The week leading up to Mother's Day was excruciating for me. Every holiday is hard; the unspoken doom that it could be the last we share with Mabel. But this is the first holiday since her body has shown obvious signs of change and it just happened to be Mother's Day.
I can't explain what it feels like to be right smack dab in the middle of grief again, so unexpectedly. Just when you think you have a handle on yourself, on how you feel-the familiarity of the lonely, the sad and the isolation sweep back over you and before you know it you can't breathe from all the sadness. All the reality. All the pain. Before you know it, you look around and the world looks different again.
It's the fog.
It's the people talking and laughing while you feel as if you're drifting above them, invisible. But not invincible. No, no...you're very overly aware of mortality. Yours and the ones you love so dearly. Yet, you feel as if you're the only person experiencing such heaviness. The truth is, I know now, that you're not. In fact everywhere you look someone is wrapped up in something painful. Someone is going through unspeakable hell inside of themselves as well. But you feel alone. You feel like no one could possibly understand what's happening in your home, your heart or your babies body.
People's laugher is painful. Trivial even.
And that leaves you feeling bitter and cold for the moments that you are swept up in it.
Luckily for me, the grief subsides. It isn't lasting like it once was. There are still moments of clarity and genuine happy. In those moments I am able to be sensible; remembering that though this is our reality, it isn't everyone's. This is the hand that we've been dealt and though difficult, it's also beautiful. The challenge is finding that merciful balance. Recognizing the grace moments while enduring the really terrible truths that we face.
Mother's Day ended up being a really great day. I woke up late to breakfast in bed, homemade cards, and gifts from my children and the man I love. The day was slow, easy. The sun was shining and the wind blew gently across my face. I breathed deeply and inhaled all that is good. Purposing to remember this day; this Mother's Day with all of my children.
Another mother who has endured loss reminded me in a text that death doesn't change that she is a mother or that she feels that deep love. 'The day is always beautiful', she said.
I needed that.
Her strength gives me hope.
Later in the day I learned that one of our batten friends died at 3:30 pm.
On Mother's Day.
He was one year older than Mabel, looked just like her, and was loved incredibly by his mom, dad, and older sister. He died in their care at home and will be greatly missed.
My heart is shattered again.
I took pictures of my own boy yesterday and silently thanked God for his life. I prayed that God would spare him and Nora from sickness, and instead give them a long life of health.
I feel like, at the very least, they deserve that.
Ah, we all deserve that.
My heart broke for Nora in a hundred other ways yesterday. But thankfully I got to spend a lot of alone time with her. A lot of good talks, laughing and relaxing. I am so thankful for her. She's so smart. So in tune to me..
My prayer is that I can be the same to her and meet her every need along the way.
Mother's Day is hard for many people, I've learned.
My heart seemed to be extra sensitive to that yesterday.
Mothers are beautiful life-givers; a unique breed of human.
Thank you to the wonderful moms all around me. You give me courage to go on, move forward, survive and love.