Saturday, May 28, 2011

I remember

I blog-jumped for the first time in a long while the other night. I found myself walking into a family's fresh grief; three weeks out. Just barely home from the funeral, the flowers, the cards and condolences. I felt a familiar pang of sadness and pain, and tears formed in my eyes. I remember...

I remember sitting on the couch with my family after we came home from the hospital without Owen. Before the funeral, after the devastation of his birth. Chris made the funeral plans and I cried. I made my way from the couch to the shower to our bed. Crying everywhere I went.

I remember when my milk came in. It was a day after I was discharged from the hospital. The nurses told me it would, but I had no idea. I was lying on the couch, Chris was arranging the funeral, my mom in the kitchen, my dad pacing, my brother and his girlfriend (now wife) sitting at the table working on their graduate studies, and I was lying like a dead woman when I felt the shock and horror of a pain I can't describe now without feeling nauseous. I sobbed and held my chest with my arms, hunched over in pain and humiliation. I kept my head down as I walked past my family to the bathroom. I cried in the shower for a long time. The south was still in a drought, I remember it so clearly, but I didn't care. I let the water pound on my back and I stood there wishing the ground could shallow me whole.

I remember not caring about anyone or anything in those long days before the funeral. I couldn't feel thankful for the meals or the visits or well meaning words of sympathy. I couldn't feel anything but the pain of his absence.

I remember when the shock wore off. And I remember the nights I thought I would die of a broken heart.

But unbelievably, I didn't. I don't know why.

My mind turns back to the words of a family hurting and grieving with all the raw emotion of the beginning. It hurts like hell, I whisper to my computer screen, but unbelievably, your heart will still keep beating. I don't know why.

But I know how- God's grace. He will hold you in the darkest of dark nights. He will comfort your broken heart, though it can't be fixed. Not yet anyways.
He will keep your broken heart beating and he will keep all his promises. I remember. And I'm thankful I  do.


Sara said...

Oh Ebe, so very true,every last bit of it... ugh... you know I don't think about all of those raw feelings and emotions all the time, like I did. But it amazes me how when I do think about them... it is like I am right there again, remembering it like yesterday... hard to still believe it is a part of our lives... still missing him like nuts, like I know you are... but so very thankful for the gift of Samuel and Owen:) Love you friend. Thanks for sharing!

Keisha Valentina said...

Oh Ebe,
My heart and tears are with you.
The remembering is painful.
I am so sorry.

Kelly said...

Reliving such painful memories is so incredibly difficult. I hope that knowing that you are a source of comfort for others offers you some sort of solace.

Bear's Mama said...

I stumbled upon your blog and I wanted to thank you for sharing. My son Bear was stillborn at 39 weeks almost 7 weeks ago. Logically, I know I will survive, but there are moments when the weight is so heavy and I feel myself drowning in the heartache. I appreciate you sharing how you continue to put one foot in front of the other. It gives me hope that someday the joys will outweigh the pain.