For the past year I realized I have believed in magic. I walked into The Room Loft (where I worked part-time) for the first time in over a month and saw Tiffany's desk had moved. I was unnerved by this change in structure. "Where is her desk? Where is the calculator?" I realized I wasn't asking for Tiffany, I was asking for Gracie. If she were to come back, she wouldn't have a place to sit or a calculator to play with like she had for years prior. If she were uncomfortable or didn't recognize where she was, she won't come back. There were new people as well. They don't know Gracie and she doesn't know them. She won't want to come back if she doesn't know the people here. This is what unnerves me about change. It's not that people move on, it's that the movement causes change. If it changes too much, Gracie won't come back because it's no longer her world, her life to come back to. People will believe my thinking is crazy but according to a book I'm reading by Joan Didion, I'm in a state of "Magical Thinking." I really can't come to terms yet with the thoughts that this is final. No matter how many times I go over it, I can't change it. If I didn't donate her organs, would that change things? It's crazy thinking but when it comes from the thoughts of a grieving mother, it's not crazy...It's magical thinking. Somehow this can be fixed. Magically, this can go away and we can turn back time or just wave a wand. Magic!! So I keep her toothbrush, shower toys, backpack on the hook, clothes in the drawer, shoes in the shoe-holder because she will need these things when she comes back. She will come back because I believe in magic!!
"Complicated grief that leads to pathological bereavement."
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