The following was written on Sunday, August 10th. This entry was written in my journal which is now being adapted to my blog. There haven’t been many posts that I extract from my journal, so welcome to a piece of my private mind.
Today, we took Jacob (my brother-in-law) back home. He came to help us, help me out, while Josh was at work. He was a big help. I notice that after his stay, I was feeling less overwhelmed and defeated. I think he helped me transition to more of a state of normalcy. On the way to drop him off, I began to tell Josh that being a parent really makes you have some noteworthy “aha” moments, those moments that keep you grounded. These are the moments I want to write down and revisit when I am feeling “down in the dumps”. My “aha” moment came on during that drive.
Your kids don’t have to do much to make you feel that unbelievable sense of love. The type of love you can’t touch, replace, fully explain, that you can’t put a price on. Josh explained that it’s a connection only you have with your child. As Little Nugget’s mom, my connection with LN is deep rooted, stemming from the blood that pumped through the veins in my heart while he grew in my belly. He has heard my heart before he became earthside, and now has it unconditionally.
Hours later, in the shower, I had what I would say was an epiphany. (For some reason I find myself doing a lot of deep thinking in the shower. Anyone else have this?) As a kid, I was afraid of death because of the dead. Sounds weird, but really, I was afraid of ghosts coming after me. The thought of cemeteries would bring on nightmares. I remember going to Mexico to visit my grandparents and hating the drive we’d have to take to have a nice day at the lake. I hated it because we would have to drive past a cemetery to get to the lake. The road was made of dirt and the cemetery’s gates were made of barbed wire. The barbed wire made for an easy escape for those ghosts that would come after me and give me nightmares.
Then, in college, I came to terms with death knowing that it happens to everyone. My fear of ghosts was put to rest. I viewed death as part of the circle of life, but there wasn’t much more to it. Of course, there was still that fear of how I could/will make my departure one day, but my views on death had completely changed.
Now, as a mother, I realized (in the shower) that my fear of dying has returned, but it has once again changed. I am afraid of one day having to let go. Let go of the man I grew old with. Let go of the Little Nugget who grew from my flesh, was nursed by my breast, and loved with my heart. Let go of all the people, memories, and connections. (I guess it’s selfish to think that people will have to grieve me instead of me grieving them, but I prefer to keep this post simple and not go off on a tangent explaining my thoughts on that.) This fear comes with an additional level, though. I feel that this other level is more of a higher sense of understanding. I feel I understand that when that day comes I need to be ready to accept and trust that God will continue taking care of those people I leave earthside. That those memories will remain intact. My loved ones will remember me through their laughter and I will need to trust that I will always be present for them just as God is present for all of us. I pray that I will have made as much of a positive impact as possible by then as I hope that people will want to remember me. I hope to be ready for the beauty that is to come.
Cheers to hope and faith!
And an additional cheers to finishing my second journal! I have about 7 others started.