.

    big hugs to you.
    it ebbs and flows-- and it won't kill you. you'll think it will, but it won't.
    so live for the moment that you're in. that is what they would want for you.
    don't feel guilty when you laugh.
    don't feel bad for throwing out moldy toys.

    it's ok to move on.
    it's ok to heal.

    it's ok to live.

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