Max died exactly 5 months ago today. It seems like an eternity and a blink
at the same time. We’ve still done
nothing with his room, and we haven’t finished thank you cards. I have a feeling we’ll never truly be
done with either of those tasks.
I’ve been pretty vocal about my desire to have more children, so
obviously Max’s room is going to have to be touched at some point. Plus, it’s probably not healthy to keep
his room exactly as it was the day he died for the rest of our lives. I’m just not ready for today to be the
day when we decide what to do with Max’s things. We’ve made a few decisions: we will not paint the walls, we will keep the chair, we will
wait to see how we feel about a new baby wearing the clothing meant for
Max. It may not seem like much,
but it’s pretty big for us. For
now, we’ll just keep his clothes in the drawers and hanging in the closet, and
we’ll keep the bedding on the crib mattress as if he’s going to sleep on it
tonight. Don’t worry; I have no
illusions that this is actually going to happen.
My
friend Donna brought me flowers today.
She said they are called Football Mums. Whatever they are, they are beautiful. They’re white and full and happy, and I
love the simple cylindrical vase that they sit in. I must say, my vase collection is pretty enviable at this
point. Donna snuck in my room
before school and left the flowers on my desk. She is the same friend who snuck in and left me a bag full
of red Starbursts that I am still working my way through. As you may have gathered, Donna is
pretty sneaky, but in the best way possible. Today was different than most mornings, and I didn’t start
the day in my classroom. In fact,
I didn’t make it up to my room until a few hours after I had gotten to
work. So, I didn’t see the flowers
at first. I spent quite a bit of
my time away from my room talking to Donna, and she didn’t even mention the
flowers. I’m glad she didn’t. What a beautiful surprise! I am still so touched by these gestures
that might seem small. Their
significance is not lost on me.
Besides Donna’s flowers, I got many hugs and encouraging words from my
coworkers this morning. That so
many people remember the impact of the 10th and that so many people
remember Max and have the courage to tell me so is astonishing to me. I am grateful and humbled and touched
beyond words. It means so much to
me that when I think of Max, I also think of the kindness and thoughtfulness of
my friends. For the mom of a
little boy who lives in memory only, it’s amazing to know that it’s not just my
memory that he lives in.
The
past few weeks have been pretty good for me. At my lowest, I still feel like I can do this; at my
highest, I feel happy and hopeful.
The truth is that I have a lot to look forward to in my life. I have a husband who loves me, a son
who is curious and affectionate, friends who are selfless and understanding,
and family that is supportive and encouraging. Yes, something horrific and unimaginable and unnatural
happened to me. My life won’t be
what I wanted it to be. I’ll have
bad days. I’ll feel hopeless and
angry and short-changed. I will be
impatient. I guess what I’m
focusing on lately is that all of these things are worth it. If someone came to me and said, “I can
take it all away,” I would say no thanks.
I read something at Faith’s Lodge that explains the way I feel
perfectly: “Only hearts so full of
love can hurt so badly.” My pain
is a reflection of the love that I had and still have and will forever have for
Max. It is a necessary reaction to
the loss of the recipient of that love.
If I hadn’t loved Max so deeply, maybe it would be feasible for me to
“get over it.” But I did, so it’s
not. I wouldn’t trade that love
for anything in the world.
We
went to Mexico last weekend.
Nicole and Aaron got married there, and we were lucky enough to be able
to attend. It was a weekend full
of relaxing and reflecting for me.
We mostly just lounged on the beach and ate when it was required. We did some snorkeling, but once I saw
what was in the ocean, we decided to stick with the pool. I used all of the stationary in the
hotel room to write letters to people.
How strange. Max’s death,
though, has reiterated to me the significance of written words. I don’t mean words written on a
computer (although those have their place) or in a text; I mean handwritten
words. I saved every single note
and card that I’ve received since Max died, and I go through them quite often. There is something meaningful about a
handwritten note. It’s more
personal. Please don’t feel bad if
you sent me an email or a typed letter—I understand the convenience and perhaps
the self-consciousness regarding your handwriting. J
I don’t mean to take away from any
form of communication because I needed all of them, and I treasure all of
them. All I mean to say is that I
grew a deeper appreciation for handwritten letters, and so I write lots of
letters lately. Anyway, the
weekend was highlighted by a perfect, beautiful wedding. When we arrived at the airport in
Kansas City, I noticed an old friend at the baggage claim. He was traveling with his wife and son,
and they had all been on our flight, unbeknownst to us. His son happens to be six months
old. Max would have been six
months old last Friday. This was
my first meeting with the baby; they live halfway across the country. I held the baby and smiled with him and
laughed with him and spoke in my signature “baby talk.” I loved it. I truly did. I
feared that it might be strange or that I might react badly, but I didn’t. I didn’t even have to remind myself to
keep it together; I just did. I’m
pretty proud of that. People
walking by me in the airport had no idea what an accomplishment they were
witnessing. I held a baby who was
the same age as the one I’d lost five months before, and I felt genuine
happiness. To give him some
credit, the baby is one of the cutest I’ve seen, and his smile was pretty
contagious. But still…
I
don’t know what the whole point of this entry is. I guess it’s just an update to let people know that I’m
doing okay. I still have bad days,
I’m still sad, and I still cry.
But I am also happy. I’m
learning to be grateful for the time that I had with Max. I’m learning who my true friends are
and just how valuable their friendship really is to me. I’m learning that a lot of clichés are
true: the human spirit can endure,
hope springs eternal, one day at a time, blah blah blah. I’m learning how to live after a part
of me died. And I’m doing a pretty
good job of it lately.
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