Tsunami

29 March 2018

Another March 29 almost over.

This one’s been a beautiful sunny one. Insects glittering in the light as they search for the first unfolding flowers.

Leo is staggering about in a bit of a daze–I wasn’t sure he’d make it to today–and I’m feeling slightly dazed myself.

I said to Johnny last night, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.” I guess I thought I’d have a tsunami as Tina calls them. But you can’t MAKE yourself have a tsunami, even if it’s the fifth anniversary of your child’s death and you think you really should have a tsunami.

Well I take that back:  I could probably bring on a tsunami by going over all the old stories about all the big and little things I did wrong, and about how this just shouldn’t have happened–how every unbelievable little thing seemed to add up and go against Vaughn. And I do still believe a lot of that–it’s not that it’s wrong per se–it’s more that it doesn’t really seem to matter.

What matters is now. Now for me is a culmination of everything that’s happened before. So in that way Vaughn and his loss is always a part of my now.

And always a part of my now anyway, because I so often think of Vaughn, picture him, and feel him with me.

If I reflect on the five years–such a marker–yes, it feels like a long long time. And my main thought, really, is that I’ve healed a lot since then.

I used to be afraid that my healing would leave Vaughn out–that I would be abandoning him. But it’s starting to feel more like I’ve healed AROUND him. Like a tree growing around something embedded in it–a nail? No, because that is something foreign and the tree has managed to wall it off–grow in spite of the object.

Whereas Vaughn is a PART of me. He has actually nourished my growth. Almost like a reverse birth–he went back inside and helped me to be reborn. He has sustained and supported my growth.

So…a weird kind of gift, yeah. One I would love to give back if I could. But also one I treasure, because my son gave it to me.