I’ve been off the air unintentionally for over two weeks now as we’ve completed the daunting yet exciting task of moving, leaving me behind in my blogging. With no internet at the new house and a busy schedule from daylight til dark, the dance card has been full with not a minute wasted.
So the last few weeks have been packed with the annoying sounds of whistling recital tunes and going on three weeks, it was getting pretty old. The nighttime brotherly a capella band procrastinating in their bedtime rituals hoping to buy a few minutes longer before the fall asleep, has taken its toll. I had finally corralled the boys in bed and was startled as I heard squealing coming from the bathroom down the hall. Again, there I found the little guy sitting on Dora toilet seat, getting painful potty training lessons from his big sister. He sat with his fingers wrapped around the seat while big sister secretly grinned as she slowly applied more pressure, pinching his little hands. Devious little monster! I guess I should be more proactive as this seems to be a frequent happening around the house.
The recital came the following day and I am happy to say, I’ve continued to live up to par, keeping the title of the lady with the four wild kids and messy car.
Why do they always have to act up I ask myself. With no naps all day, you’d think I’d learn and keep them home. Nope, not me. I live in a fantasy land where I imagine the children sitting quietly and attentively watching their brother, so I took them along.
Eager to hear my son’s first piano recital, the whole evening started off with the little ginger boy rolling down the grass on the church lawn and ending in a hidden pile of fresh dog manure. We then had to go inside to sit and getting the three younger ones to hold still was nearly impossible. After hearing the first couple songs, it wasn’t long before my delightful daughter began stomping up and down the aisle, smiling as she enjoyed the echoing sounds of her flip-flops on the wood floor, turning all heads in her direction. Embarrassed, I scooped her up and we ended up in the car until I was able to pass her off on her dad. Luckily, we each were able to see our son perform and how very proud we were of his dedication and hard work.
So the gumdrops, where did they come from? A question many have asked.
You see, when I first came across this photo, I knew instantly what it meant to me. They were the perfect depiction of what I had envisioned. Standing out from the rest, they were no ordinary gumdrops, dull in color lacking uniqueness and individuality. No. They glowed, sparkled, and shimmered in the darkness of the black background.
Immediately, I knew this was the perfect representation.
They were grieving gumdrops.
It was simple. They made me smile. If we look deep into the darkness during our grief, we will find in a terrifying place, a small glimmer of light. Something that may seem too minute to grasp at the time, yet if we hang on and believe, WILL see the light.
The gumdrops are giving me hope. Too many times I thought about my future and living this dreaded life without her and it takes me to the place of no return. But then I came to realize, it wasn’t about me. What about her life?
She dreamed of being a fighter fighter (firefighter) and a chocolate shopper (working at a hot chocolate/coffee shop), and was a natural credit card connoisseur . In the mornings, she longed to sit at Starbucks leisurely savoring every bite of her cinnamon roll and sips of hot chocolate. Lydia adored people watching and she was known for striking up conversations with passers-by whenever the opportunity arose.
Sitting dressed in her finest mismatched skirts and tops, striped tights, colorful headbands, bright lipstick and hot pink fingernail polish, there was no doubt she stood out from the crowd.
This was my girl. A beautiful girl who everyone noticed as she walked into a room making others gain a sense of her deep love for life. My confident and trendy shopper who inherited her grandmothers taste for malls and Macy’s department stores, took advantage of any opportunity to open her purse and help support the local community.
Oh, my little sparkling angel. Not a day goes by without missing you so deeply, wishing you were here.
But I want you to know, yes, there is life after loss. Absolutely there is a long, dark, frightening period of time with no end in sight, but trust me, if you hang on, there will be some sunshine coming your way. It just takes time. Your life will never be the same, just different. We long for the life that once was, terrified of the life that has come to be, but we desperately need to have faith that our tragedies can transform us and lead us down a road to amazing people and places that we never could have imagined.
And as I stare into those glowing gumdrops, I am reminded that the new life that has been forced upon us will continue on despite our reluctance. Eventually, we can be happy, smile, and laugh without all those icky feelings of guilt and regret, as we find reasons every day to be thankful.
I must thank the owner of the glowing gumdrops photo for taking such a fabulous snapshot and giving me permission to use it. As I look at their glow, I feel a sense of hope and am able to embrace our different life while treasuring the old, finding that sweetness in our new journey.
Grieving Gumdrops.The Sweeter Side of Grief.