Two nights ago I found myself getting on Amazon Prime and clicking play on P.S. I Love You. I'm not sure if this was a good choice, or if it was a bad one. I honestly think I was wanting to watch someone else's grief for awhile as I continue to carry my own.
This grief I've been walking with is such a funny, odd thing. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced. I've felt a wide range of emotions and I'm oddly surprised about how much I've felt pure and frightening panic. I'm under no impression that my anxiety disorder doesn't compound my grief, but I think losing Greer has made the fact that life does and will end, very real and close to me.
I remember the weekend we delivered Greer. The kids stayed with my parents all weekend to give Gage and I a chance to rest and begin to process our loss. I walked down to the big boys' room to gather their laundry. I remember turning on their light and staring at their unmade beds when panic struck me. I just remember being so afraid looking at their empty beds and thinking I couldn't lose any of my other children. The same thing happened when I was watching P.S. I Love You. I had to imagine losing Gage far too soon as sudden loss feels very real to me right now. Even though I ended up needing to go lay by Gage on the couch as he was sleeping because I had to hug him and cry for fifteen minutes after the movie ended so I could feel that he was there, there was something within the movie script that touched my heart. In a scene towards the end of the movie about a year after Holly loses her husband, she's hugging a friend and says:
"I don't feel him anymore. I feel he's gone. He's really gone.."
Saturday I woke up panicked because Greer felt far away. After I delivered Greer, Greer felt so real and so close. My pregnancy felt so close. As the weeks pass on, it feels further and further away. As I sit typing this, it feels like Greer's pregnancy was last year, not last month. Each day is different with how close Greer feels, but Saturday Greer felt very far away. I'm not sure what this is. But as I watched the main character fumble through her first year of grief, I noticed she walked through it too. There's one scene where she can so vividly see her husband walking around their apartment, and another scene where she's sleeping and can feel him hugging her. She even whispers, "You're still here." By the end of the year, she was sobbing as she told a friend she doesn't feel him anymore.
I panic because I straddle healing and having to maybe accept the fact that Greer will start to feel far away or my pregnancy and this loss will start to feel far away, and wanting to squeeze it and not let it go. It scares me to think it may feel far away one day, some days already has, and that I will forget the moments I lived with my baby. Last week, it all honestly felt like a dream. I had to ask myself several times, "Did I really live that?" I'm sure there is a psychological term for this stage of grief, but I will walk forward with the possibility that I may one day learn what this feeling is, or I may not, and either situation is ok.
Dear, Greer-
You felt so close this morning when I woke up. I missed you so much. I missed being pregnant so much. I told Dad that it felt like my body was away from home because you were not with me. Sometimes at night when I am praying with you, I can feel you so closely. I've been having better and better days, and on my good days, it all seems so far away. Auntie Rhonda told me this will happen. She said some days you will feel closer than others, and I hope you've found Auntie Rhonda's son, Andy. We talked about how beautiful the moments will be when we get to finally hug you both. I talked to Dr. Tony. I told him I took my guilt and my shame and my regret for not embracing my pregnancy more at the beginning to confession. I told him I had such a sense of peace all day. I feel the same peace when I ask you to pray for me, to intercede for me, to ask the Father to not only grant me peace, but pray that I can accept it. That's what I'm trying to do, Greer. I know you are praying for me, but some days are harder than others to accept what's happened. Today is one of the hard days. Please pray that I don't ever forget, but that I can be brave enough to let it all go and give it fully to Christ. I'm trying, baby. I wake up each day and think "I'm curious about what healing looks like today." Please keep praying for me. I miss you.
See you when I get home, Greer-
Mom
P.S. I love you
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