It Can be an 'And'

We are coming up on a year of losing Jack to suicide. To say the grief has been deeper and more difficult to navigate recently is an understatement. Yet, each day the three of us go to work and school respectively. We interact with our friends. We do what's expected of us. We carry on. As a person with a diagnosis of bipolar, I have experienced what life can be like when you live in the extremes. One gift that came out of grieving my son, was learning that life doesn't have to be lived in the extremes. It can be dark, and you can still find a light. It can be cold, and you can cover up with something to keep you warm. You can be scared and still take brave steps forward to find a new path. Even as we grieve Jack, I'm determined to find the warm flame of hope in the midst of the grief we navigate each day.

Below, I am posting a poem I wrote when I was pregnant with Jack. It came on a day when we had emptied my office, so that we could paint and decorate. Staring at that empty room reminded me of the possibilities that were my Jack. He was, and yet, he was still to be so much. Such a sweet and precious moment in time - the beginning. No matter what loss or challenge you're facing, look for the dichotomy which can be absolutely beautiful. Blessings. See you soon!

Wondering: 

A poem for Jack

Moving my office today made me think of you. I patted my belly and wondered what sort of baby you’d be– cranky and restless, sweet and content? Would you have your dad’s blue eyes and fair hair, your mom’s upturned nose? Would the dog be your best friend, or would you cower away from him? Most importantly, I wondered how long it would be before you’d let us get a full night’s sleep? 

Packing up my favorite childhood books today made me think of you. I wondered what kind of childhood you’d have. Would you be smart and serious? Shy or boisterous? A jokester? A prankster?  Would you struggle in school, or would it be a breeze? Would you have a schoolboy crush on a sweet girl in pigtails, or run away from girls calling out “cootie head”? Would you be bold and adventurous like your dad? Shy and serious like your mom?  I wondered.

Taking down my diploma today made me think of you. I wondered what you would grow up to be—a famous scientist, a chemist? Would you be a nurse like your dad, a teacher like your mom? Or would you be more into action—a sports star, a race car driver? Would you fall in love at an early age—would it break your heart? Would you have a family of your own someday with grandchildren galore to satisfy your parents. 

Moving out the last box today made me think of you. I peered into the room that was mine and, now, is yours. The emptiness and space reminded me of you. You are, and yet, you are still so much to be. So we’ll wait, Little One, and as we wait, we’ll watch, and pray, and wonder at all the possibilities that are you.