This morning, E and I drop the girls off at their schools
and he continued on to work. I returned home and set up (grief) shop. A thick
blanket on the recliner, water bottle and coffee within arm’s reach, a box of
tissues, A’s tiny urn.
I settle in and delve into books that get me in touch with my grief and that
validate my feelings and my experiences (like They Were Still Born and Bearing the Unbearable and Love You Forever – all of
which were written by bereaved parents).
This week, for me, is an opportunity to inhabit my grief. I
wade into the thick stew of emotions and, without judgment, embrace whicheverfeelings come.
I give myself permission this week to fall apart; to abandon my usual
responsibilities (ie regular showering, laundry and making meals for my family –
we’ll subsist this week on pizza, frozen chicken tenders and mac-n-cheese) and
to do whatever feels right in the moment. Could be sleeping. Could be exercising.
Could be gardening. Could be journaling.
I will go through A’s pictures;
all of the ultrasounds and also the photos of our one day together. I will
watch the short video my husband took, unbeknownst to me at the time, while I
cradled that long, limp boy and delicately caressed his perfect body while
quietly uttering, “I don’t understand.” over and over again.
I will listen to songs that trigger tears. I will bawl, howl
and sob. I will re-read the condolence cards we received seven autumns ago
(only those with heartfelt, genuine notes). I will mound the used tissues up,
wet with tears and snot, until they topple onto the floor.
I will honor my love for my boy by honoring my grief over
his absence.
*I am in no way compensated for promoting Oreos. I doubt
Oreos need any promotion.
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