Shifting

I am wondering how long I will be writing here and if I will continue or not. I don't come here as often anymore, for a number of reasons.
I would love to be able to shift my writing here and transform this blog into what my grief and life are becoming because of My Star in Heaven, Stella.
It is quite difficult honestly to make this anything other then what I have seen it as, a sad story with a sad ending.
This blog was is for her and me. Our [very complicated] mother/daughter relationship.
For me to share her story and her short short life.
To purge the deep grief I have experienced since her death.
To process the emotions that have hit me like a hurricane. Waves of grief coming and washing over me. Winds blasting my face with emotions and ringing the tears out of me like heavy clouds covering the blue skies I once remember.
To try and understand and find any kind of answers to; the what ifs, whys, why not's, how's and whens of this.
Connecting to others who are experiencing this same intense throes of grief, longing, missing, yearning.
To [hopefully] help others realize they are not alone and it is hard., but you come out one way or another. And sometimes back in for brief moments from time to time.

I have battled to utilize this place for all of that.
I hope I had succeeded in at least some of it.

Since I have dealt with being criticized and chastised scolded [I suppose] for my writing here, by people I love and needed deep support, understanding and sympathy from, that has made this place feel almost forbidden, taboo or something I should conceal and keep to myself.
I'm told my sharing is doing nothing but showing my weaknesses and making me weaker in doing so.
I had originally felt that exercising my grief was helping me become stronger in it, as I worked though it and learn to accept her death. and eventually transform this into something more beautiful then what I have felt it was.
I really dont like being told that what I do for myself is wrong in how I do it. That has done nothing but throw me off my course and onto a course built for someone else. & It really isn't fair.  You wouldnt expect a fish or turtle to climb a tree!

I loved being able to come here, in the beginning, and felt free to let my grief flow.
Emotions would shoot out of me like a volcano purging the molten lava that was eating me away from the inside out. When the fault lines took on too much pressure, the eruption would come, sometimes unannounced, sometime shaken to release it because I knew that was what I needed.

But now I feel I can not go anywhere I once did for support. Its watched like "big brother" and I'm judged upon what I feel and what I write so its no longer for me. Its all seems against me.

[Ahhhh the never ending questions of forgian lands along constant changing terrain. ]

What is right in this?
Does this make me weaker?
By writing and feeling make this all harder on me?
Am I grieving "wrong"?
Is this where grief goes?
Smoldering out like the ashes of this volcano, washed into the sea and dissolved as if it never was.
Or will it just burn you when you try to hold on to it?
Is there any happy medium?

Could it even be the same for everyone? Like a little cookie cutter oven machine of grief processing?

Unfortunately, as of now, I've been left with a sour taste for my place, Stella's place, here, my grief or my love for her and how I choose to express that love. As if my love for her is wrong.
Its different, that's for sure! It sure isn't what I had ever expected just over 2 years and 6 weeks ago!
I'm not sure how I will be able to transform this, to continue on like I had hoped to. Or even if I should.  I almost feel like I would need permission to.

I want to be able to write how my day to day comes and goes, how she speaks to me in small ways like chills down my side, a spiritual hug from her during her sister's chorus concert last night.
It was a song called "One Candle" preceding an Italian lullaby called "Dormi Dormi". The ever familiar gym set up I stoon on as a 13 year old girl. Childrens eyes darting the room scanning for thier parents. Sweet voices sing out in unison the lyrisc of this ancient lullaby.  A little redheaded baby girl, sleeping on a note stars adorning the back drop, projected on the gym wall to announce the song title and artist of this timeless beautiful peice.
She was there, as she always is. Can I write about her like that? Can I incorporate her into my day to day and illustrate her in JOY and not so much the sorrow my heart aches in her physical absence. Yet that does linger. That longing will always be there for her. And JUST for her. Am I even allowed to feel that? To write that? Does this ALL have to change?  

It seems all of that is still just so sad.......

 Beautifully sad.
That is what this has become.

After hearing about all of those little children whose lives were taken today in a mass shooting in CT, my heart wrenched out my my chest for those parents and families with out their children tonight.
That God awful grief of child loss. 
I hope they can find a way, a support system, love and prayers to carry them though the depths of grief.
I pray they dint ever hear "Get over it already" or "When are you going to be done grieving its been X years".
I hope they all find that way though, their way and I hope its as peaceful as it can be.

Will they ever have that beautiful sad?
Even in such tragedy's?
Its so hard to see that from a beginning point like theirs.
Today, today they became bereaved.
Today their angels entered the gates of heaven and our babies were there to greet them with Jesus. That alone is beautiful and yet so so so sad.

Do you leave things like this alone? Trudge on?
Be nothing but grateful for the blessings you have now?
Those parents... would you expect them to?
Tell them "It couldve been worse"

I think not.
Not today, not tomorrow, not next week or even next year.
I Pray for them, today, tomorrow, next week and even a year or 2 from now.
That is what they need.
Gods touch, and the touch of God through each person who graces their lives today tomorrow and for the rest of their lives.
Just as anyone would, anyone who has lost love to any tragedy. They need LOVE. The REAL kind. The Jesus kind. The God kind. The honest, unconditional, loving, caring, compassionate LOVE that LOVE really is.

I Hope I can find that too, everyday.
The media just right to paint the transformation into what this is becoming. Into what I HOPE this becomes. A balance of beauty built out of sadness.
This 2nd year of grief.
Its growing, like she should be, here, physically.
Emotionally, she is growing inside me, changing me, my love for her, my longing, and my grief.

I found this picture on another blog and it surely describes how I personally feel about grief.
Naturally, I found this just after I was drilled on how my grief is pretty much a disease like depression and ruining everything in my life and all those around me.
This Dr. explained it perfectly.
I have done my best, and that is all I can do. Everyday.

May God be with all of those families tonight and along the rest of their journeys through bereavement here in this life.

Who knows, maybe I'm just not there yet in all of this to find those right words.
Maybe my hindrance has, like I said, just left me in a block.
I was/am not allowed to move on like I was, in my flow. I have been deterred like a damned up river.
Rerouted waters into a pond that stills, becomes swamped and is just stopped.
I would imagine there needs to be a continual flow for anything to change or flourish.