Three Years In

Hi Michael,
   Mom here. Three years in, and it's still so hard living with this experience of a mother losing a child. No doubt there have been difficult circumstances in previous lives as well, but still, this is a tough one. I miss you so much.

   How are you doing? Are you considering coming back soon or do you need more time? I have no idea what the space between lives looks like. Maybe you'll still be there when I return.

   Thank you for continuing to stay close and helping me see the signs. The need to know you are near is still strong. I know you were watching earlier this week while I played some of your favourite music, loudly. A playlist compiled by your friends, largely made up of songs I had not heard before your death. I felt deeply connected to you while listening to the lyrics, which had spoken to you, and were now speaking to me. And once my tears had given way to dancing, I could see you smiling, and dancing too.
Love Mom ♥ 

Living in a Disney Movie

Looking out into the backyard, I feel as if I am watching a real-life version of a Disney movie.  The abundant and varied wildlife makes for heartwarming entertainment.  The antics of a grey squirrel chasing a black one up a tree, then along the top of the fence, are comical.  I can almost hear them laughing as they play.  Then there is the flurry of activity over the patio, as birds of all feathers take turns at the feeders. A kaleidoscope of blue, orange, grey, red, brown, white, and black. Dozens of birds participate in an enchanting ballet while flying a triangular route, from branch to suet to seed.  The sweet hummingbirds keep to their special feeder on the outskirts of the fray.  It would not be surprising to see music notes appear along with coloured banners strung from beak to beak.  As dusk falls, a pair of raccoons ambling across the lawn towards the house completes the scene.  Placing front paws upon the glass wall, they remain thus for quite some time, making eye contact with the two humans playing Scrabble indoors.  The blazing fire and candlelight in stark contrast to the cold outdoors.  Half expecting the raccoons to slide open the door and join in the game, this movie is one I will never tire of watching over and over again.

First Birthday

Dearest Granddaughter,
Later today we will be celebrating your first birthday, which falls tomorrow.  I have baked you a carrot cake; I cannot remember the last time I made one.  What I do know is that it was an obvious choice given that I had baked this same kind for your mother on her first birthday too.
What you have shown me about yourself thus far:
You give freely of your kisses - to stuffed animals, pictures in books, friends and family.
Your entertaining facial expressions are an ongoing source of joy and laughter.
You enjoy eating, moving your body to music, and reading "Pat the Bunny".
You are not keen on cats nor the feel of grass under your feet.
You are confident and curious, partnered with a healthy dose of cautiousness.
You have a wonderful sense of humour.
You are beautiful.

As you grow older, there may be times when you forget how fabulous you are.  I hope not.  However, if you do, you can read this birthday letter to help remind you of your inherent beauty and worth.  During this first year you have brought a great gift to our entire family, just by being you.

Thank you for being born.

Love and kisses,
Oma

Holding the Pieces Together

Over the past few weeks, as I occasionally considered the approaching second anniversary of Michael's death, I noticed that my feelings of dread were not as overwhelming as they were last year, and for that I was grateful.  Then suddenly, this morning, I hit the emotional wall.  I had set aside time to unpack a few more boxes and clean the house in preparation for our family dinner tomorrow.  I was missing him terribly, so during the housework, I decided to blast the music that had played at his service.  I had not heard this CD for the better part of a year.  A few songs in, over the noisy vacuum cleaner, I was startled by a shattering noise.  When I looked over to where the sound had come from, I saw one of the glass candle holders from the top shelf lying broken on the floor, reduced to shattered fragments.  It had been one of a matching pair given to me a few months after the tragedy - one honouring Michael and the other for Kelly.  I picked up the remains of the base, and even before I turned it over to check the initial on the bottom, I knew it would be an M.  That is when the floodgates opened. When I tried to make sense of what had happened, I realized that the music speaker was on a lower shelf and the vibration must have shaken the one candle holder off.  Was it an accident or something more?  It was definitely a reflection of the shattered feelings I was experiencing. Tomorrow I plan on going to yoga, then babysitting my granddaughter, followed by spending time with my family.  This will all contribute in helping to hold my pieces together.