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Yesterday, my 6 year old turned into a 7 year old. Like any birthday, I can hardly believe it. But birthdays after loss can be so much more bittersweet. Bitter for the every moment that Jeremy is missing out on his daughter's life, and sweet that in spite of the great tragedy of losing her daddy, Faith is growing into a beautiful young girl. I'm so proud of who she is and the heart she carries with her.
While I am always proud of my children, I've also recently taken notice of what a spectacular thing it can be to stop and look at them through Jeremy's eyes. It's like I can see his smile and hear his voice in the same way I heard it for days on end after Faith was born saying "she's so beautiful." Or see him sit back in his chair with arms crossed in satisfaction at Caleb when he makes something amazing with his legos. I can almost hear his amusement when I get a belly laugh out of Carter. Somehow, my chest sticks out a little farther to take pride in them for the both of us.
I've often wondered what purpose Carter was to serve in my life, having never had the chance to meet his daddy face-to-face, and then had to come into the world with a mother who was broken hearted and didn't have a clue how to put one foot in front of the other. I often call him the boy who saved my life because he literally forced me keep going, not for myself but for him, because he depended on me for survival. But I questioned God's purpose in his birth so many times, because it was so painful to endure. Then, the other day when I was having a bad day, upset on the couch, he came and brought me a blanket and pillow and even brought me an ice pack (cause he thought I was hurt) and then laid with me and patted me with his tiny little hands chanting "it's ok mama"........this guy just turned two. What kind of 2 year old has the sense to take care of his mama like that? It's like he knows. He's my protector. And suddenly I got the sense that maybe he sees me through Jeremy's eyes sometimes too.
I know my children's futures have unending potential, but I think maybe part of their purpose in this world was to show me how to see more of the world through Jeremy's eyes and to recognize how Jeremy saw me. What a gift that truly is.
I continue to remind myself to stop and look at the world through his eyes, not only to keep him close to me but also to feel the passion for the things he loved....which just so happen to include the people I love. Sometimes, the change of perspective is all I need to remind me to keep going.
Hello Vee,
ReplyDeleteThis is touching...
It reminds me of a woman I know who lost her husband when she was around 40. Their youngest was 1 year old at the time. Like you, she had no choice but take care of her children first.
That's 20 years ago and her children are all grown up today and some of them have their own children now. Interestingly, because they had to help their mother more than other children in their generation, they became each other's best friends, really caring.
Her youngest (who has no memory of his father whatsoever) is still the most helpful of all these helpful children, especially towards her. It is a mystery, isn't it...
Unlike you, my friend did not share her pain with anyone. She believed that in order to survive the situation and take care of the children she had to shut it all down (to the degree it's possible). As I see it, the hidden pain became a heavy burden on her soul for years and years to come, preventing her from growing and creating a better life for herself (at least in some respects).
I'm really glad that you share your journey here!
Warm greetings,
Halina from Denmark - where Lego comes from :-)