My problem arises more because that which I put up, to do more of later, almost never gets done later. It gets done... sometimes never. I have some new thing which comes and fills my time. As a mom, often times it is something I didn't plan for the day, but is nonetheless worthy of my time. Those things like cleaning up messes, sitting down for an impromptu "rocket star" concert, or looking for a boot that has gone missing, and that sort of thing. Usually I put one thing away to get to something more fun, and less taxing. This is why there is an unorganized stack of papers laying on top of the filing box, and an array of papers squeezed in between the wall and the shredder in the closet, and I have little problem saying, "I'll get to you later". I will get to it later... when I can't stand it anymore, when the sight of it I can take no longer, or when it is time to do taxes, or when I can't find an important paper, which needs to be found. Whatever the reason, I do eventually have to deal with the "put away" thing.
I know that grief is ongoing work. I knew this early on. It was so huge in my life, I had to deal with it. It would be like if the mound of dishes on my counter ---- I HAVE to deal with them, or I can't function. But now it is smaller. I don't trip over it everyday like I used to, I can look around it, or put it on a shelf.... for a while. I always know it is there, but sometimes I want to get to the more fun things. I (usually) have the choice now, almost two years later, whether I will get the tote of pictures and mementos out... whether I will pull up her pictures on my computer, and gaze at her sweet red hair. Most of the time, out of necessity I do other things. I hold Archer's rolly polly legs in my hands, and I pull the smell of his peach fuzz hair into my nostrils and breathe deep. I hug Ev and wonder how he got so big, and how he knows that the planet closest to the sun is really, really hot. I run my fingers through O's hair, and wonder when he stopped twisting it. I can't remember the last time I have seen him do that... has he grown out of that? already? Sigh...
I think about the first months after we lost Amelia, and how my arms were so very empty, and all I could do to get by was to pull her pictures out and look at the flowers and plants that were given to us, and fight back hot tears when I thought of all the hopes I had for her in our family, as our daughter, as the boys' sister. I think of how I planned on nursing her, holding her, rocking her, playing with her, filling my days with...... her. I still swallow a lump sometimes when I see a little girl about her age, and wonder. But now, I can put it on a shelf for a little while, and I can choose not to go there in my mind, or to get the pictures off the shelf. But sometimes it falls on my head, and I curse at it, wondering why it fell out of nowhere when I wasn't planning on getting it out. Sometimes I can just remember that it is there, that she is gone, and that she is in a glorious place, with her heavenly father, the King... and she has no tears of pain or sadness. I remember what almost always dried my tears, even in the earliest days after losing her. I think of Christ. I think of His sacrifice, and my cross seems much more bearable. If not for Jesus's sacrifice and His love for me, I wouldn't have the peace I have now. The peace that comes knowing she is waiting for me, the peace knowing I am forgiven, and I have a day to look forward to. A day and a place where everything is as it should be. Praying that His peace comforts you in your trials, and that His sacrifice changes you.
And some days I have to look at her pictures, and savor the sweetness of having her in our arms. I have to go there, to that place of missing her like crazy... again, and I have to live with the sadness and the joy all together - pell mell.
