We had a frost last night.
The kids woke up and thought it snowed. :)
Luckily, I'd checked the weather last night and knew it was coming. I had M. run outside at midnight and cover all the tiny little shoots coming up in William's garden. They're growing like crazy, but they're still tiny, just babies really, and would have died overnight in the frost.
I went out this morning to uncover them and burst into tears.
It's been six weeks since he died and I haven't cried like that since the beginning - huge body-wracking sobs. I wanted to dig into the earth, crawl into a hole, bury myself under the weight of the world and die... oh blessed relief from this constant pain.
I should be worrying about and covering my baby at night to keep him warm. I should be watching my baby growing, changing every day.
Instead, I get to cover a garden at night to keep it warm. I get tend to a garden instead of my son, watch it grow and change instead of watching my son's day to day development.
The garden is growing and my son is dead, frozen in time, exactly the same, a baby in my memory forever. It's not what I wanted. This isn't what I wanted at all. My baby is gone, and I get to make a memorial garden. It's not much of a consolation. But what else can I do? I can't turn back the clock, I can't change anything, I can't undo his death. I want to. God knows I want to. My whole body has been screaming, "I want a do-over!" since the moment I found out he was gone.
But if I can't have my son, I guess I'm supposed to be content with growing flowers in the dirt in his memory.
Maybe I can keep them alive.
That would be something.
8 comments:
Those sobbing moments sometimes come from no where, and no matter how long its been, I'm taken right back to where I started. I never sobbed the way I've sobbed for him
Those moments still catch me off guard, coming out of nowhere. If I could have a do over, even if it meant selling my soul to the devil, I totally would do it.
i'm so sorry. this is not what any of us wanted. i wish we could all go back. six weeks for you and nine months for me, and the sobbing and aching is still so raw sometimes. we should be watching our babies grow and taking care of them. it's not fair at all.
It is all part of this crazy rollercoaster ride of grief we are all on. I want to get off, and my guess is you do, too.
Thinking of you Mama.
Thinking of you.. you're right the garden isn't what you wanted.. I didn't want a tree, but it's all we got! I still want to scream NOT FAIR! I think most of us feel this way, and I imagine even on our own deathbed's we still will. Big hugs to you!
*hugs* It just sucks. I know exactly what you mean - why should I have a grave site to decorate? I want my baby to dress up, dammit. It's ridiculous and unfair, and it stinks. I feel you. *hugs*
Those built up surprise ones are cathartic.
Don't put pressure on yourself or your garden! Just enjoy it for what it is.
Yesterday, I was buying a amethyst stone, and the studio owner asked me why. I told her it was my daughter's birthstone, and she replied that she didn't know i had a daughter. And I said, 'well, she died, and I don't talk about her much because it's not like there are any status updates'.
She is forever a baby. Unchanging.
Oh, how many times I have wished that life had a rewind button. I can see so clearly the steps that I would have taken to have a different outcome.
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