Closure

I used to think when people said they needed closure it meant they wanted to be done with the thing in all its forms and walk away.  That isn’t it, though, is it.

Dannica wanted to be “planted with trees.”  Simply learning of this so close in time to her passing is a miracle.  I overheard her and her brother laughing about the video game noises they wanted to make when they died.  Such laughter, such silliness… I loved being a “fly on the wall” for those wonderful interactions.  So much love between my babies, these siblings, these soul mates.

No music in the world was more beautiful than the sound of those two laughing together!

As I look back over our lives, I can see now that her soul knew.  There were so many signs she would not be with us for long.  Things said, things done, not done.  Things not done well.

Each moment since Dannica’s passing has been surreal… as time moves forward it only feels more so.  I look around me, reflect upon my daily activities and interactions and once in a while, or several times a day, remember *that night*, that moment, the horror, the incredulous split… the separation of my own spirit from form which was absolutely necessary to keep me taking one breath after another, one step, another step, constantly reminding myself that none of this is real.  Were it up to my conscious self to go on, I’d be long gone.

 

 

4 thoughts on “Closure

  1. I am so sorry, and though my story is different, I can relate to some of your experience….I’ve just rediscovered your blog, gratefully, and am glad to be connected in this way. ❤

    • Thank you, Lucia <3… You know, I've just rediscovered *my own* blog. The time that I've taken away from it is the result of listening too closely to those around me, fearing too much their thoughts and their judgments. I need to remember I didn't start writing here for them; I did it for myself. It's important to me and for me and needs to be a safe place for me to cry. No one in my "real life," No One, understands my heart the way you do and the other loving, devastated parents who have also lost a light the magnitude of a child from their lives, does.

  2. We miss our children for themselves, their warm and pulsing bodies and the lovely interactions between siblings we observe as parents who love them, but also for how the world felt while they were in it because now it is a foreign and uncomfortable place. You wrote this very well.

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