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.

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