Conflicting Concepts

Sometimes I have these moments where I say to myself “Did it really happen?  Yes. Owen really died.”  For real died.  My mind stretches hard around the fact that he really is never going to come back.  The mind warping thought of life actually leaving a body.  There is something incredible about it.  Never.  A human has never experienced never or always.  When they leave this world, time still goes on.  Their lives here end before they reach never.  Never coming back.  I don’t feel like I have the capacity to really understand what never is.

Life leaving a body.  It’s so real, yet something that I really can’t put into words what it looks like or feels like.  I often think of Owen’s eyes.

That was how I knew he was gone when I was doing CPR.  There is that saying that eyes are windows into a person’s soul.  It’s true.  After the night of May 21st, I totally believe it.  All life resides in a person’s eyes.

The thoughts catch me by surprise.  He really is dead.  I really am a grieving mother.  This is reality.  I am awake.  This is life.  Whoa.  Weird.

It just doesn’t seem real at times.  Not in the way that I don’t want it to be real.  It’s not that I don’t want to accept it.  But rather, it’s that moment when I just need to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming or something.

It can happen when I’m folding the laundry.  Or walking down the hallway.  Or maybe when I’m watching my DVR shows at night.  Then suddenly I am questioning myself – am I really seeing this?  Do I really feel this?  Did it really happen?  Yep.  I had triplets … now I have two babies here with me.  The third is dead.  I have to say it like that -dead- to myself to know it’s for real.  Saying “he’s with the angels” or “he’s in heaven now” almost seem to fluffy for the wake up call I need.  Owen is dead.

I look at his face in pictures.  I know that face.  I just feel like I’m going to see it again.  I stare trying to understand the concept of never seeing it again.  My body just can’t understand never.  I feel like I’m going to come home from the grocery store and he’s going to be on the floor just like my last memories of him.  I can almost feel his head under my hand.  His smooth hair on my palm.  It’s conflicting how real my memories of him are vs how real it is that he is gone.  The two cannot exist together, yet my thoughts are interrupted by both.

I’m holding strong though.  There is so much to live for these days.  There is so much to do, to accomplish. To rejoice in!  My friends are having more babies 🙂  There is life all around me.  I sing this song every night to the boys.  This is the day that the Lord has made.  Let me rejoice and be glad in it!  Amen!

Love, Mel

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4 Comments

Filed under Grief, Posted by Melissa

4 responses to “Conflicting Concepts

  1. Se la vie
    As harsh as that sounds, what you describe is the rhythm of life. The rising and falling tides of life on this planet. No ape mother suffers more than a feline or canine mother. It is life. This suffering we grieve so for, it is life. Is must be celebrated even as we detest it. Only when we know what character we portray in the great play can we truly be content. Only from contentedness can inspiration and greatness come. The difficulty is in accepting our role. It is chosen for us by whatever forces it is that makes the universe unfold as it does. We can only play the part well and in acceptance of it, build upon it to create what it is that we can. Never accept that the fates will tell you all that you are, but listen when they have acted, and build upon it. A child has died… 18000+ die every day… of starvation alone. Accept, build, be. Do not decry the injustice of life for it is the only one that you are given. Accept that life will happen despite your desires that it not be so. Build on what hand you are dealt… sad or no. This is your only life. Do not take pity upon yourself, or even those unable to accept it. Life is. It is not fair, it is not even. It simply is. Build despite your despair, not only when you lack it, for we all despair of something. I cannot tell you your pain is less than mine, nor can you tell me yours is greater than mine. Life is. Be.

  2. Leslie

    Bless you Mel. I cry for you….and i rejoice in seeing your beautiful boys grow. sending you a big hug. Leslie

  3. Julianne

    You’re so right about life living in someone’s eyes. I had the privilege of comforting my grandpa this weekend as he was dying. It was painful but still such a gift & privilege to be there for him. As he slipped farther away from us and closer to heaven it was so apparent in his eyes. Simply amazing. So painful for those left behind here on earth. Praying for you & your family.

    • I visited my grandparents. My grandmother was suffering from Alzheimers at the time. In the middle of a goofy moment in the hallway while trying to put her toothbrush in the hall closet. She turned to me, hesitated, looked around, then blankly asked me: “Do you think I’m crazy?”

      I will never forget the searing pain that this caused me in that split second.

      She no longer suffers, but there is no heaven. She had died … many years ago now. She is gone. Prayer doesn’t fix such things. It never has.

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