Emma

This post is easy - and yet, it's hard.

I find I don't have much to say lately, here. I have pictures galore and stories to match at The Bear and the Comedian, my other blog. I am finding such joy in my growing children, trying to document it all so I can look back someday and know I really lived it.

This space remains vacant, blank. The stark contrast made me stop and think.

After much reflection I seemed to find an answer. BHB was created with a purpose. It is an 'Emma driven' blog, a window where I journal about her presence in our lives. My lack of stories doesn't mean that she isn't here, showing herself in small ways, comforting our hearts in time of struggle, and appearing on the lips of her sister's daily.

What came to me was that I had unintentionally futher defined this space as a place to write about the emotionally challenging times that Emma's presence and past bring to me. The tears, the strife, the worldly conflicts, the righteous indignignation, the anger, the frustration, the love that tears you in two because you can't fullfil it with touch.

Yes, this was the vapory place. The space for all the emotions that only you would understand.

So, what's happened?

Joy, in larger doses than I've ever imagined. The thought of Emma's presence brings my heart joy, swelling it momentarily. Tears still sting my eyes but they are simultaneously accompanied by a wide smile.

I often speak to the SSV support group about 'integrating' their loss. Acceptance is a fallicy, but allowing your child's spirit to live on in your family by integrating them in the way their story allows is a healthy grieving process. As I recently wrote in a grant to create countless more memory boxes for families, "Healthy grief leads to integrated grief, empowering grieving parents to give back, to reach out to the newest families struck down by the tragedy of loss".

Apparently, with the exception of minor annual 'blips' and my downtime during the season of her birthday, I have done that.

This is why I haven't seen fit to write here lately. Not because I don't have things to say, but they are all upbeat, loving, signs of her integration, and - yes, joyful.

Recognizing how I defined this space has allowed me to expand that definition. I want to share these heart-lifting times with you too. I'm just not sure you want to hear them, yet, depending on where you are in your process.

I suppose that is your choice, to read - or not to read. Just know that it is possible you will find uplifting tales of the '9 years after' variety, and if you do choose to read through may they bring you hope that the dark early days do dissipate, that you will choose to re-enter the world, and that the attacks of grief which blindsight you so often in the early years receed, slowly, with time.

Someday, his name - her name - their names, will cause you to tear up and smile simultaneously.