Turning the Page

In January of 2022, my word for the year was Resolve.

Resolve

1. settle or find a solution to (a problem, dispute, or contentious matter).

2. decide firmly on a course of action.

3. firm determination to do something. ~braveness~courage~spunk~steadfastness~persistence

When I chose that word for 2022, I had no idea that the year ahead would set me on the course I am now on and, I believe, the reason I can move toward the future.

While on Facebook in January, I found a friend's post about a Grief Recovery program. I shared this in a recent blog.Being a Heart with Ears

So in August, I decided to pursue polishing my "brand," so to speak. With newly acquired training in the Grief Recovery Method, I plan to make grief recovery part of what I want to share with the world, with photography being the expression that I share that connects me to nature and people. As a person grieving, I want to hold space for others trying to understand loss and all the feelings associated with grief.

So I began the process of fine-tuning my website and having photos taken of myself with a photographer. For me, this was a big step. To trust the process of branding myself with others is what I thought would be fun and easy (it started that way), but as the days leading up to the photo shoot came, I could feel myself wanting to scream at the top of my lungs "why are you doing this?" and loads of other questions and doubts. I can say with some certainty that it was grief. These step towards the future was me mourning the loss of what I was; to a rebranded me.

In thinking about that process, I saw myself looking back, and the secondary losses of the last six years came RUSHING back, and I was overwhelmed with big emotions. All of us are grievers, and we are experiencing that grief at 100%. So for me to articulate this experience to the average reader, it can get lost, and it's ok. This is just my journey, and I share it to give understanding and to invite you into the process.

On the day of the shoot, I had a text from a dear friend whose photos motivated me to reach out to the photographer who did my photos. Even thinking of that exchange with my friend is very emotional. She is more family than a friend, but her words helped me process my big emotions and talk me off the ledge. The day was filled with tears for many reasons that I've yet to process entirely, but the day ended well with yummy Mexican food with my husband and a greater understanding of myself as I move forward. Resolve is a word that has captured my year so far. With just a few months til year's end, Resolve has been the perfect choice for 2022.

I want to thank Lynda Kennedy for her vision and care for my photos. Thanks for holding space for my past and bringing them into my future. To my makeup artist Corrine Boicelli who took an emotional, grieving woman and made me look beautiful. Great conversation too! My door is always open to talk about grief and loss. A reworked website is coming soon.

Happy 30th Birthday, Evan!

Change is my most inflexible friend. It reminds me every day that it is arriving, whether I want it to or not. It can sometimes come quietly, but lately, it has decided to use its outside voice to gain traction and to stifle my sense of balance. Some of what I've experienced over the last four years is a lot of change. Not just in the present but for the future. It has shifted my ability to pivot quickly to circumstances beyond my control and has caused me to pause. Grief has changed me, and at times it feels like it's not always for my good. November 26th marks a significant milestone for me, and it will come and go without the world even knowing as our world is plagued with lockdowns and canceled plans, it has become much more challenging to navigate. It has layered upon my grief of Evan multiple secondary losses and has tried to take from me what little joy I've been able to conjure up. This time of year is tough for those suffering the loss of a loved one, and you can multiply that by the loss of social connections, business closures, and fear. What remains is a deep sadness and an overwhelming lack of hope. If you know me, I'm a glass-half-full kind of gal, but if the goal in all of this is to strip us of hope, I'm sure for many, the plan has been met, and it wins. For me, I will always be grounded on the side of hope. Hope is walking me through the death of my child; it most certainly can get me through anything this world can throw at me.

Evan would have turned 30 years old on November 26th. Many of his birthdays were spent celebrating Thanksgiving, and as Evan got older, unfortunately, Thanksgiving would be spent serving the retail industry and its patrons. Turning 30 is an incredible milestone for most young adults. As this day has come closer, and as I've walked through several major life events in the last 90 days, I struggle with every ounce of courage to grab hold of hope. It's hard, and I'm trying to see the good in all the depth of sorrow I feel. I'm trying to remember the words Evan spoke to me in the last letter he wrote to me on Mother's Day 2016...He said, "That is one of my favorite parts about you: your ability to remain calm, collected, and positive even in the face of vulnerable circumstances." As Evan's friends also reach these milestones and others like this, such as getting married, having children, purchasing homes, and fully walking out their lives, I'm left on the sidelines with memories and days long gone and forgotten. People like me like to be fully present at every milestone, especially with those we care about. I’m having the most challenging time with the created normal imposed on my life. So I continue to live in yesterday's memories trying hard to be present today and always aware of what could have been. To speak these words is difficult and can appear harsh, but I'm speaking from grief and loss and this voice isn't for everyone; it's the reality of child loss.

So as we gather around our table to celebrate a day set aside for Thankfulness, my thankfulness is connected with the memories of spending 25 years, 11 months, and two weeks with Evan here on earth and the grief that you are not here with us for this birthday and for all of the other milestones in the future.

This reality is my greatest heartache!!