Grief is not living in the past; grief is missing the ones I love in the present. I do not miss yesterday or long for bygone days. I miss not what was, but what isn’t.
My pain today is based in today’s loss, not yesterday’s. It’s like a planet out in space that orbits a black hole. No one can see that the gravitational pull of my life is forever determined by the love that imploded. No one knows that my loss will always be a factor in the trajectory of my days, but I feel it with every step.
Matt had a dream a couple of months before he died. At breakfast he told me that in his dream he was a professional baseball player with a wife and two kids. As he spoke there was a sorrow in his words. I, too, shared his sorrow.
I am a baseball fan. At least once a game I think of Matt’s dream. I look into the faces of the players that are now the age Matt would have been. I rejoice in their good fortune to be doing what they love. And I miss my child. I couldn’t care less if he struck out or hit a home run. I just miss seeing him at the plate.
For years after Matt died I had this reoccurring nightmare. I was always frantically looking for him. There were always different scenes, but the theme remained the same. He was lost or just out of reach. I was supposed to meet him, but I couldn’t get there. Every time this frantic search finally woke me I would be shaken to the core. This dream and all its manifestations haunted me for over fifteen years.
I don’t know what happened or how it happened. But a few years back the dream reached both a crescendo and a finale – I found him. At the end of the dream we stood on the balcony together overlooking the skyline. I’ve never had the dream of searching for him again.
I wish dreams came true, but my life is still in search. Even though I do not search for Lydia, Matt or Bryan, I still find myself in search of me without them. I don’t know if that even makes sense, but it is what I feel. I feel there is something always missing in this moment. It is the shadow of night that follows my days.
I don’t know why people think grieving is being tied to the past. Grief is acknowledging the presence of what is not present today. What would I give to pick up the phone and hear their voices? Everything.
But I have learned to fully live today with what is here and with what is not. I’ve accepted that this is a part of my path. I will continue to love baseball and miss my child. I will hear of others who have grandchildren and rejoice with them and miss the grandchildren I’ll never have. I have learned that love and loss can co-exist in my existence.
I have walked through many a day in great joy and peace. My life is not over. I live my days hoping to give back to life the gifts I’ve received. I have been blessed by love, especially the love I found loving my children. They above all else taught me the precious gift of life. But I still wish when the phone rings that it would be one of them on the other line.
