Beauty

I wish that the moments of bouyancy, when I feel my boy's beauty and warmth and goodness shining through in the heart of the moment that I'm in, were enough to keep me floating through the shipwreck that seems to inevitably follow. This past week, at the beach, I stood on the shore, I felt the air moving all around me, watched the sunlight glint off the waves, watched and listened as those waves rolled onto shore. I inhaled peace. I felt connected to the beauty around me. I cried, but there was gratitude in my tears, an awareness of the abundant love that swelled from within and lifted me up, but that also drives the grief that now consumes me and pulls me down.

And now I can't breathe. And I remember just a few days ago, floating on the surface, and marveling that I was doing so well, and maybe even longing a little bit for the taste of salty tears, because they remind me that my boy was real. And now I'm choking on them. Grief, the vortex, pulling me under. I swim and kick and pull for the surface, reach out for something solid to hold onto, but the things that even just a few days ago held me firmly above the swirling waves just crumble like dust and lose their ability to steady me.

I am tired. I want to quit. I can't imagine working this hard, expending this much energy, for years, decades to come, to just get through the day. Not even to thrive, but to barely survive. Those are the moments when I wish it could all just be over. That I could be with him, so I could be reunited with the piece of my heart that was ripped away and whose absence causes me to ache constantly. But I can't leave. I have two other living breathing pieces of my heart here on earth. And so I stay. And some days, some days I do ok. But today's not one of those days. Today grief won, and I'm crouching outside next to my garage writing this, hoping that it grounds me. Hoping that it brings me back. Hoping that I'll stand on the beach again soon, awestruck by the beauty around me, sensing Gavin's spirit in the energy of the waves and their playful lapping at my toes. Praying for gentle tides. Trying just to breathe.

Sweet boy, hold momma tight.

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