Within Grief There is Life.
Yesterday I stood in a store picking out a dress for my brothers wedding with my sister who is here visiting. I browsed through happy spring and summer colors, pondered what shoes might go with them. We talked about what color Bella would need for her’s as the flower girl.
And in the midst of this, the funeral home called about Preston and Julian’s memorial service. So while holding a dress for a day I was excited to get here, I spelled out the boy’s names and explained what I would like done in their memory.
Quite honestly, this is how my life is lately. Like I’ve got a foot inside two worlds: normalcy and grief.
I swing back and forth between them, the normal life takes more of a part as the grief lessens and turns to memories and sadness. Even on here, I feel awkward about posting anything that doesn’t have to do with them, while longing to have a sense of the “old blog” back, for my sanity and as the outlet I need. I can’t figure out how to balance that quite yet.
I have things that I want to share – good things – that have come because of what happened. It doesn’t make it easier, or mean that I’m over it, but it gives me another hope to cling to while my world readjusts itself. And I will share them, but I’m often afraid you all won’t understand. You’ll think what we went through really wasn’t that bad if we could “get over it” so fast, or think that perhaps I was being over dramatic.
But I’ve learned this the past month: in the midst of grief, there is life. There is happiness and laughter and a hope. If you let it in. That’s what we, as a family, have chosen to do. I realized very early on in this process that nothing I did or didn’t do could change the fact that I lost the boys. Nothing. So anger, sadness, happiness; it was all there but it wouldn’t fix it. And life was moving on. With or without me.
I choose to grieve over my sons every day in my own way while remembering this: God wants me to have an abundant life and somewhere in heaven, He and my sons are watching. I believe that – maybe not on a Sixth Sense kind of level but I know they know me. I want them to look down and see a happy mama, one whose heart aches for them all the time while rebuilding a life they can be proud of me for.
I want to share it with you all, especially those of you who walk this journey with me or are fearful to ever be on it. I want to show you all so much that no matter how you choose to be sad, it’s ok and it’s normal and when you are ready to move on and honor the memory of a loved one in a different way, that’s ok too. It’s all part of this process no one wants to go through. Ever. I hope I can show you that in a way that is honest and yet my own. Because your journey is yours.
I miss Preston and Julian. I will never forget them, nothing we do or say will change that we have to go through this process – but in the midst of the grief there is life. Always. I cling to that, knowing that when it’s my turn, I want them to hug me in heaven and be so proud of the job I did down here in their memory. I want them to know what we chose to do is because we thought they were worth it – the pain and the shattered dreams and the heartache for the rest of my life – the 19 weeks and 4 days were worth it. The two hours with them were worth it.
I want them to know we loved them so much that they were worth the risk of loving again. In whatever capacity that takes.