Monday, April 12, 2010

A trip to my garden, with Patches...

Patches is a bear that is traveling to the homes of broken hearted families. Families like mine. Patches has been all over and you can read about his adventures here. I wanted to take him to a special place. A place I normally go alone. A place I have spent countless hours. The Memory Garden. I also wrote about our trip on my family blog.

For early in my journey it seemed that nothing would help.
Nothing could patch up the hurt that I felt.
The pain that I felt.

When I pictured myself becoming a mother for the first time, never in my wildest of dreams would I have guessed that my reality would be what it was. I suddenly became a woman learning to find her way. Trying to balance celebrating life with a beautiful son, while grieving another.

I felt guilty when I would cry or be sad. I had met people on a similar journey who had no living 'patches' of their own (yet) and when I would look into the eyes of my living, breathing miracle- well- crying felt like something I shouldn't do- for I felt blessed. Blessed that God had sent us two so we could keep one.

As crazy as those words were- I needed to find something- anything- to explain why it was that God had called my baby home. I sought reasons- prayed for them- but at the end of the day I knew that I really never will know 'why'. And all my 'reasons' were never enough. And that is something that I am still trying to make peace with. Still. Over six years later.

And it was in his garden that I sought answers- prayed- cried- wrote and screamed at my God. It was in that garden that I found my breath again- spent countless hours and days- rocking and sobbing and writing.

Writing him. Writing letters to a boy I won't meet. Not in this lifetime. And that is so very, very hard to accept. But I have to. It is my story.

My words here now are to explain my path- where I've been- and where I'm going- in hopes that someone, somewhere will feel a peace from it. That it will be a sort of patch to know that good does come from sorrow.

And for those who know me (or don't) who have never had the pain of losing a child- my words are to help you understand- that while time will provide patches and scabs over our severed hearts- they will never truly be healed. But you to can help. Say their name and just be.

Be there.
Be an ear.
Be a patch.
Be.

4 comments:

  1. We all need a place to let out our feelings. Thinking of you. *hugs*

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  2. I'm glad you had a visit with Patches and can't wait til he visit me. I'm sure the garden is such a special place to you.

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  3. What you said about grieving and feeling blessed at the same time is so true. To have my own living breathing patches is such a gift that I can'tt imagine living without... The little sunshine in my darkest of days.

    Sherry

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  4. What you said about grieving and feeling blessed at the same time is so true. To have my own living breathing patches is such a gift that I can'tt imagine living without... The little sunshine in my darkest of days.

    Sherry

    ReplyDelete

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