An uncomfortable weight crushes my chest and it becomes harder to breathe every day. Grief has seeped into my bones and managed to stained my soul in ways I don't comprehend.
I have a small bookshelf in my living room that holds my most precious items from Gabriel's short life. I pass it every day, multiple times a day and ever so often I find my self gazing at those items with anger on my heart. It seems unfair that some how I have continued to be blessed. How is it that I can feel love and happiness? Some days it seems cruel to be alive, breathing and laughing while my son is dead.
Reality is cruel to the grieving.
Guilt taunts me, its cruel fingers digging into my mind and forcing from me self loathing and disgust. I thought I was passed this point in my grief journey...I was seeing the light but somehow I've fallen slid back down.
It's hard to keep his memory alive. I know I am a horrible mother for saying this...but....sometimes I don't want to. I try to separate the pain and nightmare of losing him from the beautiful 38 weeks I had him with me. I try to talk about him and show off my tattoo that was done in memory of him. I wish I could forget the heart-breaking, tear inducing moments that have scarred my heart.
But the work of a grieving parent is never that easy, is it? When I first lost Gabriel I was determined to be the "best grieving mother" I could be. What was my idea of the new job description? I thought I would spend at least one hour a day at the cemetery every day just reading and talking to my baby boy. I was determined to buy fresh, beautiful flowers for him every week. I would celebrate every important holiday with him and even the unimportant ones just to be able to say, "My baby and I celebrated_______by doing_____". There would also be a new toy or trinket next to his grave every other week.
We are now just over the two year mark and I am lucky to make it out once a month. I wish I could be okay with that...but I can't. It hurt when no one brought a single flower on Gabriel's birthday this year...and don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the other ways we were able to celebrate but still...it hurt.
I don't know why I'm so sensitive....there has been so much going on in my family life and it doesn't help that I am quickly approaching my third mothers day with empty arms. It's the only kind of mothers day I've known....I think this year it might be better if I lock myself away and cast the world aside. Who knows, maybe I will just turn off my phone and cry until my pillow is soaked and my heart is empty.
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