Tag Archives: grief

Finding a New Normal

Today was my first day back to work, and it was tough. I still feel shocked and shattered, and I suppose I also feel kind of guilty for trying to move on with a normal life. Life cannot be normal without Mack, so trying to be normal without her seems disrespectful. Doesn’t it? No, no, no! Of course not. I know that’s not true. It’s just so damn hard to feel that it is false. Mack loved life, and she would want me to keep living. And, the truth is simple: most of the stretches of good hours that I have managed to piece together in the last three weeks have been focusing my mind on things other than my lost daughter. Only when I concentrate on a conversation about the weather or politics, watch a baseball game, or listen to an audio tape of a Harry Potter book can I keep the sorrow at bay. Because for now, when I think about Mack, I cry and lose my breath and the despair devours me.

So, I DO know that I have to find my new normal. I must work. I must focus on something other than the despair. I must stop the self-pity. I must find constructive outlets. I certainly cannot lie around listening to audio tapes of Harry Potter forever. No lies, though, people. This is a rough business making a new normal. Going back to work was hard, and it will continue to be hard for a long, long, long, long time. It is a terrible challenge to focus on work tasks that are far less important to me now than they were on October 6, the last day of my old normal. However, focusing on work will help keep my emotions as calm as is possible now and, ultimately, my hope is that the work will again be rewarding. But today, all work did was to keep me from giving in to my sorrow. I guess that will have to be enough for now.

Mackenzie Kathleen McDermott (March 17, 1994-October 7, 2014)

 

Mackenzie was a beloved daughter and granddaughter, a devoted sister, a favorite cousin, and a loyal best friend to many people who knew her. She possessed a kind and gentle spirit, an uncommon inner peace, a profound sense of social justice, and intellectual curiosity beyond her years. She was never judgmental, hurtful, or boastful. She was a charming comic, a gifted athlete, a passionate lover of all animals, and a blossoming young writer.

She was my sweet, funny, and perfect baby; and for twenty years, I was her doting mother. Raising her and her older sister Savannah is the best work I have ever accomplished; and losing her is the hardest challenge I have ever had to face. In my personal struggle to comprehend my loss and to come to terms with my intense grief, I have created this blog. Through writing, I hope to channel my grief in a positive direction by documenting my sadness, by sharing joy and love through stories of our amazing relationship, and by celebrating her beautiful life.

I called her Mack partly because she was such a tomboy as a kid, but mostly because she always exhibited such admirable inner and outer strength. She called me Momma Bear. While I knew the nickname was her teasing way of challenging my over-protectiveness, I understood that it was also her way of accepting and appreciating my unconditional love for her.

In life, Mack was a total joy. In death, she leaves an enormous hole in my heart. Writing about being her Momma Bear will help me to bridge the gap of love and loss as well as to honor her spirit. In so doing, I will try—-no, I will need—to evoke both her strength and her humor. And, in this process, perhaps there will be some solace and, ultimately, survival.

Mack and Momma Bear on September 7 2014