Most days, most times, I do okay now. In fact, I can honestly say, I'm doing well. I have joy, and hope, and purpose in my life.
But right now, today, on the three-year milestone after we lost you, I'm putting aside the things that I use to keep me busy and sitting in the sadness, Levi.
One year closer to seeing you again. May I use the time I have until then to love well.
For some people, the Christmas season is their most difficult grieving season of the year.
Not me. With the passing of Noah's birthday on February 26, I have been descending pell-mell down the slope of anniversaries that bring up bittersweet memories of Levi.
Apparently, getting puppies is how I deal.
How we celebrated Levi's birthday, and the saga of the passing of the Caravan.
In celebration of Levi's adoption day...
I know that sunflowers think their job is to propagate their species by creating seeds. But today? It was to teach me that even when we've been hammered by life, and everything seems wretched, and we are broken all over the ground, we can still be beautiful.
"It's your road, and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you." - Rumi
"Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life." - Anne Roiphe
Every day is another step forward. Every day, grief morphs and whirls and changes into a different shape, like dancing aurora borealis. And lately, I have been surprised by joy.
Last Saturday, Levi turned four. It could have been an awful, hard, day of mourning. But it wasn't. It was a day of joy, and remembering, and thinking about our little man. Together.
In a way, every day, every moment sine June 3, 2015 has been a "first" in this first year since I went from being merely a parent of four boys or an adoptive parent to a bereaved parent. Every day, there are things that trigger my tears. Some of them are quite small and seemingly insignificant--but even something that might seem small to others can leave my heart weighed down by stones too heavy to lift for most of the day.