9.21.17, Thursday
Some days our babies come calling. Mine did today. It’s been a tender time as I’ve been feeling sad, overwhelmed, and a bit disconnected from life. I’m very aware that Acacia’s 8th anniversary dates of her birth and death are next week – September 25th and September 28th. Two and a half days. I’ve wondered if and when I’d make space for her. For my feelings. To pause, slow down, journal, cry, walk, wail – whatever I needed to do and to express whatever was there. So this morning, it hit me. Head on. I had to take a mommy-daughter morning with my first born. With Acacia. And to spend the morning with her, I decided to skip class. I’m taking a year long intuitive/energy healing class that meets once a week for two hours. And the crazy thing is (because you can’t make this stuff up), is that today’s topic was “trance mediumship communicating with family beings day.” Before I texted my teacher to tell her I’d be absent, I was wondering what the topic was today. So of course Acacia came today. Because really, why go to class when you can live the felt experience?! 😊 My daughter called to me, and today I answered.
So what does one do on a mommy-daughter day with a dead child? Well, here was our day. I lit candles for her that we have on our mantel. One candle has a lovely prayer on it about loss, one is an acacia scented candle my brother gave us years ago now, and one is a little tiny tea light candle that has a pink ribbon wrapped around the holder with a little metal charm with stamped baby feet. Then there’s the picture of the three of us, a small pillow sewn by a friend of ours that has Acacia’s name on it, and a little jizo statue. This is always Acacia’s space in our house.
I got out her scrapbook, and had some big tears with lots of feelings and sobs. And my eyes well with tears as I write this. It’s a tender day. It’s a grief day. I know this feeling, inside and out. As I know both of my daughters. They began their lives inside of me, and now they live outside of me, in their own worlds, in their own experiences. And yet I still have the absolute privilege and gift of being their mother. I lingered over pictures in her scrapbook. I told her how very much I missed her. How life is absolutely different since she came and left. I briefly sat with the questions – why me, why us, the rawness of how much this hurts, how much this changed me and my husband, how much it’s rocked our world (for the very worst at times, and the very best at times)… I let myself feel all of it, ask all of the questions, sit in the vastness of life without clear, concrete, concise answers… Because Acacia is vast. Because loss rarely (if ever?) comes with clear answers. Because the depth of my love for Acacia is more than I’ll never know or fully understand. And some days I’m okay with that.
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Oh, dear Acacia. Thank you. Thank you for being you. For being my daughter. For letting me be your mother. For choosing me as your mom. And I miss you. I really, really miss you. And I love you. I really, really love you. Your eighth anniversary is next week. You would have been eight years old on Monday had life gone differently. 8. Wow. Would you have been an older second grader or a younger third grader? I suppose we would have wrestled with that question had you lived. What would you be doing? Who would your friends be? Sigh… our lives were forever changed by you. As every parent’s life is changed by their child – whether that child is living or dead. I’m so glad you came. And I would change everything in heartbeat to have you here. And I would change absolutely nothing. Thank you for being you. I love you so very much.
Love,
Mama
