October 15, 2012

A word about Acceptance

the leaves begin to turn. the wind blows colder. the temperature begins to drop. drifting smells of fires lit in the fireplace. waves of pumpkin spice and talks of smoked turkey. black friday ads begin to fill my inbox. holiday yule tides and santa lists begin to appear. talks of christmas parties start to spread throughout. thanksgiving day arrangements and menu plans have started to become parts of conversation. ghosts, and ghouls, zombies and pumpkins. candies and treats and costumes! it's my favorite time of year. it always has been. a time to rejoice in all blessings that have been bestowed upon you. a time to hug your friends and tell them how thankful you are. a time to encompass the family that you are so proudly a part of. all things i'm happy to say are my favorites.


at the same time.

it is my most hated time of year.

this time of year also brings back a plague of a moment in our lives when that happiness, those blessings, that thankfulness was stripped from our very being. the one spark that represented all those things left this earth.

as i walk outside i am greeted by the fall air. as i breathe in deeply and feel the wind caress my face, i am reminded of a time. a dark time. a day almost 2 years ago that i never thought i would breathe again. a time when my favorite time of year became the most dreadful.

i am haunted by this time of year, i will admit. it didn't really don on me last year. but this year, it seems to be heading full force like a bull stampeding towards the red cape. i am the red cape. i have no control, i'm endlessly flapping around awaiting my destiny. in less then a month it will be a complete 2 years without our Savanna. in less then a month it will be an entire 730 days without feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest with every inhale and exhale.

it's unimaginable.

it always happens like this ya know?

i reach a point where i think maybe, just maybe i'm learning to accept it. accept that she's gone. accept that she's never coming back. and yet here i am, almost 2 years later and i still hope that when i open my eyes the next morning it will have all been a terrible terrible nightmare. and yet each morning as i rise from my pillow and my feet touch the ground i am bolted back to the reality that she's gone.

seems silly doesn't it?

in all the literature you read there are steps. i am actually studying the grieving process in school right now. there's steps, you reach one then the other sometimes you go back, sometimes you stay stuck, but the ultimate goal is acceptance right? well what if there never is acceptance.

i seem to always brink on the edges of acceptance but never fully engulfing it as my own. i'm beginning to wonder if i ever will.

i'm beginning to wonder if i ever want to.

to accept her death is to accept her only as a memory. i don't want that. i want to keep her alive. as alive as i can. it may only be in my mind. it may piggyback to my heart. but i never want to accept that this is what my life has succombed itself to be.

today i lit 2 candles in honor of Savanna and all others who have lost a precious child. as is it here typing the candlelight is dancing across the white background of the built-in book case. the shadows of the light are casting across my Savanna's face. my heart is hurting. quite literally. not metaphorically. it literally hurts. there is pain. and although i hate the pain. i hate the sharpness. i hate the feeling of tears welling up beneath my eyelids.

i can't bear to let it go either.

to have pain and to feel this hurt, also means that i feel love. i love her so much it hurts. i miss her so much it burns. if i accept that this is our path. if i accept that this our life. if i accept that she is dead.

i have nothing left.

peace? calm? comfort?


without Savanna, without her sweet little body clinging to my leg. without her smile or tired little eyes gazing up at me early in the morn. without her fingers wrapped around mine. without her beating heart next to mine, i will never feel a full a complete peace. my world will never be calm.

i love the fall. i really do. i love what it represents. the changing of the season. the time to pull out the cute winter pea coats. a time for boots! but as i read the words that i typed across this screen... i realize something.. these things that bring me 'joy'

are all so materialistic.

my husband brings me peace, calm and comfort. he is an amazing man and i could not have been more blessed. he is an amazing father. i only hope he knows that while i feel incredibly broken at most times anymore, he somehow makes me feel whole. missing pieces and all.

so, i guess, for now. i will accept that this is my life now. i will accept that this is the journey we must falter. this is the me that has arose from the ashes of losing my daughter.

i love the fall.

i hate the fall.

all at the same time.