Monday, April 18, 2016

Shut it down

I'm still here, we're all still here. I mean it, Bram's presence is still very much here with his family and his beautiful brothers and sister. Much has changed.

Our lives have changed dramatically, for the sake of growing. I had to shut down my blog, to step away from the pain. The words here are so very filled with pain, anger, mourning, grief. I'm ok opening it up again. I want others to find my words in their darkest moments, when families like ours are desperate for a "what's next" when the road ahead seems like a black hole of torture and pain. I want them to find these words and feel validated in their grief. I want them to know that, sadly and wonderfully, they are not alone.

I feel stronger than I have, strong like in the before times. Our lives are still marked in the before and the after. That strength has been infinitely tested and proven. So with that strength I've gained confidence. I was brave enough to pull out his clothes, his beautiful mementos, and add them to a cedar chest. I smelled his clothes, and his smell is gone. I also found some memories in them that had fallen away. Tears and laughter all around. It didn't knock me out like it used to. It felt healing and so right.

Best of all I feel happy. That happiness may always be tinged bittersweet but I've got it. I know I said I'd never feel happy again. Because that is what I felt. That wasn't wrong, it didn't need correcting, I needed to dig my heels in and feel it all instead of trying to escape it. And then I needed to find me. I'm finding me. I'm loving me, because Bram did, without question.

I'm in the light more than the dark, but I'm not afraid of either. I'll make it through. I don't know if this is the last post for me, but I feel this chapter of monotonous pain has come to an end. Things happen and I'll revisit it of course, as it's every grieving person's right to do so. As great as my love is for Bram, my grief is equal in it's greatness. Its part of me, our family, this life. I'm still here. I'm alive. I'll forever be a bereaved mother. I'll always cry for our perfect boy, but I laugh for him too.