I laid down and then it hit me. The exhaustion that had consumed me, the emotions of writing my memoir and everything in between. Typically, I tend to keep myself so busy with work and children, that I don’t realize I am skimming over the important things in life cruising on auto pilot, not giving my grief any acknowledgement. Yes, even after seven years it still remains just below the surface waiting for an invite come out in distress or to deviously catch me by surprise.
And then, when the stillness overcame me… I cried. Sniffling, sobbing because I missed my girl so badly. The pain that I haven’t allowed myself to feel in quite some time needed an escape route. The unintentional avoidance of grief had caught me.
Curled up on my side hugging my oversized white pillow, I was deep in the moment of being submerged in sorrow.
“I love you mom,” came out of nowhere. A glance above revealed a pair of big blue eyes directly in my face grinning sweetly at me as his little chubby fingers reached to touch my face. Oh man….
I grabbed him and snuggled him close and as the tears fell down my cheeks and onto his blonde soft hair and I wept some more. Comfort from a two-year old. How I love this little guy but oh how I miss Lydia. Is it possible to feel both simultaneously? Oh yes, and it’s such an inexplicable yet extraordinary feeling.
I miss her. I long with all of my inner being to hold her growing body, feel her embrace, smell her strawberry scented golden locks and look into those joyful blue eyes.
It hurts so terribly bad. Yet as the ache permeates my body, I realize that part of me is gone and will never be whole again. And that is devastating.
I love all my children greatly. My younger ones wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for her passing. The timing would be off and there were no plans for more children. Five irreplaceable and beautiful yet ridiculously different personalities I have been given to love.
Little breathing, human bodies full of life, love and spirit. Simply miraculous.
And so for now, I must press on with this life I have been given, wading through the murky and entangled waters of grief wearing boots crafted of cement. Some days it doesn’t seem possible and succumbing to defeat appears a valid solution. Yet when I recognize how far I’ve come, the answer is evident. I couldn’t do this alone.