The circle of (grief) life

Robert Kondo - Beat Board: Goodbye Andy - Impaginazione di Jason Katz e John Sanford - TOY STORY 3 (2010) - Dipinto digitale. ANSA / UFFICIO STAMPA PIXAR +++NO SALES - NO ARCHIVE - EDITORIAL USE ONLY+++ +++FOTO DA USARE SOLO IN RELAZIONE ALLA MOSTRA+++

It has been 9 months. And this seems so significant to me for some reason. Landon left this life on the 9th day of the 9th month in the 9th year of his life. And here were are 9 months later, still living in disbelief at times, but none the less still living. Still moving forward and still loving our boy as fiercely as when he was here. Still carrying his memory and his legacy, still sharing his life, and of course, still missing him. And those are things we will always do. Always with a heart that isn’t quite whole, but always with love, with joy, and with appreciation for having had someone so outstandingly beautiful in our lives to love and to miss.

The grieving process has been….strange. And unpredictable. And a million other tiny little things. For a while I felt as though I was doing ok. Life seemed bearable, I had found a new normal, and I was doing better than I ever thought I could so early on. And then last month I went back to the beginning. I was living in unbearable heartache again, living for the times I could be sleeping, and feeling like maybe I would never really be able to move forward because the pain would always find a way to pull me backwards. I was afraid that the further away I got from when he left this life, the further away from me he was and it ignited a panic in me that made everything feel dark.

I am now starting to see that my grief is not linear, but circular. A circle has no end. my grief encircles my life and he is at the center. And no matter how far away from his life I get, he will always be at the center of my love for him and the grief I carry in his absence. That realization has helped me accept my sadness as a gift. He is gone, but I still carry him.

My grief makes that possible. My grief is the internal torch I carry forward. My grief is my reminder that he lived, and a part of him always will, because I can feel that inside in every moment. I know that it will be easier at times to remember and accept that  than others. I know that the circle will inevitably always bring me back to those seemingly unbearable feelings of emptiness from the beginning, but I also know that that is okay. Because my grief will continue to move and change for as long as I live. I will let that natural process flow and try and remember that part of loving someone so intensely is grieving their absence with equal intensity. Grief is the other side of love, and because my love for my child will always be endless, so too will be the grief I feel in his loss. And that is a cross I will always willingly bear for him.

Tough milestone days are coming, and I’m sure with those will come new aches that I will need to navigate through, but today is not the day for those worries. Today I will try and find comfort in the acceptance I feel in this moment, not worrying about when it will change into something else or how I will cope when it does. Today I am ok, and I will let that be enough.

 

 

 

 

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