Let’s get real. Down and dirty and real. As I write this, I am two days away from the anniversary of the life and death of my baby boy, Jared. This time of year is always emotional and trying for me. I can get quite low at times. I take it day by day, moment by moment.
My son was born early and he lived for 33 minutes in my arms before his heart stopped beating and I held him as he died. I continued to hold him long, long after he died. In a moment I felt a piece of me pull out of my heart and leave me forever. He never opened his eyes. Maybe it was a blessing.
How can such a fleeting touch with another soul make such a long-lasting deep impression? How can I keep missing him to this very day?
At times, I feel like l don’t deserve happiness. Like, if I couldn’t have him, I shouldn’t have anything. Other times I think that I should live my life to the fullest because he couldn’t. Sometimes I feel like I can’t give my self completely to others because with him, he took a bit of me.
I want someone to share my grief with, to help me carry this load. Most days, I do fine, but others, like today, I am weighed down. The problem is, if you ask for help, a friendly word, will you just get pity? I don’t want pity. Sympathy or empathy. A hug. Yeah. A hug would do me awesome right now. Too bad my only hugging friends, I won’t see for a few days. Maybe I can cash in then. God, I feel pathetic. By the time I decide to post this, these strong emotions will have passed and I’ll be doing okay again. But in this moment, I am overwhelmed. Tears flow. Snot runs. You know, the whole bit.
How did six years pass this quickly? How can 30 minutes six years ago continue to impact me today? In an instant my heart was changed forever. This grief is my new normal. It has imbedded itself in every aspect of my life. I embrace it. I loathe it.
Hug a loved one, dear friend. Hold them close, but not too tightly. Live in the moment, remember the past but don’t stay there. As my friend told me a few days ago: pounce on the right opportunity when it presents itself. You never know if or when you’ll get another one.