A tragic event occurred this week that brought Momma back to January 2011 in an instant. And not just Momma - a whole host of friends who surrounded our family in the days, weeks and months after you passed away. The proverbial scab was ripped off the wound. Emotions I haven't experienced in a long time were revisited, in some ways like long lost friends. Or, at least, acquaintances.
Momma is raw and ragged, fraying at the seams a bit tonight.
Deep, paralyzing grief has returned to my soul like a boomerang. I am remembering that sense of shock. The blurring of days - or in some cases, actually losing the memory of an entire day. Finding comfort in the details of planning anything - your memorial service, your teddy bear urn, what to do with your room and clothes, what to do about work. Of hosting large gatherings at our home. Of shopping for food, soda, alcohol to let our guests understand they were welcome. Of dreading the day it all went quiet. Which, eventually, it did.
Then there was the silence.
How do I help prepare another family for the silence? For the idiotic comments and questions they will undoubtably receive When people actually start talking to them again? For the journey they are unwilling beginning? How do I share the lessons learned without making about our own story?
When do I simply tell them to sing the Dory song and, "Just keep breathing. breathing, breathing"?
Peanut, you are so close tonight. I see you. I feel you just out of my reach, like a word on the tip of my tongue. You are present.
I love and miss you so very much. More every day. To the moon - and back!
|2 days after you were born...every Momma glows with love and thoughts of the future.|