The Day Before
A good friend who writes a great blog wrote this today for me. Â Click here to see more from Basekamp Laundry Mountain. Â Thank you, my friend, for reminding me not just to grieve tomorrow but to celebrate.
SO many posts are running through my head but the one I need to write TODAY is this one- because tomorrow I canâ€™t say all that needs to be said today.
Today is Tuesday. Today is just another day. Today is the day before the 5th birthday of a child of a wonderful friend of mine. TodayÂ should be a day for last minute preparations, baking, decorating, stuffing gift bagsâ€¦ but itâ€™s not. Because my friendâ€™s child had a complex medical condition and he died last fall. He is dead. People can say the ugly words religions use to describe this, but saying â€œangelâ€, â€œheavenâ€, â€œwhole againâ€, â€œin the lightâ€,Â NONE of these things fill the emptiness in my friendâ€™s arms, the ache in her heart, theÂ agony she is experiencing as tomorrow approaches. Tomorrow she faces another â€œfirstâ€ in the list of events after the death of a child- his first birthday on which he will not age, he will not enjoy candles and cake with she and his younger brother, he will notâ€¦ anything. He no longer exists in the physical realm we experience on Earth. It SUCKS. And I am angry at the Universe that so many of my friends have to, Â or will, experience this pain.
I want to remind her that tomorrow is no different- it is not special in its difference from each and every day- every painful day without her son. It is holding her now in a state of terror, fear that tomorrow will bring the collapse she has spent all these months fighting. That does not make tomorrow more special than any day this week, or last week, or last month, or Christmas or any other day. Tomorrow will come, and the searing pain and agony of his loss will be great, but not as great as that first day, that first moment of knowing and not being able to bring him back. I want her to know that she survived theÂ worst on that day, that she has the strength to face and get through tomorrow because she has alreadyÂ survived the worst. She has already committed to continuing, to thriving, to supporting her other son to thrive, as the son who has died would want. She isÂ so strong- although she is feeling as if a drop of water, a shift in the breeze, might be all it takes to break her. She is strong and she doesnâ€™t need to be- because we are here to help hold her when the journey knocks her down.
I want her to know, and to feel, that she is loved and supported and right and just on her trail through the perils of the loss of a child.Â What I want to do is go to her; to bring cake, to bring candles, to bring wine, and to sit and hold hands and hug and cry and laugh and remember the beacon her child shared with the world for his short 4.5 years. I want to celebrate the gift that was her child. I want her agony to soothe, her memories of joy to once again be strong. I want some of the moments she experiences to be filled with peace. Please know we love you and will be celebrating the life of our special friend tomorrow.