Thursday, November 28, 2013

From a special friend...

A dear friend of mine sent me this poem recently and as I read it, I hang on to every word on every line. The most beautiful poem ever. Thank you Molly.

Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.

Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.

The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.

Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.

Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.

We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.

Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul’s gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everythingTo which we bring our best refinement.

Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.

When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.

May you continue to inspire us:

To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.

On The Death Of The Beloved — John O’Donohue

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Want to Be Happy? Be Grateful

We always said that Gabby was our little Buddha. Every day we were grateful for her, and she taught us to be grateful about the little things in life.

This talk was makes me think of the lessons she taught us.

Monday, November 25, 2013

Out of my body

It's almost been 6 months since I last held Gabrielle.  Half a year?  Unbelievable.  It just struck me as I glanced at a bunch of pictures taken since June 7th and I see myself in these photos doing all sorts of things and I think to myself, "when did I do that?", and 'I can't believe I was able to do that".  Time and my life since Gabrielle died has been a story of survival.  I'm still here, I'm still breathing.  And there are moments in my days when I just can't believe it.

I was doing a workout Sunday morning and the exercise was super tough and I always think of my little girl whenever I feel something is difficult.  She gives me so much strength.  I started to think of her last moments with us and how hard that was for her and for us.  I know she didn't want to leave us but we kept whispering in her ear that we loved her so much and that is was ok for her to go.  Nothing will be harder.  Nothing is harder then saying goodbye to your child.  Everything I do from here on in in my life is easy, it's time and I get to fill my time doing meaningful things.  What Gabrielle did was hard and what she endured in her little life was anything but easy.  Of course, tears not sweat started rolling down my face and I quickly had to pull myself together.  I mean, who the hell starts crying in the middle of a workout?  How do I explain that without making people want to jump out of their skin and run away from me?

And then, I see these random pictures of myself and I can't help but think how the hell did I even get dressed to go and do that?  Outliving your own precious child becomes a story of survival.  I can only engage in activities that help my heart and soul to feel alive.

My body yearns for you Gabrielle.  My heart aches for you.  I love you so much sweet girl.  Life is such a mystery.  Such a huge giant mystery that your beautiful spirit is now a part of and that you have helped me to feel so much closer to.

You for sure would have been a soccer player just like your mamma:)

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Gosh Darnit, This is Good.

OK, this was weird. Tired of cable TV and just coming back from an emotionally intense children's hospice event where Amy and the boys lit a candle for Gabrielle in a beautiful, but gut-wrenching service, I turned on our Apple TV for the first time and typed in "grief" on YouTube, secretly hoping that something good would come up for Amy so I could look at my hockey pool standings in peace.

But this talk was really uncanny. It was as if I was listening to Amy talk... just a year or two from now. She even looks like Amy for crying out loud. But from her points about things getting "scorched" or going sideways to allowing ourselves to "sit with the sadness" and respect the process, I really think this is worth sharing, and sheds some light on the journey. Before Gabby passed I thought I got it, but you never really get it until you go through it, do you?

p.s. And as an aside, I liked how she said, "Grief is the best teacher there is, and that's where the messages come through."

Friday, November 8, 2013

Aching heart

Because I can't carry you in my arms anymore, I carry you in my heart.

I know we will be together again my sweet girl.  One day.

Living, crying, loving, laughing, wondering, aching, not-taking-myself-so-seriously-anymore.

My 3rd child, my daughter forever.

I love you Gabrielle.

Holding you close to my heart.