Every year I relive Oscar’s last year

Facebook. Thanks to Facebook each and every year I relive Oscar’s last year through reminders of memories.

The cycle of my grief has hit a rhythm that I seem to be flowing with fairly well these days. I have begun to feel gratitude for my experience as a bereaved mother (that is a place I never thought I’d be). This morning on my drive into work I listened to my Calm app daily meditation, which I have been doing for the better part of the past year. It helps. There are many cliches and platitudes that I don’t buy so easily since Oscar died. Sayings like “there is always a silver lining” or “everything happens for a reason”. It so happens that the daily meditation today was about resistance and how our suffering increases as we resist things in our lives, especially the things we cannot change. Okay, I can vibe with that (which is progress for me, by the way). Then at the end of the meditation the cliche was dropped about seeing the silver lining in each situation that we cannot change. Just a few short weeks ago I would never have been able to say that there was a silver lining to my son’s death.

Even now it feels sort of uncomfortable admitting that I have reached a point that I can see a silver lining out of what I hope was the darkest time of my life. What is the silver lining? The silver lining is that I finally went back to school and finished my BSN. I had no plans to go back to school before Oscar died. I was making as much as I could make in my nursing career as a staff nurse in the OR. And I loved my job at KU. But after Oscar died I needed to feel like my voice carried more weight. ADN wasn’t enough anymore. I also wanted to do it for him. In his memory. So I did.

Today’s Facebook memory was my excited and hopeful declaration that I finally had full custody of all three of my kids. My heart is breaking because I had no idea what 2015 had in store for me and my family. No idea. I completely trusted God to care for all of us and show me the way to heal all of my beautiful children, especially Oscar. I am finally to a point in my grief journey where I am beginning to open back up to healing my relationship with my higher power. It isn’t easy; it is simple, but not easy. I am trying to allow myself to feel comfort in faith again. And trust. Trusting is the hardest.

daily grief

Even though I don’t talk about it as much as I used to, my grief still looms large. I really like the grief model with the idea that you learn to grow around your grief. I resonate with that fully. I feel that at first my grief was my entire existence. Slowly, ever so slowly, I started learning how to allow myself to feel other feelings alongside the grief. Over the past 3 years since Oscar died I have become so much bigger than I ever was before- energetically. I feel like my energetic footprint takes up at least twice as much space as it did before I began to grow around my grief.

Doesn’t change the fact that sometimes, some days, there will be some sort of catalyst event and I am moved straight to tears. My grief swallows my energy and I am in that darkness without. The sucking without-my-beautiful-boy darkness. I love Angela Miller (A bed for my heart) and how she speaks strongly about how, as a bereaved mama, you learn to mother not only your living children, but the ones who have died, as well. I deeply resonate with that truth. Every. day.

Yesterday, at lunch, in the middle of the employee lounge, I am eating my leftover hungry root (just started that meal delivery service and so far it has been an excellent experience- I’ve tried many and this one is my favorite) focused on staying balanced and focused with my Kangaroo totem energy and the green calcite in my pocket along with my doTerra Citrus Bliss mixed with Frankincense aromatherapy and I open Facebook. There is a memory from 6 years ago of my sweet sweet daughter, Vivian, and her pink kitchen. Her pink kitchen was her very favorite toy for about 3 years or so and when we moved from Washington to Kansas it was a very very big deal when it was finally shipped to us. It was about 6 months after she moved down here that she was reunited with it. Of course I took a picture of her with it as soon as it was unpacked! Well, there was a comment from her dad. Grief started rolling in. There was a like on the comment and I clicked to see who liked it. Oscar. The tears just started. Just like that. Thank God my dear friend, Emily, was sitting at the same table. I showed her what was up and she scooted close to me, gave me a big hug and I had a few seconds of sobbing. My grief overwhelmings don’t usually suck as much time out of my day as they used to, but only because I have learned how to breathe through them. I breathe through them, feel them and consciously shield them with my entire self. It has taken a tremendous amount of diligent spirit work to get to where I am in my relationship with my grief.

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