retreat, retreat

Coming up on 5 years down the road, some things have become more clear to me in my grief.

Springtime is hard. It's a time all about rebirth, renewal, refreshing and now...retreating. When I was 9 years old, my beloved grandmother passed away the day before Easter. Last year, my Nana fell ill unexpectedly in early April, just before Easter and passed away a month later. 6 weeks after my Nana's passing, my Gramps was gone too. And, of course, my Keely died April 2nd, was born April 11th and that year, Easter fell in between. Lots of sadness among the magnolia blooms. Daffodils blooming but the winter winds still whip around often; never allowing one to know what to expect. That's deep, right?

5 years now and I've finally realized why I don't like springtime. I'm irritable and short with those outside of what I see as my safe little circle, the nest I have around my family. Easily annoyed and easy to cry, I realize now the calendar and familiar spring air that gets under my skin. So to protect my heart and protect unknowing strangers, I retreat a bit during this time of year. Just enough to allow a little cushion and time to cry if I need it.

So as my annual retreat is upon me, I may post less and I may post more often. I don't know for sure what I'll need but I do know that for now, my grief is mature enough to allow whatever I need, whenever I need it to honor the lives I'm missing and protect the lives living around me.

XOXO

xoxo

Just missing my little girl tonight. As the time comes to plan what should've been her 5th birthday but will be a celebration of her short, but oh so important life.

one more goodbye

After 5 years, many, many beautiful souls and countless incredible moments, I have decided to resign from the bereavement photography organization I joined shortly after Keely's death. I served as area coordinator and a photographer for those 5 years and have been lucky enough to encounter some truly amazing families and spend time with beautiful little souls, whose time on earth was far too short.

I will continue my work on bereavement paintings in Keely's honor.

In loving memory

XOXO

a coincidence or a sweet hello...

And I choose to believe the latter :)

Yesterday, as I perused etsy.com for shirts for my sons to go to Disney World in the spring, etsy thought I might also like a little embroidered shirt with a leopard print Minnie Mouse outline, pink polka dot bow and the child's name across the bottom, matching the bow.

The sample name on the shirt read "Keely"

<3 <3 <3

A coincidence yes, but also a sweet reminder of what might've been. She would've just turned 5 when we'll be going. But her mouse ears (that we got with her name last time) will sit on the shelf, unused.

Thank you for the hello, little girl!

half a decade, this spring

I am getting my spring plans ready. Two birthdays to plan, Easter, vacation, spring break, etc, etc. In doing so, I wanted to make sure my husband put in the dates he'd like to be off to spend some extra time together as a family.

One of those days is, of course, Keely's birthday. We always do a celebration of her life at the cemetery, sending balloons with messages to Heaven. This year, she would've been 5 years old. Getting ready to start kindergarten, just after her big brother, so grown up. It's been nearly 5 years since we saw her sweet blue eyes. Would they have even stayed blue? Here we are, half a decade later...those same unanswered questions hang in the air, the same pangs of heartache still sting. 5 years just seems so long.

But every moment that takes us farther from having held her takes us closer to holding her again.

a few lines, left unfinished

I'm a list-maker. Maybe that's an understatement. I'm an obsessive list-maker. I have a list every morning for that day, a list for the week, a list for the month. I make lists for every event I plan (birthday parties, Christmas, etc). That's how I stay organized and in control.

Sometimes, I find it interesting to keep my lists if they've been for something important in life. I find it interesting later to see what I found most important to remember. Or more important not to forget.

But this isn't about list-making. In looking back over the lists I made for our move late last year, I found a little snippet of a poem I wrote. Just four little lines, left unfinished. I remember writing them. I remember being "stuck". No other words could help those four little lines. Nothing else could help me explain myself or made sense to go along. I was too busy with our move to express myself more thoroughly.

"so for now I'll look within me

and exhale a heavy sigh,

and accept a bitter silence

from loved ones who didn't die."

That's it. I could come up with nothing before and nothing after. I don't quite remember what prompted those words but I do know there are lonely moments in grief. At least they feel lonely. The unfortunate truth is that there is always someone on that sad journey with you but it doesn't always feel that way. Often, it's the person in the same room as you but it's too big a burden to bring it up. Sometimes the silence is out of their own tiresome grief or out of fear of hurting you deeper. Sometimes the silence isn't about forgetting but about remembering too clearly. Often, when I have those thoughts that loved ones important to me here on earth have moved on and I feel sad about it, I feel compelled to make sure it's known that my blessings are counted. I know how very lucky I am, even in moments of sadness. I often feel I have to make sure everybody knows that. But moments of sadness don't make one weak or ungrateful. Moments of sadness make one human. And heartbroken. And a full heart can still be broken.

A heart so full of love and gratitude can still feel loss and hurt. It can still long for and miss those whose physical presence has moved on. Is that another step in this process? Understanding that?

Regardless, I wanted to record those lines somewhere because they deserve remembrance too. Even the grateful, even the blessed have moments of utter loneliness. Even the fullest hearts feel broken. Love is unique to each loved one and so is grief.

a prayer of a 6 year old

In the midst of my oldest son's prayers two nights ago, I hear...

"and, Dear God, I pray that my whole family can be together someday in Heaven. It's really too bad Keely can't come to Disney World with us; I really think she'd like it."

My heart simultaneously burst with pride and heartbreak.

XOXO