Skip to main content

Memories of love

What is life all about? Love and that love is locked into our memories we make. And the best part about this lifelong secret is that it doesn't matter where or what your circumstance, you have the power to make memories full of love.
We did a lot of things as a family and went a lot of places and enjoyed some awesome vacations. But now in hindsight when we think of the love we shared, the best memories, the most special times together were right at home. If I can give any advice to anyone, is that don't make a big deal about where or how you make those memories. The true love you find in those memories are not something you can create with a trip somewhere or a new toy. 
The quiet moments reading together in bed, suppers together and Xavier being at home being Xavier are the memories closest to my heart. They were authentic. 


I have written more words since xavier died than I think I had written in 7 years. These words are my heart on paper and are pouring out. I do believe there is a book in there somewhere in the mess of parts scattered throughout the internet and my notebooks. The task of putting it altogether excites me yet overwhelms me. I want so much for my writing to be worthwhile and helpful to others even though it is so healing for me on its own. It is in my search for purpose again that I long to do something with my words. 

I hear myself  giving my daughter life lessons and have to think am I doing this? I told her we weather the storm but the sun always comes out. We work through the bad to get to the good that is always there. Somedays I don''t believe this crap. I don't think this wave of sorrow I will ever get through nor want to. I will grieve Xavier's death forever as it is a reflection of my love. I will love him forever therefore will grieve. Of course it doesn't mean I will sit on my couch everyday with a box of kleenex, chocolate and tea (although those days are nice). 

Time doesn't heal. It's what you do with that time that makes the difference.

In our need to be positive all the time, do we leave people out? Are we ignoring the elephant in the room?
While at Camp Trillium for the first time, I felt alone. I couldn't just forget that my son died a mere three months ago from the very thing everyone there was trying to run from. Death found us. And now I feel our family, the ones who we shared such an intimate journey with are now so far away from where we are now. And this community is scared. Scared of the very thing we are dealing with. So how do we talk about it?
What about the kids who have found their paradise off earth? Why are we so afraid of death? Maybe I am looking in all the wrong places, but more needs to be out there for the families who are the survivors. Xavier's body may have died, but he lives on in our family. While my life's decision always reflected what was best for him, my life's decisions will still be filled with him. Although he took a piece of my heart with him, he also lives in my heart I still have here. With that I can choose to be advocate for other kids like him, for families like ours.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

It feels like yesterday: Grief at one-year

The fog has returned
My focus and clarity gone
Grief has settled in again
I am tired; my body slumps and is too heavy to carry. I want to sleep.

We are now in the last days before Xavier died. He was alive this day last year. But on May 13 there is no living memory of him last year, aside from a couple hours of unconscious sleep before he took his last breath beside me. I held my breath with him waiting for the next and it didn’t come.

We had a great few days this week last year and he was full of laughs, full of life! We saw a glimpse of this again in ICU. Then he deteriorated. 

The zipper that keeps us all inside Earth started to split. His connection to this plane was ripping apart. When the zipper fully detached he was opened to eternity.

This week has been challenging, constantly fighting back memories of this time last year. Painful memories of life and death decisions. Time is nothing. It hurts just as bad now as it did last year. My grief had been contained, but is now wide open. 

But…

Grief and gratitude: What's the connection?

It has been a while since my last post.

 I don't know how many times I and other bloggers have likely used this opening. But as boring and cliche as those words are, there is hope within this opening line.

Hope.

I haven't written because I haven't needed to like I have in the past to release the overwhelming whirlpool of emotions splashing out of me with nowhere to go but into words on a page. Journaling has always been a wonderful tool for me when I am experiencing intense feelings or untamed stress.

In fact my lack of posts is because I have been preoccupied with life. A life I want to live despite losing one of my greatest gifts in my life, my son Xavier.

But in the last month, I have experienced joy and the gifts my precious son left here for me. I would give anything and everything to have him here with me, but having accepted the reality that is just not possible, I now choose to focus on the positives this experience has brought to my life.

I have started a new job …

Don’t go 2017!

New Years  A time of reflection. A time of celebration. A time of joy and a time of sorrow. 
I approach 2018 with so many mixed emotions.  This year has been hell on Earth. The pain and heartache of losing Xavier will forever be how we remember 2017.  But leaving this year and starting anew fills me with an overwhelming sadness. To say goodbye to this awful year is to also say goodbye to the last year I will ever see Xavier alive. He lived in 2017. I have memories we made together in 2017.  Next year I will have none. He will not lived a day in 2018.  New Year’s is one more piercing stab of reality he is gone.  2017 was the worst year of my life, yet I want to hang onto it forever.  Hidden within the brokenness of 2017 was also a year of immeasurable growth: growth in my faith, my spirituality and my awareness of who I really am.  I lost my son and found insight. Things I had been searching for in my life and trying to make sense of suddenly became clear.  I found strength I never knew existed…