that time of year...the ticking time bomb of May...
I don't feel it.
I feel...good...which makes me nervous.
Driving past the cemetery last night and thinking, "I didn't get up there today." Realizing I hadn't thought about THEM for a few days.
It all feels more like an IT...an event...their deaths...more than THEM...two precious little boys. It even feels weird to type "two precious little boys."
The healing gift of time that steals something from your heart. Dead and buried with those two precious little boys. (It feels less weird each time I type it. So maybe the key is to not type it?)
It's all about babies...dead babies...due babies...born babies...living babies...mine...not mine.
I have no baby. I have an almost five-year-old who needs me to pick up his kindergarten registration packet and not dwell on who was missing from our Easter celebration...who has been missing for eleven months...plus a year.
Resurrection is something to hang onto out of my desperation but I don't know if I believe it. I can hardly believe any of it.
The truth is, the second time is easier.
No, May doesn't scare me. It probably should and I will probably eat my words between now and then. But for now I feel good.
-----------------------------
I wrote that this morning.
And then this evening I looked at the Easter pictures of friends. Happy families together with their babies looking for eggs or posing in Easter outfits.
May doesn't scare me, but today is a mess. I'm a mess.
I miss them so much. Two precious little boys...who are dead...and I don't understand why.
What more is there to say? Recording #1 on repeat.
No Easter egg hunts. No Easter outfits. No family time together.
Maybe May scares me more than a little bit and I'm just too focused on making it through today...this day...so that I don't lose myself completely in the fear.
I don't feel good. I feel numb.
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4 comments:
I'm sorry you have to feel that.
I wish there were something, anything I could say to help, but I know (all too well) that there isn't.
Just know that your not alone and that others care and share in your grief.
"The truth is, the second time is easier. "
Or is it? I'm starting to wonder as the grief and anger and sadness come crashing into my already torn up life.
I'm sorry that this is the way it is. Isn't it odd how you'll feel great and then a few hours later you're drowning again? I feel exactly the same way and wish I could wish it all away for anyone who's ever had to say goodbye to everything that is a child.
Is it possible that while May marks the anniversary of these losses, it's not quite as scary as you'd think because you feel these losses, profoundly, every day? Finding yourself feeling what you were feeling yesterday afternoon - the power of that - means that it's not tied to a date, it's tied to your heart and your heart is broken.
I know that every day is hard and that May will be tough. I'm thinking of you and sending much love your way.
You promised to help me through March if I'd help you through May, and I really liked that deal. So I'm here if you need me - for anything. Just ask. I'm here. I'm always here, my friend.
((((HUGS)))
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