September 21, 2018

It is almost 11 years since you died such a hard death.  I am slipping into the season of many memories of last moments together, the Mediterranean cruises and where we were going to meet you as you and Chris backpacked...

 It isn't something you can avoid-but begins to feel much like taking a step out on the rope like a trapeze artist does, only I haven't had any training.

You would think after almost 11 years, it would begin to have some sense of order and map, but unfortunately, it doesn't.

The heart has it's own way...and to listen to your heart means, you don't naturally know where you are going each moment of the September days-and many other ones that bring sweet memories--birthdays, holidays, etc.

 Of course there are the wonderful toasts made by those who have words to share...often bringing tears.

but me...her mom....well...I see everyone around me missing you and know how much you are trying to walk and encourage...and there is this very quiet place of aloneness...like when you were in my womb...a closeness of the 2 of us, you moving and only me knowing.  I know you were married, had a wonderful love with your dear husband...but a mom has a tender place of knowing you from the moment you first moved...the light feeling making your presence known.

This picture kinda reminds me of you--you have no idea, or maybe you do---how often I see a woman who resembles you--the was she walks, sits like this picture shows...and I remember....

the sand covers so much as the wind blows...removing the path from last year...searching for clues of how to navigate this again.

the quietness in my heart---trying to peer into heaven, to hear your voice, to get a clue you are fully alive....more alive than you ever were...these are thoughts often in my mind....

a message--washing up on the shore of my heart...I get them sometimes in a dream or someone writes to me--just got one from a woman who also almost died in Riamaggiore when she was there in 2010, as she was also caught by a large wave and tossed around and around till she thought she was gone too....she told me she this, "I watched many scenes from my life flash before my eyes. It sounds scary, but it wasn't. I saw the faces of all the people I love most and felt all the love and fulfillment in the world. There were no feelings of fear or anger or regret or anything like that. It was peaceful and calm.

How would she ever know that I wonder this all the time...what were you thinking as you were dying....

                                          and so we go on...looks large and long- this journey

 I know this is weird, but we bought those new shoes for you for your hiking...and they were lost at sea...where did they ever end up...I just wonder.

and there are times I can feel your breath...and our noses touching...near, laughing, close....

 I can see you small on our beach...Sarah's beach....

 I catch you sometimes..and turn and you are not there....

 My heart feels like a suitcase I keep packed and closed mostly...so I can live...but sometimes it all fall out and it is like this in September...and then I must pack it all again...

 and journey on...

 I write some, but words don't seems to form in me as often the are of this world.

 and I point to heaven...to my hope...

 I send you messages every chance I can...if someone I know might be dying...I tell them to tell you hello...I wonder if that actually works and smile...

 I ache.  my arms are empty...I can feel you held close to me...against my body...and miss you.

 you brought so much joy...to so many....thank you for your presence to this life, to this earth...

 I am blessed with the greatest gift...my dear husband, who misses you so...and can't wait to meet you again.  He is so sad too.

 full moons...are the Father showing me He is near...

 I still have your last flipflops..and wear them...and feel you.  It works.

 but sometimes, like this sacred time, I am just flat out.  I am weary of this journey.  I ache...

I will just be still and keep breathing.  I know many who also walk this road of loss.  We touch hands and look at one another and smile.  it is an encouragement to me.  I recently got to meet Betty...who lost her daughter Debbie.  Betty is 95 and she has great faith.  I hugged her and told her if she gets to heaven before me to tell Sarah I love her.  We held each other so close...I don't have the picture right now, but I surely love her.

so, here we go, sacred steps.  a time with your friends and my sister and your dad's sister...to watch a video about your after HS graduation thoughts--a hysterical video...but tender moments together for sure...It will be good, but not stop the ache.  Nothing does.  It just is grief.