Grief is a crazy thing. I find that I can keep it together most of the time. When I think about Gavin it's usually just noticing he is not here. For example, it feels so weird when we leave the house -- no wheelchair to lug out the door, no tanks of oxygen to load and no gathering of iv supplies and bags. We just simply leave, which is a new concept our family has never experienced before.
Then there are the times where the longing to smell and touch my little boy is so strong it could bring me to my knees. My desire to feel his little heart beat consumes my mind. The pain can run so deep. It comes without warning and can sometimes leave just as fast or it could linger longer than I physically feel capable of bearing.
Another crazy thing about grief is that it often hangs out like the big elephant in the room that everyone is staring at, in fact they can't get their minds off it but I guess it is easier to ignore than talk about.
I want to talk about the huge ugly elephant -- because to me it is beautiful, it's real and it will forever be apart of my life. There are times I just want to scream in the middle of the mall, "do you realize the amazing little boy I had for 3 1/2 years -- do you know he changed the world." You see talking about my little boy -- his life and death, is my only way to show that his story is very much alive and well. I don't have a little boy running around to remind the world of his existence.
So often people see death as an untouchable topic. Death is often a beautiful story -- how more amazing can it get for a person to find total healing and be in the arms of God. Adam and I are learning so much through our little girl. She is teaching us that death is very ok -- no need to sugar coat is with toppings like passed away, moving on, going to the golden gates of Heaven. She reminds us daily that Gavin is "dead" -- and our response is, "yes he is." She keeps it real.
Of course there is so much pain we feel but by keeping things real that huge elephant becomes approachable and just one of us -- part of our family.