There are too many months, even years of grieving and living that have become like an ocean.
I would like to describe and explore the depths
and each crashing wave;
what it has felt like to touch the wet sand between my toes.
But time and breadth have kept me from sharing my heart at all.
The longer I wait
the more difficult it has become to express myself.
Today I cry out and break the silence again.
determined to understand my own self
as I embrace this life that I realized, somewhere along the way,
I am living!
I am thriving.
This world of mine is full. It is chaotic, always teetering on madness. It is vibrant. It is even fun.
And everyday Walker is in my mind and heart reminding me of who I am.
He is in my imagination
making the chaos louder,
changing the dynamics as I long for him.
Today I was thinking of a couple who I just heard are in the early weeks of grieving the death of their first baby. I went to open a simple little book about grief that spoke to me often the first few years after Walker died, and this fell out.
I caught my breath, and my eyes swelled with tears as I reached for my keyboard. I have been quiet for too long. I am overwhelmed to realize (after almost 6 years) that I am not hopeless. I looked at this little note every day for years after he died. And now it is a tucked away message greeting me today with bitter sweet truth.
The new photo in the header of the blog is one of the ways that Walker is here in our new house (we moved to Bellingham almost two years ago!).
I have been longing to write; now and then, I do. But it often feels too private to share.
Today, full of hope, I begin to share again.