My dear, dear Phillip;
It is four years tonight since you left us. It has felt like a journey of 1000 miles, slogging through a jungle of suffocating grief, interspersed with moments where the sun has broken through the canopy to warm my face.
But something has changed in the past few months. Now when I walk into your bedroom, or look at your picture, or just think of you, I am overwhelmed with love, gratitude and joy. The love that is every bit as strong as it ever was throughout your whole life. Intense gratitude for having been given the privilege of being your Mom and having you in my life for nearly 27 years. And a wellspring of joy just thinking of you. For most of the past four years when I have thought of you my stomach has sunk and tears have welled up in my eyes (or poured down my face and soaked my shirt). Now when I think of you I am more inclined to smile from ear to ear, even while strong emotions churn in my stomach. But they have become different emotions. All the pain, joy, regret, love and loss is mixed with gratitude, and the gratitude is stronger than the pain, regret and loss, leaving me feeling the love and joy.
I told your Aunt the other day that gratitude is a transformative emotion. I think that is why I think of you with such joy now. Because throughout all these four years journeying through the valley of the shadow of grief I have been grateful for the cause of the journey: you in my life. I wouldn't give up the past 31 years for all the treasure the world has to offer.
Perhaps you know this already; I don't know how much you are able to check in with me. If you are, I'm sure you are very glad knowing that thinking of you is a source of great happiness for me, rather than intense pain.
I'm sitting on the love-seat in your bedroom, looking at the pictures on your bookshelves. You in your three prom pictures. You rappelling down Mt. Diablo. You skydiving. You in your track team photo. All of your mementos from all your travels and experiences. Instead of dwelling on the fact that four years ago this moment I was in the ER with you, I am able to look at your happy memories and smile.
You will always be the source of the greatest joy in my life.
And I will always be profoundly grateful.
And I will love you for eternity.
Mom
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Whoa… another year has gone by?
My dear Phillip.
January 1, 2015. I'm sitting by the Christmas tree, looking at the Waterford 100th anniversary Times Square lighted ornament I gave you the year you brought in the new year in New York. It's sitting beside your picture, reminding me of that crazy and intrepid year. It was as cold in Times Square this year as it was when you went - high 20s.
It's a strange feeling this New Year. I feel like I'm neither looking back, nor looking forward. For the first time in my life I am living more in the present that I ever have before. That's something I've never been good at; I've always tended to dwell on the past and worry about the future. But now I'm living in the moment. I think that's another gift you have given me - I'm truly enjoying each day. Sometimes I have to stop to think what day it is or even what month it is. It's just today.
I'm still not sure what the third third of my life will bring, but for now I'm enjoying today.
Many people wonder what the purpose of their life is, but I have the rare gift of knowing exactly what the purpose of my life was; that was to be your mother. To learn the lessons you had to teach me, and to love you and care for you to the best of my abilities. At this point if I were struck my lightning I would have completed everything that was important in my life to do. So each day is a gift to enjoy. I get to enjoy being a grandmother. I get to enjoy being happily married. I get to enjoy all the little things that I never had time for before, knowing that whether this stage lasts one day or 30 years it doesn't really matter. I'm still in that warp in the space-time continuum that I've been in for 4 years now, so I'm becoming less and less aware of where I am in time. I'm simply in now.
Now, my love, Happy New Year. Happy Today.
January 1, 2015. I'm sitting by the Christmas tree, looking at the Waterford 100th anniversary Times Square lighted ornament I gave you the year you brought in the new year in New York. It's sitting beside your picture, reminding me of that crazy and intrepid year. It was as cold in Times Square this year as it was when you went - high 20s.
It's a strange feeling this New Year. I feel like I'm neither looking back, nor looking forward. For the first time in my life I am living more in the present that I ever have before. That's something I've never been good at; I've always tended to dwell on the past and worry about the future. But now I'm living in the moment. I think that's another gift you have given me - I'm truly enjoying each day. Sometimes I have to stop to think what day it is or even what month it is. It's just today.
I'm still not sure what the third third of my life will bring, but for now I'm enjoying today.
Many people wonder what the purpose of their life is, but I have the rare gift of knowing exactly what the purpose of my life was; that was to be your mother. To learn the lessons you had to teach me, and to love you and care for you to the best of my abilities. At this point if I were struck my lightning I would have completed everything that was important in my life to do. So each day is a gift to enjoy. I get to enjoy being a grandmother. I get to enjoy being happily married. I get to enjoy all the little things that I never had time for before, knowing that whether this stage lasts one day or 30 years it doesn't really matter. I'm still in that warp in the space-time continuum that I've been in for 4 years now, so I'm becoming less and less aware of where I am in time. I'm simply in now.
Now, my love, Happy New Year. Happy Today.
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