We always say we are “Still Standing,” and we are, but are we standing still?
Sometimes I feel as if I am. I rummage through my mind on ways to preserve her life, on ways to make sure people know, on ways to may sure no one will ever forget. I search and search for new ways to help, to give myself as that is all I have to offer as her mother. All I have. It wreaks havoc on me. It burns deep down inside because I know that I can never do enough and that the goal I aspire to is completely unrealistic and utterly unreachable. I cannot attain it and so I find I am at a standstill and it breaks my heart. Again.
I suppose many of us find ourselves in stages of grief that are simply all-consuming. That grief-triangle they throw at you to define your experience? Yea, no. It’s not an accurate depiction of the life and emotions of a mother without her child in her arms. There is nothing natural about that and there is no triangle, or any other shape for that matter, that will or can guide us along. We must find our own way, and that way is hard. We must travel through the pain, because walking around it is impossible and sitting in it is dangerous. I traveled through it almost five years ago…but I still visit it and sit there, expecting some great revelation. Expecting a burning bush to tell me all the secrets of proper healing.
It hurts to know my efforts will always fall short. It hurts that I am here and she is not. It hurts to watch life moments played out by siblings…and it hurts to wonder. But I am human. And I do.
I know it is a phase. I know my feet will once again begin to move and I will feel more surety on my course, but sometimes I just don’t, and now is one of those times. It ripples throughout every aspect of my life and essentially I feel frozen. I feel stuck. I can’t move and it’s frustrating.
Because I know she would want me to.
That’s the hardest part, actually. Not doing anything when there is truly so much good underneath. Maybe I need to get up now. Maybe I need to stop standing still…