December 22-passing time

I wish I could say with certainty what happened on this day. I don’t remember. I’m sure it involved sitting, taking Motrin, snuggling with Aaron while watching Christmas shows, and staring into space trying to process all the ways I was missing Mara. Christmas was getting closer, and so was my Christmas Eve due date. I do remember I was very sad on this day and the next, and I was disappointed that I felt that way after our amazing open house the night before. I know now that the ups and downs are normal, and can be triggered by so many different things.

I needed to wrap gifts and decide on Christmas meals. I didn’t have the spirit to do either. I spent time avoiding online communication and looking at tanzanite jewelry. We weren’t sleeping well and we were tired. Being awake alone at night was awful, but not nearly as awful as waking up each morning and realizing again that Mara wasn’t with us. Chris and I have gone to bed together every night since Mara died, even to this day as I write this entry. That is something we occasionally did before, each of us having something to do from night to night, grading, watching something, scrapping, something. After Mara died, a new bond grew between us, and we have clung to each other closely ever since and handled each other tenderly. My husband is an incredible man and he has shown his strength and sensitivity through every awful moment. I have never loved him or needed more than I did in these weeks following Mara’s death. Losing a child is one of the most stressful life events someone can experience, and it can often put terrible strain on marriages. That seems to come about primarily when spouses have different ways of expressing and coping with their grief, which Chris and I most certainly do. Fortunately, perhaps, we already knew that before Mara died, and our communication more than bridges the gap.

I spent a lot of time during these days reading through materials the hospital gave us and looking for online grief resources.  I found a lot of quotes that seemed to express exactly what we were feeling. Here’s one that cut right through me:

“She will die over and over again for the rest of my life. Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath. I will never stop grieving because I will never stop loving. That's just how it is. Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.”
― Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere