Summer

I’ve been a little MIA on here lately.  Honestly, it’s all about simplicity right now.  Some days, the effort it takes to sit down and write out a post is just more than I care to tackle.  Grieving is all about surviving.  Weeding out the excess.  Saying “no” and not feeling guilty about it.  Giving yourself an out and the option to say, “I’m going to go do THIS instead.”  Taking a break from the expectations of a clean house and hitting up a local thrift store.  Doing more of what I WANT to do than what I’m EXPECTED to do.  Just for now.  Just for a little while.

I’m choosing to blog during my grief because I need to.  Not because I WANT to.  I’d much rather be blogging about vegetables.  Pillowcases.  Snails.  Literally ANYTHING but this.  But THIS…is my life.  This is where I am.  This is all part of the process.  If you’re willing to stick around for our journey I’m holding fast that there’s hope in our future.  Good things are coming.  I remind myself of that daily.  Good things ARE coming.

I was caught off guard this spring.  I felt like I was turning a page and making progress.  What I didn’t realize is how many memories would unexpectedly and powerfully knock me down the hill I’ve been creeping up.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re doing ok.  We’re hanging in there.  I have good days that are now outnumbering the not-so-good.  But this time of year has a new set of memories.  The unexpected ones.

The winter months don’t really have Owen memories.  The spring?  Summer?  Memories seem to be hiding in the bushes.  Jumping out when I least expect them.

Like garage sale season.  One of my favorite parts of spring and summer.  Last year, I wasn’t sure whether we were having a boy or a girl.  I traveled from one sale to the next, scoping out all the baby stuff in case there was something gender neutral I just couldn’t live without.

This season, I’m still baby shopping.  Only now I’m looking for items to put on Owen’s grave.  Trying not to tear up when the nice man describes the tiny stuffed animal on his table as “in great condition”… “hardly used”… I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t care.  It doesn’t matter that it’s in perfect condition and worth the price he’s asking.  I’m looking for a stuffed animal that will be left outside.  Tied to a wreath.  Exposed to the harsh summer sun, wind and rain storms.  So I walk away…empty handed.

My mom helped me with Owen’s summer arrangement for our grave site.  I’m not used to making wreaths.  I guess it’s not really something I expected I’d have to do, so it’s been really wonderful having her there for support.  This was the first time we had a headstone next to Owen’s wreath.  Yes…our headstone is now up.  I can’t even begin to describe how strange it is to see your own name on your own grave.  At age 30 knowing where you’ll be buried decades (hopefully) down the road?  So strange…

Another season has passed and we are well into another.  The once barren grave site is growing new life again.  And we’re still here.  Still adjusting.  Still moving forward.

 

 

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Click here for the very beginning of our 8 year journey through life, loss and our unexpected struggle with secondary infertility.  Starting with what we shared at our 3-week-old son’s funeral.