Ruth

Yesterday I received an unexpected call...out of the blue on a Friday afternoon. It was Ruth, the woman who received the memory box I donated to st Joseph's hospital on Angel's first birthday. It took me a moment to realize what she was saying but then it clicked --- and my heart broke for her. She lost her son Samuel last week, at 23 weeks.
It is beyond comprehending that women have to go through this heartache. I wish no one needed to use that box that I donated. But if that has to be the case, I am glad that it may have helped Ruth during those precious moments with her son.
One thing she said really resonated me and validated that my donation made a difference. She said when she found out her baby was gone, she decided she wouldn't hold him or take photos. Then, when she went to the hospital for induction she was given my box and read my letter. My letter convinced her to hold Samuel and take photos. She said to me how thankful she was for that advice, because even just over a week later, she realizes how precious that time was and how much she will treasure the photos.
I can't help but feel that Angel's life has touched and helped her. That is so very special to me, it has brought tears to my eyes several times just thinking about it.
To know that something important has come from my experience and from Angel's life --- well I can't really describe what that means for me.
It is healing, it is heart breaking, it is love and light.

Daruma doll

I received the most touching gift this week from a dear friend I have made online, one of the women in my support network that has pulled me through so much since losing Angel.
My friend Lauren sent me this Daruma doll all the way from Tokyo! She knew I was having a hard time around the holidays and I really appreciate the gesture.

Some Info in it:
Named after an ancient Chinese Zen Master, Bodidharma, who lost the use of his arms and legs after sitting nine years meditating in a cave, the Daruma Doll is a symbol of his self-discipline and positive outlook. Its weighted bottom and rounded shape forces this ancient cultural doll to right itself after being knocked over, teaching us to be dedicated and persistent and symbolizing our recoveries from misfortune.

The Daruma doll comes with both eyes blank. Upon purchasing or receiving it as a gift, you paint one eye and make a wish or begin a new project. The second eye is painted when the wish comes true or the project is completed.

The dolls can be purchased anytime but are often purchased around the holidays. Most are kept for only 1 year when they are collected and burned and blessed by a priest in a ritual called "daruma kuyo".

Nanakorobi yaoki, jinsei wa kore kara da...
translated into English means
To fall seven times,
to rise eight times,
life starts from now...

Writers block

I haven't been posting as much recently and in some ways I feel like I have writers block lately. I stepped into 2013 with a clear intention to try to live in the present, and to be happier. Simple as that. Some days it is still a struggle for sure. And in a way if feels selfish of me. In a way it feels like I am leaving Angel behind. Maybe I am just better at blocking out the deep sadness. I don't really know. But this intention seems to be working pretty well so far. Don't get me wrong, Angel is never far from my mind. But I am trying to be a happier me. I have overcome so much in the last 18 months and I want to just enjoy any relief that I have from the sorrow.

A little something from the grief toolbox

The guilt

One of the underlying feelings I have dealt with since losing Angel is the guilt I feel. I am her mom and I was taking care of her, she died inside of me, how could I not know something was wrong?
I should have known better, right?

I was watching a program on tv this week that talked about guilt and how to deal with this feeling.

It talked about how guilt is really coming from your ego and is a wasted emotion. The best thing you can do for yourself is to take responsibility for what has happened, and try to move forward.

The punishment has already happened. I suffered the ultimate punishment in losing Angel. So why must I continue to punish myself? For whatever reason I was granted the chance to stay here and she wasn't. As much as that pains me I can't continue to punish myself for the rest of my time here. That isn't fair to me and isn't what I would want her legacy to be.

I must give myself permission to forgive myself. Only then will real healing be possible.

2012

A year of pain and alot of darkness for me. Wearing a cloak of sadness that in most times was difficult to shrug off. The pain follows me as she does, in my waking moments and in my dreams. The pain of what was and what was meant to be.
I am weary of it all. I am sure others are weary of me. At times it is a very lonely place to be.

And yet. She lives on.

I watch her grow in the garden we built. She speaks to me through the art I make for her. Through mediums. Through butterflies that visit us, that land on our skin. She inspires me to reach out to other women. She influences me through new friends. I connect with others that I never would have without her here. She opens up a new spirituality that I wasn't earlier aware of. She is my greatest struggle of my life. She is my love. She pulls me through some of the darkest days I have ever known. She makes me want to be a stronger person. She encourages my endurance.

2012 was a difficult year. I can't say I am sad to see it gone. I want to let it go. I want to burn it up like a piece of paper that disappears into beautiful sparks and ash.

I know despite everything I feel I am leaping over the final hurdle of this year, a year that in many ways I would rather not reminisce about.

In 2013, I will to continue to move forward. Not forgetting but believing that I can have happiness.

A glimpse of heaven

I see her as a 4 year old girl, with wavy blond hair, an ethereal dress, a crown of wildflowers on her little head.

She is in a field, filled with these wildflowers, and long grass, and blinding sunlight.

She runs, she plays, she stops, she plays.  She runs to and from my nona who is also in the field.  She plays with other lost children.

She sees me and I catch my breath.  She hands me a bouquet of wildflowers and then runs along, away from me, saying as she goes "mommy I love you..."

For a brief moment I feel close to her.

She blows me a kiss and is gone.