Someone said in our meeting last week that children are the greatest thing you’ll ever be given. I guess it was the way it was worded that really hit me.
I mean, that is a no brainer, right? But I guess it felt good to have someone else validate that truth. Children really are the greatest thing you’ll ever be given. And… if that’s true… then they are the greatest thing you’ll ever miss if one leaves your world too soon.
Sometimes it amazes me how deep that scar runs.
I don’t carry the sadness of her death with me like I did that first year, and maybe even the second year. It was a sadness I couldn’t shake willingly. It was my burden to carry. And it still is to some extent, but grief has a way of changing.
The scar though, it runs deep.
Nothing can bring me tears quicker than thinking about the pain that surrounded those days, and even the bittersweet joy.
The greatest thing.
It’s a wonder we can find healing in this aftermath.
Lately I’ve been reading Bloom. A dear friend sent it to me after sharing that one of the main characters’ names is “Bubby”. *smile*
It is by far one of the greatest reads EVER.
I’ve only been able to read it a few days since it arrived, but I am more than half way done, which makes me sad!
***spoiler alert*** don’t read this if you plan on reading the book! ;)
In the book the author talks how she is grieving the loss of the relationship between her two daughters, that she had so longed for and even promised her eldest child. She didn’t lose a child, but she talks about how she lost a dream when her child came out with DS.
I can relate to losing a dream.
Just the other day we drove by a cemetery and usually I am the one to bring it up that we should go visit Jenna. Lately, I just can’t. But it’s not because I don’t want to, I just fear going there right now for some reason. It brings life and death too close together — in my mind. I heard Pete say “we haven’t been to see Jenna in a while…”.
“Yea, I know.” I suggested we go see her next week after the wedding. If he said something about going to see her it, it’s been a while.
I wanted to burst into tears because I must be the worst mother of a grave, ever.
I want to wrap my pregnant self in a bubble. Every little pain or twinge sends me into a guessing game (and sometimes a Googling game) of what on earth this or that could mean. The bubble makes me feel a little more safe about this pregnancy with Peach, but it also makes me feel even further away from Jenna. I think grief and new life coexisted much easier with my pregnancy with Bubby, not because I wanted it to, but because it had too. The grief was naturally raw and wrapping myself in a bubble wasn’t an option. I do remember feeling this living contradiction, a strangeness – holding a new life inside me while visiting her grave. I suppose that is when I learned that grief and joy really do coexist.
And their dance is sacred, beautiful and like no other. The steps are tricky. And if you let your guard down you’ll get so wrapped up in trying to lead this dance that you’ll miss the beauty these two make together if you’d just let go… and follow.
Needless to say, I’m relearning these steps… clumsy feet and all.