10 years.
Is it the 10 yearsness or the stress of {teacher} life that has added to the gut punch?
I don't know. I keep telling myself it doesn't matter. There always comes a point when the tears will spill. It went medium well today, after a near derailment, the first remembrance GIF rolled in at the perfect time to help me dry the tears and meet my obligations. Thank you, everyone, for the messages and for remembering. It really does mean a lot and I hope to respond soon.
Books
The last two years books about grief have made their way into my hands during My Gauntlet. August, September, beginning of October is the time, My Gauntlet. The memories, the feelings, the missing just sits at the surface. The necklaces make it back into the rotation...emotions bubble up and feel raw.
I am grateful for the books. I feel like they give me permission to feel and relate. They bring me comfort in all the unknowing. They are another theory about what might happen when the body cannot contain it's soul any longer.
The Body Keeps the Score
I'm teaching again and it is 2020 tough. I was blaming the knot in my shoulder on the stress of work and the uncertainty of so many things right now. But after reading a Saturday morning away and allowing grief - the missing and the wondering - to have a moment (i.e. all the tears), my shoulder was fine, the knot was gone and it hasn't returned. I'm still learning about how my body keeps track of what my mind won't or can't.
Alligators 💚
I stood in a store last weekend, as I admittedly tried to retail therapize my sadness away, and thought about picking out your outfits. The most beautiful linen alligator baby boy jumper was hanging in a clearance section...I was able to scour my brain for impending baby boy births (only girls that I know of!) and have that memory without a tear. Sometimes the memories are just bittersweet and it's a way to spend time with you, trying to remember that first weight of a little life in my belly. Remembering how much you hated when I ate chicken and kept me sick for months.
Remembering how much I cried when I wasn't sure if you could hear me, how I deleted my weekly reminder app of all the things you were supposed to be growing.
This morning, it was simply looking at the clock and remembering how my heart broke 10 years ago at 7:30am when my plans for your delivery couldn't happen the way I wanted. You'd think, at 41 weeks, 20ish weeks of being off plan, I wouldn't have had any heart left to break. But I did and it did.
There's Always a Song
Orpheus by Sara Bareilles
I've had opportunity to listen to new music and during the last couple weeks I found this song on repeat. A few lines started jumping out at me - "we will not give up on love today" and "I hope my love was someone else's solid ground".
Sammy - I would never have guessed how much I would learn about love from you, from your life, your existence. I will never forget thinking I found the place where love did not exist, those first days after your diagnosis. How? Why? Why? Why?
But - it's in the songs and the scriptures - it's gonna take a lotta love, love will find a way, the greatest of these is LOVE.
I"m not the same. I'm not the same mama, wife, or teacher. I'm not the same daughter or friend. I give you the credit for that. I am not much of an optimist but honestly, if love is what got me through 2010-2011, I will not give up on love. I hope that my love will be someone else's solid ground.
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