Thursday, May 2, 2013

At the heart of it all

I've been having a rough time. There is no need to pretend otherwise. Lots of sadness, lots of anger, lots of hurt, confusion, resentment, bitterness, and heartache. Lots of feeling dazed and detached. Lots of wondering how this could have possibly happened.

At the heart of it all, is love. A deep and strong love for my precious little Samuel Evan. My son. My baby. My little love.

I just miss him. That's all there is too it. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. 

When I feel overtaken from all these emotions, there is not much I can do but face them and deal with each one until I find a sense of calm again. As I peel each layer back, I can see the deepest part. The place where love resides. That's the place I like the best. The place where it's just us.

All the other emotions happen because something so incredibly precious, so absolutely irreplaceable and never re-occurring, has been stolen away. I'm a mother without her baby. Can you imagine anything more destructive to the soul of a mother than to lose her baby? I've been seperated from the one I was made to love, for the remainder of my lifetime. No wonder I'm so heartbroken. Nothing on this earth can be done to correct the wrong. It's permanent.

I guess that's what's making year two so hard. I'm starting to really feel the permanence. I feel this deep dark sadness - this huge gaping hole in my life - and life around us is going on as if nothing happened. People are started to test the waters with us again and it feels so wrong. Nothing has changed! He's still missing! My life is still in tatters but no one seems to notice.

A year has passed, but it feels like a week, or a month, or some amount of time I can't explain. A blink of an eye and an eternity all at once.

The past couple weeks have left me with two main observations:
1. My grief has changed. Somehow, it's become more apart of me than before. As if it's settling in for the long haul. (lucky me). The indescribably pain is not as often and not as quickly-ascending as it's been in the past year. I'm starting to feel how my life is going to feel from now on: forever changed, forever incomplete.

2. The love never changes. Even on a "good day", I'm no less in love with him than on the days where I can hardly function. That gives me hope. Maybe this pain will change again, maybe it won't hurt so much, so often, but my love for him will never go away. It doesn't fade with time. I like that.

As I try to figure out who I am with this hole in my heart and life, I find that I'm not the person I once was. I'm much more sad, all the time. I'm not as quick to find anything funny or exciting. I just don't care about much anymore. It's hard to care when things are so skewed.

This past weekend, Bryan and I went away for a few days. It was nice to be out of the house and to just be together. We had a beautiful suite at a B&B and enjoyed our time away.

While we were out walking, we stopped at the beach and wrote Samuel's name in the sand. We always feel good when we're doing thing for him, together.

As we drove to my parents home after our trip to thank them for the weekend (they very generously paid for us to go away), I cried and cried. I wished with all my heart we could have been driving to pick him up. I bet that's the best feeling in the world when you've been away from your baby and you get to go and pick them up again. What horror to know I'll never be able to do that. I'll be missing him with no resolution, for the rest of my life. 

I miss him. I miss him. I miss him.

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