Mrs. Spit, Gabriel's Mom, wrote this amazing post over at Glow in the Woods - http://www.glowinthewoods.com/home/2012/4/17/see-magic.html
I've copied and pasted it below, just in case anyone has trouble going over to the original. And because it's something that I know I will want to read time and time again.
I am sitting on my front porch with a cup of coffee, watching the sun set on the brick building in front of me. The sun behind me, and the world is a beautiful place, filled with red and yellow and gold. My chair is comfortable, my coffee is good. The dogs are sniffling around the front yard. I can hear the sounds of children, in those last few moments before the call to come in for the night will go around the neighbourhood. It was a busy week of travel and meetings, it was a busy Saturday of errands and household things, and I have this brief time – with nothing but to sit and enjoy, watch the changing of the light.
They call this the magic hour.
What is grief, but a form of magic, I ask you? What is the terror and the pain and the horror that I found myself in four years ago, but a form of magic, a spell, an incantation that was thrown over me? It is easy to imagine the vile and loathsome creature that took my son away from me – it is easy to think of a cave, a foul smell and the guttural words of a spell. That seems as good and as reasonable an explanation of any about why tragedy struck me, struck mine, struck you and struck yours.
Magic, all around us. Old order magic with no waiving of hands, muttering of incantations. Magic, hiding in plain view. Magic that is good and magic that is so terribly evil it is impossible to behold. Magic held into balance, just barely.
And it seems a reasonable explanation that the magic of that spell would slowly wear off, that I would be able to find my way in the world. I look the same as I did back then, more or less, I walk and talk but I am utterly changed. See? Magic.
I believe in goodness and mercy, all the days of my life, in spite of what happened. Perhaps I believe more strongly now. See? Magic.
And on my front porch, watching the liquid line of gold fall towards the ground, I can be captivated by sudden and ephemeral beauty. See? Magic.
Grief then a form of magic. It seems appropriate to think that – the best explanation. So much of our world seems fragile, improbable. The quickness of the life and death, the peace of a Saturday night sunset. The curve of my son’s ear, the way his finger was crooked just like mine. See? Magic.
And this. The world I live in now. This wholeness and this peace that I find has come over me. My contentedness and my delight in beauty. I wouldn’t have believed it possible. See? Magic.
Our sad ticker
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Flashbacks
We had a good day today. A really good day. I've written more about it on my other blog.
I am 20 weeks and 3 days pregnant with my rainbow baby. That makes tonight the eve of the day we found out that Jacob had died. It hit me full force when I was standing in the garden tonight before going to church. I was telling Jacob that this baby will never replace him, that we love them equally. I stared at the spot where he is buried and I suddenly had a flashback to being at Dr. A's office and her not being able to find his heartbeat and the sinking feeling I had the longer she tried, then the feeling when she stopped. It was terrible.
I got home, told Ted what happened there and his face fell and I knew he was feeling the same pain.
I got in the shower and had a flashback to him being born and Dr. A passing him to me. For a few minutes, the pain was as bad as it was that day.
As I was writing this, I started talking to Ted about it again and the tears came, streaming down my face and if I had let it happen, I would have been sobbing. We ended up standing in the living room hugging for a few minutes.
As painful as it was reliving those times and feeling the pain again, I was glad to. I'm glad I still feel it so deeply.
I wonder.....how have we survived losing him?
I am 20 weeks and 3 days pregnant with my rainbow baby. That makes tonight the eve of the day we found out that Jacob had died. It hit me full force when I was standing in the garden tonight before going to church. I was telling Jacob that this baby will never replace him, that we love them equally. I stared at the spot where he is buried and I suddenly had a flashback to being at Dr. A's office and her not being able to find his heartbeat and the sinking feeling I had the longer she tried, then the feeling when she stopped. It was terrible.
I got home, told Ted what happened there and his face fell and I knew he was feeling the same pain.
I got in the shower and had a flashback to him being born and Dr. A passing him to me. For a few minutes, the pain was as bad as it was that day.
As I was writing this, I started talking to Ted about it again and the tears came, streaming down my face and if I had let it happen, I would have been sobbing. We ended up standing in the living room hugging for a few minutes.
As painful as it was reliving those times and feeling the pain again, I was glad to. I'm glad I still feel it so deeply.
I wonder.....how have we survived losing him?
 |
| Jacob |
Sunday, April 1, 2012
22 months
I don't have much to say that I haven't said before, but I couldn't let a monthly anniversary pass without writing something.
We drove by the garden last night after going to a movie and parked across the road from it. There were lights all around it and it always makes us feel better that it isn't dark in there at night.
We sat for awhile and I felt the sadness getting stronger and stronger and told Ted that I wanted to leave, that I was getting really sad and he said he was too.
I am at about the same stage in my current pregnancy that I was when Jacob died, although I didn't know he had died for another week. It's a scary week for me, I feel reassured with every kick that I feel from this baby, but then worry when I haven't felt anything for an hour or longer. I didn't need anything to magnify what a loss it was to lose Jacob, but it certainly feels more acute right now than it has in a little while.
It doesn't really matter how much time passes. Our boy isn't in our arms and that will always hurt.
We drove by the garden last night after going to a movie and parked across the road from it. There were lights all around it and it always makes us feel better that it isn't dark in there at night.
We sat for awhile and I felt the sadness getting stronger and stronger and told Ted that I wanted to leave, that I was getting really sad and he said he was too.
I am at about the same stage in my current pregnancy that I was when Jacob died, although I didn't know he had died for another week. It's a scary week for me, I feel reassured with every kick that I feel from this baby, but then worry when I haven't felt anything for an hour or longer. I didn't need anything to magnify what a loss it was to lose Jacob, but it certainly feels more acute right now than it has in a little while.
It doesn't really matter how much time passes. Our boy isn't in our arms and that will always hurt.
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