I Accept That

I lie quietly and let waves of grief wash over me. They have softened somewhat since my son’s death in February of 2016, but can still take my breath away at times, and leave me feeling much older than my years. The grief is part of the connection I share with Jordan. It represents the deep and permanent love I have for my firstborn – a love that has not softened or dimmed at all since his passing. This heavy loss and the emotions that accompany it are part of my life now. I accept that.

I have been waiting for grief to come knocking. We have been out of step lately, and I knew I was on borrowed time. Those who have buried a child are never given long reprieves from the deep sorrow. I have been very busy since moving into our new home just a few weeks ago. I have been cleaning and painting and unpacking and finding new places for old treasures. I have organized cupboards and closets. I have had carpet installed and a washer and dryer delivered. I have been busy, completely exhausted at the end of the day, and it hasn’t taken me long to fall asleep when I get into bed at night.

I have never used busyness as a way of trying to escape my grief... it wouldn’t have worked anyway. Yes, I have been busy, but Jordan has been a part of this move with me. I have wondered what he would think of a picture hung here or a treasure placed there. I have had tears run down my cheeks as I acknowledged he would never visit me in this house. My heart has ached as I unpacked so many of his pictures and keepsakes. His was the first picture I hung, and I carried his treasures in a box in my car rather than allowing them to be transported by a professional moving company with the rest of my belongings. The urn holding his ashes also rode in the car with me during the twenty-two hour trip. I guard it as safely as I do his precious memory.

The loss and the accompanying sadness are always present, but the waves of grief that leave me struggling to find firm ground gave me an almost three-week break. I wonder if I can count this as progress? I have learned that this journey is unpredictable, and I don’t expect a pattern to emerge. I roll with this latest grief storm... after more than thirty months, they don’t terrify me anymore. My grief and love are intertwined... I can no longer have one without the other. I accept that. I miss you so much Jordan.