Birthday Dream

Dear Tiffany,
Today is your actual birthday.  Happy Birthday!  I'm feeling a little optimistic at this moment because I woke up to the beautiful, bright sun shining directly in my eyes.  A dream of you lingered in my mind and when the fog of sleep dissipated, I remembered the dream.

You and I were playing a game on TV.  It was like one of the games I play...sort of like Hidden Objects.  In this game, a still-shot from a movie was displayed on the TV screen.  Then a movie clip was played and the object of the game was to stop the clip when the scene matched the still-shot seen previously.  We were having a hilarious time trying to coordinate whose turn it was, ensure that we didn't miss the still-shot, after which we had to try to guess the right moment.

We played this game a few times.  One of the movie clips had Sandra Bullock in it and I have no idea why that actress came to mind.  Maybe because you did enjoy many of her movies.  It really should have been Dorothy or Glinda or the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of Oz!  Anyway, after we were done, the scores appeared on the screen.  It was 12 points for you and 24 points for me.  I guess I just had more experienced playing this type of game.  LOL...

I had several other dreams last night.  They were all about you and Troy and Kelly.  Dreams about rescue and lost things, about sharing love and comfort, as well as about soothing fear and pain.  Maybe a lesson to be learned here?

"The best things in life come in threes.  Loved ones (friends), dreams and memories."
-- Unknown (paraphrased)

With all my love,
Mom

Happy Birthday, Tiffany

It was 28 years ago today, March 22, 1987, that I went into labor with Tiffany.  I had just arrived home from finishing up a few details for the nursery.  It had been a difficult pregnancy, fraught with problems and anxiety.  Although I had passed the 20-week mark, on February 14, at 30 weeks, I went into labor.  Fortunately, the doctor was able to stop the labor and here it was 5 weeks later.  I was now at the point of no return and there was no stopping this child from being born.

So, on a sunny, warm spring day, the 23rd day of March, 1987, Tiffany Marie Gallo came into this world and until the day she died 24 years and 3 months later, she was a joy to behold.  I often wonder what she did that last birthday on March 23, 2011, in Stamford, CT.  I wasn't there and all I have are some pictures of her surrounded by friends.  I hope and pray she was happy and had a wonderful day.

Because only 3 months after that 24th birthday, Death, like a thief, sneaked through the night and stole my child's life away.  Grief is the enemy left behind.  Oh, how I hate Grief.  It is pain and suffering and sadness and emptiness.  It never goes away; always there in the background waiting to catch you unaware and throw you into a tailspin.

I hate that Tiffany is not here to live her life, beautiful, happy, healthy, that gorgeous girl we all knew.

I hate that there are no more pictures, no more memories, no more anything.  I hate that people expect you to get over this unbearable loss, be the same person you were and get on with your life.  I will never get over it; I will always grieve for all that is lost.

I hate that I can't talk to her, that the only communication is through signs and dreams.  It's not enough.  I often can't remember the dreams; all I know is that she was there somehow and it kills me that I don't know what the message is.

I hate that I can't touch her soft skin, see her lovely face with that gorgeous, breath-taking smile, hear her voice that sounded so young and gaze into her beautiful blue eyes.  Eyes that gaze out at me from pictures and make me always wonder what she was thinking.  Eyes that I fall into right down to the very soul of her.

I hate that she's not here to get to know her wonderful nephews and play with them.  She will never meet her soul mate, the man of her dreams.  She will never get married and have children of her own.  Everyone has moved beyond her loss and gotten on with their lives while I am left behind trying to make sense of it all.

I hate that all I have to remember her are memories that I try to hold on to, grasp with all my might, that I'm so afraid will slip away.  Memories that flash through my mind, some taking me so by surprise that I am left gasping.

I hate that I couldn't save her, couldn't heal her, didn't understand enough to help.  It's tragic that the last sight I ever had was of her laid out in her coffin.  She was too young to have had to have a funeral and to be buried in the ground.  It feels so wrong that I have to visit her at a cemetery.  It's not enough to create a memorial garden, to wear jewelry that commemorates her or find other ways to honor her.

And I hate that I am lost, that I don't see my living child, my son, and his family often enough.  I'm sad that he hasn't seen Tiffany's grave site but once in 4 years.  It's difficult for me to keep up communications with friends and loved ones; isolation is so tempting and easy.  Sometimes, I feel as if I were drifting away.

But...there is much to love.  I love that she graced us with her life and walked this earth.  That she touched many other people.  I loved raising her and seeing her grow into a beautiful young woman.  I love that she had some happiness and success and at times, that she had fun.  I loved doing things with her and for her, talking to her and just being with her.  I love that I have her animals to take care of and remind me of her.  I love that I have someone to help me through this horrible journey and that there are those who support me, even if I hold them at a distance.

I love every single thing about Tiffany, the good and the not-so-good!  I love her as much today and the day she left as I did on the balmy, summer-like day that she entered this world.

“The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief -- But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.”
-- Hilary Stanton Zunin