I enjoy the quiet now as I am alone with my thoughts so infrequently these days. Most of my time is happily spent chasing after Clio or, when she is down for the night, laying on the couch with Leif. We get so little time together now, just the two of us, that I greedily gobble up any time we can share together. In quiet and solitary moments like this my thoughts no longer automatically stray to George's birth and death or if they do I don't have quite the emotional response that I used to have toward them. Two years and some change later I am beginning to be able to look at it from a different perspective- one that isn't shrouded in despair and self-loathing.
What happened was very sad and there are still times when I find myself sobbing at the memory of it all. Mostly now though I'm past all the railing against the universe and fist-shaking. I've accepted what happened and that as a result some aspects of my life have changed for the better and for the worse. Life doesn't feel so lopsided anymore and neither do I feel like my life is cast in the shadow of Unlucky. I've come to recognize that I am a supremely fortunate person who happened to have one supremely unlucky thing happen to me. It has taken me some time to reach that conclusion about the direction my life has taken since that day in March, two years ago, but it is now a conclusion that I feel at peace with. Any regrets about the choices we made or questions that I've had about how things could have turned out had stars aligned differently are all but non-existent these days. I look at my daughter smiling and happy and my husband beaming with love and there is no question in my mind that I am right where I want to be.
George's existence has been woven into the tapestry of my life. Even in his absence he is more present than I had dreamed possible. During the first year and a half after his birth I could only see that portion of my tapestry which was immediately connected to his death. It was dark and so hard to look at that I could not even imagine it being anything else. Now I stand back and see that his part of my tapestry is profoundly beautiful. It is woven in and out of the entirety and has changed the contours and colors of my life. It isn't perfect, my life's tapestry, but it is my own and I think it is beautiful. All of it. Even the ugly and sad bits.
Right now, at this moment, where I am is this...
I miss him and my life is full and I am happy.
Where I was last year.
Where you can find more information about the Right Where I Am project.
"Life doesn't feel so lopsided anymore and neither do I feel like my life is cast in the shadow of Unlucky." This was so striking and so well put, and it really does mark a huge change, I think. I'm not sure I'm there yet, but I'm getting closer.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing your words here - I am thinking of you and George and Clio and Leif and sending love.
I'm not sure any of us ever gets completely "there." It seems always a process of healing and discovery.
DeleteOh Brianna, I swear that from the moment I first happened across your blog, I have admired you, much the same way I hero-worshiped my older cousins who had perms and wore bodysuits with crocheted sweaters over them in the very early nineties. I want to be JUST like you. I hope that doesn't sound totally creeper. I am 8 months behind you in the grief process, and your words have always given me hope that in another 8 months I'll be closer to where you are now (although I don't think I'll achieve your level of coolness, much like my wardrobe could never compete with my cousins'). Thank you for showing me that grief doesn't have to make you disappear.
ReplyDeleteOh the early nineties. That is a period of time coming back into fashion and I'm a little perplexed by it. Perms and bodysuits...I remember them well.
DeleteThank you for the kind words, although I think I am hardly deserving of them. As I wrote in response to Erica's comment, I think that this is all an evolution. As we change our view on the death of our babies changes too and that in turn changes us more and so on and so forth. I am so looking forward to hearing good news from you in the next few weeks and virtually meeting The Deuce.
The writing here is so good I sometimes lose the depth and beauty of your content. So I usually read it twice, once for the way you skillfully turn a sentence and once for the richness of your material.
ReplyDelete"It is woven in and out of the entirety and has changed the contours and colors of my life. It isn't perfect, my life's tapestry, but it is my own and I think it is beautiful. All of it. Even the ugly and sad bits."
I know this frame of mind has taken a long road of grief to arrive at. These words and this place are hard fought. I think your tapestry is beautiful too, from George to Clio, from Bakersfield to Los Angeles, from Leif to Leif. Bless you, my dear friend, for everything.
Josh, you are too kind and like I wrote to Brooke, I doubt I deserve them. But thank you just the same. The road has been long and luckily (unluckily) I've had true friends to walk with.
DeleteThe same sentence that Josh commented on: "It is woven in and out of the entirety and has changed the contours and colors of my life. It isn't perfect, my life's tapestry, but it is my own and I think it is beautiful. All of it. Even the ugly and sad bits."
ReplyDeleteThis is a place I really hope to find myself someday. Reading all of these posts has really helped me understand that there is still a future. A healing I can look forward to. I find myself, all too often (especially when I blog) standing still and writing what I see when I look directly into griefs eye. And that makes me feel stuck, right there in the epicenter of the grief. I hope to soon be able to see a future and write about its beauty to others who unfortunately have to walk this path behind me still, i hope to be able to bring insparation and healing and not just "yup, that sucks and I know all about that feeling". But it never seems to go anywhere. Your words are beautiful and inspiring. Something I severely lack. Thank you for sharing <3
There is bravery in looking directly into grief's eye and then being honest with what you see. I think that in and of itself will be and is of inspiration.
