May 29, 2012

Right Where I Am: 2012

I saw the invitation from Angie on Thursday morning, and I've been attempting to write this post ever since. Opening, rewriting, saving, staring, deleting, closing. Where the hell am I, anyway?

Ironic, that this call to write comes hot on the heels of my decision to stop tracking the days since they died. It was making me feel sad, and stagnant, so I traded the tickers in my sidebar for simple memorial buttons. And I had no twinges about it.

Will you judge me very harshly if I say I don't miss them like I used to? Not that I don't miss them--of course I do. But it's not the same as it used to be.

I don't look around and see where they're not. I don't resent my space or my nice clothes or my paychecks spent only on me. I don't obsess about how big they would be or what milestones they would have achieved by now. I don't worry that total strangers can't have the faintest idea whether I'm a mother or not. That they might look at me and see just another fairly pretty twenty-something who seems to mostly have her shit together. I think the reason I don't worry about that anymore is because I've realized that it actually is who I am now. I've realized I'm not fooling anyone, including myself... because it's no longer a lie.

I've got necklaces and initials. I've got two boxes of baby clothes in the back of my closet. I've got their pages on my blog, and indelible ink on my left thigh: two little doves I designed myself. My wrists are bare, but if I didn't know better, I'd swear their names were written there too. An invisible list. Indelible in its own way.

S has seen my tattoo, and the pictures that hang by my bed. He hasn't asked who they are, and I haven't told. I will, eventually. But not yet. We've been seeing each other for two months; long enough that I realized yesterday it will hurt if we break up. The thought made my stomach drop. It means I'm invested now, you see.

My babies often cross my mind, but for the most part tend to move on quickly. A smile and a nod--they get it. Mama's busy. And anyway, they've got time. They understand forever. They know we've got all the time in the world.

I feel like they each took a piece of my heart with them, when they left. That it is with them, that piece, wherever they are. Always. Except they didn't leave behind a hole, as I first thought. Clever thieves! They filled that small but gaping space with eternity instead. I simply didn't recognize it right away, couldn't sense the shape of it, was confused by its unfamiliar weight. I did not know, at first, that what I thought was lonely emptiness was really the vast wholeness of all things.

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Last year's posts: Lissie. No-No.

19 comments:

  1. "I feel like they each took a piece of my heart with them, when they left. That it is with them, that piece, wherever they are. Always. Except they didn't leave behind a hole, as I first thought. Clever thieves! They filled that small but gaping space with eternity instead. I simply didn't recognize it right away, couldn't sense the shape of it, was confused by its unfamiliar weight. I did not know, at first, that what I thought was lonely emptiness was really the vast wholeness of all things."

    Beautiful. I feel the same way myself.

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    1. This ^...... WOW.
      I hope to be able to recognise this heavy weight that same way some day.

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  2. Wow, this is so incredibly beautiful. I want that last line written on my body somewhere, so I remember, and others know. Also the line:

    I don't look around and see where they are not

    My goodness, that is it. Thank you for this. I am a better person for having read it. And I'm not being glib. Thank you.

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  3. Wow, yep. That paragraph nailed it for me as well.
    xo

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  4. That last paragraph touched me.. Thank you so much for sharing your story. Thinking of you and your precious babies, Ailis Evelyn and Noah Griffin. They have the most beautiful names.

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  5. Oh vera kate. I read this post before I went to sleep last night and here I am again, the next evening and I still don't know what to say. Those clever, clever thieves of yours. And you're right, you think it's empty at first but all eternity is hiding in there. I always wonder how she managed to show me everything in such a short space of time, to open up my eyes so very wide. The vast wholeness. Most certainly.

    I love the idea of our babies waiting. I often think that is when I will really get to just sit with Georgina, when I am an old lady with nothing pressing on me.

    Wishing the very best for your relationship with S and I hope he realises what a precious, special soul he has found in you. To say nothing of a beautiful writer and fantastic selector of books.

    Remembering Ailis and Noah always.

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  6. That last paragraph is so beautiful. Your perspective and thoughts leave me speechless. You are so, so wise. Remembering Ailis and Noah with you.

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  7. "Will you judge me very harshly if I say I don't miss them like I used to?" It's not my business to judge you and your grief, harshly or otherwise.

    "I feel like they each took a piece of my heart with them, when they left. That it is with them, that piece, wherever they are. Always. Except they didn't leave behind a hole, as I first thought. Clever thieves! They filled that small but gaping space with eternity instead." That has got to be one of the loveliest things I've ever read. Just beautiful.

    <3 Ailis and Noah <3

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  8. I keep saying that I want to find the sense of Freddie and feel him settle in my soul. I don't know if he has yet, but your words give me much to muse on. Thank you. Your babies have beautiful names.

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  9. No judgement ever. No parent should have to live in a world without their child/ children. I am sorry that we have to endure this journey. Thank you for sharing your story. Take care.

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  10. "The vast wholeness of all things" wow. I am so glad I came here and read those words I needed them because I still feel it as a hole, I feel all kinds of good and light now that I never thought I would again but I still feel the hole where my daughter should be. Thank you for your words. Perfect.

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  11. Breathless and speachless at this eloquancy. Clever thieves indeed.
    I'm so glad I've found your blog through this wonderful project.

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  12. Following your journey for a year now, even if I don't leave comments. This was a beautiful post, so much depth here. That last paragraph really knocked me over.

    Peace to you in the days ahead.

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  13. Thank you all for your kind words, and for taking the time to leave them. I am deeply pleased with this evidence of resonance, and highly honored by your praise. I hardly know what else to say.

    Love and light to all of you, wherever you are. x

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  14. "I look around and see where they are not." this is so very true, and I still think this every day. thank you for this beautiful post.

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  15. Beautiful post, especially that last paragraph. I pray S takes your story of loss well and with a loving heart whenever/if you ever decide to share it. Thank you for sharing right where you are <3

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  16. This entire post is beautiful, and I love that it shows us right where you are. I think that the way we miss them really does change over time. It is hard, sometimes, for me to acknowledge that this happens - as if that will make them less important or less loved. But of course it doesn't. They are important and loved and we change and grow and move, and this is okay. Is necessary.

    And that last paragraph - oh, my. Yes, eternity.

    So much love to you, and to your Ailis and Noah.

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  17. You always write so beautifully about your babies. Thank you for sharing right where you are.
    Em

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  18. I loved this post - so powerful and poignant.

    And to echo everyone else - that last line is possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever read.

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