It has been almost twenty-three years since my daughter Nicole passed away. I am just a day early in writing this post. The moment has not yet come where I am able to acknowledge advice given long ago has come to pass it just isn't so.
The first ten years was and still is a blur, a series of surreal memories that only have a flash trigger that jolts me right out my skin. The fact the I had two other children along with others that always seemed to wind up in my care.They were and to this day are the strong grounding big oak deep rooted energy which I am truly grateful. During these years I often I mean way the fuck often that "not to worry things would get better return to normal." Didn't happen that way.
There have been some years where the pull towards this day was so strong, bringing the vibration of my life almost to a halt. It was dissimilar now somehow. Her natal birth became the highlight when she arrived in these years rather than the loss of being taken. The memories come but not in a flash trigger throw me to the black-hole perimeter. Nope now they come soft and personal like snuggling her to get up with soft kisses and Fae ready to play stories. Her hugs come over me from when she was one and it was sometimes for dear life, three, four, five, fourteen and the very last one I ever had as we said goodbye at the airport with your whole Marilyn Monroe beauty bouncing to infect everyone. Each one, an energy I've held onto for all these years. It has inspired me, strengthened me, paralyzed me, uplifted me, granted me hope. People still approached and again heard the words "don't worry time is still moving on and it will get better, see it's already kind of normal right"? Still didn't happen.
Today, right now writing these very words I am drawn this year to say it is with the greatest grace that I am holding soft tears of you. The way each day I still smell the orange spiced honey that soaked you from your precious little head to the tips of the tiniest toes I had held. In my soul are the memories, the smells, the colors, the blue eyes always watching over me.Wonders and beautiful dreams of all the years you missed or perhaps not just got to experience it all on a cosmic level which I hope is true. Not many people come around anymore after twenty-three years which is fine by me and you too I know.
I just wanted to end this by saying something that I hope sticks for anyone who reads this. Losing a child cannot be expressed properly in any words.Nothing gets better, time doesn't make it better either and nothing really is "normal" or even in the realm of that word. Their friends move on, have lives of their own now. Your friends have no words to offer, so it is better to fade out or away. I am the mother and my life has moved on, I have carried on, I am extremely blessed. However, the advice after all these years has never come to pass naturally because it is not meant to be that way. It is meant to be as it is different as better is not an option.
The first ten years was and still is a blur, a series of surreal memories that only have a flash trigger that jolts me right out my skin. The fact the I had two other children along with others that always seemed to wind up in my care.They were and to this day are the strong grounding big oak deep rooted energy which I am truly grateful. During these years I often I mean way the fuck often that "not to worry things would get better return to normal." Didn't happen that way.
There have been some years where the pull towards this day was so strong, bringing the vibration of my life almost to a halt. It was dissimilar now somehow. Her natal birth became the highlight when she arrived in these years rather than the loss of being taken. The memories come but not in a flash trigger throw me to the black-hole perimeter. Nope now they come soft and personal like snuggling her to get up with soft kisses and Fae ready to play stories. Her hugs come over me from when she was one and it was sometimes for dear life, three, four, five, fourteen and the very last one I ever had as we said goodbye at the airport with your whole Marilyn Monroe beauty bouncing to infect everyone. Each one, an energy I've held onto for all these years. It has inspired me, strengthened me, paralyzed me, uplifted me, granted me hope. People still approached and again heard the words "don't worry time is still moving on and it will get better, see it's already kind of normal right"? Still didn't happen.
Today, right now writing these very words I am drawn this year to say it is with the greatest grace that I am holding soft tears of you. The way each day I still smell the orange spiced honey that soaked you from your precious little head to the tips of the tiniest toes I had held. In my soul are the memories, the smells, the colors, the blue eyes always watching over me.Wonders and beautiful dreams of all the years you missed or perhaps not just got to experience it all on a cosmic level which I hope is true. Not many people come around anymore after twenty-three years which is fine by me and you too I know.
I just wanted to end this by saying something that I hope sticks for anyone who reads this. Losing a child cannot be expressed properly in any words.Nothing gets better, time doesn't make it better either and nothing really is "normal" or even in the realm of that word. Their friends move on, have lives of their own now. Your friends have no words to offer, so it is better to fade out or away. I am the mother and my life has moved on, I have carried on, I am extremely blessed. However, the advice after all these years has never come to pass naturally because it is not meant to be that way. It is meant to be as it is different as better is not an option.
