A wave has come over me. Just right now. Out of nowhere. And it has me sucked right under. I didn’t see it coming. There was no build up to it. No warning. But it just knocked the legs clean from underneath me. And I’m drowning. Totally drowning.
So I’m writing.
I have no direction for this blog post. I do not know what I am going to say. But I wanted someone out there to know – it happens to me too. I get it.
Grief sucks. It is unpredictable. It kind of prowls around in the background, waiting to pounce with a sting. It’s always there though, watching. But when it pounces, it does catch you unawares.
I was just hugging Ben goodnight in our hallway, when Elijah’s little face caught my eye in one of the photos. It’s a photo I pass every day, numerous times a day. But just now, it got me. It pounced.
My Elijah died. My beautiful baby boy died. It’s so much easier to believe he lived, than it is to believe that he died. “But he only lived for 5 months”, I hear you say. “He’s been dead for 14”.
But he didn’t only live for 5 months. He’s been in my head and my heart for so much longer. He was the baby we dreamed of for so long. The baby we planned. He was with me for almost 9 months. I loved him then. Even before then. And I love him now.
I’m not sure it will ever feel real … will it? My child died. It’s not something that’s meant to be part of your story.
Tonight, grief pounced. The wave has washed over me, and yes I’m drowning.
I will be ok. I’ve been here before and no doubt I’ll be here again. For now I’ll lament and I’ll wrestle and I’ll struggle and I’ll grieve. But I will rise, I’ll catch the ring, I’ll get pulled back to the surface and I’ll breathe again.
And you will too …. keep looking up. Reach for the ring ….