As people ask for words of how I am doing...I find myself like this picture--saying something...then wishing I could cross it out--and restate...just thin on words to describe this journey.
I am learning how to speak-like an infant learns to speak words to ask for what they want, or to point to things that they need...but sometimes, like now...I know I am in a sacred spot of wordlessness...and it is ok.
I don't have words to describe the sacredness of being able to go to the very place she died and be there on the actual date of her 5th anniversary. I don't have a place to go to at this point where she is buried...which is very ok for me as I know it isn't time yet for that-if ever.
I can go to our beach and know that in the midst of millions of grains of sand, some of her ashes are there.
This will never make sense...it will never have closure...I have ceased looking for that. Instead, I have learned to walk it out. Learned how to better nurture a sore mother's heart...how to turn and go away from the crushing wave of grief...and to live...at least on most days. And on the days not so good, I have learned to just be. And to know it will pass...sometime.
So, for those of you who want to know my words...there are not any that work...or fit...and so the quietness is ok...I am ok...I hurt like hell and also have the most grateful heart ever for being Sarah's mom...the best job I ever had. I miss her more than our language has words to write or speak. I long for the time to see her again---and hug and hold her close. At times I can feel her presence and smell her smell...and hear her laugh..and her voice...and just savor those quick moments...
3 comments:
Just as you have no words to completely convey these feelings, so I have no words to completely convey my compassion, solidarity and love for you, and for your precious, beautiful Sarah (who I never met in the flesh, and whom I love). My thoughts and prayers go with you, dear friend.
Chris, you may think that you have no words, but you convey the bewildering depth of this journey so well. It's so impossibly difficult to believe. Prayer and love and quiet from me to you.
I agree with my two friends. In your wordlessness you say so many things I also feel. You are not alone, though this is a solitary journey in so many ways. My heart goes with you. I hold your heart in mine. I weep with you, for your loss and mine, and for all the weeping mothers who tragedy is beyond words and bearing. Yet, as you say, we walk it out. That's the only way through...to keep walking through the sacred sorrow.
All my love, sweet friend.
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