Month: February 2016

The Lucky Ones

Sometimes, in the early morning moments before the sun completely invades my room through the creases in my drapes, I find myself soaking in freshness of the new day, buried between my cotton duvet and mink comforter. The new possibilities, spurred from yesterday’s completed war.

And sometimes in the midst of these moments, I let my gratitude wash over me, blinking into the sunlight, while I remind myself that I’m one of the lucky ones.

Wait, what?

Lucky?

Me?

How on earth could that be possible after I was forced to give my Kamren back to the universe about 95 years too soon?

I know, right.

But stay with me for a moment.  I promise it get’s better.

I remember about 4 months after laying Kam to rest in that baby garden under the Florida sun, I made a promise to myself and to him, that I would stop saying ‘no.’

‘No’ to opportunities that potentially held some form of joy for me. ‘No’ to moments that might bring me peace and further heal my broken down spirit. ‘No’ to the love that I deserved and needed, but didn’t know how to accept.

And so I have.

I’ve stopped saying no.

And where the ‘no’ once was so firmly planted, is a resounding ‘yes!‘ And sometimes not a full on yes, but a possibly, which is a thousand times better than the no that once held that place marker in my life.

Lucky is an understatement for how I feel about that freedom I’ve gained over the past year and a half. And the crazy part of it is that I’ve always had the freedom, but I spent the first almost 25 years of my life locking myself behind the bars of what others expected from me. Or anticipated me to be. So I spent such a big part of my life saying no, for fear of what others would think if I stepped out on faith and said yes.

Grateful is how my heart feels when I see how much love has flowed into my life since I’ve adopted this practice.

And strong is what I know I’ve become simply by saying yes to my own truth.

Would I give it all back in exchange for Kam?

Well of course I would.

Would I be as happy if that opportunity arose?

I would be. It would just be a very different form of happiness that included a little boy with chubby little fingers toddling behind me.

But I will say that if I could in fact do this, I would still hope to find the person I am now. The person I’ve become in these moments and this life.

I would still want to know the me now, after him. After the loss of him. Because she is so much better than who held the place marker of before him.

Sometimes I wish I would’ve became the ‘new’ me before things with Kam’s dad ended. Maybe it would’ve helped. Maybe she could have loved him the way he needed to be loved, instead of her being angry that he couldn’t love her the way she needed to be loved. Maybe she would have recognized the truth behind him losing as much as her in the loss of Kam, instead of treating him like he couldn’t understand. Who really knows though, because maybe the him now, is not the he that was in those early months.

Either way, the him or he, whoever that person may be in this moment, is still very much loved by Me. Both past and present versions.

So yes, today as I am soaking in the sunlight that is surrounding the all-glass lounge I’m in waiting for my connecting flight to Beijing, I am reminded that I am in fact, one of the lucky ones.

And no one can ever take that fight & fire that forever lives in the core of my soul.

Live as though everything is rigged in your favor. 

-Rumi

 

 

Love Sinks & Hope Floats

Looking through my calendar at work this morning caught me a little off guard when I realized it was the 7th. Which essentially translates into 13 months to the day since my son took his last breath.

It’s odd how that works sometimes.

Anytime I notice that it’s the 7th of any month though, I feel a sense of urgency, and of jealousy. I feel hurt, and anger, and resentment. I could keep going, but I’m hoping you’ve gotten the general idea by now.

So instead, I’ll just say that on the 7th of every month, I feel.

Today I had to take a step back from that. Not because it’s Super Bowl Sunday. Not because I have any great watch party plans or anything of that nature. But because today I hurt as I read a post from a newly bereaved mama that questioned the same thing I still do, about the ability to go from one end of the spectrum to the other in regards to the new day to day living that happens after you lose a child, 13 months later.

And if I could have hugged her through my work laptop I would have. I wish I could’ve wrapped my arms around her and cried until there were no tears left between the two of us. Two mamas that had to say goodbye to our baby boys entirely too soon. I may have never met her in person, but she knows me on a level that even my own Mother doesn’t. She understands the depth of my pain, the strength of my love, and every emotion in between those two spaces.

So today, I felt.

For her. For me. And for every other mother that has been where we are, or will be one day.

But today I also felt grateful.

Grateful to be past the newness of being a bereaved parent. Thankful to find myself standing back firmly on my own two feet, more often then I find myself curled up praying for the strength to see tomorrow.

They say love sinks, but hope floats.

I say that’s a bold statement, that doesn’t really cover it all.

I think hope absolutely does float,  I think it has too.

But I think love is bigger. It’s so much bigger than a sink or swim situation. I think love is what connects us all, in every aspect of life. The fact that I am more broken than I’ve ever been, but still have more love to give away than I ever imagined possible is a testament to that.

I think that before I became this glued back together person, I wasn’t aware of how much love I had to give. And even if I was, I was selfish with my love. I didn’t want to give too much away, because I thought that the more I gave meant the less I would have.

I was so wrong.

I never feel more loved than when I can give love to someone who needs it more than me in that moment. I’ve never loved myself more than in those moments either.

So today, in this moment, I also feel lucky.

Lucky to have realized all of the love and light that I carry inside of me. That we all carry.  And lucky to recognize the strength and power in them.

I truly believe that there is no stronger human walking this Earth than the one who had to give their child back. Put a group of us together and watch the world change.

Put a group of us together and watch love grow.

Me & You, Just Us Two

I miss you.

Every day.

Some more than others.

But everyday nonetheless.

I’m not sure how that’s possible. How some days feel like my world is moving along just fine without you. And others feel like a constant battlefield of emotional land mines & 50 pound weights sitting on my chest.

There’s no rhyme.

No reason.

Just you.

And your absence.

Your ever present absence.

Last week was hard.

Lola spent two days just sitting by the front door for hours. She didn’t need to go out. She just sat there once we come back inside. It’s like she’s waiting for you. Like she knows. I know she does. She reads my energy, and reflects from there. You should see her when she see’s a baby or hears one crying on TV. It’s heartbreaking, because I know she’s still looking for you. She has been every day since you left.

I know you visit her sometimes. She’s probably a thousand times better at sensing your energy than I am. I’m glad she can though. It makes me happy to know she still has that connection with you.

This week has been better.

This week has been busy. I’m sure that’s the caveat. Either way, I’ll take it.

Your crazy God Father has successfully orchestrated a trip to China for us next week. In less than 24 hours no less. When he’s good, he’s good. I hope that you’re there with us next week. I’ll wait for the signs as always.

From my heart to yours baby boy, that window will always be open.

xo

Mommy