I haven’t posted very much in the last couple of months. It has not been because I don’t have anything to write. Mostly it has been because there are so many feelings. It is hard to write about all of these feelings without seeming like my mind is all over the place.
The reality is my mind has been all over the place. June 1st marks the 8 month mark since my son’s passing. Y’all, there is a lot to process.
It came to me today that this experience has been like being in the ocean in a rowboat. Back in October, I didn’t have any clue how to use a set of oars. I wasn’t in sync with my rowing. I felt like I was going around in circles. Girl, get it together. You have to learn how to use the oars.
I figured out how to get a little rhythm to my rowing, but my body wasn’t used to so much strain. So I would quit rowing, float for a little while, and just be.
Some days the wind was cold and blew too hard. I wanted to just curl up in the bottom of the boat with a blanket until the wind died down.
Other days the sun would shine brightly without a cloud in the sky. It would be smooth sailing for a day or so.
Then came the rain at sea. Waves would crash and toss my little boat around without any land in sight. Slowly the rain would lighten to a drizzle, I could breathe a little easier and feel hopeful for the sun to shine.
The week before Mother’s Day, the sea and sky was particularly gloomy and rainy while I was trying to row. So I just let myself float. I was thankful that my travel had no time constraint. On Mother’s Day, I was thankful for the extra people in my boat. They rowed for me and showed me a lot of love that day. Thank you Lord.
My birthday is coming up June 8th. For some reason, it feels like one of those first’s. It is my first birthday without him in 29 years. There won’t be any little baby hands holding a gift. There won’t be a little boy with a handmade card. He won’t be giving me a phone call in a deep, manly voice saying, “Happy Birthday, Mom! How was your day?”
So, the boat analogy feels right. Sun, rain, waves, and smooth, glassy water. It comes and goes every day. At sea, I don’t have a weather forecast. It just sneaks up on me and I just have to deal with what the day has in store for me.
I remember when each of my children were born. Adding a new little person to the home always came with growing pains. The dynamics of the family would change An only child became the big brother. The baby brother became a middle brother. The new baby brother eventually had a baby sister to adjust to. People in the community were supportive. They brought meals. They offered to help get the big kids to where they needed to be. Grandparents came in to help while this mama recovered.
The same thing happens when a child is lost. Subtracting a big brother creates a new big brother. It makes baby brother a middle child. It makes baby sister have to grow up faster than I would like. This new life takes a while to adjust to. All of the familiar dynamics have changed. None of us are the same as before. People in the community bring meals. They offer kindness, friendship and a listening ear. They try to help this mama recover.
So that’s whats up with me. Sunny days, rainy days, overcast days. They are all there. The only way that I can think of to cope with it all is my faith in God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. I feel their presence in a way that I have never felt before. I was never promised a perfect life. I have been promised that The Trinity will be with me.
Y’all are not going to believe this… the cardinal just landed in the window the very second that I put a period on the sentence above.
Yeah, that cardinal helps me a lot, too.
Peace and love.
Are any of you in a boat right now? How are you doing?
She writes about life, death, grief, and recovery.