No one ever said healing was easy.
Some days, it’s just a trickle of a tear rolling down your face in just the right light. A reflection you see in the mirror of someone who has replaced you but looks slightly older, a little more weathered from life.
Then there are the hailstorms that just you can’t run fast enough away from. They consume you and suffocate your every bit of existence. A mourning sob that throws you to your knees and you just let it unravel you entirely.
Because you need it.
Because it’s the only way to peel it all back. To throw in the towel and allow it to completely engulf you there on the floor.
There is no timeframe on healing. There is no getting over it. Every day is a reminder of all that was and how different you really are. It ebbs and flows.
Today it down poured.
We went to the sea today where we had been together on our last day as a family. She was just a tiny little heartbeat under that long white cotton dress. I haven’t been back to that place since he died, but today I needed him. Today, I needed for him to tell me that is was okay. Okay to cry, that he understands, a reassurance and a stillness that I can’t keep running. Running from the truth, running in circles, running from the uncomfortable parts of my anger and sadness. I sometimes just want the world to save me. Save me from this sadness. I want the protection from the vulnerable and the exposed. Sometimes, I am lost at sea.
During the last 3 years, some days I still feel like I’m living in the “in between”. Paralyzed by fear. Traumatized like war. I am angry. Today, so let it be.
A daily reminder of all things lost. When you lose that person, all material things lose meaning. All passion for life. Everyday, you just try to get through your day. Routines and schedules. I call it “groundhog day”. You just don’t quite fit into the circles. The singles and their lives and the parents with the their family units.
Socializing becomes a struggle. Isolated and ostracized. Like a big red patch stitched to my shirt. “The widow”.
Motherhood throws you out into the night naked, and yes, totally afraid.
It brings up all the things that you never had, all the things you wanted them to be, all the despair, the insecurity, the frustration and inadequcies you have ever felt and hands them over to you in a big old fucking picnic basket.
Motherhood hurts. Somehow you do it. You don’t do it perfect, but you just somehow do it. And there is a constant inner battle of needing to give back to YOU and all of YOUR passions, losing ALL of who you once were.
You feel stuck.
Is motherhood the most beautiful thing in the world?
Am I forever changed?
You make the best parenting decisions based on the best you know how, but you will always have your critics. Living with family can have its ups and downs.Your struggle with your own independence and your turn to raise a child of your own. Sometimes it just builds until it erupts.
Today, was volcanic.
Today, it overflowed.
So, I ran to the sea to run from the heat because I needed to talk to him.
…I love her. I love her breath in the morning, her cherub face so sweet and still. I love her intellect. I love her humor. I love how she tells me she loves me “all the moon and the stars”. I love her laughter and her presence. The way I have grown with her love. Bringing back my own inner child. Of freedom and of openness.
So, we gathered feathers and shells from the shore. The feathers, they come at all times of the day. In the moments that I miss him. In books, in disguise, floating in the air, on special days, on trails, and beaches.
So fitting as he called me bird. He had a tiny bird engraved onto his left arm for me. I like to think he tells me when he’s here with feathers laid about on my path, a reminder that he approves, that he supports me, through the worlds.
Today, I had a fight and everything came crashing down. I ran. I needed the adrenaline. I needed to pull myself out of the dark cloud and feel like my heart was still beating. To know that I wasn’t just a shell, beaten ashore and hallowed out. I needed to feel something. Because something is better than nothing.
Being at th ocean reminds me to breathe. It was there in the sand that I felt the air. I actually felt something outside of the dull ache that rests so presently inside my left breast. I breathed in hard because sometimes you forget to. I felt the moment, through my water-filled, heavy, closed eyes. I felt the wind he spoke of in those letters, as the wind gently brushed my cheek.
The wind that you can count on that will “always bring you home”. He was there, while her and I made sand soup and ran fast into the sea and up the hill and back again. The thin line I walk between. The world we lived in, him and I, and the world her and I now share. The two most important people to me slipping into the silence through separate worlds at the same time.
How I wish I could tell her the stories of my tears behind these dark oversized glasses. How sorry I am that she was brought into the world this way. How I wish it were different, how I wish I could be everything she needs.That I could give her her daddy that she always talks about.
I know the reality and that she has everything she needs already… my love. But oh, how I wish. How he would love her. I often picture it.
We walked past the places where I could see his outline, his laugh through the wind, the memories of dusting off our sandy wet feet, while her and I spread our arms like wings and sored like birds back up the ramp again.
Sometimes the storms come on the sunniest of days.
Today I didn’t want to feel alone, I needed my person. My person to say “you are going to be okay.”
So I said it out loud. “I’m going to be okay.”