Monday, May 24, 2010

May 24, 2010

Nine months.

I knew it was this week. I knew it was coming.

Nevertheless, it managed to take me by surprise when I saved my weekly report and typed in the date and said, "Oh."

Maybe this is why I'm feeling contemplative. Why I'm feeling withdrawn and introspective, why I keep searching for him in the midst of a crowd and in the quiet of my heart.

Nine months. Twice as long as he existed. Time enough for a new human to have been created and born. As long as he was supposed to have been in me.

I would have thought that by nine months many things would have been different, if I could have comprehended nine months away at the beginning. I would have thought that I could breathe more easily, that I would be adapted, that the shattered feeling would have faded away.

Instead I find that while I can look back at that time and see the progress I've made, the reality sets in that I may always feel this shattered, this lost. I may always find my breath catching in my throat at inconvenient times and adaptation is a myth created to help those around you who need to believe that you can be better.

Or maybe adaptation is an apt word after all. I suppose I have adapted to this half-life of parenthood and mothering a spirit. I suppose I have adapted to the spiritual limp with which I walk, to the sharp pain that may accompany the unexpected reminder, to accepting that the most I have is a few pictures and a ring and a love that aches with longing.

I am learning to live with this constant presence of pain, and I can acknowledge now that it has not lessened so much as I have become accustomed to it. The tears are far less frequent and I rarely indulge in them when they spring up. Sometimes I am afraid that if I open myself up to that darkness again, I won't emerge. I came through it once, and that is enough.

Still, I miss him. How much I miss him still astonishes me. I would have expected the ache in my arms to lessen some, but they are as empty as ever. I wish to see his name today, to speak it aloud, to know it's not just a name pulled at random, it is the name that belongs to my son.

My Gabriel.


The Writer Chic said...

Remembering with you.

Diana said...

((hugs)) My thoughts are with you today.

velocibadgergirl said...

Sending love to you and to Gabriel, always.

Dawn said...

Sweet Gabriel, I'll never forget you. Love you babe.