Sunday, May 10, 2009

mother's day year 2


year 2 of sarah gone on mother's day.
the days leading up to this day have been hard--hard to try to understand this long journey that i am on...
to lose your only child is like trying to learn a language that is not hardly ever spoken. i know no other personally that i can speak with in this language. i can speak with others who have lost a child, but none that have lost their only child. i know there are many who have, i just have not met one yet. the one's who have lost a child look at me with eyes of extreme somethingorother in their eyes---that i can't quite understand either...
i want to walk this journey well and see the other side of what lays beyond--and know that it was more than i could imagine. yet there are days on this side of the veil that tax my resources to the utter limits. i do know those feelings do pass...and my footing which feels like it will never stand when i have fallen...will come back.
it is in those dark and extreme places that words are beginning to fail me more and more. i write more now in my journal than before and less here...yet that doesn't mean the journey is less hard.
i fear sometimes of what my extreme words would say to someone reading these words. grief is just like the final print--the story has been printed and allows no corrections that can be done--it is what it is...no way to rewrite it, edit it, alter it...nothing to do be hold the letters and words in your hands and try to comprehend the weight of what they all mean.
i have learned more about secondary grief...the grief that brings new presents to an unsuspecting day--and moment--to bring a fresh wave of unexpected pain and sorrow...and again...your footing slips.
my dear sarah. how i have missed you these last few years. your spontaneous joy and laughter and unique comments on anything and everything....just are missed. not just by me, but by so many. your spot in this world is unfilled. never to be filled. doesn't mean i don't and others don't embrace and love and appreciate the one's around us. i don't ever want to do that---miss what is present and so beautiful in my life. just means that you were just you. i am glad to have savored every part every day---just glad i did.
the sting in my heart is still there. the ache that never leaves but joins each heart beat...sometimes less, sometimes more.
change.
so much has changed.
so many things of yours that have slipped into places in our homes and our lives...people who don't know they are your things that you made or loved will never know---just see them as belonging where they have been placed. i even have things from others who have gone on...that mix in the spaces of my home...
we do that---we take precious items from others and have them in our homes...and in special places that warm our hearts when we see them.
i wish i were more able to comprehend things i think about, make more sense of them...i sometimes ponder way too deep about all this stuff and it is like being on a merry go round till you are dizzy...and then need to get up and walk away till you stop spinning... that is what it is like some days.
i did find a card you were going to give to me in the midst of your card collection for mother's day and will place it in my journal for today. thanks sarah...for buying it and placing it there...you never knew it would touch me in the dearest way when you were no longer here. we never know what our acts will do...makes me try to live much more intentionally....with purpose and joy. trusting in the impulse to do.
everytime i visit here..it is sacred to me. like my fingers type away and my heart pours into them the words i feel.
i am grateful to have been a mom, i know many who have not been given the gift of bearing a child...and am thankful for the privilege of having her for the 28+ years. a gift. a treasure. a joy. help me my God to let that water my soul today. to rest in that. to stay there. to embrace the memories left.
i love my new ones you have also placed in my life--my new kids through rick...just are the best presents given to me. each of them is like a precious jewel that i haven't discovered the true value of yet, but will not miss exploring in the days to come. sarah would have loved knowing them and enjoying them. help me to stay present to the moment and sip the fresh glass of life you have placed before me---to not look back and live in what was...but to stay present. i will never forget, but do not want to miss today either. what a workout somedays. i need you to help me to walk this new life out well.
the day is ahead of me....things to do, write, read...quietness in my heart today. a still place to be. gentle waves today flow over my heart and mind....not the storm tossed thoughts. i need the day to be still and quieter...the days of late held too many of the other. help me to continue to heal my heart, my thoughts. help me understand that which will never make any sense, but needs to be able to have some way to accept and live.
tragedy. a word that in itself tears wide open the heart of whomever it is sent to. i have heard more tragedies in the last few years and know that the word itself is made up of shards of glass, unable to be grasped and held. i pray for all those today who are walking through a tragedy...a time of things wrecked and torn apart....please come. please touch those hearts today---please bring oil to heal. please Father.

3 comments:

Gannet Girl said...

Beautiful words, Christine.

Please come over to Desert Year if you feel up to it.

Peggy said...

Dear Chris- Such soulful words... such beautiful words....

Was just thinking yesterday on Mothers Day, that while Sarah is on the other side of the waterfall ("Shack" talk) She is still fully and completely Sarah. Just gone from us in the only reality we know. And you Chris do not cease to be Sarah's mother- because here or at Home with the Father, you will always be Sarah's mom- that goes on here AND in that place we can only imagine. Even death cannot rob you of maternity- of your status as Sarah's mom.

I believe that the grief you continue to let flow from your fingertips onto the screen are to our Father the purest of prayers. I am believing too that with each key stroke of your fingers, pain is purged, though you may not sense it to be so especially when words don't easily flow.

Still our Father knows, deciphers thoughts intentions, meanings, making sense of what we can't what comfort when words don't come...

Wherever you find yourself on this journey today, tomorrow or next Mother's day now that it is o.k. There's just no such thing as a grief timetable how I wish for the sake of your heart that there were.

Love you sister-

karengberger said...

I found you through Gannet Girl's blog, and want to say how terrribly sorry I am for your loss. Sarah was a gorgeous woman.

Our only daughter, Katie, passed away shortly before your beautiful Sarah did (on August 16, 2007), from cancer. Though she was only 12years old, I can relate to your emotions of losing the friendship, and the shared future with her. I miss her terribly.

We have a 16-year old son, David, and this summer, we are going to travel with him to the exact area where Sarah passed away. We are also going to Lake Como. After seeing Sarah's video & photographs, and reading the poem written for her by the mayor, I now look forward to seeing her beauty as part of all of what we encounter. Thank you for sharing your heart and her story here. God bless you.