It is unbearable of late. And yet I’m bearing it. I’m breathing and thinking and being, but I’m not sure how. Everyone said…the mothers who know said…that the anniversary will be unbearable. They knew what they were talking about, of course.
I’m not gonna lie….I’ve been in intense pain these past few weeks. The anniversary of my son’s death is fast approaching, and I have been pulled back into life as it was a year ago—only knowing this time what is coming around the corner. On Wednesday I will have fully circled the sun once since the last time I saw him, hugged him, heard his voice. It’s a cruel reality, and there is no escaping it.
I’ve been doing everything I can to be okay…to keep the ship that is me upright in these waters, afloat and moving forward. But I am barely tethered to an anchor, if truth be told. And it doesn’t matter really, because there is no sea below me. I am cascading down through an endless abyss.
Yet, there is grace in my life, even so. I am deeply aware of it. And I’m aware of his presence too. Messages from people I’ve not heard from in ages—years—have been coming to me rapidly and from out of the blue. I know there is an inspiration from him that is leading them to me. And friends I connect with often have been reaching out as well. I am grateful for this fortress of love in my life….a fortress that helps to bridge the abyss.
Today, a troupe of student performers I am fortunate enough to work with showcased their artistry and passion, highlighting their work of the year. What a gift and blessing it was to see them perform—to rise above these extraordinary times and circumstances, to bond despite distance and physical disconnect, and to find a way to work in tandem and harmony albeit virtually. They wowed me. And they also flooded me with messages of love. I am so grateful. Watching them fly nourishes my soul.
And then this evening, I received a card from an old friend—a lovely little envelope in my physical mail box. How grand is that? As I opened the envelope, a stream of small stars floated into my lap. The note in the card reads, “Cordelia (my friend’s delightful little niece) and I have been talking a lot about Kenny and all his wonderful attributes. We decided to write our favorite Kenny traits on stars and send them your way.”
So now I am a puddle…a puddle of mixed emotions. The pain and loss are there. And the gratitude for the blessings of tremendous love and friendship and grace in my life is there as well…along with abiding gratitude for my son’s life too. Each of these is powerful and potent in my heart.
I realize as I write that there is little structure or purpose in this message. I’m not sure where I’m going, and I don’t particularly have the energy to figure it out. I’m simply revealing what’s in my heart and opening it for display. Perhaps it will help someone…perhaps it will help me. I don’t know. This grief journey is crafted by elves and fairies and a demon or two. The abyss is real. But so is the grace.
Perhaps the abyss isn’t below the sea but is the vast and wild abandon of space. Perhaps I have become loosened from the gravity I knew and am untethered in the cosmos. It is disorienting, frightening, and unsettling. But even so, I am among the stars.
