Life long grief.

Its not so much that I grieve (her) anymore but that I am shocked at how much it still hurts at random.

This February 18 will be the 9th anniversary of her death.

I am not consumed by grief but still get overwhelmed at times at the feelings and hurts that pop up.

The way they call mom because something fell, the way they look at me as I see her photo frame smashed, the way they say sorry as I quietly carry the remnants upstairs.. again, the rage mixed with pain, I hide as I struggle to control and deal with something I don’t know how to.I had this photo blown up Feb.25.2012 Steve thought it was too big and couldn’t look at it, so I had to put it in a room he didn’t go in a lot… its where the kids play.

The frame has been broken from it being knocked off the wall 3x in the last year during this pandemic. Why this year, I don’t know. Fine and untouched since made almost 9 years ago.I got the photo this big because I wanted her to be lifesize, I wanted to remember every inch and sometimes I wish I didn’t.

But not in the way it sounds but in that I wish it never happened. That had she lived these moments of pain and reflection wouldn’t happen.

Thank for reading.

Sheri

The body remembers

It is her ninth birthday today, I woke up at 2am, the same time I got up nine years ago having contractions and headed to the hospital. Except that today is very different, no hope or anticipation just anguish and darkness, a wish for the day to be done if I can be honest.

This will be the first year I am working on this day. I can hear the rain pound the cement as I lay in bed, the clock slowly ticking, 2:36….3:08…..3:55…4:27….I finally get up at 5 knowing it is hopeless to fall back asleep before my alarm goes off at 5:20.

Its raining, each year on this day we, as a family missing a child and a sibling have gone to White Rock, the place she was born to throw flowers in the ocean and remember her on her birthday, each year it has been sunny. Each year until now, until today, it is raining, and not just a light misty rain, a heavy soaking your feet if you go outside rain. And I am off to work not the beach. Her dad and I fought last night, also a first, usually very quiet and somber in the days that lead up to her birthday. But this year has been different, unequivocally for all and we are no exception.

I am going to be tired today, I am already thinking of going to bed when I get home from work, except that I have three other kids who will need things of me. At some point like all years past I will break but for now, I will be still. Quiet.

My body shakes when I allow it to remember, I hold back the images that haunt me so I don’t fall, not yet. I have to get through the day first. I bought a cake yesterday my daughter Hope was so happy to see it, I asked if she knew why, she is still too young to understand calendars and dates fully, I tell her its Lilys birthday, she nods. Then proceeds to tell me of her new friend named Lily at school who she loves playing with. I know the girl she is talking about, I know of each girl named Lily at their school, many times have I stood frozen as their mothers called them as they unknowingly stood near or behind me. It’s a sweet innocence in that I think she is telling me this as a comfort and it is, but it is because knowing she is happy is what is comforting. So I will go to work, hopefully need to interact very little, do my job and come home.

I will find a moment to reflect and honor in my own space. But as I have learned in the last nine years, time keeps going, nothing stops, not even for grief. But the body remembers…

Thanks for reading

Sheri

A poem for all forms of the Mother

A mother

She grows you, she finds you, she adopts you; loves you

At any age you came, hers,  yours; irrelevant

The bond is formed in that moment

The arrival  different for all

Once the seed is planted she is mother

Via paper, surrogate, thought

Via birth, via death

Miscarriage, stillborn, disability

Abandonment, fostering, or a surprise

The mother was born the instant the lines formed

No matter how long no matter how far away

She remains the mother since that day

The memories of the mother now gone

Held your hand when you fell

Picked you up with a smile

Gave you shit for your mistakes

Tried to explain the breaks

Though gone now, her legacy lives on, in you

The bereaved mother

They grieve the loss that made them a mother

A painful day to remember the child grown or infant; fetus or disabled

That lived not long enough

Those that celebrate with living children and mother

The grateful ones; a happy day

The mothers to pets or nieces and nephews, cousins or siblings

What makes us a mother to someone lives in the hearts of the care we give

There are those that have lost their mother

Cancer, accident; old age

Mothers day is hard for some in different ways

Some celebrate, some remember

The love stays everyday

Thanks for reading,

Wishing all forms of mothers a peaceful  mothers day

Sheri

Having dimples means being kissed by an angel….hhmmmm

I like this saying if it is a saying simply because I believe Lily is Hopes angel. Lily had dimples as now does Hope, the interesting thing is that Hope has very clearly more her fathers traits/characteristics- more pale(whiter) skin, fair hair and eyes, largeness in head and body type but he does not have dimples, I do. Lily who had much more my traits, olive skin, small head, dark hair and eyes and dimples! If one parent has dimples its a 25% chance the child will if both parents have dimples its 50%. Lily is the angel that kissed Hopes cheeks giving her protection, angelic beauty and dimples. I am not bias. 😉

Nov. 7 2013

 I haven’t written in a while, I find it helpful but also very strenuous on my mental health, I love thinking of lily I hate remembering the torture of those few months before and after her birth. I cannot escape it though nor would I want to I suppose. Recently my husband and I traveled with just Hope on a business trip and I could not, cannot believe how many people comment(ed) on her. I don’t remember them saying those things about my boys and of course no one ever mentioned (s) Lily. One woman saw Hopes dimples and said that means she was kissed by an angel- to have a dimple and oh how I love that- I had never heard that saying before. The tour operator kept saying what ‘angelic beauty’ she had. Couples would come over to our table at lunch and dinner just to comment how amazing her eyes are how beautiful she is. Its wonderful and painful. I love her so much it literally hurts. I try to embrace her presence  every moment I have because I am so afraid of it being taken away.

 Nov.11.2013

I wish I could mask my pain and at the same time I want everyone to see how hurt I am, I can’t stop the tears behind my eyes, they have taken up permanent residence there, I find it odd thought that I can spend part of the day so intensely upset with literal pain  in my chest, its hard to breathe to be normal, I want to sleep, then I  see someone I know and I have gotten so good at acting, pretending, being fake whatever you want to call it but on one hand I want nothing more than to share my pain and sadness while in the moment of it then to immediately want to hide it and feel ashamed  by my rawness.