Yesterday’s post was a mess for those of you who receive it through email.
What had been a previous draft was tacked onto the bottom of what I wanted to send out so the whole thing was not really how I meant it to be.
But maybe it was how it should have been.
Because that’s where I find myself so often this side of child loss-all the careful editing of words and careful managing of appearances is impossible. I just don’t have the resources or the energy. So too often (for my own comfort and probably the comfort of others) the words just tumble out.
A fire hose instead of the gentle trickle I’d rather them be.
That’s why I rely on writing whenever possible. It gives me a chance to start, stop and revisit what I want to say and how I want to say it.
But yesterday, well, you got the fire hose version.
There was so much I wanted to say-I wanted to thank Brenda for the portrait and share how having a new picture was truly a balm for my soul-and also to express how I am still unbelievably sad that my son will never grow older.
I intended to blend the two into a seamless post but couldn’t do it so I left it alone for a few hours. Grief brain kicked in, I forgot about the second bit and just hit “publish”.
So you got the messy version. The version that lives inside my heart and mind most days. It’s not pretty and there is a constant battle between hope and helplessness.
I work hard to hold onto hope.
I keep fighting.
But it’s messy.