Goodness, I've got posts swirling around in my head, waiting to come out, spilling out in conversations with friends instead, making me less inclined to turn them out here.
And I'm tired - what a week! SO very glad that it is Friday night. So this will be short (by my own standards, lol).
My mother accused me yesterday of being giggly. Which made me laugh, because I did not feel giggly, I felt exhausted. But it's true, I was chuckling more than usual. I don't quite know what it is, but I have felt lighter the last few days. The cynic in me says it is simply the anti-depressants doing what they do (aren't they supposed to take about a month to really kick in? That's coming up), and worries a bit about how I will be when off them - if they make me happy, does that mean I'll turn into a hot mess again when I go off them?
But I think no - some things may get harder, and of course grief isn't a straight forward process or line, not a GPS that gets you from one location to another. There will be hard days again, likely for years.
But I'm doing ok, you know? I've processed a lot.
And today, I looked at Gabriel's pictures for the first time in weeks. I studied them, head cocked, scrutinizing them, imprinting them again on my memory, though their outlines are well known.
And you know what? I was taken by surprise when I felt my lips curl into a smile. Not the wistful half-smile on my lips the last time I looked at them two? three? weeks ago. No, a full, complete, whole-hearted smile. Nearly a grin. Completely involuntary. I looked at my son, and I felt joy. I heard a laugh on the air around me and the smile became a grin. I looked at Gabe and thought, my heart swelling with maternal pride, "My God, my son is beautiful. My God, how I love him."
And no tears came this time. Just a sense of peace and pride. Just a moment of joy, beholding the beautiful miracle that was the physical embodiment of my son. What a lovely moment.