DeleteI don't think it is enough to simply say, "me too". There is so much beauty here, and I share so many of your thoughts about life in the "after".
ReplyDeleteSending you love. Happy to "know" you.
xo
So happy to know you as well, my friend.
DeleteThank you, Brianna, for writing this. Incredibly beautiful, yet just captures it. That aching and that acceptance all rolled up in one moment. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Angie, for having this brilliant idea -among the many others you have- to start this project in the first place.
DeleteThis also stood out for me, a place I hope to find myself someday too: "Now I stand back and see that his part of my tapestry is profoundly beautiful. It is woven in and out of the entirety and has changed the contours and colors of my life. It isn't perfect, my life's tapestry, but it is my own and I think it is beautiful. All of it. Even the ugly and sad bits."
ReplyDeleteYour words are a gift Brianna, and they sure do give me hope.
Much love to you guys xx
Love to you too Tash and so much hope for you and J.
DeleteLike Josh, I usually need to read more than once.
ReplyDeleteI think it is that ability to stand back, to see the profound beauty that is in their parts of that tapestry, is such a gift. I think that my Georgina's part is beautiful, I just wish that her own little tapestry wasn't so small. But yes, it might be small but it is beautiful.
In small proportions, we just beauties see. And in short measures, life may perfect be. I always come back to that line that Jess introduced me to years ago.
I love reading your descriptions of your family, Leif and Clio, so loving and so loved. And your dear George, woven through all three of you xo
I wish that George's tapestry was larger too. I don't think I will ever stop feeling some regret over all that he missed out on...
Delete"In small proportions, we just beauties see. And in short measures, life may perfect be." This is beautiful.
xoxo
You write so beautifully, I love this post.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you and your George.
Thank you Arcadia
DeleteI love your writing and like Josh and Catherine I often read twice lest I miss something. I want to be where you are, but I'm not quite there yet. Soon, hopefully. Remembering George, and much love and light to your family.
ReplyDeleteI think we are all constantly in a state of flux. Just because I am here now doesn't mean I won't be somewhere else tomorrow or the day after. We can only do our best and you are certainly doing that. Love to yo and that adorable little B.
DeleteI'm happy for you that your life is full and happy, and thank you for sharing your journey.
ReplyDeleteSending love, and missing George with you. xo
MM- thank you and thank you as well for sharing yours. Your words are powerful and so well written.
DeleteIn all the time our names have skated past each other, I don't think I realised we lost our boys so close together. I feel I have missed out on getting to know you. I'm sorry. More and more as I comment I feel I have taken and not given in this community :(
ReplyDeleteYour last line is how it is for me too. Beautifully put.
Merry, I feel the same way. Time escapes me and I realize that I have not been able to give as much as I have received in this community. Well, at last we have found each other anyway, and that is a good thing.
DeleteYou capture that place so perfectly. Feeling full with all we have and even more grateful because of all we've been through yet still having that familiar ache.
ReplyDeleteYes, this - I miss him and my life is full and I am happy.
ReplyDeleteMost days, anyway. xx
"During the first year and a half after his birth I could only see that portion of my tapestry which was immediately connected to his death."
ReplyDeleteI can relate to this so much. It is hard not to be surrounded by darkness even 10 months out from my loss.
Your writing is incredibly beautiful and inspiring, thank you for sharing where you are now.
Maybe this sounds weird but you give me so much hope and your writing calms my heart. What happened was sad...yes VERY. I don't suppose our missing will ever go away but the changes in grief are welcome only if to give more perspective and let us see things from another angle. I love that your life tapestry is beautiful even with all the tattered edges and beautiful colors. I try to grasp onto the beauty because the sadness is more than you or I ever expected. I think you are right about luck...lucky and unlucky...so much chance. I am looking forward to a time when life isn't so lopsided anymore. Thank you for your words
ReplyDeleteLike Sally, "me too" doesn't quite cut it, but I can so relate to much of this. It is so beautiful, and I love reading what you write. This path is a rocky one, but so glad to be walking it with you.
ReplyDeletexo
"It isn't perfect, my life's tapestry, but it is my own and I think it is beautiful. All of it. Even the ugly and sad bits." ---- so beautifully said. I am so sorry George isn't with you. Thank you for sharing right where you are <3
ReplyDeleteThis:
ReplyDelete" Life doesn't feel so lopsided anymore and neither do I feel like my life is cast in the shadow of Unlucky. I've come to recognize that I am a supremely fortunate person who happened to have one supremely unlucky thing happen to me."
I feel this too. Your words are beautiful - a special part of the tapestry.
Beautiful.
ReplyDelete